A Pink Bedroom is Just the Tip of the Iceberg

Compromise is king when it comes to all aspects of a relationship, unfortunately that includes décor too

This week I’ve neared completion of my bedroom redecoration and it’s come out…very pink. Needless to say, I was aware of the paint I’d chosen. I was also conscious I was painting a ceiling lamp Barbie’s fave shade. So somewhere psychologically, I clearly knew the room was going to channel la vie en rose. But it’s the feel of pink that I’d forgotten about. Don’t get me wrong, I love to be bathed in sunset hues, it’s one of the most joyful, uplifting tones; I could easily live in an all-pink house. But it definitely feels feminine in a deep contrast to the masculine energy coursing through the stairwell of this Y-chromosome filled home. It has also sparked a flurry of messages from my followers asking if Haden (my fiancé) is on board - in this era of gender revolution, it seems a pink bedroom still piques sensibilities. To be fair, it’s not just pink. It’s pink with floral canvases and green deck chair stripes. I also have a lot of artworks of nude women. I’d like to say it’s ironically pink, but you’d probably need a *trained* eye to see that. 

In something of a relief, Hade is on board with pink. He wears it, he has a favourite Pantone. As a straight guy with a fashion degree, he inhabits a narrow niche. But his opinion on pink brings up a far bigger conversation: how do you compromise with a partner when it comes to home decor? Quite clearly, in the case of this house (and the last one), I don’t much. As my other half has a) no inclination to paint a brushstroke or b) zero desire to spend a cent in this direction, it feels only fair that I get the deciding vote. I do pass every little thing I choose or buy in front of his glazed eyes first. It’s absolutely not that he’s not interested in design - far from it, as it’s his literal livelihood. It’s more that he has a more traditional relationship with renting (cannot muster the energy to decorate someone else’s house, though admittedly, very happy to have it done for him) and zero bandwidth for really anything outside the boys and his work RN.

As an aside, I also get asked a lot if my partner in crime minds that I spend so many evenings decorating, but as he’s on calls 4 nights out of 5 sometimes 7-11pm, it’s his work-life that has cratered out the space for my hobby/obsession/life’s work. This sucks in some ways because he’s a laugh, but in a positive note, it means I have a lot of leeway with the ‘ol decor decisions. 

If we do one day buy our own house, I’m sure things will be different…to an extent. I’m sure he will engage more, but he would definitely agree that I have far more gusto when it comes to palette, fabric, and general mood. We are both creative, but my interests and experience come from fine art, while his are from industrial design. He is interested in lighting systems, porcelain counter tops, architectural finishes, concrete. Kitchens, bathrooms, how surfaces ‘feel to the touch’, anything involved with utility. I obviously couldn’t really give a fig about this stuff. As long as he doesn’t choose sparkly granite, I’m ok with whatever he thinks best. We have our own spheres of influence. Compromise to me works best when each partner takes specific roles and it’s very clear who is in charge of what. Otherwise, it’s like hiring two interior designers, having them both unleash their ideas at once in some kind of scatter cushion street battle. The result will inevitably look chaotic, or else end up lowest-common-denominator-blah, unless you have unusual aesthetic synergy and an above average ability to collaborate.

In my relationship, we are both alphas, so there are obviously times when we rip the arse seam up the trousers both trying to get a leg in at once. We definitely argue, but fortunately, he’s very good at not sweating the small stuff (note how I don’t extend this description to myself) and always keen to avoid extra tasks on his to-do list. He knows if he starts banging the drum about curtain fabric, he might well have to make them (it’s actually his sewing machine, he’s more than capable). As his interests mostly lie in Wii Golf and cleaning his car (knock yourself out mate), he’s no fool. This is obviously fortuitous for me. In return, I make no comment about his taste in wine, his deeply concerning trainer collection or the amount of time he devotes to video games. Well not many comments.

I know a lot of women spend a lot of time waiting for men to decorate the house. I don’t say this with disparagement - it’s how we’ve been raised along gender binaries. Whether they’re waiting for a partner or a professional, the dynamic traditionally sees men doing the decorating while women wield the colour chart. Gender norms still place decorating the home in the female sphere and this extends all the way to the top of our society, the First Lady decorates the White House, Akshata Murty was shamed for her pricey mugs. It’s also estimated that 70% of interior designers are women. The home as a space remains feminised which is one of the reasons so many of us still feel shacked to the washing machine.  We have been subliminally brought up to think it is our preserve, so it can feel jarring when a modern man wants equal input.

For sure, there’s nothing more engaging than spending four nights with a roller. By expecting men to do the grunt work, it’s understandable they’d want to chip in with some inspo if they’re not being paid. However, I’d wager that attention to detail might lessen if a wall colour just happened to appear over the course of a night or two. In the same way, say, your boyfriend might not notice you got your haircut, he might not be completely absorbed with the spare room scheme if he’s not having to cut in at the ceiling, because you got to grips with a 7-step ladder. Yes, I know this is hideous stereotyping and also basically suggesting you dupe your partner into accepting your style choices by painting walls behind their backs. I’m terrible, Muriel. But my real message here is for the women who think they have a right to make all style choices in the home by dint of their internal organs. If they’re not going to be involved with any of the actual doing of it, it’s a bit rich not to take pointers, isn't it? Equality can’t be a pick and choose, suit yourself philosophy. Even if they have out-there taste. Incredibly unfortunate that.

Occasionally, we do come to blows over the house. As Hade is working such long hours, he’s stopped going to the office and has surreptitiously turned the dining room into what I can only describe as a DHL storage facility/call centre at decibel level. To say it grates my gears that a room I painted four times has a table covered in invoices and cups of old tea with skin on is an understatement. I try and rein it, but last week when he announced he was buying a new office chair to put at the end of the dining table, I confess dear reader, I was unable to maintain my composure. There was no plan for the dining chair (the fifth out of a set of six) that’s currently there, I suppose he planned to put two chairs at one end, side by side like a conference room. The new chair was mostly made of chrome (the room has brass fittings and fixtures). It was also on wheels. To add insult to injury, there’s an entire small room upstairs currently packed to the rafters with cardboard boxes which I’ve offered to turn into a lovely bijoux office for him. Apparently, organising this would take too much time away from the job itself. We both went off like a box of firecrackers, as if we’d dropped a match into that room of hoarded flatpack wrapping.

Like when it came to the dispute over the big TV, I’ve inevitably given in. The lad deserves to have a comfy seat if he’s talking to Australians at midnight after all. But I’m still going to wince when I see that shiny silver clash with my sanded brass. I know this is small-fry in comparison to the argy-bargy that goes on with home décor decisions around the country and I’m fortunate to have found a mate who is only 5/10 interested in my passion. I would find it 10/10 difficult if I weren’t able to express myself in the space I live in—at least in some corner. Even if it were just one room, somewhere I could feel entirely at ease and inspired is vital—for me that is what décor is all about. But equally, I would hate for my partner to feel ill at ease in his own home. Though it is true that he’s more able to be comfortable in less considered spaces. He’s happy to work, eat and relax in a room with yesterday’s pizza and multiple pairs of pants on the floor. With the curtains closed at 11am and rotting dead flowers in a parched vase. He notices far fewer things than I do. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m starting to see that’s a blessing.