The beautiful opalescent pitcher on the counter just now caught my eye, reminding me once again how drawn I am to white on white. The only reason I own that ceramic piece is that a friend invited me to her yard sale when she sold her mother's things; and the only reason it's setting out is that when I put one of my gajillion generic glass vases in the top cupboard I knocked the fancy one out. Grabbing it to protect it from free-fall, I kept it out to enjoy for awhile.
I look at the wall behind it. White. Well, the paint chart called it Silverdome, but let's face it. It's white, as is the living room. The paint chip for that room said some fancy variation of green, but it's so pale that it could just as well be white.
I've recognized this trend toward what many would call bland for some time now, figuring it was because I wasn't brave enough to take decorating chances. After all, it's much easier to paint over white than it is to cover something bold. I love bold, in other people's houses. I love, for instance, how one of my girls can exercise her artistic flair, throw color around like a boss, and pull it off.
Me, I feel much safer popping an accent pillow or drape here and there, something I can change out every so often. I heard a friend talking the other day about the stairway to her newly acquired sewing room. If there's anyone who throws color around like a pro, it's her. So, it caught me off guard when she said the walls were French vanilla creme. Aha, I thought, we're talking shades of white here. So maybe I'm not the only one. And maybe it's not just decorating with caution. Maybe white on white's a real thing!