on bedroom transformations

Ten years ago, if you told me that I would lose my two childhood houses in the matter of ten years’ time, I would have laughed at you and told you to bugger off, you ignorant fool.
[I’m sorry you’re not ignorant. And you’re not a fool.] 
But I stand corrected, because you were right. I lost, first, the house where I existed as a [sweet and adorable albeit silent and shy] child and just a few years later, here I was [here we all were] losing my grandparents’ house–but you've already heard that story.

Well I think I digressed long enough. Actually, no, not long enough. I’m going to digress some more. 

When we were practically kicked out of our rented house, nine years ago, my mother was happy. I of course was a weepy child crying over lost walls, windows and traces that my father left of his prior existence in this dwelling. I was devastated. But my mother was glad. In fact, shortly after we left, the empty parcel of land facing our apartment was turned into a high-rise building: we were spared a newly blocked view to the dirty Mediterranean, we were spared the humidity [due to sea proximity] and we were spared a set of highly antipathetic neighbors. Oh, she was glad. But more importantly, we were going to own a house in Beirut, which is like the American dream in Lebanon, only it’s the equivalent of walls of concrete surrounded by pollution [both in noise and atmosphere] but with the blessings of a roof for rainy days and an alarmingly flirtatious concierge. 

Here’s where the purpose of this post elucidates: When we moved into our new house, I was getting my very own bedroom. To rephrase, I no longer had to share sacred space with my dear brother. And my room was to be furnished in the vintage style. Now before you start picturing my 14-year-old self splayed on a renaissance bed like some Fragonard painting, there is one thing I ought to explain. The word vintage. Trendy for some time now thanks to bloggers and well, the internet, for showing us through [the gift of] Instagram and hashtags and all that jazz how cool it is to dress vintage, it has definitely been cool for ages before documenting it today became a thing. Well, my vintage was different. Even more avant-garde than you can imagine. [I can hear your mind ponder on how that could even be possible.]

I'll explain. It’s because my vintage room *drumroll* was actually my bedroom from the other house. My old bedroom. Get it? Old? Vintage? Same thing! Seriously, the bed, dresser and nightstand are definitely 26 years of age, and the closet a little younger, but they still count as vintage, don’t they? Oh for pete’s sake say they do. Fine, don’t speak, I know what you’re thinking, please just stop explaining, don’t tell me cause it hurts. I’ve no doubt that they do count as vintage. 

Anyway, along with my “vintage” bedroom came pink walls and flowery curtains, and long story short, here is what it looked like a year ago.

[There used to be a crack where that white paint is at in that first picture. Let's just say that the fate of my bedroom took some time to be decided that eventually, that long white demarcation line – meant to cover a mere crack before a coat of paint was to come on top – became part of the decor. So much so that – like wild plants that grow on an abandoned building – my posters naturally found their way on and around it.]


My fine, fine wall art: 

And the books. You didn't think that I wouldn't go all paparazzi and capture my books like they were celebrities on the streets.


And then, one day, we decided to paint the walls and I decided obstinately that I wanted wallpaper. So we couldn’t repaint the walls and have the wallpaper without changing THE ENTIRE ROOM. So that’s what we did. We renovated my room. And today, here's what it looks like. 

I wrote this blog post in an effort to show you my very own before-after transformation because I’m actually proud of the result. Some things still need some figuring out (omg, look at that chair.) But the rest is actually done. 

That chair though. Big no-no, I know-know.

[Details. Keep Scrolling.]


These, I put in for good measure. Every time I look at renovation projects, this is the first thing I like to see: The Before. The After. If you don't live for the guilty pleasures, what do you live for?

If this was published on an american blog with ads on the side, I would probably have written something like: “post your comments below and let me know what you think!” And then I would have gotten comments like: “how did you make this?” or “those bookshelves are looking great! I’ll definitely be doing some for my bedroom” or “Love the dresser!” 
But this will only be published on my little blog, so I will probably get comments like, oh no comments at all. [That last sentence was a pathetic plea for attention.]

So... I’ll see you when I’m in Glasgow.

Wait, what?



  1. Those bookshelves are looking great! And I do love that dresser, AND your awsome colour combination skills. I loved taking a ride into your world, it reflects your lovely personality.
    Ah beirut! The charm of being somebody to another body :)

    1. Hahaha Lamia! Thank you!!!! Your comment made my morning! :)


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