Through the years, we’ve gleaned countless enduring decorating insights from our grandmothers: Always keep fresh blooms on display; color is a timeless addition; and a whimsical needlepoint pillow can brighten any space. Yet, while we’ve adopted many of our family matriarchs’ trend-wise tips, there’s a select few of their suggestions we’d prefer to forget. Here’s one decorating technique from Grandma’s era we fervently hope never returns: the untouched, special-event-only room.
James Ransom; Styling: Alya Hameedi
Warm weekends spent with my cousins at my grandparents’ house are filled with cherished memories. We had near-unrestricted access to the house, from nabbing fudge pops from the freezer to rummaging through dresser drawers and the jewelry box. Yet, there was one area strictly off-limits unless it was the festive Christmas season or a special event: The formal dining and living rooms.
These spaces were defined by a transition in flooring, where a sea of terracotta tiles gave way to luxurious white carpet. They were clearly designated as no-touch zones. In the living room, the sofa pillows were always perfectly aligned, and the polished furniture remained spotless. While the wooden chairs in the breakfast nook showed signs of affectionate use, the dining room chairs seemed to discourage lingering. The air of fragility and grandeur was so pronounced that even when we were allowed into these formal areas, we never felt at ease to truly unwind.
I have a deep admiration for formal rooms (especially now that my own home boasts just one living area, which bears the daily testament of family life), yet I’m not a fan of the outdated, special-event-only approach to interior design.
This concept, akin to the nostalgic trend of wrapping your finest furniture in a layer of protective plastic, suggests that certain rooms should be reserved for a select few occasions each year, which feels a world apart from the generous hospitality our grandmothers were so adept at showcasing.
Keeping the formal rooms out of reach is akin to hiding the fine china away from sight and use. What’s the point of having it if it’s not going to be enjoyed? Our homes are meant to be lived in, with family meals that leave behind the occasional sticky fingerprint on the table and holiday gatherings where wine inevitably spills on the carpet.
Ultimately, it’s not the meticulously maintained parlor of my grandparents that I recall most vividly. When I reflect on their home, the image that first pops into my mind is the cozy wood-paneled den, where my grandfather would settle into his well-worn recliner and regale me with bedtime stories—an occurrence far more frequent than our festive gatherings in the formal living room, and infinitely more memorable.
