Justina Goes West Issue #39

Our DIY Editor opens her design diary as she transforms her dark and dreary SoCal rental from bunga-low to bunga-whoa

By Justina Blakeney
Published: March 1st, 2009 | 3:25pm

“My heart cried out for you, California, Oh California I’m coming home.” — Joni Mitchell (never lied)

After seven years of bouncing over the cobblestones of Florence, Italy and two more under the slivers of New York City sky, I’ve finally decided to come home to California, to see the folks I dig. I just landed in Los Feliz — my new LA ‘hood — with a bundle of ideas, a limiting but empowering $700 budget, and just 10 days to furnish and decorate my new pad before photographer Jena Cumbo comes over to take photos for this article. I’m biting my nails.

DAY 1: Knock on the Door
I’ve been standing in my soon-to-be-residence for mere moments when a bout of claustrophobia starts to kick in. It’s dark and tiny, but somehow potential seems to ooze from the crown moldings to the vanity nook. After taking a few measurements, I ask the outgoing tenants what they plan to leave behind. I score a refrigerator, some basic furnishings, and numerous Ikea window drapes — all for only $120.

Day 2: Pick up the phone
Time to see who is cleaning out garages. From my grandparents I get an entire set of dishes, flatware, a retro-fabulous coffee mug set, some towels, blankets, and linens. Aunt Jan hooks me up with a perfectly fine full-sized bed. My brother and his wife donate a gorgeous arc lamp (too old-fashioned for them, but right up my mid-century modern alley). Things look bright.

Day 3: Color Me Rad
Color inspiration postcard in hand, I’m off to the hardware store: “Vermont Snow” and “Canary Yellow” will play backdrop to my leaf-motif living room. I grab a small can of chalkboard paint for the kitchen and additional supplies before picking up the beers and homies. At the bargain price of $180 (including beers), the painting party yields fresh surfaces all around — and breathes new life into all that inherited furniture.

Day 4: Scrub-a-dub + dub + dub + dub
My elbow grease reserves are growing thin and my mild hangover from the painting party is pounding. I hire a professional to scrub down my pad. For $80 there is no longer rust on my stove, in my sink, or around my tub. All cabinets, floors, and windows get proper attention. I actually get a day off to catch up on work.

Day 5: Trade Spaces
Now that all is green, canary yellow, and clean on Mariposa Avenue, it’s time to divide my space. Freelancing full-time means the office is a vital room in the house, and my walk-in closet is begging to become a tax deduction. After a door comes off, a desk and as many shelves as I can fit go in. Wallpaper goes up (with a hammer and nails, so that when I move, I can take it with me) and area rugs go down.

Day 6: Be my Guest
Even before landing I already had three guests lined up for visits. In the grand tradition of strapped-for-cash urban dwellers, I turn to Craigslist.org for guidance. $200 and four hours later I am the proud owner of a lovely ‘70s sofa bed. Vinyl upholstery makes for easy cleaning and the solid off-white color offsets the boldness of the wallpaper behind it. A pillow and throw from my last place complete the look.

Day 7: Surviving Big Blue
Before braving Ikea, I take a look at ikea.com to create a decisive shopping list — so that when I enter the Big Blue I don’t exit with a big red in my bank account. I notice that the drapes from the previous tenants were on recall, and exchangeable for a full refund. Score! I exchange the yawn-inducing panels for $80 cash, which covers almost everything on my list: plants, a bathmat, a bedskirt, pots and pans, a tray, and my favorite Swedish cookies.

Day 8: Sofa So Good
A Victorian-style loveseat lay curbside three houses down. Full of adrenaline, I cartwheel the couch to my place. I decide that the dingy fabric just won’t do. Since the piping and button-tufts make for a challenging reupholstering job, I opt for paint. After wiping the couch down with a damp rag, I paint over all of the wood and cloth to get that neo-Victorian “dipped in paint” look.

Day 9: Flee the Market
Armed with my last $100 and a few over-sized Mexican tote bags, I head out to the world-famous Rose Bowl Flea Market to look for overhead lighting, stools, and shelving units. An hour later, with sore arms from hauling, and a tired lip from bargaining, I head home to attack the stools and side tables with paintbrushes and staple guns. Old cushions get unscrewed and recovered in leafy-motifs. Woods go from brown to green and yellow.

Day 10: Finishing Touches
Time to turn tablecloths into drapes and suitcases into coffee tables. I arrange personal knick-knacks, paintings, and photos to make my place feel like home. My pad is liveable now; the rest will come with time and another paycheck. I am left with just enough cash to buy a bottle of red and invite over a few of my people to celebrate. All I need now is a bottle opener.