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| Our kitchen chairs before |
The door leading from our kitchen to our deck has
needed a paint job since we moved in two years ago. One year ago, I got the
brainwave that the door would look great painted red, with the two nearby spindle-backed
chairs painted to match. Not wanting to rush into anything as audacious as red
paint, however, I decided to leave the project until this summer. If it still
felt right after a whole year, I could be certain red was the way to go.
This summer arrived, and I still liked my idea.
Not just any red would do, though. With dark green
counter and table tops, a Christmas red would be unbearable. Might as well leave the tree
up year-round, too.
A whisk and a pair of salad tongs sticking out of my
gadget canister held the answer: lighter than burgundy, darker than cranberry,
they were the perfect color. I pulled one of the end pieces off my salad tongs
and took it to the paint store. Found the exact shade and discovered that the
great color-namers in the sky had called it “Dinner Party.” I took home a quart
and looked forward to a Saturday morning painting spree.
I lugged my two chairs to the garage, sanded them a
bit, and opened my dinner party in a can. “Uh oh,” I muttered. “That looks
mighty pink.” But, knowing paint darkens as it dries, I painted one chair. It
reminded me of the ever-so-popular “Dusty Rose” from the 1980s, and I most
definitely did NOT want dusty rose in my kitchen or anywhere else in my house!
I needed a second opinion. Naturally, I turned to
Facebook.
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| With a layer of wet "Dinner Party" red |
I posted a photo of the chair along with a sample of
“Dinner Party Red” from the paint company’s website. Soon, I had second, third,
and seventh opinions. The consensus? The two colors were not the same. Most commenters
felt adamant the paint store had blundered the mixing job and I should take it
back.
By now, the store was closed for the remainder of
the weekend and I would just need to wait. But guess what? Once everything
dried, it was indeed the same color as my salad tongs. The store had not made a
mistake; they’d given me what I asked for. I should have asked for something
else—something that would really “pop” against the dark green.
Rather than belabor this story—riveting though it
is—I’ll just tell you that after bringing home paint chips like I should have
done in the first place, I bit the bullet and bought a quart of “Caliente” red
instead. Why had I been so sure I knew what color I wanted?
The moral of the story is: never buy paint without
first bringing home a variety of paint chips to compare in the actual room
where you’ll use it. Don’t trust your salad tongs.
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| Our kitchen chairs, after. Couldn't get a decent shot of the door. |
The bigger thing I realized is this: the old me (technically,
a younger me) would have settled. She would have been too impatient to wait for
the store to reopen on Monday. She would have painted everything Dinner Party Red
and lived with a color she couldn’t stand, trying forever to convince herself
it was fine.
I’m glad I’m not that person anymore. I love my red
door and chairs. It was worth the extra wait, the extra work, and the extra
expense. And come December, it’s going to look awesome with a Christmas wreath.
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