contributed by Debra Brennan Tagg [financial wiz / pr guru / future screenplay writer]  

EDITOR'S NOTE: An important part of a designer’s communication skill set is not only guiding a client’s choices, but also instilling confidence during The Process. Just as the cooking neophyte breaks out into a cold sweat when confronted with a recipe having more than six ingredients, the majority of the public panics at the idea of committing to any design choice that will cost them a significant chunk of change. If you educate your clients, however, they will make some good decisions on their own, be sure of them, and still recognize you as the valuable asset you are. And just as the novice in the kitchen will depend on a caterer when the time calls for it, your client will reach out to you when the really big decisions come their way. 

PLOT SUMMARY: When last we left Client Debra, she and her husband Paul had begun the journey into Remodel Purgatory. Random construction workers, gaping holes in floors and walls, and unhappy pets had become part of the couple’s vernacular. Designer Rob and Contractor David continue on with their mission, leaving Debra and Paul to live in the war zone. Will there be any escape for them? Read on to find out.


The Remodel Diary of Debra Brennan Tagg… continued

The days are blending together. This week in particular, I stay out of my house as much as possible and just come home to breathe the dust-rich air while sleeping.

The Paint

Rob and the contractor, David, agree to paint large swatches of the color we chose on our living room wall so we can “live with it”. They want to make sure that I like the color in the light of day. Apparently they see the likes of me coming from a mile away and know that there is a high probability that I will hate it once I see it. I come home on Friday night, very tired, and glance in the barely lit room. I love the color.

I walk through the house the next morning after a full night’s rest and stop in the living room again. The one wall is still pretty. I think. I mean, it will be fine. I suppose. It’s the color I wanted, right? And it looks great with my chocolate couch, right? Right?

The painter arrives an hour later and starts painting the entire room my “chosen” icy steel blue. I panic and ask him to please stop. We have not consented to this color and are just not sure if we want to use it in the room. After a few brief attempts to tell me this is his job today, he goes away. I insist there must be a miscommunication with the contractor. I find out two days later that David requested that the whole room is painted so I can be really, really sure I like it. Sometimes clients should stay out of their contractors’ plan.

Another Meeting

A few days later I request a ‘meeting of the minds’. Rob, Paul, David and I get together to review where we are and where we need to go. I definitely knew where we were, but I had no idea how far we had to go. Nonetheless, David still estimates one month until completion. (Readers, I hear your “yeah, rights” indeed. Paul and I use a “2x” factor on all quotes these days, so we estimate two months until completion.)

Two hours later, none of us agree on the paint, and we decide to put more samples on the wall. I am somewhat embarrassed to be so indecisive, but this is the living hell that is me and home décor plans. I can narrow down to two, but not one. Rob and David, (note: not Paul) try to convince me that it’s OK and that many people go through many colors before making a decision. Paul bites firmly on his tongue. We all make lists of our “homework” for the next phases of the remodel and call it a day.

The Move

That weekend I decide that we need to move to the apartment [on the back of the property]. Though I have resisted it from the get-go, I know that breathing in particles of insulation and drywall is just bad for all of us. Besides, the visible layer of dust on my headboard is disgusting.

I spend the day moving themed boxes of the necessities we’ll need for the next few months: cleaning supplies, toiletries, clothes, pet care, plants, my desk, and kitchen basics. I am amazed by the number of things that we leave in the house that we will have no need for over the next few months. I almost go on a rant about American consumerism, but am squelched by exhaustion.

That night as we sit in the apartment watching “Arrested Development” and eating Chinese take-out, I realize this may just be OK. For a month. Aside from the cat’s decision not to join us in residency in the apartment, our little family has successfully been transplanted.

The Weekend Alone

After a week of living in the smallest quarters I have resided in since my dorm room in college, Paul leaves town to play in a poker tournament in Vegas. Although this is reason enough to leave town, I think living with me in 600 square feet is a better reason.

As I head off to yoga at 9 am on Saturday, a random man walks out of my house to the backyard, and somehow I’m not startled. Later that afternoon as I garden, three men disassemble the back half of my house, brick by brick. I realize just how weird this process is.

That evening, after the workers are all gone, I walk the house as usual to check on the work. The request for a “sample of each color on the wall” may have been taken a bit far. All four walls in both the dining and living rooms are striped: one 12” stripe of each of the five colors is lined up side-by-side. I suppose I really needed to see the colors in all light possible. It is clear to me now that the original color is still the best. I think…

Later that night I decide to move the cat to the apartment. I nab him from the upstairs bedroom and carry him out to his new home. Have you ever tried to carry a howling, clawing, twisting little feline 150 feet? Don’t.

That night the dog and the cat fought for ownership of the bed, while I was in it. I awake the next morning to the dulcet sound of nature’s alarm, an out-of-sorts cat. After a few hours of the sweet symphony, it stops. I am convinced the cat has wandered out the open door. This is fine until night falls. The dog and I go on an all-out cat hunt. But he is nowhere to be found. My meows go unanswered.

I am truly upset by the idea that he has run away. As I sit on the couch later that night, I hear a scurry under the couch. This terrifies me because I can only deduce that a rat has moved in with us. The dog and I look at each other, neither wanting to handle the situation. After a mental “ 1-2-3 ”, I flip up the couch skirt to reveal…a single white paw extending from a freaked out kitty. Apparently he had wedged his somewhat portly figure under the couch. I pull out the ragamuffin, and our family is united again.

Leavin’ on a Jet Plane

Rob really wants us to “meet” all of our furniture before we buy it: sit on it, look at it, imagine it as ours. Though he has found some “perfect” pieces, they are not available in any showroom in Dallas . A few weeks ago we had planned a trip to New York to get me the hell out of Dodge during the process. When I tell Rob of our trip, he informs me that we can meet our furniture, which is on the floor in NYC. This thrills me to no end.

He researches the showrooms, the pieces, and the salespeople we need to see. There is a specific chair in the Flatiron District, a couch in a Soho showroom, and a variety of stores to peruse. Though I would have visited these parts of town on my own, I know that I would not have found these “perfect” pieces without Rob’s specific referral.

I Love New York

I just love this damn city, and I am energized as soon as we arrive. We start the day with the idea that we will stop in ABC Carpet & Rug to look at the chair Rob recommended, and then we’ll head up to spend most of day at the new MoMA. I just love ABC, and I have always wanted to have a reason to buy something there. However, I have always been on my own and paralyzed by my indecision. This time I have a goal.

We proceed directly to the Mitchell Gold showroom and see The Chair. I am sure it is the one Rob recommended, and we immediately love it. When we find that it is, in fact, a different chair, we look for the recommended item. They don’t have a sample on the floor (oddly), but they have a photo. It is absolutely not what we want, but the first one we saw is absolutely the one we do want.

We gather all of the information we need and are ready to leave when the salesmen refers us to fabric swatches. I reluctantly agree to look at them, knowing that a perfectly beautiful day is likely to be ruined as Paul and I try to convince each other that our taste really is the better taste. Surprisingly we are both completely cerebral about the process and identify which fabrics we do and do not like and why.

Then he pulls out the last fabric, and before he can say it, I react: “That’s our stripe.” Based on a tan background, each of our colors – mocha, toffee, taupe, steel blue – is mixed in boldly. He looks at me, knowing we just found our Holy Grail. Minutes later we have shipping instructions, SKU numbers, and a fabric sample to show Rob.

I practically kick my heels up as we walk back through the showroom toward the elevator. I am on a high – we made a design decision on our own that we are both delighted with. We head up to the fifth floor, which I mistakenly thought Rob had referred me to for a couch. When we realize the mistake, Paul is ready to count our blessings and head out.

Then I see it: a beautiful chenille couch with stunning lines. Does it curve in front? Why yes, it does. The couch is deep, but six perfectly shaped squarish pillows fill in the space and the design of the piece. Paul looks at me, dumbfounded. “I like it too,” he says in amazement.

The saleswoman is by my side before I know it. “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?”

Usually I’m the ‘no thanks, just looking’ type of shopper, but not today. “I love it.”

Within minutes we are seated on the couch, laying out our fabric sample from our newly found chairs. We describe the room, the paint, the dark hardwoods. The saleswoman can see the room perhaps even better than I can. She is called away for a moment, and Paul looks through the fabric samples. “How about this with this?” he asks. It is, in a word, perfect. With a basic textured toffee fabric for the couch, the pillows will be made of a barely striped toffee / pearl fabric as an accent. The saleswoman returns and loves Paul’s combination. Within ten minutes we have a third fabric that will provide a striking chocolate accent to the muted couch, and we have an order ready to be placed Monday.

I am shocked by my ability to make decisions this quickly, especially without Rob’s approval. When I tell Paul that I never could have done this on my own six months ago, he rolls his eyes. Then I realize the important clarification: I never would have done this six months ago.

Without Rob’s work in focusing my vision, incorporating Paul’s taste into the vision, and showing us the design elements that create the vision, I never would have walked in this store and been able to “see” the couch in my house. And that, in a nutshell, is the value of a designer.