One of the things I've wanted for a really, really, really long time is a red front door. Pretend each of those "reallys" is a decade and you get the idea—alright, maybe not a decade, maybe five years. Door years are like dog years, perhaps: each human year you want yours to be a different color feels like five times as many when it isn't.
But guess what? The thing about a red front door is that it's not actually all that hard to achieve. You just kind of buy some red paint and go to town.
Here's my front door before I did exactly that. It's so sad. So blue. So embarrassed about its rusty lame gold hardware. That rusty lame gold hardware is like a mom that drops you off at the mall in her minivan then blows you a kiss in front of all your friends, just when you're walking into Hot Topic to spend all your babysitting money on a Stussy hoodie.
So I went to Lowe's, spent about twenty minutes in front of the red paint samples before picking one at random, then came home and slapped some primer on the door. Twelve hours after that, I slapped the red paint on top of it.
I should mention, obviously, that we took the rusty hardware off first, not only because it's a lot easier to paint when you're not having to paint around something, but also because we bought some rather smart silver replacements for it. Behold, our new door handle! So much chunkier.
We replaced the porch light too, which I feel sure had been there since the Eisenhower administration, and which was poised to electrocute us at—quite literally—the flick of a switch. You can't really see it from that photo above, but the new porch light has a seed glass bulb so beautiful that it makes me want to ask it out for dinner. (Yep, I love lamp. Come on. Anyone?)
Of course, it helped immensely that we also had our house painted right after this (though not, I am sad to report, in Dorian Gray), which meant the red front door looked even nicer against the pale gray walls and charcoal floor. We even got new house numbers, just for kicks. That's the sort of thing you do when you're old and married, I'm afraid.
So that's the makeover story of my red front door, which feels a lot more....front door-ish now. Can we all take a second and collectively acknowledge the restraint I showed in not titling this post "Shut The Front Door," by the way? Because I toyed with it, trust me.