I am a Pinterest addict.
There. I’ve said it. Let the healing process begin.
I look at Pinterest kind of like my afternoon Happy Hour drink from Sonic. My drug/drink of choice is Diet Coke with vanilla and sometimes it’s the most refreshing, most feel-the-burn sense of intense carbonation you’ll ever find; other times it tastes like cough syrup. Either way, I keep going back.
The creativity, style, ingenuity, and imagination represented on the Pinterest boards is mind-blowing—literally.
Whatever project you’re tackling—from planning a wedding, designing a nursery, or creating a ‘look’ for your new fall wardrobe, somebody on Pinterest has already done it and done it in a big, over-the-top, OMG kind of way. Great for inspiration and as a creative jumping off spot; not so great if you’re the least bit limited by those crazy constraints of time, money, and perfect lighting.
We had one of those ‘perfect lighting’ experiences not long ago when we moved our daughter into a home she’s renting with two other girls. She knew the look she was going for and even had some of the major elements in hand (bedding, furnishings, ever-so-important keepsake personal touches) and even a pretty good sense of how to style a room.
What she didn’t have was perfect, consistent, and shadow-free lighting.
She was going for the trendy ballet pink/brushed gold look in her bedroom. And, like I said, she had some of the key elements already in place (bedding from Anthropologie, a cheapo Ikea bookcase spray painted brushed gold, a lamp from TJMaxx), but snagging the perfect paint color became the elephant in the poorly lit, often shadowy back bedroom.
Six trips to Lowe’s for paint samples and we still hadn’t found ‘it.’ Frustration ensued. Exasperation soon appeared. Tears lingered in the wings.
Cue mother lecture #47 – those pictures in magazines (or billboards and now, oftentimes on Pinterest) are the work of highly skilled professionals. You think it takes a village to raise a kid? Try orchestrating a photo shoot for a slick glossy. Photographers, stylists, and lighting techs are just the beginning. More often than not, these flawless images are the work of an entire crew that works for hours to get the shot. And then, if any imperfections do remain, Photoshop pros can wave their magic shade-inducing, ‘natural lighting’ wand to create the swoon-worthy pic.
Besides these pictures being the product of many trained artists, I also reminded her that most of these gorgeous, styled-to-the-nth-degree weddings, parties, tablescapes, kitchens, bedrooms, playrooms, etc. are just snapshots of a setting, not the entire picture. They’re shot at a preferential angle. And they don’t show the whole picture—literally.
Lots of us could style a Thanksgiving table with elaborate place settings, quail feathers, and fanciful linens if we only have to plan for the 2-1/2 guests they usually show. It’s the 17 or 23 you actually end up with on Turkey Day that’s the real challenge.
Same thing’s true for those unbelievably beautiful would-be wedding settings. Surely, glamming it up for a table of eight takes some effort and expense but that’s nothing compared to the 350 on the guest list. (You try doing hand-calligraphed menu cards for a six course meal at each place setting!)
And it’s also true for those perfectly perfect rooms that pop up amongst the designers I follow on Pinterest, too. There are no dirty clothes on the floor. No random dog toys scattered about. And certainly nothing as unsightly as say, a hairline crack in the wall made worse by a poor spackle job.
And the paint color in these rooms? Well, it’s warm and inviting. And coordinates precisely with the curtains. And the coverlet. And the dipped-in-the-middle accent pillows.
And that, my friends, is life in Pinterest-land. A gloriously inspiring, occasionally motivating, and always overwhelming land of wrinkle-free bed linens, perfectly set Christmas buffets, and tear-inducing wedding pictures.
And, for better or worse, it’s a land I visit.
Probably too much.
But never so long that I don’t appreciate my mismatched china, my vintage Marshall’s wardrobe, and those I’m blessed to share my very un-Pinterest-like life with.
Am I the only one who has a love/hate relationship with Pinterest? What? You, too?