PHOTOS Micky Hoyle PRODUCTION & WORDS Lauren Shantall
When Lauren Shantall insisted on colour splashed throughout their faux country cottage, her husband let her have her way. She tells the tale of their renovation in her own words.
My husband and I have one unimpeachable marriage-saving rule: I may behave like a decor despot inside, and he wields totalitarian control over his garden. Our co-habitation protocol is not likely to be approved by a couples’ counsellor, but it works for our strong-willed personalities.
I wanted every door leading off the entrance hall of our house to have its own bright identity. I wanted all the colours. My horrified husband thought it looked like a kindergarten: The first impression is of a riotous, discombobulated combination of perfectly pink marshmallow, vibrant green, a flash of teal, yellow, orange, purple, white and red, red, red.
It probably does look like a kindergarten – we live with a five-year old, after all – but those who know me will vouch for my longstanding love of colour. I’m certain that this mishmash is a passing phase. In two years or so I will calm to a more respectable and tasteful palette, and paint over everything in a desperate rush. The irony is that our previous two homes were pristinely and extremely white, not even off-white, whereas now every room is emboldened by its own colour field.
We bought our mock Tudor, faux English country cottage – built in 1934 – from a wonderful family who had lived in it for more than 44 years; three generations had found happiness within its walls. Their style was a warm farmhouse country look that suited them and matched the confusion of Edwardian and Art Deco interior finishes so typical of the period in which the house was built.
We fell utterly, completely and totally in love with this charming reproduction house. Naturally, we also wanted to make it entirely our own, but not in an intrusive way. Renovation Lite ensued.
We painted the walls and lifted the existing carpets to find original oak parquet and strip flooring underneath, which we lovingly sanded and sealed by hand. We also removed a drywall partition. Well, not we… He did. My husband removed the drywall, lifted the carpets, and sanded and sealed the floors. In the process we may have lost a fourth bedroom but we gained an upstairs lounge. With a cosy fireplace.
We gave the kitchen a major facelift. The counters, cupboards, handles and cornice were originally Oregon pine; now we hardly remember what it used to look like.
We’ve spent the past two years shifting things around in the house and acclimatising to our new abode. We’ve adopted pets, entertained friends, refereed kiddies’ play dates and accumulated treasures and bits and bobs, as new homeowners do.
It’s beginning to feel like home, and as soon as it does it might be time for that more mature phase, that slowly brewing change I have foreseen from the start. After all, there is an old Chinese proverb that holds: “Man finish house, man die.”
Here’s to homes in progress and a long life!

