Issue link: http://papercitymagazine.uberflip.com/i/1387796
the end of the day, it is simply a backdrop. It really boils down to how someone lives in a house. Pete and Bailey should give a master class in this dying art." I don't know that anyone needs to be taking lessons from Pete and me on anything, but we do know how to really live in a house. Part of that is because I need to have my people, and people are messy. If something gets stained, I consider it another layer of patina. After all, antique collectors will tell you that provenance is imperative — and what could be more valuable than to imbue our surroundings with the markings of our own happy history? I'm all about keeping it fancy, not formal. I think this perspective is one of the reasons friends feel comfortable staying with us, which in turn means we frequently get to enjoy a house full of friends. When quarantine began, Pete and I moved our family out to the farm. Before that, the longest we had spent at any one time was four nights. Last year, we lived there for six months, and it was the first time we were almost entirely by ourselves, without our usual merry band of friends around. There was nothing to do other than the kind of sitting and reflecting I had specifically built the farm to avoid. And in the quiet, I realized something: My children are growing up surrounded by people from all walks of life — farmers, chefs, designers, and doctors — who are all teaching them many beautiful and different ways to be. They are being raised with friends who are like family, and by parents who have hopefully taught them two lessons. (1) Sometimes you have to literally move the earth to set the stage for whoever you want to be or whatever you dream of creating; and (2) If you keep trying, you can turn hard times into a Goodthyme, and then you get to watch it grow. Below: The dining room with de Gournay wallcovering and chairs from Miles Redd's collection for Ballard Designs. (continued) 63