When I grew up, my parents owned a hotel so I meant a large part of my life looking at the decor inside hotels. The walls of my room have always been a direct expression of my deepest hopes and wildest dreams. The way I’ve decorated my hotel bedroom over the years displays a roadmap of my heart and mind as I’ve grown up. When I was young, my room was every shade of pink, completely adorned in ballet motifs. I even had a wall size mirror with a ballet barre to give my room the full effect of a ballerina’s haven. If you also included a ton of southwestern and western style decor in that haven. As I grew up, my dreams changed. I went from a ballerina loving little girl, to a ferocious tomboy who was obsessed with dinosaurs and wanted desperately to be a paleontologist. My ballerina barre was replaced with bookshelves that were soon busting at the seams with books on dinosaurs and the pre-human era. My walls went from bright pink to vibrant green, and Jurassic Park seemed to be on a constant reel in my room. But even this phase didn’t last.
Upon entering middle school, I became interested in learning about the world with its many cultures, and by the time I was in high school, I was filled with wanderlust. I dreamed of visiting all of the places I had never been, both domestically and nationally. My room became a modest light blue, and maps of cities from around the world adorned the walls. The décor of my bedroom grew and matured with me as I did the same. However, I believe that the most important room I’ve lived in so far is the dorm room I currently occupy as my college.
On move-in-day of my freshman year, I was struck with despair at the sight of my near jail cell like dorm room. It was small and musty, constructed entirely of concrete painted an off-putting cream color, and most importantly, it wasn’t home. It didn’t have any remnants of my childhood. Even though I grew up in a hotel, I still felt that I could take some of the style and feel of my the hotel decor of my youth and liven up my dorm. It wasn’t the bedroom I had grown up in and loved so dearly. So the first thing I felt compelled to do was to make my tiny half of the room as unmistakably my own as I possibly could.
Above my bed I taped dozens of family photos, old concert tickets, a poster signed by my favorite band, a dropped a southwestern area rug on the ground, and a string of pink lights that once hung in my room at home. Over my desk I placed a map of Paris, postcards from cities abroad I’ve visited, and even more family photos. On my bed, I placed an Ikea pillow that reminds me of my Scandinavian heritage, and my favorite soft blanket that mimics the fur of my dog who I am always missing. All of this décor works together to illustrate who I am and to make me feel comfortable in a place that originally couldn’t have felt anything less like home.