It all started with the Secret Wallpaper Inside the Bedroom Closet.

My building is over 100 years old, so when I bought my condo, there were many surprises, like the vintage fruit advertisement stuck behind the gas meter, the massive combination safe in the basement, and the fact that the boiler is a REAL fickle friend. But one of my favorite surprises was that someone, at some point (in the early part of the twentieth century, judging by appearances) wallpapered the inside of the bedroom closet.

I’m not quite sure why this delights me so much. Partly because it’s pretty, I suppose. But also partly because wallpapering the inside of a closet, most likely with homemade wallpaper paste and all that, has got to be a giant pain in the tuchus. But some unknown person, who once slept in my bedroom, felt that going to that amount of effort for a space no one else would see was totally worth it.

Now, I love decorating, but a bedroom is a complicated space for someone like me. As an adult with multiple other rooms under my control, it just seems sort of silly to spend a lot of time decorating a space that’s only for me. True, other people see it once in a while, but I’m the only person who spends any real amount of time in there. So it seems sort of self-aggrandizing to make a big deal out of it. Narcissistic. Egotistical. A poor use of time and money.

But that person who papered the closet? They didn’t care about that! And I don’t look at that wallpaper and think “What a self-centered spendthrift that paper-hanger was!” No! I think “How delightful!”

So I decided that I should be able to show myself the same amount of love that I can show a stranger who lived in my home decades ago. And thus began The Great Bedroom Project.

This is how I imagined it turning out: like the bedroom in Hitchcock’s Rebecca, minus the giant framed portrait of Laurence Olivier and the menacing housekeeper hoping to drive me to suicide. (Have you seen this movie? It’s terrific, you should see it. Run and see it right now; I’ll wait.)

Now you, as a Reasonable Human Being, are probably thinking “But Melanie! You can’t have that bedroom. You don’t have 30 foot windows overlooking the sea, or an infinite budget for flowers, or the charming countenance and personality of Joan Fontaine!” And that is all true. But would the Secret Paper-Hanger have let that stop them?

I think not, friends. I think not.

When I first moved in, the walls were a goldenrod color, which was perfectly pleasant, but had nothing to do with the closet-insides. So in the Great Bedroom Project of 2013, I painted the room the same gray that was in the wallpaper, hoping it would conjure “Serene Sanctuary” and not “Concrete Barracks.” Then I made a bedspread “to match.” I put that in quotes because the fabric I chose was meant to tie together the blonde wood furniture AND the lampshade AND the paint AND the floor AND the wallpaper, and as you can see, it succeeded at none of that.

In the Great Bedroom Project of 2015, I painted all the furniture as well, so the bedspread didn’t need to do quite as much heavy lifting. But again, why change it? I was the only one who minded, right?

Still, a month or so ago I channeled the Secret Paper-Hanger and got rid of the old bedspread. (And by “got rid of” I mean I put it in the closet. Even if it was never right for the bedroom, I still think the fabric is pretty, so I’ll almost certainly Von Trapp it into a sundress at some point. Stay tuned.)

My first attempt at a replacement was this: a embroidered chenille bedspread that had belonged to my great-grandma. Additionally, my mom had given me some pillowcases embroidered by my Great-Aunt Helen, so I threw those into the mix, and thought…MAYBE?

Fortunately I had the good sense to text my sister in Ireland and ask her if it looked good. Her response was “Yeah! It’s pretty! As long as you never want to have sex again.”

So on to Plan B.

I gave in and bought a bedspread at a store. Not even a thrift store! I purchased it new at Kohl’s, for Pete’s sake. Who have I become?? (It’s okay. I had a gift card.)

The bedspread was the kickoff to the Great Bedroom Project of 2018. Drum roll, please…

Ta da! Here it is!

“But wait!”, you say. “That’s the same picture that’s above!”

But aha, my friends, that’s where you’re wrong! My complete revamp involved a bunch of changes so tiny as to be barely visible to the naked eye. It’s like those quizzes in Highlights magazine where you have to spot the 6 differences between the pictures: In the picture on the left, Goofus’ shirt only has FOUR buttons. In the picture on the right, Gallant is only helping EIGHTEEN old ladies to cross the street.)

Here are my Bedroom Highlights:

• The bedspread has been ironed, and the “Lauren Conrad” tag removed (although I’m sure she’s very nice)

• The decorative pillows have been given slightly more stuffing

• The quarter round at the bottom of the moulding, left natural wood color by some monster who didn’t understand basic aesthetics, has been painted white, making the room 3/4 of an inch more stately

• The rug has been turned from portrait to landscape orientation, a tiny change necessitating moving the entire bed into the living room

• Some plants have been moved around, which I like to think is as exciting for them as it is for me

• My Grandma’s tiny side-table has been painted white and moved from the dining room to the bedroom so that both sides of the bed have a nightstand (but really just so I have more space for books)

• A new lamp has been purchased, and the white inside of the shade painted gold because when it was white it was BRIGHTER THAN A THOUSAND SUNS

• Approximately 1/32 of an inch has been sanded off the top of the closet door. (It needed to be about a quarter inch to make it close properly, but instead of a belt sander, I was using a worn piece of sandpaper wrapped around my German pocket dictionary, so after about an hour, with nothing to show for it but some sawdust-covered nightgowns, I gave up.)

• And my favorite secret? The thing I think would really please the Secret Paper-Hanger?

I papered the sides of my dresser drawers. When I painted all my furniture a few years back, I didn’t have enough paint to do the sides of the drawers. ‘But what the heck,” I thought. “No one will see it but me.”

But that’s the whole point, right? That I matter too? That of all the people in the world who see my house, I should be the one who matters most?

I think that’s what the Secret Paper-Hanger would say.

So I went to the gift wrap section of the dollar store, and there underneath the birthday cakes and glitter llamas I found this vaguely Rebecca-esque print to go with my vaguely Rebecca-esque room (little-known fact: Manderley was FULL of mini-blinds), and with a gallon of Mod Podge, under threat of rain, I did this.

Are they perfect? Of course not. The paper was very thin (because, dollar store) so I overcompensated with way too much Mod Podge, and in the morning the drawers were all stuck shut and I had to pry them open with a butter knife, and wax them with canning paraffin. But I don’t care. They make me happy every time I open a drawer, just like I assume the Secret Paper-Hanger was happy every time they opened the closet.

Someday soon I will repaint the dining room, or recover the sofa, or do any number of other things that guests will at some point be able to appreciate. But for now, I’m going to go lie in bed and read a book, or drink some tea, or watch Rebecca for the 9 millionth time, or maybe just look at the shadows cast on the walls by my chandelier, (which are another thing no one else will ever see) and hope that somewhere out in the great beyond, the Secret Paper-Hanger is proud.