When I first began my career in Interior design, I was lucky to discover a mentor in the owner of a Benjamin Moore paint store. He was an older man, already considering retirement, when I first walked into his store. I carried a new pillow sham, as example of the color I needed. I had already been to every paint store in town. No one seemed to have a color chip for the deep purplish burgundy color. No one wanted to attempt it. Several people had looked at me as if I was crazy for even asking.
| I was exasperated and agitated by the time I made it to Benjamin Moore. I compared my pillow sham to all of his pain chips. Several looked close in color, so I carried them to the window and out onto the sidewalk. They were either too red or too mauve. None worked. I cannot begin to tell you how frustrated I felt. I simply had to find that color. I remember thinking I could try going out of town to one of the decorating centers. |
I was finding that decorating my own home was more difficult than any of my professional projects. Our home had burned. We lost so much more than furniture and draperies. We lost those sentimental things that you love and collect over the years. The repairs to the house were completed and I was out of time. I had repeatedly put off making decisions about replacing our lovely antiques with new furniture. However, forced by necessity, I had finally selected six rooms of furnishings by pretending that I was making decisions for a client. Everyone was ecstatic over my selections. I felt as if I was living in someone else’s house.
I had come across my new comforter set while shopping for a client. It had called to me as all the great finds do. I did not hesitate in my decision to purchase it. My husband was doubtful, when I showed it to him. However, he trusted my skills as a designer. I wanted to paint the wall behind our headboard to match the deep color. You may not understand the importance of the matter. I needed to put my personal stamp on our home. Why did it have to be so difficult? |
The owner of Benjamin Moore had taken the pillow sham from me and examined it in the light from the window. “I will try to match the color for you,” he said, “with the understanding that you will pay for it even if it turns out wrong.” I know I had stared at him thoughtfully. No one else had bothered to make that offer. He must be confident in his ability to mix colors. I found myself agreeing.
“What colors do you think are in this?” he asked as he led me to the paint-mixing center.
“Red,” I answered without hesitation. “I think blue, because it has a purplish tint.” I looked at him for his approval.
“Red,” I answered without hesitation. “I think blue, because it has a purplish tint.” I looked at him for his approval.
He put the lid on the paint, tapped it with a rubber hammer, and placed it on the “shaker.” “Remember,” he said when he saw my expression. “You promised to pay even if it is the wrong color.”
I followed him to the register and paid for the paint. Several minutes later, he brought the paint from the counter. He opened the paint and I sighed. I had not really expected the color to be right. He smiled and pulled an index card from the stack under the counter. Then, he stuck his finger in the paint, smeared a thick swath on the card, and then proceeded to dry it with an old hairdryer. As if by magic, it turned into the same exact color as the pillow sham. I mean exact. Not a single shade off. I had looked at him in amazement.
“It is important,” he informed me, “that we understand how color works.”
The color “worked” perfectly. I had never used that brand of paint before and I fell in love with the creaminess of its texture. Once I had placed the art on the wall and the coverings on the bed, I finally felt that the room was part of “my home.”
After that, I took every paint project to the man at Benjamin Moore. Sometimes it was a cut of drapery fabric or a pillow. Sometimes it was a sofa cushion or framed art. Always, he elicited the same promise. Always the color matched perfectly. I gained much of my design reputation through my use of color and I owed a great deal of gratitude to him. |
He did not limit his talent to mixing the colors for me. He shared his many years of experience and knowledge. I learned so much more from him than from any art or design professor. With each color he added, he explained why he made that selection and how color “worked.”
| Now, one can find thousands of colors on paint chips. Most of the time, the person who mixes your paint does not have any knowledge at all about color. If your perfect color is not there, a computer can match the color for you. I have found that even then it is not always possible to get that exact shade. I have, on occasion, asked the paint mixer to add a drop of this or that color, because it will make the difference. This is always done with great skepticism and the request for assurance that I will pay for it even if it is not correct. |
Whether you are a professional interior designer or someone decorating your first apartment, I think you should understand what I learned from the man at Benjamin Moore. Anyone can put yellow with purple or blue with orange. If you can take a color apart, you can use the various shades and hues to create the perfect personalized space. “It is important to understand how color works.”