Dear Jean and Richard, You’re always talking about original art and chandeliers, a world very different from mine. I care about good design but have a limited budget, and usually settle for what’s most practical. Does gracious living have to be expensive? –Mark, Black Mountain

Richard: Hi Mark. I don’t mean to sound defensive, but not all of our suggestions involve big investments in high-end furnishings. In my book, gracious living is more of an attitude—perhaps a priority—of simply living well. A great interior design facilitates that, but the “luxuries” can be simple ones. Some of the most innovative designs for the home in recent years have been made from clear plastic or Lucite — chairs or tables for example.

Jean: Well, yes, but you’re talking about design innovation, not gracious living. Regardless of how amazing the design might be, Lucite chairs aren’t likely to become heirlooms. It’s a big jump from crystal chandeliers to plastic chairs—and there are a lot of good choices in between.

Richard: Yes, but each has its place. It’s fair to say that living well can mean enjoying both heirloom and everyday furnishings that offer creativity and individuality. It can also mean appreciating simple luxuries without worrying too much about minor scratches or pet accidents.

Jean: I have to agree. I think most adults can recall someone in their past who kept the plastic on their sofa so it wouldn’t be soiled. In fact, there’s a great episode of “Everybody Loves Raymond” in which a plastic-covered sofa is the story’s centerpiece. This may be off the subject, but gracious living might actually be the opposite of keeping the furniture covered up.

Richard: I don’t think it’s off the subject. In fact, it’s the point. Lifestyle should dictate how to approach your choices in home furnishings—but you can make stylish choices along the way. For example, those plastic chairs might be in pairs of different colors, or if you feel compelled to cover the sofa, carefully chosen fabric slipcovers might complement the room. Just because it’s practical doesn’t mean it needs to be ugly.

Jean: You and your plastic chairs. But I agree about the slipcovers. Also, consider using everyday objects in unconventional ways. We once hung table lamps upside down over the client’s pool table, and the results offered both utility and a fun design. Ornate vintage ashtrays can make great soap dishes, and old silver bread plates are fun to stack tissues in for bedrooms and baths. Instead of hiding colorful towels inside a linen closet, display them on a metal étagère (if there’s a place in your bath for one.)

Richard: Good interior design is more about how the room elements all work together, rather than how expensive the furnishings are. Practical, workaday objects can and should be a part of that design, but make sure they work aesthetically whenever possible.

Jean: We’re all about making practical choices. But when the choice offers an opportunity to add character as well as function, don’t settle for ordinary.

Dear Jean and Richard, I’ve seen homes with flea market trinkets mixed in with expensive furniture and it all seems to work, but I lack the confidence to be so casual with my choices. Do you have any guidelines for mixing “high and low” effectively? --Bonnie, Weaverville

Richard: Hi Bonnie. You’ve landed on a subject that we actually discuss regularly, but not in conceptual terms. Usually it’s more like we’re trying to achieve a carefree style and we have to decide whether a certain addition will look “fabulous” or tacky. It’s all about context, and whether the remainder of the design is elegant enough to introduce something that’s, shall we say, folksy.

Jean: Folksy? You’re not fooling anyone with that term, Richard. You can call it a fine pilsner, but it’s still beer. Let’s be more specific. My husband, poor thing, was completely on board with my idea to use some old chenille bedspreads for drapes in our sunroom—mainly because I only paid $30 for them at a second hand store. But when I ordered the drapery rods that cost $400, he was depressed. But here’s the thing: without the elegant drapery rods, the drapes would just look like salvaged bedspreads. Instead, the combination looks whimsical and classy.

Richard: They ARE salvaged bedspreads. You saying “whimsical” is no different than me saying folksy! But your example is actually pretty good. Mixing old and new, polished and primitive, or even elegant and “whimsical” requires restraint and careful consideration. I have an 18” century French commode (no, not a toilet) in my living room, with 60’s thrift store pottery in it. When in balance, complementary furnishings can add character and interest to a home.

Jean: And if you think about it, mixing it up can provide a platform to display sentimental favorites. Let’s say you have an old table—careworn and distressed— that came from your grandparent’s farm. It has little value as an antique, but it has great personal worth. If it sits in a room with the kids’ toys or in a hobby area with projects-in-process, it will look just like a beat-up old table. But if you use it as a display table in a formal living room it takes on heirloom importance—or at the very least, becomes a conversation piece.

Richard: The conversation might go like this: What’s that old beat up table doing in your living room? I’m kidding! One thing to remember is to make the mixture obvious. If the table is truly worn and FOLKSY, it could look great in the formal setting, the way an antique oil painting might have spider-web cracks all over the surface. It gives it character—especially when the painting is in a nice frame. Sort of like the expensive drapery rods.

Jean: And as long as they’re not actually spider webs. It can be very charming and effective to include old architectural elements in a design scheme, or hang an heirloom quilt on the wall of your guest bedroom as art. Weathervanes made to look old have had a good reception as interior sculpture, but I would prefer an actual antique one—rust and all.

Richard: And don’t overdo it. A few really rough old antiques in a room can offer a museum air, but too many might begin to look like you robbed a salvage yard.

Jean: And we’re back to the beginning—deciding whether a room addition is fabulous or tacky. When you’re selecting an item to include in your room as a design element—or as a practical piece chosen primarily for function—it needs to complement everything else in the room. Mixing high and low effectively means making careful choices; designing the room to feel effortless is usually the result of serious effort.

Dear Jean and Richard, When someone describes a home as tastefully decorated, whose taste is it? I’ve all but decided that “tasteful” means boring. How do you define tasteful? Toni, Asheville

Jean: Hi Toni. Is this a trick question? After all, good taste is in the eye of the beholder, and not everyone has an eye for design. As you imply, “tasteful”—as a general description—can mean quiet and conservative. But what you are interpreting as dull and unimaginative might actually be a reflection of someone’s personality, though most of our readers know how I feel about “beige.”

Richard: Please don’t go there. Beige and quiet and simple all have their place. But I agree that fear of stepping out does not translate as tasteful. It’s more important to select a quality piece that works well in the room than something that “makes do” and happens to match.

Jean: And that’s even assuming you’re trying to match. Sometimes people just simply don’t feel comfortable working with color. I submit that most people can make wardrobe choices involving color—interiors benefit from the same reasoning and sense of style.

Richard: Don’t you think a lot of people see home furnishings choices as more permanent, and are afraid to commit to color for the long term? It’s easy to rely on the myth that “neutral” defines good taste. In my opinion, they would be better off forgetting the idea of neutral and remembering the idea of uncluttered.

Jean: Uncluttered is good. We could put that into a category called “always in good taste.”

Richard: Yes, and also in that category are pronounced colors trimmed in softer shades, such as cream, gray, or white. White is usually a safe bet because it’s so classic.

Jean: As long as those pastels are clean—nothing is worse than something that’s meant to be crisp but is smoke-stained, yellowed with age, greasy, mildewed, cobwebbed, dusty or just plain dirty. In the same vein, “always in good taste” is glass rather than plastic, wood rather than resin, leather rather than vinyl. And real flowers over fake ones. And fresh flowers over dried ones.

Richard: OK, always in good taste is to display your recent purchase without commenting how little you paid for it, or what a good deal you got. Don’t serve guests on paper plates. In other words, don’t be proud of being lazy or cheap.

Jean: Is that experience talking? Just kidding—I actually think you’re getting closer to a universal meaning of good taste, and it has everything to do with pride in self and placing value on your surroundings. If you can apply that attitude to your home, tasteful décor will naturally follow. In a nutshell, choose real over fake, clear colors over muddy ones, and lovingly selected accessories over clutter. I don’t think there’s a formula for good taste, but your home is a reflection of who you are. Your goal should be to make it match your higher self, not your “that’s good enough” self. If your budget is limited, start with a few nice things. Fill that empty corner with a real plant—preferably in a ceramic pot.

Richard: Tasteful doesn’t mean dull or matchy. It means remembering to remove the bar code sticker from the plant’s ceramic pot. Seriously.

Dear Jean and Richard, Are your designs influenced by the latest building innovations or housing materials? For example, do you ever place TVs behind mirrors or install tubular skylights? –Ricky, Black Mountain

Richard: Hi, Ricky. The answer has to be yes, but it is usually at the request of a client or when working with a home builder. We are more likely to choose a specific light fixture, though, than a specific kind of light tube. One is fashion; the other is function. But we can and do recommend that an area be filled with light, and if that means a light tube, we will suggest it.

Jean: Well yes, but we wouldn’t recommend a light tube because it is the latest innovation in building products, but rather because the room needs more light. And if a client wants a TV behind her mirror, we would design the room to work around it, but we wouldn’t use it just because it is available. I learned a long time ago just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should.

Richard: That’s exactly why I don’t hoola-hoop in the office.

Jean: And we’re glad. But if you did, would it be because someone introduced a new hoola-hoop?

Richard: OK, there are lots of reasons. I would never order a shark tank, either, but we recently did that for a client. As it turns out, shark tanks are different from regular fish tanks because they have no corners, and sharks like to swim in circles.

Jean: What in the world does that have to do with building materials? Or are you just talking in circles?

Richard: Well, if someone doesn’t know there’s a special tank for sharks he might not want one. And if someone doesn’t know a light tube or secret TV is an option, it’s doubtful he would want one of those, either. But most innovations—if they serve a purpose—will eventually influence someone’s taste in furnishings, and thus interior design.

Jean: So what you’re saying is that fashion can come from function, and I agree. But I submit that the need for more light precedes the need for a skylight, not the other way around. Our client’s desire for a shark tank is the result of his hobby of collecting unusual fish, not because he saw a tank with round corners.

Richard: Are you sure? If you think about it, a lot of trends began because there was something new and exciting on the market. Bamboo floors, granite countertops, gas logs…

Jean: Sure—and at one time consumers were excited about the bright colors of lead paint, the permanence of asbestos shingles, and the simplicity of synthetic stucco. New methods and materials can be wonderful, but simply being new is the wrong reason to embrace them.

Dear Jean and Richard, Are there any rules for mixing or matching fabrics of different colors and patterns into one room? –Bette Lee, Hendersonville

Jean: Hi Bette Lee. The answer is Yes, but there is no precise formula. As always, the approach is much the same as with any artistic endeavor, such as balance and composition. But often the biggest challenge of combining upholstery, pillows, drapery, carpets, tapestries, or any woven materials is that they all offer more than just color, pattern, or texture. They each offer all three!

Richard: What Jean is trying to say is that there are infinitely more opportunities to mess up.

Jean: I didn’t think of it that way, Mr. Fast, but you’re right. If you’re not careful, mixing fabrics can get… well, mixed up. This is an area that’s somewhat intuitive, and difficult to teach. But we can share some ways of thinking about it at least.

Richard: And a good place to start is finding the right color family—think of it as your paint palette. It doesn’t mean everything has to match, but it needs to go together. Maybe you’ve heard about or seen that “seasonal” color guide to fashions. Like, Jean looks good in a summer palette. It looks good with her skin tone and, uh, naturally blonde hair.

Jean: Thank you, Richard. I’d like to think I look good all year long. By the way, what season is black? Oh, never mind…I think your advice is on target.

Richard: Hey, you told me I look good in black. As for patterns, I would limit the number to three or four—no more than five. And again they don’t have to match, but the highlight in one might match the background in another, and the patterns should vary in the level of complexity and scale from fabric to fabric.

Jean: I would offer that good design is circular—colors, patterns, and even textures should move around the room and often be repeated. But—and here’s the intuition thing again—you might want to create a dramatic effect by including a surprise color or an extra large-scale pattern in the mix. Richard and I seem to work well together despite the lack of texture on his head and my sparkly wardrobe.

Richard: My head has texture! Think of it as silk. Which reminds me that we should advise Bette Lee to mix up the textures—not just smooth vs. slubby, but maybe quilted silks or linens with cut velvets and chenilles.

Jean: Here’s another tip—save the “surprise” color for something like a pillow that can be moved around or—if the surprise is less than pleasant—eliminated. And unless you feel very confident about that large scale pattern, don’t use it on the largest expanse of fabric because it could dwarf the other upholstered elements.

Richard: One thing we always like to remind people about, and this is no exception—work out the color palette (and in this case, the patterns and textures, too) in advance. Unless they’re already there, don’t start by having some custom made drapes installed and then go shopping for upholstery fabrics. If everything needs to work together, and it does, then you should always have the complete design figured out before you begin, including the fabric combinations. Good luck!