Ever since I began renting aged 17, I have dreamed of having my own house, with a large double bedroom, copious wardrobes and a dream kitchen that looked straight out of a glossy lifestyle magazine. Or there were other times when I imagined a house that only a part time mermaid and a unicorn at weekends could conjure, splashes of pink mixed with baby blue, it would be a dream come true. There would be a garden with a treehouse sprouting overhead the grass and my future cats and dogs roaming the house as they protected me from the big bad baddies that were outside of my cozy bubble. I would talk and eat in the kitchen, leaning on sleek black onyx marble worktops, the smell of comforting curry ready to be served. And there would a pool for me to dive into to get my mermaid rest, a calm oasis in a chaotic mess. I had always pictured what my dream house would look like, but when it came to my dream kitchen, I was flummoxed. Did I want a traditional rustic farmhouse vibe that embraced my countryside roots, cheap kitchens on the whole, or would I hug my inner child and delve into a world of colour, Notting Hill mixed with Shoreditch. But I always came back to the moodboard of that glossy lifestyle ‘ad’ dream kitchen, where the floors were as sleek as the tabletops, and the oven was a top of the range stainless steel wonder, that would make me fall in love with cooking once more.
So what would my dream kitchen look like?
I would create a dream kitchen that was as welcoming as it was glossy, a large open plan kitchen radiating warmth and serenity.It would be a monochromatic colour scheme, black on white, inspired by ‘MR Geoffery’s Thirsk Kitchen’ at Kitchen Warehouse with a 22 MM luxury shaker door, creamy white. There would be revolving reflective bar stools that you could swing around in, indulging your inner child, as you swung night and day. There would be food on the table, dinner for one, but you wouldn’t mind, at least not for now, the spices invigoratingly tingly on the tip of your tongue. There would be a fruit bowl in the centre to remind you to eat your five a day, while the kitchen units were stocked with crisps, sour cream pringles your favourite. It would be the perfect space to entertain your guests, you could envision it now. Guests drinking vegan wine in the kitchen, a bottle half full, surrounded by loved ones and strangers new, a house warming party to christen your new kitchen…royally. There would be a granite sink, the tap slightly a-drip, people washing their hands, under the cooling tap in the heat of summer. And in the winter you would gather by the fireplace, warming bowls of pumpkin soup, sinking into a relaxed state of mind as the food slipped down your throat. There would be celebrity guests too, who were just as glossy and high profile as the kitchen, stopping by to present their well wishes.
But most of all you would delight in your own company learning how to cook again, noone telling you what to do, mistakes made, but you reveled in it nevertheless. Another day had gone by and you decided to make believe in a new kitchen; it was high tech and modern, with furnishings that had gone into the future and back. Deep brown kitchen units and draws, coated in glass for an extra futuristic finish. The floors would be white, a contrast to the glasses hanging upside down in the cupboard above, it was almost like an optical illusion, or so you thought. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the living room, leatherette sofas calling your name, but the kitchen was where you stayed, making cocktails on white matte worktops, juxtaposed with the leafiness of the green plants that added zen to the room. Despite its modern interiors it felt oddly familiar, calming even, as you lit incense and waved patchouli around the room. Soothed you wandered back into the living room, pizza in hand and a cider in another as you settled in for yet another Netflix binge, until the early hours of the morning. It seemed this kitchen, despite its lavish interiors celebrated normalcy, somewhere you could feel comfortable and be completely yourself.
And then there was the other kitchen, a rustic farmhouse dream, where everything was made of oak and marble, two material worlds colliding. There would be a black pug at your feet, looking into your eyes with contentment as it competed for your attention against the cute feline who had wrapped itself around the legs of the chair that you were sitting on. It was domestic bliss without the matrimony, a veggie roast in the oven, veggie gravy to go. The weather was cold outside but you didn’t mind , grabbing the tartan blanket out of the kitchen cupboard and wrapping it around your shoulders , as the hot chocolate stood waiting to be sipped, cream atop your nose. And then both you and the pets would snuggle on the sofa for cuddles and company, as an old movie played on the television, lost in a slumber but nevertheless awake. It was the perfect fantasy.
What Would Your Dream Kitchen Look Like?
Please note this is a collaborative post but all thoughts are my own.