Art of Revival open house at The Shoppes at Belle Meade

Do You See What I See?

June 19, 2026

A note from my open house at The Shoppes at Belle Meade — and why certain old things just seem to pull us in.

I had my open house last night at The Shoppes at Belle Meade, and it was such a fun night. I loved seeing familiar faces come through and getting to talk about the pieces with people who enjoy beautiful old things as much as I do.

That is one of my favorite parts of doing this. Not just finding the pieces, but talking about them. Watching someone notice a fabric, a color, a chipped painted surface, a shape, or some tiny detail that might not matter to everyone — but matters to them.

It got me thinking about why we are drawn to the things we are drawn to.

Why does one person stop for a Greek key motif, while another is pulled toward a chipped blue Gustavian piece? Why does a certain fabric make you pause? Why can a color or a curve make you feel something before you can even explain it?

I think a lot of taste is instinct.

You can walk into a room full of things and your eye goes straight to one piece. It may not be the most expensive piece or the rarest one. It may just be the one with the right feeling.

Maybe it is the color.

Maybe it is the wear.

Maybe it reminds you of something.

Maybe it feels like a room you want to live in.

Billy Baldwin said, “Be faithful to your own taste, because nothing you really like is ever out of style.”

I love that because it takes the pressure off. Taste does not have to be something we prove. It can just be something we pay attention to.

There is actually science behind this too. Neuroaesthetics is the study of how our brains respond to beauty, art, objects, spaces, and design. So when we say something “speaks to us,” we are not completely making that up. Our brains are taking in color, shape, memory, texture, and emotion all at once.

There is also something called processing fluency, which basically means our brains often like things they can understand easily. Repetition, symmetry, balance, and familiar patterns can feel good because our brain knows how to read them.

That makes sense to me when I think about a Greek key motif. It is simple, repeated, and orderly, but still interesting. It feels classic without being boring. Your eye knows where to go.

Then there is the opposite kind of beauty — the chipped, imperfect, painted thing.

A blue Gustavian piece with worn corners and old brush marks does not feel perfect. It feels layered. It feels like it has been somewhere. That is what makes it interesting.

A perfect piece can be beautiful, but old paint, softened edges, and a little evidence of life bring something different to a room. They make everything feel less decorated and more collected.

Fabric does the same thing. Sometimes you see a stripe, a floral, a faded check, a heavy linen, or a silk damask and you immediately know how it makes you feel.

Cheerful. Calm. Romantic. Formal. Comfortable. Too much. Not enough. Somehow exactly right.

That is why fabric can feel so personal. One person sees curtains. Another person sees a breakfast room, a summer house, a sofa, a dinner party, or the whole mood of a home.

That is what I love about beautiful things. They are not just decorative. They help tell us what we like, what we remember, and what kind of feeling we want to live with.

And maybe that is why it feels so good when someone else gets it.

When someone understands why you are excited about an old painted chair, a weird little gilt frame, or a fabric no one else noticed, it feels like a tiny connection.