Ten years. We’ve been in this home, 400 SOLA, for a decade today. October 27, 2016, we passed our final inspection and got our C.O. I reckon about 99% of folks don’t keep track of their home’s birthday. Our home is very much a part of my persona tho. I’d dreamed of designing my own house since I was a kid. It must have been around 4th grade when I started rearranging a redecorating my room on almost a monthly basis. Big ups to my mom for letting me have free creative rein. When I was that young it was mostly a detailed display of GI Joe, Transformers, and LEGO builds. She let me choose my own wallpaper and bedding too. I didn’t know it then, but looking back now, I was definitely curating with some sort of mindful intention. I’ve kept a healthy dose of that youthfulness in my approach, walking a fine line between maintaining a beautifully immature appreciation for things that make me smile and things that won’t scare off the type of client who’s looking to drop a milli-plus for a new AADMIXX home. My studio is something between an office, a workshop, a gallery, and a collector’s happy place. It’s evolved over the years but what matters most is that it, along with the entire house, still feels fresh. Not new necessarily. I designed it with the intention that it should feel lived in on Day 1. I think I accomplished that. We were saying things like timelessness over trendiness well before timeless caught the buzzword virus it has today. Either way it’s never felt trendy here and the architectural details have stood the test of time over this fleeting last decade. Take the kitchen cabinets for example. We went for classic New York dating a vintage Parisian cafe, nestled in a warehouse district. What’s that even mean? I don’t know but I still fvckin’ love it.
I’ve never for one moment taken this home for granted. It’s checked me, taught me, and made me proud. My home is indeed a piece of my being. If it’s in disarray for more than a day, it impacts my mood. Not sure what that says about me but my therapist seems to think it’s not a bad thing. I’ve come to appreciate that I just like to keep it tight. It deserves it. It’s protected us and our loved ones through hurricanes the same as it’s provided a setting for some of life’s biggest celebrations. What else could I ask of it… nothing. Yet it continues to give. Awards, accolades, professional recognition. It’s attracted clients, superstar athletes, magazines, and a drug dealer’s cat. RIP Charles. Dude was the last living neighborhood gangster of a bygone era here in Dobyville. His cat now lives on with us. Feels fitting. Jamie. Jammers. Jammeroo. The one eyed wonder. True story, Charles had a dead ass white eye. Like Deebo from Friday. And when he died, Jamie showed up about a week later with a crazy swollen white eye. Coincidence? Who knows. All that matters is he needed help so Bianca took him to the vet to try and save that eye. A few months and a gofundme campaign later, it had to be removed. He’s currently thriving. Dude still owns the neighborhood by day but shows up every night, eats fancy wet cat food for dinner, sleeps on our couch, on his own blanket, and gets more fancy food for breakfast before deciding whether or not he’ll sleep on Bianca’s office sofa that day, or go check in on the block. Silly boi’s got a sick life. Took a minute but he and Jellie are down to cuddle these days too. He’s been around for a minute. He even knew Emmi well. Aw, Emmi. Sweet angel baguette. We take Jellie to On Swann for a burger patty on her bday each year in honor of Emmi. As for ‘Swann… It’s been our tried-and-true go-to spot right from the rip. Before that actually. Proof? After dinner there one night we borrowed a few water glasses to come share our first toast here at the house. This was before our third floor was even framed out. Still have those glasses and as I’m typing this I’m thinking we’ll toast these first ten years in them tonight. Cheers to the next decade. ✌🏼
***NO Ai used in writing this Post***