In the final dregs of second year, that lawless period between the conclusion of dreaded exams and the thrill of May Week, I staggered towards Magdalene to see Grace, the post-term headache both profound and unrelenting. I must confess the implicit guilt I have in writing this article – the aesthetic precision of Grace’s room is not done justice by my four-month postponement of putting its beauty to paper. Unlike my writing patterns and organisational skills more broadly, Grace’s room is an oasis of calm in Easter term chaos, a pocket of colour coordination peppered with warm sentimentality, while this article has sat glaring back at me from my half-finished to-do list for longer than I’d like to confess.
“Grace’s room is an oasis of calm in Easter term chaos”
Grace’s room is the culmination of her own exquisite interior design impulses and her mum’s, who Grace herself admits has “impeccable taste”. Everything has its place, not in a clinical sterility – I don’t expect to be recounting surgical instruments at the end of my visit – but rather a sleek organisation only rivalled by glossy studytubers or the heights of Pinterest. Swathes of sage green find harmony with swatches of mustard, freckled with floral prints. Grace again attributes her proficiency with colour to her mum, claiming to have been “indoctrinated from birth” in the ways of tone matching and pattern complimenting. Her room is more than just a collection of cohesions; it has the cosiness required to endure Cambridge. Knowing the fresher chaos that naturally follows, Grace and her mum planned a room of serenity – armed with a clear vision, and more importantly a Pinterest board, they had a guarantee of a safe space and refuge from the tumult of first year.
“Her armchair accepts mainly clothes as guests; such is the bountiful nature of her wardrobe”
Homeliness is assured by the collection of soft toys that find residence in Grace’s room. As she says: “All good rooms have a Jellycat.” But more importantly than the increasingly popular plushie, there is Molly, a bunny bought to console a three-year-old Grace when her dad and brother took up mountaineering and little Grace was taken to a cafe instead, quelled by cake. A mini mammoth bought with a college friend on a Varsity gallery crawl completes the set. There is harmony in the collections Grace has amassed, having purchased a postcard at every destination when interrailing around Italy. These are alternated with sleek film shots, one depicting the chance meeting between her, her friend and an old Italian couple on a train to Cinque Terre, who they chatted with for the whole journey despite having no common language, only Google Translate and lots of encouraging smiles. Slovenia is the next stop on the world map, the ultimate rowing camp destination and where Grace has acquired panoramic views of Lake Bled for her pinboard.
Completing the effortless aesthetic is her record collection – predominantly the trifles of her dad’s shared teenage collection, saved up for and divided out among friends. She hopes none of the friends would mind too much that they no longer reside in their teenage bedrooms but find a new dwelling amid Van Gogh posters and old editions of Varsity. Although Grace says the record player is chronically underused, occasionally, during an intense work session at her desk, she’ll put on a classical record and suddenly relive that gorgeous feeling that we pray in Freshers’ week will never fade, the momentary realisation of a romanticised Cambridge experience. But this is quickly overshadowed by the immediacy of the everyday. Thanks to the hectic rush of term, her armchair accepts mainly clothes as guests; such is the bountiful nature of her wardrobe, again a perfect curation of pieces.
A self-confessed magpie, her room is a scrapbook of sentimental moments, from the expected post-exam prosecco bottles to the unusual – Gardies receipts from freshers expeditions, for instance. Her mantlepiece is adorned with tiny hand-painted teacups bought at a tea-tasting experience from her summer spent teaching English in Thailand; each brushstroke is unique, irreplaceable and inimitable, like so many of the memories held within the room.
Grace, reminiscing on these memories, scattered like confetti across this space that has become home, reflects: “I’m going to enjoy my freedom while I can.” When asked what she would title her room Grace replies “a deep breath away from home”. It is the foundation of family that provides this freedom and deep breath, underpinned by her mum’s immaculate interior design, the records from her dad, the Jellycat from her brother’s girlfriend – Grace’s room is aesthetically perfect, but more than that, it is a deep breath, swelled with memories and the love of her family, with the capacity to make even the randomly-allocated room, home.
