When HGTV come's knocking ...
It was 5 am on a cold winter morning and I leapt out of the bed and thought “today is the day”. I sifted around in the dark like a ninja, careful not to wake Seven, and then darted out of the room into the hallway flooded with light, squinting while my body caught up with me. The night before we had spent at a hotel, one only 3 minutes from my own home's front door. The plan would be that my mother would stay with Seven, while I took the one big giant leap into arguably the pinnacle experience of my budding career. I arrived home in the darkness, feet crunching in the (stale, and no longer ‘pretty’) snow. This place that was so familiar ushered me in differently today, almost as if she knew. Today the intimate communion she and I had shared over the past five years would change. Today, she would be shared.
A small and efficient crew would arrive at 7 am, right on the dot, and immediately begin bustling about arranging lights and setting up impressive cameras (and of course open as many windows and doors as possible despite the chilling 20 degree temp because... Covid). I would sheepishly smile and carry on small talk while I paced about not knowing at all what to do. Was I nervous? Not exactly I thought. I was at home and with people… well I love my home and I love people, that couldn’t be it. No, these weren’t nerves for today, these were nerves for what was yet to come.
I stood guard in the vestibule greeting various crew members coming in and out and offering whatever ‘assistance’ I could come up with when I heard someone mention “Ethan and Elizabeth just pulled up”. Subtly, yet declarative the statement immediately perked my ears and my heart began to race. You could have very well told me Michael Jackson was on my porch and I would have responded just the same.
This was it! They were here! THIS WAS HAPPENING!
I peered out of the seven feet of window to the street and saw a black SUV. Pulled up right behind the other vehicles lining the street, this particular member of the motorcade was different. I could see both of the producers approach the passenger window and begin casually chatting to the occupants. Although I tried to appear as nonchalant as the many professionals bustling about, I never once took my eyes off of that black SUV. I just knew at any moment the two rockstars in an industry I had become properly obsessed about would emerge.
Time ticked on… and on and I still hadn’t caught a glimpse of either Ethan nor Elizabeth. What was going on? Was that normal, did they need to regroup, were they having second thoughts after they laid eyes on my old girl? The PA must have sensed my confusion and quickly reassured me that they wanted the greeting to be authentic. The very first time I would have an opportunity to welcome my two idols into my home, they’d be rolling. What!? No pressure. Just remember all the things, and try not to trip down the stairs. Easy peasy..
My BA in Theatre Arts finally had a chance to prove its worth. I said a quick prayer of gratitude, took a deep breath and opened my front door…
Filming my own home for a brand new show, hosted on a network that I’ve watched since middle school is downright surreal. Added to this mountain of goodness was this cherry of being an authentic storytelling of old homeowners sincerely loving their homes. For the first time, my strange affinity for old, crusty, in need of work homes, was being celebrated and shared with millions. The underdogs had won the game! I was awestruck that a show such as Cheap Old Houses was happening at all and even more giddy that I could play a small role in their story.
I am beyond honored and privileged to hold space with such an amazing group of humans inside and out. And I am downright geeked out that a little pipe dream of mine has been realized. While my ‘designer aspirations’ is floored that is some capacity my ‘work’ will be aired on the one and only power house of HGTV (and also wondering if this is the proper time to add the accolade to my social media bio because...duh) what I am obsessed with even more is the pure joy I feel playing a part of a movement. A realization that original walls and windows are good and worth saving. These stories of waiting years to find the perfect reclaimed marble to match the baseboards in the bathroom, sacrificing a kitchen remodel for a new roof, and still not being ‘done’ five years in are the authentic truths. The stories that deserve to be celebrated just as much as the transformations knocked out by teams seemingly in thirty minutes.