The Flat With the Red Door

The minute we saw the ad for the flat I fell in love. There weren't many photos, which was a bit suspicious, but the location, nestled between quirky Clerkenwell and bustling Angel was perfect. Situated in a sea of stunning 18th century Georgian terraced mansions, the flat was on a quiet street opposite a square. As we approached the bright red door, I thought "This is far too good to be true"...and it was.

The flat was tiny. Teeny even. We were showed into the kitchen / lounge and it got worse. It. Was. Filthy. The smell - indescribable. There was stuff...EVERYWHERE. The fireplace wall, which was conveniently left out of the photos in the ad was a very badly painted bright red. The curtains stopped short at the sill, which although is common in the UK, is also against my religion. Too add insult to injury, the sink was filled with filthy dishes.

After my initial shock at the state of the lounge, and a tour of the rest of the flat which was of a similar state, the designer in me came to life. I thought of this as an opportunity. My glass was half full. I looked at the original hard wood floors. I ignored the smell. I looked at the high ceilings. I ignored the dirty curtains. I looked at the big ceiling height sash windows. I wanted it.

I was lucky that my very lovely boyfriend trusted me. I'm convinced he was skeptical, but somehow very nervously, we put an offer in. A few hours later it was accepted.

In the next few posts I will share the process of making the space livable. In the mean time, cast your eyes upon - *drumroll* THE BEFORE:

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