Hovel Dweller Has Designs on House Beautiful

Oh, how I long for the day when my major decisions are chintz or chenille, cranberry paint or raspberry, and whether to use his sink or hers.

In creating Design House ‘99, a fund-raiser for the New West Symphony, a delta force of Ventura County decorators faced those sorts of weighty dilemmas. For 17 years, these aesthetic elite have transformed a local home into a showcase.

Between today and May 30, nearly 6,000 people will tromp through the brand-new Ventura residence. Soon after they leave, the home’s owners and their two boys will vacuum heavily and move in.

Hoping to have my apartment chosen as Design House 2000--after all, it is Y2K compliant--I asked the interior designers for tips on turning my 450-square-foot Ventura studio into a place that looky-loos would pay $16 to envy.

Just to give you an idea of the obstacles I face, I live in a room that’s one-third the size of Design House ‘99’s garage.

Lest I be discouraged, the women behind DH99 assured me that anyone could find inspiration in the three-bedroom, 4,300-square-foot home, where the kitchen island’s so large it should be called Anacapa.

“You can take any idea from any room in this house and scale it down to suit your space,” said Mary Ann Harris, one of the project’s seven faux finishers. To be clear, they’re real finishers, but they make fake things look real.

(Can you imagine the turf wars among faux finishers--lots of spiteful sponging and taunts of, “Oh yeah? Well, marbleize this!”)

I wandered through Design House ’99 recently, touching things with my grimy hands and pestering each decorator as she rushed to prepare her zone for the crowds. I brought along photos of my apartment to spur their brainstorm.

Looking over the photos in the home’s sumptuous, Georgian library, Karen Began immediately spotted problems with my bathroom towel rack--it’s way too high.

“It bothers me,” Began said, suggesting I replace the rack altogether with a basket brimming with (matching) towels. (Sounds like an invitation for mildew to me.)

In the rack’s place, Began lobbied for a pretty print. Also, my shower curtain should be “swagged.” I had to look that word up.

Taking in the eclectic color scheme of my tiny bachelor pad, Began suggested I stick to one dominant color and two “accessory or accent” colors. But clearly plain blue and red would not be considered respectable options; I have to accent with “slate” or “denim,” “wine” or “berry.”

Elizabeth Alexander, who created the master suite for her seventh design house, took one look at my bedroom/study/living room/dining room/foyer and pronounced it “like a dorm room.”

What an insult. I’ve lived in dorm rooms much nicer than this apartment.

The chief offender was my bed, which Alexander said seems “too beddy.” A week’s salary spent on fluffy pillows to make the bed look like a sofa should solve the problem.

But whatever I do to my “master bedroom,” Alexander considers such rooms to be “sensual spaces.” That probably means I can’t drink beer in bed.

Lacking any great views from my apartment, I wanted to create one. Helen Scuoler suggested filling one wall with trompe l’oeil. Translation: a painted scene that wouldn’t fool a bird--or a photo mural of a beach, much like the enormous one she’s stuck in the Design House, in the bedroom of the owners’ 13-year-old surfer son.

My kitchen, with its caramel wood, gold-flecked counter top and busy linoleum, presented further challenges. Kammy Kenman suggested I put “fun” pulls on my cabinets and drawers. After all, there’s nothing more fun than pulling out drawers, right?

So if I replace my pulls--plus lower the towel rack, swag everything swaggable and trompe the l’oeil--my decorating team said my studio could be a strong contender for next year’s showcase. One of the women, complimenting my bow tie, said I have a personal style that shows I’ve “got it going on.” (I think she wanted to see my “sensual space.”)

Of course, since my apartment is only 10% of the minimum 4,500 square feet for a design house, each decorator would have only a patch to tackle.

“We’d all be fighting for the bed,” Alexander said.

And while the elves worked their magic, I would need a place to stay. To the 9-year-old who’ll be living in DH99, save me the top bunk.

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Massie Ritsch is a Times Community News staff writer. His e-mail address is Massie.Ritsch@latimes.com.