The Art of Making It Look Easy
On sprezzatura, dyed wood, noren curtains, and what happened when I spent a Sunday over a pot of blue dye.
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The Art of Making It Look EasyOn sprezzatura, dyed wood, noren curtains, and what happened when I spent a Sunday over a pot of blue dye.
Hi friends!
Happy August — time to make the most of these last weeks of summer. Last weekend we hosted our dear friend who moved to Scotland last year, which was equal parts wonderful and bittersweet. We gathered with friends, wandered two neighborhood markets, chatted over cocktails, and just soaked up the time together. The kind of weekend that fills you up and reminds you how lucky you are to have your people and your city. This week I’m carrying that spirit of ease and optimism into a DIY project that combines my love of color with my complicated relationship with tackling new things. More on that shortly. But first — hold tight for No Notes, because we made a recent purchase that is pure summer and I cannot wait to share it. Let’s get into it.
The Art of NonchalanceI was recently introduced to the Italian concept of sprezzatura through the wonderful podcast Articles of Interest — and I have been a little obsessed ever since. Coined in 1528 by Renaissance writer Baldassare Castiglione, it describes a studied nonchalance: the art of making difficult tasks, performances, or personal style look completely effortless. Castiglione wrote of “a certain nonchalance which conceals all artistry and makes whatever one says or does seem uncontrived and effortless.” The best art, he argued, conceals art. It hides the labor behind the lightness.
In fashion it shows up as the hat placed at just the right angle, the scarf worn without too much rigour, the tailored suit carried with the same ease as a pair of jeans. A collection of patinated, lived-in pieces that when put together have personality — where the wearer shines through rather than the outfit. Imperfectly perfect. Casual with elegance running underneath. But what I love about sprezzatura is that it extends far beyond fashion. Design, music, art, writing, sports — the concept applies anywhere confidence and ease replace the fear of judgment. And that freedom from judgment is what enables play, experimentation, and the kind of work that looks easy precisely because it isn’t.
Color in the GrainI have always been something of a wood purist — I love to celebrate the natural tone and grain of a wood with a clear oil or sealer, and I bristle at staining wood to mimic another species. But there is one place where my purist instincts give way entirely: color. Seeing wood grain in a completely unnatural hue — a bright red, a kelly green, a deep cobalt — makes my heart swell. The grain is still there, still honored, still the point. The color just takes it somewhere unexpected.
Linen and Light
While researching curtain ideas for Charlie’s room I came across these beautiful dyed linen Noren curtains on Etsy and immediately fell a little bit in love. Noren are traditional Japanese fabric dividers — hung in doorways to create a soft threshold between spaces, public and private, inside and out. I love the idea of that gentle suggestion of separation rather than a hard close. The moody, dreamy wash of shibori dyed color is intoxicating, and the way they move is everything.
Blue SundayI like to think of myself as someone who isn’t too afraid of trying new things — figuring things out, feeling independent, diving in. And yet there is always a nagging voice that wants to get it right the first time, wants it to turn out exactly as imagined. As I’ve gotten older I’ve become more comfortable with that uncertainty. Maybe because I’ve learned that I’ll figure it out either way — whether it needs fixing or not. When I was at Schoolhouse, sometimes the hardest part was setting a design aside when it wasn’t working. But we always held onto the belief that if an idea had captured us in any way, it could be refined until it was ready. Some of our best products came from exactly that — holding onto a good idea, giving it time, trusting the eventual value of the thing even when it wasn’t coming together easily.
All of which is to say: I dyed some curtains. Low stakes in the grand scheme of things — but the same uncertainty, the same can-do attitude, the same optimism and acceptance are all wrapped up in it. Tackle the project, even if you’re scared you’ll mess up. You can do it. And if it’s not perfect, that might be exactly the point. So I spent this past Sunday over a pot of simmering blue water. The perfect August afternoon activity, right? Here is what I did: I decided to go for a DTM — dyed to match — look. Does that bring back memories of dyed-to-match prom shoes? Anyone? On the Rit Dye website they have a collection of color recipes, so I picked one to match the wall color. A visit to Michaels and a few bottles of dye later and I was ready to go.
I borrowed a large pot from my friend who has every creative supply imaginable . I heated four gallons of water, mixed equal parts dye into the simmering bath, added a dash of dish soap, and took the plunge. I added two damp curtains to the first batch — not wanting to overcrowd and risk uneven dye — and after thirty minutes of simmering and stirring, they came out for a rinse and then a soak in a fixative solution. Then I did it all again for the second pair. After all four were dyed, fixed, washed, ironed, and hung — I love them.
And they are not perfect. I hemmed them before dyeing, assuming a hot wash would have handled any shrinking — but unfortunately they came out about an inch too short. Easily fixed: lower the rods, or let down the hem. The other thing I noticed is that these curtains have a high polyester content, and the creases from being scrunched in a pot of hot water for thirty minutes caused some permanent wrinkling that even a thorough ironing hasn’t fully resolved. Does anyone have advice on avoiding this? I’d genuinely love to know.
But the color is lovely. The softness around the windows creates exactly the cozy atmosphere I was hoping for. And the imperfection? Very on-brand for a week spent thinking about sprezzatura.
The Slushie Summer
The purchase I teased at the top: a Ninja slushie machine. Introduced to us over a weekend at my brother and sister-in-law’s lake house, this specific and decadent little appliance has changed everything. We have been making Aperol spritz slushies on the back porch and I have approximately zero regrets. At Charlie’s request we have also made root beer slushies, and next on the list might be an afternoon coffee cold treat. The magic of this machine is that it creates the slush without any ice, so your flavors stay completely intact. I plan to slush my way through the rest of summer, experimenting along the way. The perfect end to a Sunday — or a Tuesday, honestly. What project have you tackled that didn’t turn out perfectly — and are you glad you did it anyway? Katie xx Thanks for reading Design School! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.
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