Standards of Taste

Perhaps the truth is, there is no standard. Taste is simply relative as is beauty. If I accept this, then all of my criticisms of vinyl siding cannot be seen as absolutely true or correct. Still, in my comments, I have tried to suggest two things (1) that the commercial market pushes its standards (trends) upon us, and (2) that one can opt out of market standards and try something different. I have also stated that what the market offers is limited in terms of color, materials, etc. In short, I have simply wanted to see homeowners be more creative and independent minded. Even so, I am left with the fact that choosing to give one's house a commercial look is also the homeowner's right.

This morning, just before I began my walk, I received a painful reminder of everything that I have just said. A few steps from my front porch, my neighbor's son, a realtor, verbally assaulted and insulted me with criticism of my house. The assault included criticism of my color choice, a command that I put up shutters and paint my front door red, and a statement that the side of my house was an eyesore. By the time that my irritation began to show, he semi-backpeddled, an insincere move that hardly cancelled out his earlier comments.

Needless to say, this early-morning exchange pretty much ruined my walk as I spent the next forty-five minutes thinking about what I'd just experienced. Part of me felt "that's what you get!" a taste of your own bitter medicine. Okay, I can deal with that.

So, what now? No more commenting on houses? No more raging against vinyl?

I could go on hiatus, but I've been enjoying this blog too much. It has been cathartic as I've been able to get thoughts off of my chest or out of my head. Perhaps I have been inflicting the same kind of pain that I felt this morning. I hope not.

But pain was what I felt when this man screwed up his face and said, "that color"! My response was "I like it." That was my only reply, my only defense, to his suggestion that dark green, my dark green, is not acceptable. Basically, what I was saying was that it's my house, and I'll paint it whatever color I like; thank you very much. Yet, I have to admit that I can still hear his voice echoing in my head. I am not past the insult. It is personal yes, but what bothers me as much is the idea (which I think is underlying) that there is only a very limited, acceptable, color palate when it comes to the exterior of houses. Most people might actually agree with that idea, and I myself think that there are extremes that people would do well to avoid, but I continue to feel that "my green" is acceptable. What has gotten beneath my skin is the idea that as a homeowner I have to walk such a fine line; moving a little to the left or a little to the right, even a millimeter in either direction, results in judgment. This is the general problem, and it bothers me greatly.

He was on a roll, so there was no point in his stopping at criticizing my color choice. He asked me if I would paint the door red! What!? The door (which used to be white when the entire house was covered in white aluminum) is now a warm brown, a few shades lighter than the chocolate colored columns and banding. Truth be told, I don't know if he was really suggesting that I paint the door red, or if he was being facitious and ra... (Okay, I'm not going to go there, not yet anyway.) Anyway, the red door comment was his attempt I suppose at a joke. I think the question was would I choose a tacky red to go along with the tacky green since "you people" (my people or black people) are known for gaudiness. Why not add some bling to the equation? Right. Perhaps my interpretation is wrong, but I doubt it.

Another thing that we people are known for is getting people told. I am amazed and I could kick myself that I didn't offer him a few choice words. Actually, that is not nor ever has been my tendency, but sometimes I wonder if I'm not a little too civilized. I think that this occasion definitely called for some appropriate correction, and I should have offered it. Missed opportunity.

Lastly, I was told basically to put some shutters up. That's right; I'm a grown woman, but I was TOLD what to do to my own house that my husband and I pay for. That's it! Sorry folks, I tried not to use the "r" word since we so often get accused of pulling out that card unnecessarily and inappropriately. Now I know. Now I understand. Understand what?

I have been trying for years now to understand why my grandfather--once owner of hundreds of acres of land--left Mississippi. Now I understand. He knew what it felt like to have your manhood questioned. He knew what it felt like to have another person treat you like a boy though you are a six foot, two hundred and fifty pound man. And now I know what it feels like to have someone disregard your gray hair, disregard your education, disregard the fact that you have been working steadily on your house, and regard instead the color of your skin. It would seem to be the last that explained for our neighbor's son why I chose my green; it is this last that says to him, they're never going to finish their siding removal project; it is this last that made him think that he needed to tell me to repaint a color he approves of and to put up shutters; it is this last that made him joke that we would paint the door red! Yes, the red door was the clincher.

Now, I know what it feels like to have not just one's taste, but one's intelligence and even one's humanity attacked. So, on second thought, I am done with blogging about siding. I dare not risk offering classist comments that equal the racist ones with which I was assaulted today. I think that I have gained something from this writing however, all that I was meant to learn, from this topic. I hope that my readers have learned something as well.