A couple of years ago I was earning a living singing and dancing and sometimes directing and choreographing. Those latter roles were the harder ones, because instead of just belting out a few high notes and pulling off the odd kick-ball-change, directors and choreographers have to deal with the producers.
Producers who want to mount a full-scale production with a budget of $250 and have their Great Aunt Bessie design the costumes. It’s a constant battle of your vision versus their bank balance.
It occurs to me as we go through this restaurant fit-out, that it is really pretty similar to putting on a show. Ash has her vision, the builder has the practicalities and we have the money. Although not very much. And we didn’t give her much time either.
I think we found the space at Christmas time 2011, it was January when design actually commenced, and here we are less than five months later, (which in the world of architects and builders is apparently quite short). Who knew? We certainly didn’t.
Ash asked for photos of the space and so I took them, but not with any sort of accuracy of thoroughness, more to highlight some of the more bizarre elements of the space we were inheriting.
I’m referring specifically to the tiles. Note their colour. A ghastly orange, sort of like my childhood nemesis – the orange cod. We were forced to eat it every Good Friday and I never understood why millions of Indians could enjoy meat free meals everyday and once a year we had to choke down broiled orange cod. I doubt even Jesus would have eaten it.
Clearly the tiles couldn’t stay. But replacing them was cost prohibitive. So Ash and Tristram the builder have come up with a method of ‘scarifying’ which will get rid of the orange cod, give us the rustic feel we’re going for and do it at a fraction of the cost.
And so we continue to dance our restaurant fit-out dance. Waltzing around costs, pirouetting through decisions but somehow still managing to keep true to our vision.
A farmhouse feel with an urban edge.
Stand by for the next instalment…
Captions: Purple toilet doors people. Two of them; He is bigger than he looks. And would look fantastic over most bed heads; Yes. That’s Our Queen Mary. And yes, they are Viking Helmets. To be fair though, it was a lovely scandinavian restaurant so the decor makes more sense than you might have originally imagined.