Ode to a curtain rod

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This article first featured here

I’ve always worked from home, but right now of course I’m spending even more time here. And I still love it.

It was while washing dishes and staring aimlessly out the window that my eye fell upon my curtain rod. I fixated on its beautiful details and it did – as Marie Kondo would say – spark joy.

It also got me thinking about the importance of seemingly trivial decisions on our overall happiness. If you’re an aesthete like me, I don’t think these things can ever be overthought. Even a humble curtain rod can be a star.

And this is its story.

In as much as anything is forever, this is our forever house. We bought it seven years ago because it was in a perfect spot and, while an old girl, she was well renovated so we knew we wouldn’t have to stress about doing any updating before moving in.

Of course, the trouble with buying anything pre-renovated is that it’s inevitably not going to be your exact taste. But overall, we were fortunate. Fixtures were pleasing enough, I could make it work.

One thing that did bother me was the choice of blinds throughout the large open-plan living space. I disliked everything about them: colour and type of fabric, the mechanics, the design. But they were functional, and we were busy, so more than five years flew by before I finally did something.

After so much time living with window treatments I didn’t like, I was well attuned to what I wanted to see in their place. Houses, particularly interiors, are a lifelong passion of mine and I had plenty of sources bookmarked and reference images saved.

I was familiar with architectural hardware sites all over Australia. For previous homes I’d ordered holdbacks online from Victoria and bought kitchen handles from bricks and mortar shops here in Sydney. It was through these adventures that I’d discovered Tasman Forge.

Cue gorgeous curtain fittings handmade in solid wrought iron, with the perfect mottled black-brown finish. I was drawn to both the authenticity of the material and the artistry. These rods look – and more importantly feel – exactly like something you might find in a 300-year-old European farmhouse, and I knew I would never regret the investment.

I did look at pre-fab options in cast-iron that might have achieved a similar look, but it was almost impossible to find identical rods in all the varying the sizes I needed, ranging from well over 3 metres to under 1 metre. They also weren’t anywhere near as beautiful as these.

The thing with hand-forged ironwork made to order is that it will be perfectly sized, shaped and fitted to your windows. No unsightly overhang or awkward joins. It’s like haute couture for your home: exquisitely executed, timelessly elegant and forever joy-inducing.

I did have concerns about commissioning craftsmanship, conveying measurements and organising shipping from another country, but after speaking with Tim and receiving his detailed, prompt and thorough communications, I was completely confident. He really knows curtain hardware!

Fortunately, I found an equally talented and dedicated artisan to complete my long-held curtain vision, crafting simple pure linen drapes that perfectly complemented the simplicity of the rods.

It was well worth the almost six-year wait. Indeed I’m grateful for that wait because it taught me to be patient and hold out for something meticulously considered and truly beautiful.

Now that we’re home so much, each day begins with opening the curtains to let in the sun. I love the sound of the wrought iron rings sliding along the sturdy rods, and the way the linen gathers into a heavy mass and puddles onto the floor.

And as each day ends, the ritual reverses: we draw the curtains and close out the world. It’s such a small thing, but it brings happiness every time.

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