Filed under: Kitchen, Your Home, Projects
When our writer got engaged for the second time, his fiancée came with an ultimatum: She wanted the dark, small kitchen remodeled. Here's how it changed both of their lives.I left Russia in the 1970's and headed straight to a place I'd only heard about in movies: California. My wife and I bought a two-bedroom house in Long Beach, a bustling suburb of Los Angeles, where we slowly started building a new American life with our two daughters. But as we acclimated to our new home and adopted country, we started to grow apart. After a difficult divorce, I found myself in that house alone.
As the dust settled, life started coming back to me. Maybe it was the California sun that helped me to heal. But I was determined to give marriage another try.
Left: The writer's first wife in the original kitchen in 1979. Right: The kitchen in 2011. Photos: Arnold Preiser.
I got very lucky -- I met and proposed to a beautiful woman, but I was hesitant to invite her to my house. The house, built in the late forties, was still in the original condition. The kitchen was dark and narrow with brown plywood cabinets, orange Formica countertops and yellow appliances. A small breakfast counter separated the kitchen from the dining area and the floor was covered with a commercial-grade red carpet. The only natural light came from the small corner window over the sink. That meant the fluorescent lights suspended in the plastic ceiling were always on -- not a good look.
I knew that my house -- and especially kitchen -- would not impress my new fiancée.
To soften the impact, I invited her for her favorite dinner: Lobster. I think I impressed her with my culinary ability but did not tell her that I had just learned to make it the previous day from a friendly manager at my local supermarket.
Even after the lobster, the house visibly upset her. She suggested we move to her two-bedroom apartment, which she had recently redecorated in light blue and lavender colors. Her style, yes, but too feminine for my taste. And with two daughters from my first marriage, I needed a home where they could stay comfortably on weekends. She fought back: "I just can't deal with an orange kitchen," she said. "And it's too depressing with that fluorescent lighting. How am I supposed to cook in there?"
I ended up convincing her to move in on one condition: The kitchen had to undergo a serious makeover. And because love makes you do crazy things, I agreed to take it on myself.
I've always been a handy person. Growing up in Russia, I learned to repair everything myself, using limited tools and my imagination as a guide. When I moved to America, I was in awe of all the resources available -- I walked through hardware stores like they were museums. But while working as an engineer at a desk job, I hadn't had much of a chance to explore that side in recent years. I started to work on the house right after the wedding -- weekends, evenings, vacations, any time I could steal away. My new wife knew exactly what she wanted and as I got more and more into the project, I discovered tremendous joy in working with my hands and building something new to my wife's delight. I also discovered more talent than I'd known: Carpentry, electricity, plumbing, creativity -- it all came to me naturally.
The writer, hard at work on the kitchen in 1985. Photo: Arnold Preiser.
I turned the old kitchen floor plan around 180 degrees. The wall behind the old cabinets was completely demolished to make room for a wide sliding glass door to the backyard.
The kitchen in 2011, with plenty of natural light from outside. Photo: Arnold Preiser.
The new white cabinets with modern navy blue countertops were installed. The separating wall between the kitchen and the dining area was removed, making it a one large, airy area united by terracotta tiled floor. The blue and white tiled backsplash and bright yellow walls were my wife's idea -- she was inspired by Monet's kitchen, and determined to bring that level of charm to our own space.
And it worked -- not only was our kitchen now full of light, life and beauty, it became the unofficial living room of the house. Dinner time became more of an event and as I started to move on to renovating other rooms in the house, I was guided by its design principles.
Another look at the new kitchen. Photo: Arnold Preiser.
Some years later, I lost my engineering job. And instead of looking for a new one, I started my own business as a remodeling contractor. The kitchen became my calling card -- in the beginning, I'd invite over potential clients to give them a sense of my work. Before long, I had a practice based wholly on word-of-mouth recommendations.
My second wife changed my life in many ways -- she brought me an enlarged social circle, an appreciation for Mexican food and yes, a third daughter. But she also pushed me -- however inadvertently -- to follow a different path. One that led to a successful, satisfying career.
And it all started with that kitchen.
Arnold Preiser is a remodeling contractor in Long Beach, California. He is the father of ShelterPop editor Amy Preiser.