This is the view when you first enter through the front door. The moldings! The rosettes! The pocket doors! The 16 (18?) foot ceilings!! The parquet floors! It's too much. I'm going to start crying.
Here's the view from the other end of the entryway looking back at the front door. The worst part of all of this?? This is what my Aunt's home looks like *while* she's in the middle of renovating. How unfair is that? She's fixing things up left and right and running a restaurant business and this is what her house looks like. What?!?!? Clearly, I need to set some higher standards for myself...
And this, be still my heart, is the main staircase:
Hello gorgeous!!! Can I hug you?? I promise I won't drool while I do!
Oh to be a bride on that stair! I'd don my dress all over again just to descend those beautiful, beautiful stairs. Again, let me give you a little perspective and help you with the scale of this house...
I am 5'2". The baluster is taller than me. It's almost as thick as me. Now scroll up to the photo right before this one and look at the doors in relation to the baluster. They are HUGE!!
And the little dip in the rail where it rounds out right here:
It only comes up to just above my knee. Again, just picture a bride standing right behind it... *Sigh* And then the molding! The wainscoting! THE WAINSCOTING!!!!! Sorry. I get worked up every time I look at this staircase. I spent a great deal of time sitting on the stairs just staring (ha) in admiration (and envy).
There is a special place in my heart for rounded, curly details...
If I get this excited about curly details, just imagine how I'll react when I eventually get to visit the Biltmore Estate. I'll probably swoon. I'll need a partner there to catch me. Any takers? Hmm? Want to go to the Biltmore Estate with me?? HMMM??
My aunt is planning on eventually ripping up the blue carpeting. It's squishy and fun to walk on and it isn't bad, but she has other plans.
I resisted sliding down the banister. Just barely. But I resisted. Aren't you proud of me, love?
Side Story: I slid down the banister of the hotel at prom. In my pale pink dress and high heels. I twisted my ankle when I got to the bottom. My then friend and now husband (but not my prom date) picked me up and carried me to a little settee to examine my ankle. His date was less than thrilled with him. I was secretly very thrilled with him. Not that I let on. I would have hit him if he tried anything. Ah, love.
To this day, I have a very hard time resisting banisters.
More on Colliscroft's magnificent interior to come in the not so distant future. Have I whetted your appetite?