Teadlik tarbimine 6: kodukujundus / Conscious consumption 6: interiors

Seekord peatun põgusalt teemal, kuidas üürikorterites elamine sunnib leidlikuks. Küll ei luba omanik pilte riputada ega lemmikloomi, või kui mõni on lahke, siis tänu sellele, et ruumid pole enam ammu esimeses värskuses ja nõnda ilmselt ei nähta takistust aukude puurimisele, seinte värvimisele jne. Praeguse koduga ongi just nii. Kui soovin, võin teha värskendusi, aga oma kulul. Kui on vaja mõni katkiläinud agregaat parandada, alles siis on omanik nõus kviitungi alusel kompenseerima. Üürnikule see muidugi mugav pole, et tuleb ise kõiksugu firmasid otsida, kes seda ja teist parandada oskaks. Aga ma näen, et omanik on väsinud vanamees ja kust temagi paremaid tegelasi leiaks. Minu aastase siin elamise ajal (sõin muide iseenda sõnu, kui arvasin, et mina enam kellegagi koos elama ei hakka, kuni ilmus keegi, kes..) olen pidanud otsima gaasiboileri parandaja,  kinni kiilunud akna lahti reguleerimise spetsialisti, pesumasina nässu läinud elektroonika remontija – masin peseb, aga kui on aeg loputamise käes, siis tuleb programmiketast käsitsi keerata ja loota, et nii umbes kolmandal katsel õnnestub ja masin jätkab ülejäänud toimingutega. Selle vea remontija kahjuks osutus kasutuks (laiutas vaid käsi ja tunnistas, et tema ei oska, küsides 20€) ja peame otsinguid jätkama. Uut masinat veel ei telli, kuni vana kuidagimoodi töötab. Äkki saab ükskord korda ka. Ühesõnaga usun, et kaunis tuttav lugu üürikas elajale. 

Et toad on siin päevinäinud (meil on kõrgete lagedega 3-toaline staliniaegne üürikorter Tallinna südames V korrusel, ilma liftita!), ei ole ka kassipidamine keelatud. Kass Pepu Ustimenko, kelle aasta tagasi titena varjupaigast tõime, pole muidugi ninnu-nännude killast ja on esikukoridori seintelt usinalt vana tapeeti maha hekseldanud, õnneks teised toad pole ta orbiidile sel eesmärgil veel sattunud. Minule ette nähtud pisikese kontor-toa värskendasin kohe – värvisin lae ja paigaldasime kaaslase (fotol 1 sinivalges rõivas) ja ta sõbraga tapeedi (iial enam ei taha seda tööd teha, paras mässamine isegi ühevärvilise tapeediga!). Parketi jätsin sama kulunuks kui enne – las olla tunnistus väärikast vanadusest; ma isegi ei tea, kas see on originaal, sest sel ajal pandi pigem tammest kalasabaparketti, mitte kasepuidust rombilist. Mõtlesin, et sel suvel võtaks järgmisena köögi ette, kuna laed on silmnähtavalt tahmunud, värvi koorub, seinad koltunud/plekilised ja kes teab mis ajal värvitud kapid jubedat hallpruunikat tooni, mis omakorda ühtlaselt kõiksugu kokkamisplekkidega kaetud. Otsustasin aasta hiljem siiski, et seda aega, energiat ja raha ma ei kuluta, mis täismängule kuluks, ja võtan ette vähendatud projekti, lootes sellega süstida kogu ruumile uut paremat vaibi.

Nii oligi – uskumatu, kuidas paar rõõmsamat värvitooni laevad köögile atmosfääri, kus on palju mõnusam viibida kui enne. Maksis see mulle kõigest 30 euro ringis värvide/pintslite eest. Mõelda aitas kujundusprogramm, kus oma ideid enne värvipoodi minekut visualiseerisin. Küllap aitaks ka AI, aga ma olen vanamoodne, tahan ise mängida. Muidugi küsisin ka elukaaslase arvamust, ühiselt suutsime kokku leppida, et üks värv võiks olla punane, teise ehk tuhmroosa valisin ise vastavalt kollakasbeežikale seinavärvile. Olen kööki ka pilte seina pannud, lambile uue kupli hankinud (peale seda, kui üritasin vana puhastada, pudenes see puudutuse peale lihtsalt tolmuks!) ning õmmelnud ka paar sobivates toonides laudlina. Küürinud seinu nii et küüned tagurpidi – kõige hullem enam pole, aga kohati on ikka valus vaadata. Leidsin sellega seoses ühe tõhusa ja öko soodapõhise vahendi, mis rasva eemaldab firmalt Frosch. (Jah, mul pole kunagi varem nii rokane köök olnud, et sellist vedelikku vajanuks, heh!) 

Kokkuvõtteks saab öelda, et ka kodu värskendamise rindel, ükskõik kas see on üürikorter või su enda kinnisvara, ei pea alati uusi asju soetama, vaid sageli õnnestub vanu mööblitükke ümber teha või neid üle värvida. On loomulik, et mõnikord tekkib tüdimus või kui pidevalt kolida, nagu mina, siis ka rahaliselt ei jaksa. Aitab ka mõni värviline tekstiil või vaip. Nii ma siis tassin oma isiklikku kappi-diivanit-riiuleid-toole-pärsia vaipa-raamatuid-pilte, vinüüle jms (loe: kodusoojust ja identiteeti) kaasas, muu osas tegutsen loovalt ja võimalikult soodsalt. Olen kujundusstandardeid kõvasti alla lasknud, peale seda kui hakkasin üürikodudes elama. Veidi rääbakas, aga odavama üüriga korter ei ole kehvem kui kallim ja puhtam. Kõige tähtsamad on asukoht, koha vaim ja kaaslane (kui parasjagu just üksi ei ela). Kus on üksteise hoidmine, pole viimase peal ilus kodu üldse esmajärguline. Siis loeb funktsionaalsus ja enda loov käsi, mis kehvema keskkonna järk-järgult hubaseks oskab mõelda ja muuta. Mulle sellised väljakutsed meeldivad!

Lõppu ka pilt, milline see mööbel oli enne.
BEFORE painting

  

ENG

This time, I’d like to briefly touch on how living in rental apartments forces one to become resourceful. Sometimes landlords don’t allow tenants to hang pictures or keep pets. Others are more accommodating, perhaps because the property hasn’t been in pristine condition for quite some time, and therefore they don’t see much harm in drilling holes, painting walls, and so on. My current home is exactly like that. If I want to make improvements, I’m free to do so—but at my own expense. Only when an appliance breaks down is the landlord willing to reimburse the cost, and then only against a receipt. Naturally, it’s not especially convenient for the tenant to have to find all sorts of specialists and companies capable of fixing this or that. However, I can see that the landlord is an elderly, tired man, and honestly, where would he find better people himself?

During the year I’ve lived here (incidentally, I ended up eating my own words after declaring that I would never live with anyone again—until someone came along who...), I’ve had to find a repairman for the gas boiler, a specialist to readjust a jammed window, and someone to fix the washing machine’s faulty electronics. The machine still washes, but when it reaches the rinsing cycle, the programme dial has to be turned by hand, and one can only hope that by about the third attempt it catches and continues the rest of the cycle. Unfortunately, the repairman turned out to be useless—he simply shrugged, admitted he didn’t know how to fix it, and still charged €20. So the search continues. We’re not ordering a new machine as long as the old one works in some fashion. Perhaps it can still be saved. In short, I imagine this is a very familiar story to anyone who has lived in a rental.

Since the apartment has clearly seen better days (we live in a high-ceilinged three-room Stalin-era rental apartment in the heart of Tallinn, on the fifth floor, without a lift), keeping a cat is not prohibited either. Our cat, Pepu Ustimenko, whom we adopted as a kitten from a shelter a year ago, has diligently shredded the old wallpaper in the entrance hallway. Fortunately, the other rooms have not yet come within his orbit for this particular purpose.

I immediately refreshed the tiny office room assigned to me: I painted the ceiling, and with the help of my partner and his friend we put up wallpaper (photos 1-3). I never want to do that again—it’s quite a battle even with plain, single-colour wallpaper! I left the parquet floor as worn as it had been before, letting it stand as a testament to dignified old age. I’m not even sure whether it’s original, because apartments of that period were more likely to have oak herringbone parquet than the diamond-patterned birch flooring found here.

I had been thinking that this summer I would tackle the kitchen next. The ceilings are visibly stained with soot, the paint is peeling, the walls are yellowed and blotchy, and the cupboards—painted who knows when—are a dreadful greyish-brown shade, themselves uniformly covered in every conceivable cooking stain. A year later, however, I decided not to invest the time, energy, and money that a full renovation would require. Instead, I chose a scaled-down project in the hope of giving the whole room a better atmosphere.

And it worked. It’s remarkable how just a couple of brighter colours can transform a kitchen into a place where it is far more pleasant to spend time. It cost me only around thirty euros for paint and brushes. A design programme helped me visualize my ideas before heading to the paint shop. AI would probably have been useful too, but I’m old-fashioned—I prefer to play around with ideas myself. Of course, I also asked my partner’s opinion. Together we agreed that one colour should be red; the other, a muted warm pink, I chose myself to complement the yellowish-beige walls.

I’ve also hung pictures in the kitchen, bought a new lampshade (after attempting to clean the old one, it literally crumbled into dust at the slightest touch!), and sewn a couple of tablecloths in matching colours. I scrubbed the walls until my fingernails practically turned inside out. The worst of it is gone, though some parts are still painful to look at. In the process, I discovered an effective and environmentally friendly baking-soda-based degreaser made by Frosch. (Yes, I’d never had a kitchen dirty enough to require such a product before—ha!)

In conclusion, whether you are refreshing a rental apartment or your own property, there is not always a need to buy new things. Often old furniture can be repurposed or repainted instead. It is only natural to grow tired of one’s surroundings from time to time—or, if you move as often as I do, simply not have the financial means to do more. Even something as simple as a colourful textile or a rug can make a difference. So I continue hauling around my personal wardrobe, sofa, shelves, chairs, Persian rug, books, pictures, vinyl records, and so forth—in other words, my sense of home and identity. For everything else, I try to be creative and economical. Since I started living in rented homes, I’ve lowered my design standards considerably. A slightly shabby apartment with a lower rent is no worse than a more expensive, cleaner one. What matters most is the location, the spirit of the place, and the person you share it with (assuming you are not living alone). Where people love one another, a perfectly beautiful home is not the highest priority. Then it is functionality and one’s own creative touch that matter—the ability to imagine and gradually transform an imperfect environment into a cosy one. I enjoy challenges like that.