Extreme Makeover: PAPER Edition
Drew Elliott Transforms Mr. Mickey's Home From a Mess to a Miracle.
By Drew Elliott & Mickey Boardman
Photographed by Jacqueline Di Milia
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THE SLOB
Mickey Boardman, aka Mr. Mickey (PAPER's
Editorial Director), has always lived in complete chaos and clutter. Not
because he likes it that way, but more because of his compulsion to shop
and hoard stuff due to an aversion to throwing things away. Eventually,
he grew to accept that living in a merry mess was his fate ... until
last month.
THE SAVIOR
Drew Elliott (PAPER's VP of Creative
Services and Marketing) lives for a challenge. He specializes in, among
other things, putting together million-dollar parties for $29.99. But
his latest -- and perhaps greatest -- task was to turn Mr. Mickey's
apartment from an overpriced mess of a storage bin to a small but
gorgeous showplace where he can live comfortably, display his trinkets
with pride and entertain visiting dignitaries ... a tall order.
MR. MICKEY NEEDS HELP
I have a terrible confession to make:
I'm a total slob. Not a never-shower, sleep-on-week-old-food type of
slob, but more of a pack rat organizational-disaster type of slob. I
have always kept my passport and checkbooks in a royalty commemorative
tin on the stove. With only one teensy closet in my one-bedroom
Manhattan apartment, my clothes end up in piles on the floor. Not random
piles, mind you. The system is: Marni blouses and Lacoste shirts on the
chair, sparkle tops in one pile on the floor, pants on another pile, and
jewelry in a big mixing bowl on the back of the toilet. It's not that I
enjoy the junkie lifestyle, it's just that I have no sense when it comes
to figuring out where stuff goes. I buy 10 new royalty books and the
shelves are full. Anyone with some sense could figure out how to make it
work. But I get confused and say, OK, we'll put them in a pile here on
top of the TV.
DREW ELLIOTT COMES TO THE RESCUE
Not so long ago, Mickey was
visiting at my house when he said, "You live in a palace. Can you help
me with my house?" So I went over to Mickey's, and what I saw shocked me
-- dirty sheets as window coverings, pots and pans on a stove filled
with paperwork, furniture stacked in front of furniture, an unusable
coffee table covered in piles of receipts and clutter. You couldn't move
from one room to another because of all the stacks of magazines, clothes
and gifts that had never been opened, along with an unmanageable art
collection. Stuff was everywhere, and it had taken over his life. I
immediately told him that the best thing he could do was to go away for
two weeks and let me do a makeover. At first, I thought that my job
there would be strictly organizational, but when I actually dove in, I
realized it was much bigger than that. Mickey was going to have to
change his lifestyle. He was going to have to grow up and become an
adult.
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Before starting work, I forced Mickey to decide which of his possessions were truly important to him. This editor had to do a severe edit. We filled trash bags with unwanted clothes for his Screaming Mimi's celebrity sidewalk sale. We recycled the thousands of magazines he had collected over the past 15 years. Then we actually threw away 45 garbage bags of just basic clutter. Once Mickey left for the agreed-upon 15 days away, I had to work fast -- and cheaply, as our budget was low, low, low.
First I came up with a design plan. I wanted to keep the look and feel of Mickey's enthusiasm, but also to give him a place where he could relax and feel tranquil, where he was not necessarily surrounded by every single one of his favorite bright colors, art pieces and crazy clowns. I decided his living room could be wild, but that his bedroom should be more subdued. I then packed up all his remaining possessions, donated 16 pieces of furniture to charity and enlisted the help of my super-hardworking friend, Lindsey, who is an organization freak. Then came the army of upholsterers (to redo Mickey's favorite couch and chair), painters (to paint the walls, cabinets and furniture), the wallpaper hangers (to slap up amazing vintage paper), the electricians (to install the fabulous eBay chandeliers) and the plumbers (to install a fresh sink). It was a race against the clock. At 5 p.m. on day 15, I was racing around P.C. Richard's buying a microwave before heading to Whole Foods for frozen vegan burritos and ginger ale to stock Mickey's fridge. I was totally exhausted, but ready for the big "reveal."
MR. MICKEY IS AMAZED
Walking up to the front door of my
apartment after two weeks away, I was giddy. What would it be like? What
if I hated it? I'd been practicing my "Oh. My. God! I LOOOOVE it!" face
for days. Well, my rehearsals were totally unnecessary. The place looked
AMAZING. I had wanted a balance between the kind of place that could be
photographed for a magazine and a place where I could flop on the couch
and catch up on episodes of The Biggest Loser. And I got it. Drew
somehow managed to maintain my personal aesthetic (which some might
describe as alcoholic-housewife-meets-birthday-party-clown) while also
adding chic and simple basics for contrast. And to address my
disorganization and pack rat disabilities, Drew set up boxes with labels
for everything. My passport and other documents are now in the
"International Travel" box tucked away inside a real cabinet; my porn
magazines are all neatly stacked in a box labeled "Dirty Dirty"; and my
sparkle tops are hanging majestically in the special "Sparkle" section
of my new IKEA wardrobe. And the kitchen? I can see the stove! It's a
miracle.
I'll admit that the first day in my newly fancied-up palace was a bit nutty. I felt like my Grandma in a fancy hotel -- afraid to touch anything and madly wiping down the sink whenever I washed my hands. But two days later, I was already adapted to the new system. I walk in the door, put my keys in the key tray, take off my shoes and put them in the shoe basket at the bottom of my new Ikea closet, drop my purse on the West Elm yellow scoop chair, pull out my Blackberry, get the charger from the "Chargers and Cords" box and plug it in. I feel a bit like a Stepford Wife automaton -- even though I don't steam the bedspread as Drew would -- but I'm loving my fresh, immaculate digs and taking my new life as a neatnik one day at a time!
Special thanks: Lindsey Sturdy, Evan Sturdy, Spyke Toombs, Mack Dugan, Jamie Granoff, Ryan Taft, Pete Trentacoste, Jill Hutchison, Lester the Super, Amanda Preston , Lorna Montalvo, Abigail Jacobs, Kristy Evans
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LIVING ROOM: Parsons sube side table by West Elm, Billy Bookshelves by IKEA
KITCHEN:
Scoop-back Chair by West
Elm
CLOSET: Organizers by West Elm
BEDROOM: Zebra rug and
leopard pillows by West Elm, Headboard by Target
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