Eleventh in a series. The light in the foyer was a transplant from our starter home, a condo in Bloomfield down the street from the ice cream parlor where the final scene of The Sopranos took place. We lived under Nurse Leadfoot, who’d come home in the wee hours and begin clog dancing. She lacked rhythm.
The three blue pendants left me dissatisfied. For years. The fixture nonetheless survived the first renovation. The thing sure a heck was not going to live through the latest one. Not if I had anything to do with it. And I do, because I live here.
I look and click, my attention grabbed again and again by the unaffordable. Casa de Roo deserved lighting with the soul-caressing beauty of the Viennese crystal design that glowed within the Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center since the year of my birth, 1966. Refurbished in 2008, patrons can still buy the few remaining pieces of the original. I asked when I was in the gift shop during intermission in March. The smallest remnant is $4,000—even more that the fully functioning fixtures I consider far out of my price range.
My husband tosses me into the Mini and heads to Manhattan. The day begins, as it should, with good beer. The first place I want to check out for its Moroccan-style punched tin pendants is a bust. Time for more beer. And a snack. This becomes our pattern for the day. Look at lighting. Have a drink, eat a snack. Explore some more. Wouldn’t want to feel peckish or prudent while on such an important mission.
At last, we find it at Lighting by Gregory on Bowery in the lighting district. The design reminds us of our trip to Belgium in 2010 when, despite epic food poisoning, my love took me to see the Atomium.
My man schleps the light fixture through the streets to our car, an effort deserving of another snack-n-sip stop. We bring it home, where it sits for seven months as the kitchen project expands to include a bathroom redo and hardwood flooring installation.
I insist on centering the fixture in the space, and the Dave the electrician sets it up. A bare lightbulb is in place for the electrical inspection, giving the foyer a downmarket apartment quality, and not in an “aren’t they charmingly thrifty” sort of way.
Dave hangs the fixture. Fabulous. Like most of this renovation project, however, one more thing needs to happen before we can enjoy our investment. Being an LED, the chandelier needs a specialized dimmer. Which means it is in place, but kept dark.
Dave returns to complete a list of electrical projects and installs the specialized dimmer. My husband and I play with the settings until finding the right balance between bright and dim. As an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine concludes, a distinctive voice declares “Fremulon.” The man of the house decides this is the perfect name for our fixture. I agree as I bask in its long-awaited pure white bubbly glow.