A Letter to the Past: Please, Ladies, Skip the Wallpaper!

Oh, how I wish I had a time machine. My sole mission would be to visit the women of the past—the ones with their floral patterns, their cheery stripes, and their questionable paisley choices—and beg them, on behalf of future generations, to put the wallpaper down.

Picture it: the 1950s housewife, perched on a ladder, smoothing out a roll of yellow daisies with a smug sense of accomplishment. “This will last forever,” she thinks, blissfully unaware that she has just committed an act of home-decor terrorism. Because guess what, Barbara? It did last forever. And now, in the year 2025, I’m on my knees with a spray bottle of vinegar and a scraper, cursing your name.

Did they not consider the future? The hours spent steaming, peeling, and gouging at glue that was apparently mixed with superglue, cement, and the tears of regret? Did no one pause and think, “What if someone—just maybe—wants a plain white wall in the future?” No. They thought, “More flowers! More birds! Let’s glue this on with something that will outlast civilization itself.”

And don’t get me started on the layers. Oh, yes, because it wasn’t enough to just have one wallpaper. Some homes have three or four—a chronological time capsule of bad decisions. You strip off the 1980s geometrics only to reveal avocado green monstrosities from the 70s, then peel back to find faded pink roses from the 60s. It’s like an archaeological dig, except instead of treasures, you’re finding despair.

So, to all the ladies of history: I salute your impeccable homemaking skills, but I implore you—put down the paste, step away from the ladder, and embrace paint. Save your great-grandchildren hours of suffering and at least one existential crisis in Home Depot. Please, for the love of modern minimalism, let the walls breathe.