How to Buy the Right Curtains the First Time

The other day, as often happens at HomeGoods, I came across a clearance item I wasn’t looking for—but had to have: four gorgeous pairs of velvet curtains for $30 each. I didn't have a specific purpose in mind for them, but thought they might look nice in my dining room. Or my bedroom. Or my office. I was a bit directionless, clearly, but figured I’d find a place for curtains as stunning as these. 

I purchased one pair and asked the cashier to hold the other three pairs, just in case the panels looked best in my bedroom, which has four windows. 

“Curtains are one of our number one returned items,” she volunteered. “People are always getting the color or size wrong.”

I thought I’d be different. But, alas, the curtains looked terrible in my dining room, since they had to drape awkwardly around a radiator. They only looked slightly better in every other room of my house. 

One day later, I was a HomeGoods cliche: I reluctantly took back the panels—and encountered the same cashier, who repeated her spiel about curtains being an oft-returned item. My conclusion: It was time to do some curtain-buying research—and avoid making the same mistake twice. 

Step 1: Measure!

Before you even consider curtains, determine the dimensions of your windows. Your rule of thumb: Curtains should be about twice the width of your window. (If your curtains are strictly decorative—that is, you don’t intend to close them—you can scale back to 1.5 times the width of the window.) 

Length is a little trickier—where your curtains should fall depends entirely on the mood you want to create. Going for a formal feel? Consider puddling your curtains, tacking on one to three extra inches (any more just looks messy). Cute and casual? Select a a sill-length pair. Classic and tailored? Choose curtains that just touch the floor (or hover, at most, half an inch above the floor).  

To measure, start from the floor (or sill, if that’s what you prefer) and stop just above the window casing, suggest the pros at Better Homes & Gardens.

Step 2: Start at the top.

The top of your panels isn’t just an aesthetic consideration—the way you hang your curtains will affect how they fall from the rod, according to West Elm’s curtain buying guide. Pole pocket curtains—those where you simply slip the rod through a fabric sleeve—create a laid-back, non-uniform look (warning: these don’t easily slide if you plan to open and close them), while those with metal grommets or fabric tabs provide clean lines and smooth pleats (bonus: grommets are the easiest to slide).

The most elegant option? Hidden tabs, which give curtains a tailored, custom appearance. Note: Although curtains rarely have hooks anymore, you may encounter this style if you buy vintage. Hanging with hooks provides a traditional, streamlined look. 

Step 3: Decide on your purpose.

Are you seeking privacy—or just a pretty splash of pattern on your windows? Do you want to block as much light as possible, or dull the glare of the sun only slightly? The purpose of your panels will affect what type of fabric you choose. Cotton curtains let the sun’s rays stream through, linen (and linen blends) offer a little more protection, and wool or velvet panels are one step behind blackout shades, in terms of light-blocking ability, according to West Elm.

Consider the mood your material creates, too: Heavy fabrics, like velvet, create drama and warmth, while cotton gives your space an airy, casual feel. 

Step 4: Pick your pattern or color.

I made the fatal mistake of curtain buying: assuming the color I see in the store—under a fluorescent glow—is the same one I'd see at home. To avoid this pitfall, bring a pillow, a swatch of fabric, or a paint sample with you while shopping; that way, you can be sure to match your curtain color to your palette as closely as possible. If you want your curtains to blend, rather than making a bold statement, select a hue that is a couple shades darker or lighter than your wall color.

A few pointers on pattern: As beautiful as those paisley panels are, ask yourself: Will I still love this pattern on repeat across an entire wall? As a general guideline, large patterns work in large rooms, and small patterns are best in small rooms. (Of course, I’m all about rule-breaking when it comes to decorating, so don’t be afraid to experiment!) 

Inside My New House: The Living Room

My living room.

As soon as I walked into my house, I knew it was the one: The grand staircase, the crystal chandelier in the foyer, and the columns surrounding the living room are the type of elegant details I knew I wouldn’t find in a newer build. Constructed in the early 1900s, the house is a late example of the Second Empire style, complete with the characteristic mansard roof. Perhaps in keeping with the architecture, the previous owner had decorated the interior with heavy antique furniture and thick, dark-colored drapes. I decided to forgo historical accuracy in favor of brighter, lighter decor, built around my trademark blend of new pieces and time-worn antiques.

The living room, as the previous owner had decorated it.

I knew I wanted mint-colored walls, but I didn’t want my living room to look childlike or cartoonish. After buying far too many paint samples, I settled on Breezeway, a Behr color that has all the coolness of mint, without any of the confectionary undertones. 

My first big purchase was the chairs. I’d seen spool chairs in magazines, and fell in love with the intricate shape of the legs. I’m notorious for buying uncomfortable furniture, and didn’t want to make that mistake again. So I splurged on the deep-seated Behnaz Chair from Thomasville. Able to choose a custom fabric and wood finish, I selected a sumptuous velvet—a welcome dose of warmth in a cool room—in almost the exact same color as my walls.

Next, I began the hunt for a rug. A classic Oriental rug would be the obvious choice for an older home, but I wanted something a little more modern. Thus the zebra print. It was meant to be: The rug was sold out everywhere online, but I found the same rug, brand new, on my local Craigslist.

Although the rug is advertised as having gray stripes, they’re actually closer to beige. At first, I was concerned—I tend to go matchy-matchy, making sure every pop of color is exactly the same shade. I decided to override this impulse, selecting the slate-gray curtains (made to look like dupioni silk) I’d originally had in mind. To keep this from looking like a mistake, I chose a blue-gray tufted velvet sofa—the color picks up the mint in the chairs and the gray in the curtains, while the velvet material mirrors the fabric of the chairs.

I bought a bolt of geometric Schumacher fabric on Ebay, and made the throw pillows for the chairs. The fringed gray pillows on the sofa came from Pier One, while the geometric-print pillows are Vera Wang (a Marshall’s find!). 

I already owned the final two big pieces: a 1940s cabinet as my TV stand (a Craigslist purchase from college), and an off-white tufted ottoman I’d purchased at Marshall’s for our previous home.   I added the glass and silver side table for a touch of modernity, then flanked the sofa with two tables in a dark-wood finish similar to the chairs. The white ceramic lamps—a thrift-store find—mimic the curves of the tables, while also bringing a sculptural element to the space. 

For the longest time, the wall above the couch remained blank—I was uninspired, and didn’t want to purchase one of those generic “paintings” from HomeGoods. I wanted something with significance that also made a statement. When I found a booth selling vintage postcards at an area antique store, I knew I’d found my answer—I dug through box after box of postcards, searching for twelve that featured places significant to our life (e.g. Lehigh University, where Frank got his M.B.A.; the park in Allentown where I took wedding photos; a bridge from my hometown). 

One problem: Postcards are tiny, and my wall is huge. I like the simplicity of small pictures with large matting, so I bought square silver frames from Ikea—another modern element—and matted the postcards two to a frame. The entire installation cost me under $100. 

A few meaningful accessories rounded out the room: a coffee-table tray embroidered with the courthouse and city hall just a couple blocks from our house; a silver tea set from Frank’s aunt; a white ceramic horse I bought at a market in Thailand; and a wooden box Frank purchased in Egypt. (I like knick-knacks to have a story, which is why I almost always purchase home decor items when I travel.) 

The final result was exactly what I wanted: a restful space where Asa can play, Frank and I can relax and enjoy a movie, or my friends can gather for a Bible study. That is, a space both beautiful and functional. 

The Truth About HomeGoods

Framingham, MA, is perhaps most known for the Framingham Heart Study, a decades-long research project tracking the health of its residents. But the New England town is also the heartbeat of a company that millions of Americans love: TJX, which includes T.J. Maxx, Marshall's, and my favorite, HomeGoods.

The company dates back to 1919, when two brothers, Max and Morris Feldberg, opened the New England Trading Company, based in Boston. A decade later, they opened their first retail store, which specialized in one item: women's hosiery. (Kind of weird, right?) 

Fast-forward to the 1950s, when the Feldberg family opened a discount department store chain, Zayre (which means "very good" in Yiddish). It wasn't until 1977 that the first T.J. Maxx opened, and from the beginning, the store specialized in "off-price" merchandise—a model that was passed onto HomeGoods, launched in 1992. 
 
HomeGoods is the mecca of discount home decor, essentially Pottery Barn, West Elm, and Crate & Barrel all rolled into one—if everything was on sale. So how does HomeGoods achieve this caliber of incredible?

The store's parent company, TJX, is notoriously secretive about its buying habits. Case in point: When a business analyst asked a very specific question about the company's purchasing strategies, CEO Carol Meyrowitz bluntly replied, "Good try, Paul, but we don't comment on that." She frequently refers to the company's sourcing as its "secret sauce," refusing to share more than the vaguest of details about TJX's behind-the-scenes action. 

Perhaps the most repeated question: Am I buying past-season stuff that just didn't sell? The short answer: no. HomeGoods practices "opportunistic buying," a strategy also used by Ross Dress for Less. Here's how it works: Most retailers order products six to nine months in advance, and send out buyers just four times a year. But TJX does it differently: The company's buyers are on the prowl 40 weeks of the year, purchasing primarily for the present season (so buying for spring in the spring, instead of the fall prior). 

That means they're able to scoop up stock other retailers left behind a few months prior, while still buying in-season goods. TJX considers this an advantage: Opportunistic buying allows them to wait for trends to emerge, then score hot items at a reduced price. "They get better pricing because they're waiting until the last minute," said Morry Brown, analyst with C.L. King. "It could be apparel manufacturers made too many goods and need to sell the excess or it could be some department stores canceled or pushed orders back."

Reps insists this is the company's primary mode of stocking shelves—Merowitz says 85 percent of the product is in-season—although the stores do sell some past season items, which are labeled as such. (For example, in a 2002 lawsuit, Limited Too revealed that it sells past-season clothing to TJX.) And, occasionally, the warehouses stock up on items for later seasons, but that's not the favored approach.

Buying late in the game isn't the only way the company avoids stocking up on items doomed to the clearance aisle. HomeGoods purposefully keeps its inventory "lean" by buying a limited number of each item (sometimes as few as 100), allowing for quick turnover and a fresh flow of new treasures, keeping people like me coming back on a near-daily basis. (Merowitz says she's seen people come to HomeGoods with U-Hauls—and even admits to being a bit of an addict herself, revealing, "I filled up my trunk last week, and I have to stop doing that, because my husband is going to be furious with me.") 

So where does HomeGoods find its seemingly endless supply of one-of-a-kind lamps and accent chairs—enough to fill up every 27,000-square-foot store with unique inventory? Let's start with the website's (somewhat vague) explanation:


HomeGoods buyers travel the world to find the most exciting and unique merchandise available--many of the same items seen in high-end catalogs, specialty and department stores. Through innovative buying approaches and positive vendor relationships, HomeGoods is able to offer a wide assortment of high-quality goods, providing shoppers with a vast selection of unique merchandise along with substantial savings. 

This doesn't tell us much. So I did some digging, and found a 2010 lawsuit against HomeGoods, when a man sued because he sat on a bamboo bench at the store and it promptly collapsed. (The case was dismissed, BTW). Here's the tidbit of note: HomeGoods had purchased the faulty piece of furniture from a distributor, CBK. There's a company, Midwest-CBK, which according to its website, sells "exclusive, innovative, artist-driven products of the highest quality that reflect traditional and updated design trends." Check out a few pics from the showroom...

Totally looks like HomeGoods, right? (The company has showrooms across the country, but you have to be a retailer to gain access. Bummer.) But CBK definitely isn't HomeGoods' only supplier, lest you think the big shots are lying about those global shopping trips. (A quote from a company rep: "A buyer's life here is a lot of travel.") In a HomeGoods blog post, a buyer recently revealed the itinerary of a shopping trip: Italy, Spain, Morocco, Portugal, Hungary, Turkey, and Bulgaria.

So, yes, the merchandise really has as much international flair as the colorful shelves suggest. In fact, in 2012, The Journal of Commerce named TJX one of the United States' top 100 importers. How massive is its scope? The company works with over 16,000 vendors, has 13 buying offices in 10 different countries (including Australia, China, India, and Italy), and has a purchasing team of 900 people (one report said 700 of these buyers work for HomeGoods), who shop in 60 countries, pretty much year round. "Our global sourcing is one of our most powerful drivers, which allows us to buy virtually anywhere at any time," a company insider has said. 

It's taken TJX 36 years to master this merchandising system, which is built on solid vendor relationships. A "very high percent" of the sourcing is done in Europe, although the goal is to create a "very unique exciting assortment" of product. As a result, buyers are encouraged to take "intelligent risks," which may explain the quirky home accessories that seem to be exclusively sold at HomeGoods. (Random aside: Did you know there's a Canadian version of the store, called HomeSense?) 

In a USA Today article, Merowitz said that 85% of the company's products are purchased directly from the manufacturers (although some big-name brands like Coach say they only send 'excess discontinued inventory' to the stores). "We're absolutely fine with every vendor saying they don't do business with us," she said. "It's a very important part of our relationship." So, apparently, in the retail world, TJX is like the friend you secretly hang out with, but would never tell the cool kids about. And TJX is totally cool with that. 

Part of the deal: Unlike department stores, which can return unsold inventory to designers at the end of the season, TJX stores buy stuff and commit to it. In other words, if a buyer purchases a batch of lamps that totally bomb, HomeGoods will keep them until they sell (and yet again, someone like me finds the unloved item on clearance and takes it home). 

My only remaining question: Can I tag along on the next HomeGoods buying trip?