To make room for our DIY clothespin light, we first had to remove the existing fixture:
Not literally throw it away. The old fixture has a sort of charming, retro vibe, so instead of consigning it to the donation pile we decided to give it a new place in the house. That hallway leading to the guest room, hall bath, playroom, and nursery seemed like the perfect candidate for a little update:
The hallway was calling out for improvement. At the center of our attention was an 18″ wide swirly glass shade that dominated the ceiling — the kind of oversized, saucer-like piece that looks more suited to a giant serving platter than a light fixture. Photos don’t really capture its scale or how hypnotic its pattern can be when you stare at it for too long.
After cutting power and removing the old fixture, I prepared to install the smaller, more streamlined laundry-style light we had chosen. But in my haste something went wrong:
The glass shade shattered as I lifted the new fixture toward the ceiling. I hadn’t noticed the old cover was barely held on by a single screw, and when the metal base of the new light came up, the glass came with it. One loud crash later, and I heard someone call from the other room: “John, was that the old light?”
It was a total facepalm moment. I’d been moving too fast, juggling tasks, and apparently forgetting how fragile old glass can be. The situation felt painfully familiar, and it brought back memories of a previous clumsy mishap that had a similarly embarrassing outcome.
Lesson one: don’t let me near anything fragile in a hallway. Ever.
Lesson two: thank goodness for hardware stores. We found a similar glass shade for about seven dollars and made a quick trip to pick it up. With much more careful handling the second time around, we finished the installation and now have a fresh, functional fixture in place (don’t mind the attic pull-string in the background—we’ll upgrade that later):
The replacement isn’t an exact match. The original had a subtle frosting all around, while the new one has a distinct white band with a translucent base. It’s not identical, but it fits the space and we don’t mind the slight variation. If we change our minds later, Sherry might try spray-frosting it for a closer match, but for now it does the job and saved us from reinstalling the old giant light, which would have felt like the DIY version of the walk of shame.
We won’t pretend the new fixture transformed the room overnight, but it’s a worthwhile update. Small changes like this can make a difference, and we’ve talked about other possibilities for that narrow hallway. In another hallway project we hung a large collection of frames and it turned a tiny corridor into something more intentional and interesting, so we’re considering similar semi-dramatic treatments here.
Potential ideas include DIY wainscoting or another architectural detail, perhaps paired with a bold color above the rail. That kind of treatment could add dimension and character to the space. The only challenge will be working around the collection of small wall imperfections and fixtures, like the unattractive doorbell box that currently interrupts the flow of the wall.
We’ll tackle those details when we’re ready, slowly upgrading the small elements that feel off. For now, the new light is up, the hallway looks a bit fresher, and we learned to be a lot more careful when handling glass. Accidents happen, but a good hardware store and a little patience go a long way toward fixing them.
Random aside: when I briefly studied improv comedy at the Upright Citizen Brigade Theatre in New York, one of the performers I recognized was in my class. Funny how different paths cross in unexpected ways. But back to the point — yes, I do break things sometimes. You?