Shane and I have owned a lot of homes (11; one of them twice). I’ve painted every one of them on the inside, and at least two on the outside. In one house, I painted so often that Shane called a cease-and-desist, as he felt I was starting to take up square footage.

When we bought our current house, paint was the first thing on the list. And the second, and third. “Buckets and buckets of paint,” I declared, “will bring this house into the 21st Century!” And it did, along with a lot of plumbing, electrical, cabinetry, flooring, appliances, and the list goes on and on. We accidentally got a new master bathroom, because the old one sprung a leak. This house has been a labor of love. Or maybe just a labor.

Topping the list of offenses was the home’s peachy 80’s brick, and dashing taupey-flesh colored trim, obviously a favorite of builders in St. Charles in 1989. You’re asking yourself why we would buy such a wreck. You’re not the first to question our sanity. It comes down to location, doesn’t it? It’s the wrong house in the right neighborhood, so here we are: peachy and taupey. And I haven’t even mentioned the embarrassment of a landscape. But I digress.

The exterior had to be addressed. Maybe “had” is too strong. Could we have lived with peachy and taupey? Of course. We’re not snobs. It pays to know, though, that ours is one of the smaller, and least remarkable, homes in our neighborhood. Yes, the sanity question again. Here’s the deal: We owned a much bigger home in the same neighborhood, and it overtook my life with its constant maintenance, so when we moved back to the area, we had the bright idea to downsize to a smaller, lower maintenance home. Isn’t it ironic?

Aforementioned wreckage notwithstanding, our house has what you call good bones. I could see the nod to European architecture. I could appreciate the cedar shake roof, on a nice pitch, and the large, pretty windows. But, peach brick. It just stuck in my craw.

Then, my Southern roots reared their genius head, and suggested, “Paint the brick too!”

Midwesterners could not get their level heads around this concept. Paint the brick? Surely not? Then the questions: What about maintenance? What about climate? What about resale? Then the inevitable circle back to, “Really? You’re painting brick?”

Picture of my home when it was on the market. It really doesn't do the peachy-taupey effect justice.

Here’s a quick and relevant side story: Twenty-something years ago, a designer recommended to my mother that she paint her (pink 80’s) brick. My dad, eager to break out the Wagner spray painter, pressure washed, primed, and painted the brick, starting on their boat port. He never got any further, as the trim color was in dispute - a matter that has never been properly resolved. The point, however, is that the brick, so lovingly prepped, primed, and painted all those years ago, is still in pristine condition. It has survived all manner of weather, including two hurricanes, one near-flood, and three snowfalls, which is an exorbitant amount in South Louisiana, plus 100% humidity year after year. For those reasons, I am not afraid of painted brick.

Here in the Midwest, they looked at me like I had two heads.

No matter. I did my homework, and with my painter, determined that properly prepped, painted brick has longevity even in the worst climates. The whole process can be boiled down to three steps: Prep, Prime, Paint. The Three P’s of (Pretty) Painted Brick.

PREP

- Brick must be clean, clean, clean to ensure proper adhesion. The first lesson I learned was proper prep makes for a flawless finish. Therefore, the first step in painting brick is to pressure wash, and allow time for it to dry thoroughly and completely. Painting damp brick will cause major problems down the road. (Picture bubbly, puckered, peeling paint. Ew.)

- In addition to clean brick, you'll need to caulk and repair wood trim, and, depending on the kind of brick, other prep may be necessary for it to accept the (all-important) primer.

PRIME

- Brick must also be primed before painting. This is actually Prep 2.0, in that this, too, is necessary for a good finished product.

- For me, paint pros were a valuable product resource. They worked with my painter and me to find best products for my climate and my aesthetic. They understood what I wanted my house to look like, and recommended the products to take me there.

PAINT

- A discriminating painter is as key to the project as the paint. Fortunately, I have a painter that has done other projects for me, and I trust his skill and work ethic. His mantra is, “It’s all about the finished product.” Right on, Fernando.

- Taking time to find the right color, paint product, and painter paid off. No redos or regrets on my project.

I went with Benjamin Moore’s Swiss Coffee (OC-45), a warm white with a slight gray undertone. I could not be happier with the results. Someone once told me, “A coat of paint will hide a world of sin.” True, that. It’ll hide peach and taupe too.

Full disclosure, I did change lanterns and gutters after we painted, and obviously changed the door color to black. These small changes had a big impact on the overall effect. I think I debated gutter color longer than the brick color! I ultimately decided on bronze, to give the illusion of aged copper, which wasn't in my budget. I like the warmth it brings to the white, and the way the gutters repeat the bronze of the lanterns.

Oh - bonus! - the back of my house got a little pick-me-up too. My house is mostly brick, with cedar siding on the back, but only on the second story. Painting both materials one color blurred the lines between the materials and made my house look a bit more seamless. It was an unexpected update to a not-so-attractive rear elevation.

My realtor (and neighbor), Lynn, surprised us a few months after we moved in with a fabulous custom-framed, original watercolor of our new house. It's something she does for clients sometimes. Her artist-friend in Cali paints a masterpiece of the new home, which Lynn then frames and gives as a house-warming gift. She graciously did this for us. She hadn't yet received the watercolor back from California when we started painting our brick. She screeched to a stop in front of our house on the day we started, and exclaimed something akin to, "I'll be a monkey's uncle!" (I believe it was something like that...) She was actually a little hesitant to give us the gift. I'm glad she did. The painting did the old look justice, and I treasure the reminder of where we started.

We’re two years into our painted brick. It looks as good as the day Fernando packed up his brushes. Even my Midwestern neighbors have acclimated. We’re not the crazy Southern freak-show any more. Just a stately, pseudo-European, white brick house worthy of its neighborhood.

Still not convinced? Maybe these beauties will win you over: