Tim always had good ideas. Ten years ago, on a Saturday afternoon, my older brother decided that we should paint clouds on the ceiling of our bedroom. I quickly agreed with my big brother and after a little parental arm-twisting, he and I had the go-ahead. We walked to the paint store on Broadway, chattering as we went about how cool our new room would be. We brought home two gallons of light blue latex paint and, standing on stools, we drew cloud shapes with a marker on the white ceiling. We pried open the paint cans, wet our fat brushes and filled in the blue sky, creating clouds.

The paint drooled off the ceiling and into our eyes, onto our clothes and all over the antique bureau. (Mom and Dad didn't like that.) But by the next day, we had finished. Like Michaelangelo painting the Sistine chapel, we revolted against the constraints of architecture and created a window to the heavens. Or maybe we just made a mess.

Since then, I have been fascinated with designing the space around me. In math class, during elementary school, I would daydream about rearranging the room. In fact, it might have been my desire for a new environment to which I could give my personal touch that had me packing my bags for boarding school.

I took advantage of the design opportunities that dormitory life gave me. By my sophomore year, I had really begun to innovate. I discovered that my room could accommodate a large couch. I covered its garish pattern with a large blanket. I got a coffee table and hid a contraband DeLonghi toaster-oven in it. I never used the oven; it just made me feel subversive. I also had an oriental rug and make-shift halogen spot lights which I turned on and off with a remote control. Sometimes the seniors would steal the clicker and conduct a light show for me from outside my door while I tried to do homework.

By senior year I controlled my clicker. I also had new ideas about the organization of my personal space. Avidly interested in art history at the time, I went for a minimalist, art gallery look. I threw out all my Van Gogh and Monet posters and went with Willem De Kooning, Roy Lichtenstein and Andrew Wyeth. I read up on feng shui, the ancient Chinese philosophy for creating harmonious environments and then tried to incorporate mirrors, crystals and running water into my living space. In my own way, I tried to bring out the feng shui ideals of Balance, Harmony, and Prosperity in my meager dorm room. I'm not entirely sure it worked.

But life in Cambridge has given me another chance. It's fair to say that pre-Harvard, I viewed college as a chance to "set up" four more rooms. And nothing preoccupied my thoughts more than where I would live. I desperately longed for Grays, which I had heard called the "Harvard Hilton." Instead, Canaday welcomed me. Undeterred, my suite-mates and I dreamed of constructing another level in our top floor Canaday room last fall. They, like me, had hopes of making a mind-blowing Harvard dorm room. However, nothing special ever came from our lofty designs.

As a result, I have tried to remain realistic when planning the aesthetic theme of my spacious room in Currier this year. Long ago I tossed out the idea of having a giant foam pit in the corner of my room for frolicking. I also decided that a real waterfall with running water would take too much time to construct. And sadly, I have yet to find an antique Victorian mini-bar--with lots of compartments, mirrors and lighting--at the flea market. So much for those ideas.

But I never stop searching for a new leitmotif. Embarrassingly enough, the inspiration for my latest design obsession came while reading Playboy Magazine. I had purchased the Christmas issue for a friend of mine and I helped myself to leafing through it before delivery. A certain ad caught my eye. The picture showed a gentleman dressed in a tuxedo sitting at a casino table with several sexy women. The text running along the bottom of the ad told me that the man who reads Playboy jets off on weekend get-aways. He drops a lots of money on cars, clothes and cuisine. The handsome "Playboy gentleman" had a James Bond quality I couldn't turn down. Of course, I desperately wanted to be that Playboy gentleman and to have a gentleman's living quarters. I think I also wanted a subscription to Playboy.

I decided to go for the bachelor pad aesthetic by investing in details rather than going for one sexy purchase, so the Jacuzzi was out. With the help of Christmas giving I began my quest for just the right accouterments. Wine, bottle opener and glasses came first. Then I went for high quality tobacco. (I don't smoke; it's like the toaster oven--just for show.) Then I got fresh-cut flowers, and paper-white perennials to add a feminine touch. The next phase attacked the lighting, an often-ignored aspect of interior design. My blue Christmas lights circling the ceiling and numerous candles have encouraged lots of Hugh Hefner jokes from visitors. But that's the look I wanted.

For some reason, however, those beautiful Playboy women haven't been knocking on my door, so I've become discouraged with my old aesthetic. I feel it's time to move on--to change styles. I think I'll go for something less sleazy and overt, maybe something more natural. In any case, interior design requires hard work and risk taking. Only yesterday I found out that my superintendent wants to charge me $75 just for using tape on my walls. I wonder what he'll say when he finds out I'm thinking of painting clouds on the ceiling.

JP is an associate editor at Fifteen Minutes. When he isn't fussing with his room, he bitches and rides the shuttle bus.