January just feels too bleak and barren to launch myself into a fresh new me, while I’m still cocooned in winter’s rest. But September, oh September! With the shift of seasons in the air and the carefree joy of summer starting to fade away, it feels like the perfect time for a reset as we power through the last four months of the year.

In January, let’s be honest, all I want to do is hide under a duvet, hibernate and hope for Spring. The possibility of a whole new year ahead almost feels too big to contemplate. Far too daunting. I’m still groggy from all the Christmas festivities, I definitely don’t want to go out jogging when it’s dark at 4pm, and I don’t need the added pressure of launching myself into a new hobby or routine. No, thank you. I’d rather just go through the motions, get winter out the way and take it step by step as I settle into the year.

Winter is for unapologetically retreating inwards, resting and reflecting, just like nature does. For me, it’s not a time for launching something new, even if that’s just a new and improved version of myself.

September, though, has the introspection of autumn, but there’s still something light in the air, before the heaviness of winter falls. Nature is still alive; it’s the moment before it all quietens down. The crisp air, golden light and possibility for the next season give a feeling of clarity and optimism. It makes me feel excited.

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I’ve never really explained the why but it was certainly me who initiated it and perhaps that’s all you really need to know. Anyway, today I want to talk about the symbol of the butterfly.

Towards the end of my marriage I couldn’t get an image out of my head. It was so vivid - I could clearly picture a beautiful, dazzling red butterfly, trapped in an overturned tumbler, like one of those French Duralex glasses. The butterfly clearly didn’t want to be in there; it was desperately trying, and failing, to escape. It felt like they were my wings fluttering and thrashing against the sides of the glass. I could almost hear the vibrations of gossamer thin wings hitting glass as if it was in my very own ears. The sensation was like nails down a blackboard or icy water meeting sensitive teeth, something that sent an uncomfortable shudder down my spine. This butterfly’s distress felt like it deep within me and part of me. I felt like I couldn’t escape it.

Over a long, 12 year relationship, my wing’s had been clipped and I felt trapped. In a bell jar of my own making. It wasn’t so much his fault, as my own fault really. I had built around me a glass palace; a clear vision of how I thought I should be living my life - ticking those life goals off one by one - first home, marriage, a picture perfect 2.4 children family life to come. I did everything as I was expected to, but it didn’t quite get me to where I expected to be. Or really how I thought I would feel.

On paper I had done everything right, but in reality everything felt a bit wrong. Like my life didn’t quite fit right. I always felt like something was missing, and now I think what was missing, was actually, conversely, and strangely, myself. I just didn’t feel like I was living, you know truly living?! Nothing made me feel alive and it just wasn’t enough anymore.

If I was honest with myself I hadn’t been happy for a while. I had buried any niggles, doubts and question marks so deep, for any number of years, under layer upon layer of comfort, domesticity and ease, that I hadn’t even been listening to myself. I had become blind to what only my subconscious knew. And then I woke up with what felt like a jolt, finding myself in this self-inflicted upturned bell jar, frustrated by my own limitations. I had an overwhelming urge to escape, out of a marriage that felt like a restriction to my freedom.

The day after I finally ended things, I had this overwhelming urge to be by the sea, to just be anywhere else than where my life had stumbled to. I couldn’t stay at home. I needed to getaway, anywhere but here. It was a normal day - my daughter (two years old at the time) was safely in nursery and I felt like I couldn’t work, so I closed the laptop and in a complete blur, packed a bag for the day.

The day was 23/08/23, a mirror image date; my lucky number 23 (my birthday) sandwiched by the satisfying form of an infinity eight. It seemed to be saying, ‘this is your day’.

I left the house without a real plan. Just with the idea to take it step by step, one foot in front of the other. At my local station I had the choice of going to London Blackfriars, St Pancras or Victoria station. It was like rolling a dice. The next train was to Victoria station, so I just got on it. When I arrived at Victoria station I looked up at the flickering departures board and picked Brighton at random.

On the train down I had a notebook in front of me and began to sketch out the image of the butterfly in the over turned glass. It felt cathartic to put pen to paper and feel the train moving through the green countryside, leaving my life behind for a day.

It was a hot summer’s day. I walked straight to the sea and sat on the pebbled beach, looking out to the water as Brighton buzzed around me, seagulls squawking overhead and the sound of summer chattering around me. It wasn’t the calmest place to go but here I was, tears silently sliding down my face, finding some sort of solace in this unexpected day, surrounded by people but entirely alone. I felt layers of myself wash away as the tide drew in and out.

There was relief in having made a decision, in having made the first leap into the unknown. The horizon spread out before me and I didn’t know what was coming next, but I knew that something had to shift. There was sadness for what was lost or would never be, but there was also a glimmer of hope, the chance of a new life that demanded more. I couldn’t settle for comfort anymore.

I made a promise then to myself to never constrain myself again, to never neglect or quieten my own needs, to never diminish myself for anyone else.

I took off my wedding ring and bought myself another ring, a new one just for me. A small gold plated band, comprised of two entwining lines twisting around each other. The infinity symbol, which is used to represent eternal, unconditional love. But in this case, the love and hope I had for myself. Sounds cheesy, but it felt like the shift I needed to make.

On the train back, my load feeling a little lighter, some of the weight of my emotional baggage dumped at sea so to speak, I could see in my mind that the glass had been magically turned right and was on its side. It was no longer trapping the butterfly. No one in particular had moved it, but the butterfly was now free and it was flapping and floating around me, content at last to be unconfined.

A few days later, while on a walk, deep in my own thoughts, I saw a butterfly on the path in front of me, just like the one I had seen in my vision, but sadly no longer alive. I couldn’t believe it – I held it in the palm of my hand, this astonishingly beautiful, fragile thing, now frozen in time with its soft, fuzzy red wings held open. I took it as a little sign that I was on the right path.

Now that butterfly follows me wherever I go. Sometimes it’s sitting on my shoulder, its wings closed, waiting and watching, sometimes it’s vibrating, twitching and beating in my stomach in nervous anxiety, sometimes when I’m really content, it’s diving around me in great swoops and joyful, happy loops.

A butterfly is an obvious metaphor for transformation. A little while ago we had to look after the school caterpillars over half term. They were learning about metamorphosis at school. It was extraordinary to see them transform from wriggly bugs to carefully formed chrysalises to fully formed butterflies, all in front of our eyes. And they do it all by themselves. They’re plain, ugly creatures who rebuild and reform themselves into something completely and utterly beautiful. I feel like in my married life I was the caterpillar, crawling along with my life, not really seeing or feeling much, and now I’m more like the butterfly - free, but somehow more fully myself. A little bolder, a little less afraid, a little more in love with life.

I would never get married again, I’ve learned it’s just not for me. I have nothing against marriage, and maybe it wasn’t the institution of marriage that was the problem. But it didn’t feel like the right fit for me, but rather a bell jar - ‘a state of total isolation, suffocation and entrapment within one's own mind’. I’ve somehow freed myself and now it feels like I was blind and unseeing before. The butterfly is free and I’m now free, and I’m so excited for the next chapter.

The Nordic approach – one of simple living, respecting nature and craft, taking a timeless stance and focusing on the everyday – has been centuries in the making. It first came out of a need; a need to thrive in a harsh, cold climate. The Scandinavians sought out moments of warmth and comfort to essentially survive. Hygge (pronounced hoo-ga), for example, is said to come from the old Norse word ‘hyggja’, meaning ‘to think’, and the word ‘hugr’, which can be translated as ‘hug’ or ‘mood’. Today, we tend to think of hygge as a bit of a buzzword for candlelight and cosiness, but for the Scandinavians, it’s much more about a feeling of closeness, connection and kinship. So a meal shared with family could be hygge, a conversation with a close friend in a cafe could be hygge, even a picnic outside could be hygge. As much as hygge is representative of cosy interiors, it’s really about slowing down, being truly present and appreciating the moment.

The Scandinavians learnt to seek pleasure in the little things to help get them through long winters and dark nights. Today, this sense of cosiness is appealing in a world which feels overwhelming, chaotic and divisive; it feels much easier (and more soothing) to retreat inwards than try to make sense of what is happening in the world. I can understand why the Scandinavian style might have renewed appeal; because it comes down to what actually matters in life – finding joy in the everyday, appreciating what’s already around you, and creating moments for real connection.

In my book, The Japandi Home, I defined the key principles of Scandinavian style as follows: Simplicity, Functionality, Democratic design, Craftsmanship and a Respect for Nature. Whether it’s a design product or an interior, the aim of Scandinavian design is always to put the user first, with a focus on how something will actually work in daily life. There is a thoughtful balance between comfort and function, and style and aesthetic. Good design isn’t saved for ‘best’; it’s designed to be enjoyed and appreciated every day. With this comes a desire to reduce things down to only what is necessary and useful. Scandinavian design is very modest, humble and simple – it’s certainly not shouting for attention.

This naturally lends products and interiors a sense of timelessness. By taking a considered approach and leading with simplicity and function, objects are more likely to actually last and not need replacing. Not only are they well built and less likely to fall apart, they also look classic and modern, almost ageless you might say. Indeed, it is much more ‘trendy’ in Scandinavian homes to have your grandma’s Mogensen chair from the 1950s than perhaps a new piece of design. Scandinavian furniture endures because it looks as fresh today as the day it was designed. Real thought has gone into how someone might sit in chair, what a material might feel like to touch, how a piece of design might wear. A classic piece of Scandinavian design only gains in value – monetary value, yes, but also the emotional value of living with a piece and growing to love it.

Another premise of the Scandinavian style is that it is concerned with democratic design. This is the idea that good design should be accessible to all, not just the few. While that can be hard to rationalise today when some of the Scandinavian brands can be seen as quite expensive, the idea is that good design should not be seen as elitist or snobby. Minimalism itself first developed as a rejection of the ornate style of the very rich. By mass producing items and introducing flat-pack furniture, the Scandinavians led the way in introducing simple, minimal designs that could be used in everyday homes. A lot of the familiar motifs or interior approaches we see today stem from Scandinavian design, such as, open-plan living, picture windows, built-in kitchens, minimalist sofas, cosy lamps. We really can’t underestimate the influence of Scandinavian design. It has filtered down into all aspects of interior design, so it seems counterintuitive to call it a trend, when it has such a far-reaching appeal.

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I would love my home to be tidy all the time, but alas, I have a five year old… It’s near on impossible for it to be minimal every day. And what you see on Instagram is only really the best bits. So while I have good intentions, I’ve learnt that sometimes I just have to let it go. And you know what, isn’t that the real lesson of parenting? A slow process of letting go – letting go of control as they grow up and become their own person.

My daughter is pretty much the opposite of me. As much as I have tried to make everything gender neutral – in my clothing choices, toy choices, the way I speak about different roles or jobs – she is drawn like a magnet to colour, rainbows, unicorns, and really, anything girly. She recently said to me, ‘Maman, there’s too much green in this house!’, and if she had her way she would paint every door a different colour and the walls bright pink.

I’ve had to find a compromise between the interior I would like and the interior that best supports her and makes her feel happy and at home. I don’t want her to grow up in an environment that feels so controlled and restrictive that she ends up having to have therapy! She also lives here, so my home, and my style, has had to adapt and evolve.

That said, I have found that there are a few simple ways to integrate the ‘stuff’ of children more seamlessly into a space. In today’s post, I’m sharing the strategies that have helped me retain a sense of calm, while not allowing toys to overrun the place.

• I’ve learnt that, in reality, children don’t actually need much stuff. My daughter is always deepest in play when it’s imaginative play and she’s making something up; perhaps it’s a pretend school or a pretend journey or pretend cafe. An open book will become a laptop or a cushion will become a boat. When she has lots of toys out she gets a bit more overwhelmed and I get a cry of, ‘I’ve got nothing to do! I don’t know what to do!’. I think creativity and imagination thrive off less; in the moments when we’re bored or when we have to think outside the box. When they’re younger I think it’s a great idea to have a toy rotation, which you swap every week, to help keep a sense of novelty.
  

• I think children lead by example; they’re always watching what you’re doing and picking up cues. The phrase ‘monkey see, monkey do’ really does ring true. I have always had nice things out right from the start, even when she was tiny. I’m talking candles on the coffee table, vases of flowers on the dining table, nice design books, pebbles I’ve found on beaches arranged on a book, slightly fragile lamps on a side table. I think because she’s grown up with these things around here, they don’t seem like a novelty to her, they have just become part of her environment. When she was a toddler she just didn’t seem to have the curiosity (or perhaps cheek) to knock things off surfaces or destroy things. Obviously every child is different but I think if something is out of bounds, a child just wants it more, and I’ve just tried to normalise having lovely things.
  
  In that process, I have also subtly tried to teach her to respect her belongings and the things we have in our home. For example, if she bent the page of a book, I’d gently say ‘No, we don’t do that to our books’. Or if she picked an object up, I might say, ‘We can have a look at it, but that’s not a toy’, then redirect her to one of her toys, ‘Here, you can play with this if you want’. My child isn’t perfect and we call her a bit of a drama queen (!), but I found this approach helped.

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I truly believe that two individually happy parents make for a happy child, and there are many different ways to parent that don’t involve a romantic relationship as a prerequisite. Having come from one myself (even if it didn’t feel broken), it always makes me stiffen when I hear the phrase ‘broken family’ and I think it’s a concept that is long overdue a reframing.

Co-parenting might indeed result from separation or divorce, but it doesn’t mean that the individuals (especially the child or children) within it need to be broken. It is just a different family set-up – one that can be messy and unconventional and unfamiliar, but also one that can be rewarding, respectful and nurturing for everyone involved.

Here I’ve pinched a phrase from Gwynnie to describe how I see co-parenting. When Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin faced their very public split in 2014, they coined the term ‘conscious uncoupling’ to reframe the separation not as a failure, but as a respectful, emotionally mature ending. They wanted to create an alternative way to still be a cohesive family unit for their children, while no longer being a romantic couple together.

When my husband and I separated three years ago we made one promise to each other. That we would always, always, put our daughter first, no matter what, even if it went against one of our own desires. We have an unusual and unconventional set-up where we still share a house in London. This is what is termed ‘nesting’, a co-parenting arrangement where the child stays in one place, in the family home, and the adults come and go. Except I don’t really have anywhere else to go right now... If I had a partner I would likely spend my week at theirs. But for the moment, my ex splits his time between London and Paris (one week on, one week off), and we find we can amicably co-habit while he is here and we are both in the house (separate bedrooms of course!!).

To answer a few questions that might be going through your head. He has a girlfriend in Paris. I’ve moved on. We are getting a divorce. There is no way back. We are clear that this is an ending for us, but not our family. This is not a halfway house or a means to keep what was once alive. It definitely doesn’t mean we might one day get back together. We are friends and co-parents, united in mission to bring up a child in the least harmful way.

Nesting can be appealing for divorced parents because it creates stability and familiarity for the child – they’re not coming and going between places, they have a solid, secure foundation, and the rest is really the problem or concern of the adults. Nesting can be financially beneficial too. Living in London, or any urban city, is extremely expensive. We wouldn’t be able to afford two separate places, and if I did have a place all of my own, it wouldn’t be half as nice as the house I have now (which coincidentally is all wrapped up in my job as an interiors writer and creator). My ex has always said he wants our daughter to retain the same standard of living and have a lovely family home. I also wouldn’t want her to go to a different Airbnb or hotel every time he comes to London. That’s not the life I wanted for her.

So we have settled into this arrangement where we are a family unit with two parents who are friends who just get on with it, sharing the same space every now and then. We eat meals together, we go out for days out in London as a family, if it’s one of our birthdays we’ll make sure to have a little celebration together. He’s even come for Christmas with my family because that’s what he thought would make our daughter happy. I’m sure he didn’t want to spend his holiday with his ex in-laws, and being very honest, I would rather he hadn’t been there, but we did it quietly and without complaint, the reward being the joy on her face when she opened her presents. On that day, it wasn’t about us.

Sure, it’s not ideal living with your ex, even if it is for half the month. When he leaves the loo seat up or messes up my space again when I’ve been used to the peace of a week on my own, I find myself inwardly screaming and tearing my hair out. BUT it is all worth it to have a daughter that is happy, confident and content. My needs have to come second, and if this is the choice we have made for our family, to split, she shouldn’t be in the firing line of a bullet we triggered and released for ourselves. It is not her fault we separated, so she shouldn’t have to suffer the consequences.

What I’ve learnt with co-parenting is that you have to be completely unselfish. There are many times when I’ve wanted to vent my frustration, but it’s not necessarily him I’m frustrated with, but more the situation itself. So we let things slide, we avoid conflict, we don’t make a big deal out of things. We never say anything bad about one another to her, unless it’s something silly like ‘papa needs to clean his room!!’. We are generous with each other; if someone forgets to put something in the diary it’s not a big deal, if plans change at the last minute we can work it out, if one of us has an idea for something we’re always open minded and willing to listen. That generosity of spirit goes a long way and helps navigate those hurdles that naturally come along.

Because you know what? In the grand scheme of things, it’s not important. Our egos, our niggles, our personal vendettas are not important. And it’s certainly not helpful. What is important is creating a calm sanctuary at home where our daughter can feel like she can be herself, where there isn’t the echo of arguing or a feeling of tension that you could cut with a knife. I don’t think our daughter will ever remember us hugging or being romantic with one another, but she will also have never seen us argue or fight. I hope we’re modelling something that will just feel normal to her.

It’s been a slow process and I feel like my daughter now gets it. She knows that we’re together as a family but not ‘together together’. She knows that papa has a girlfriend and I’m looking for a boyfriend. The other week she suggested putting a sign up on the front door saying ‘boy wanted!’, so potential suitors could ‘just knock on the door and find me’! She is so sweet in wanting me to be happy, but most of all I think she just selfishly wants a baby brother or sister, ha!

I have my own reasons for wanting to co-parent in this way. I grew up with an absent father and would look at my friends neat family units, with married partners and siblings, with a mix of jealousy and curiosity. While I had a very happy childhood, a more traditional family set-up was something I aspired to. I grew up wanting a husband and a marriage that would last ‘forever’, with two perfect children and a stable family home. I never wanted a ‘broken family’ and I never wanted this for myself or for my child.

My biggest fear when we split was that he would go back to France and I would be left a single parent, repeating the same pattern again. So, having never known my own father, never had a father to bring me back presents from trips abroad, never had a father to console me over a tumble or scraped knee, I would do anything in my power to make sure my daughter has a present father. Even if that means I have to share a house with my ex and despair at the unwashed dishes in the sink or the bags dumped in the hallway, or just the presence of him occasionally disturbing my peace. Even if it’s hard to explain to potential dates. Even if friends don’t quite understand.

But really, yes it is tiresome, but for me, it’s not that tricky. We are very lucky that it was an amicable separation and that we’re still friends. We’ve made it work. I know what I’ve described above would be difficult for a lot of people. I know that sometimes it’s not easy to let things slide and there might be a lot of other things going on. Especially if there’s domestic abuse, debt or financial constraints involved. We are one of the lucky ones and I know that. I hope we will look back and see that we made the best out of a sad situation.

Having now long ago accepted the separation, I now feel like my ex is the sibling I never had. He feels like family. I feel like perhaps I was always meant to parent with him. And I can think of no one else I would rather parent with. He is a great father. He is kind, patient and relaxed. I respect him and I hope he feels the same for me. We support each other to be better parents. He buys flowers for my daughter to give to me, to congratulate me on a big work event or to say thank you for my week of parenting. He pays for babysitters when it’s not his week and he’s in France. He even offered to order me an Uber back from a guy’s house that I was staying at. Anyone I date and meet will have to accept he is a big part of my life still, and honestly I would look after him if he was grey and incontinent because he is the father of my child. And while we broke one vow, we are tied together for life of parenting.

There are also some benefits to co-parenting too. When it’s not my week to parent, or when she goes on holiday to France, I get a taste of my old life back, from before I had a child. I get days, evenings, whole weeks to myself and it feels so very freeing to have that time where I can recover, recharge and do the things I want to do. I’m in one of those weeks now and I’ve planned something for each day so I can fill my own cup – I’ll go to a life drawing class, a book club, a dance class, I’ll see a friend who has just had a baby and meet another friend for her birthday. I’ll make a recipe that I wouldn’t normally be able to make when my daughter is around. I’ll lie in and wake up without an alarm, and savour coffee in bed without a small human jumping on me. I’ll read a book from cover to cover and wander what to do in that lost time between 3pm to evening when I would normally be in mum mode, making snacks, dinner, doing bath time and bedtime. I’ll miss her, of course, but I know it will also mean that I’ll come back to her a better mother.

I’m not saying that this is how we will always live, but what works for us now. One day I would love to meet someone and build a home with them (bonus points if they actually want to build something). The addition of an ex in that mix will surely be tricky, but we’ll get to that bridge when we come to it. For now, I know that this is a situation that’s workable and we’ll figure it out as we go, as we have done, knowing we’re simply just doing our best.

I’m proud that we’ve been able to make this transition while keeping some sense of normality and continuity for her. Divorce shouldn’t be seen as a failure, for some, like me, it’s just the closing of one chapter and the beginning of another. And it can’t really be seen as a failure if our biggest achievement was creating her.

Thank you for reading, as always, I’m so glad you’re here for the deep stuff as well as the interiors, and if I can help one person feel better about their own choices or help reframe divorce and co-parenting in a less divisive way, then that’s a good job done.

Cate x

For the past couple of years I’ve been using the app Goodreads to record the books I read. Otherwise I would hardly be able to remember what I’ve read or not read. I also like that they have a ‘Reading Challenge’ where you can set a goal of how many books you want to read in a year. I’ve set myself a goal of reading 30 books this year and I’ve currently read 16 books since January. You can also rate books out of 5 and see what friends are reading and bookmarking. I really recommend it if you like to read. You can find my Goodreads profile here.

You might wander how I find the time to read with a little one and a business of my own. I don’t commute so that gives me a bit of extra time. I often wind down at bedtime with a book rather than watching something. I’ve tried to make sure my daughter sees me reading at weekends while she’s playing so she knows I’m not just there solely for her entertainment and so she appreciates that you can pick up a book at any time. I probably read quite quickly. And I just love reading.

Everyone has a style or genre of book that they like most. Here I’m sharing 10 fiction books that I’ve been loving recently, but they might not be everyone’s cup of tea. Sometimes my best friend recommends a book and I give it two stars and feel guilty. Other times I’ll recommend one to her and she just won’t be able to get on with it.

Here is what I like and then you can see if you like it too. I love cosy, domestic books about ordinary lives, friendships, family dynamics or interrelational sagas. Sometimes, when zoomed out, it might seem that not much happens or there’s not much of a storyline. These books are not necessarily dramatic or gripping like a thriller, it’s more about how people connect and relate to one another, the subtle nuances of what is not said, the things that go unseen, the hidden secrets, the heartbreak, the breaking apart of lives and the stitching back together. Really, I love understanding what makes us human. And I find these kind of stories incredibly relatable compared to anything that is in more in a fantasy realm. In stories like this characters are messy, flawed and really just trying their best and wanting to be accepted, as we all are. There’s little communication breakdowns, the unspoken resentments, the misunderstandings that blow up, the couple who belong together but can’t quite build up the guts to say it. It feels real.

I also love stories that flip between timelines or the voices of different characters, slowly building up a bigger picture, chapter by chapter, as you uncover the real story.

I have another very niche interest when it comes to books. For some reason or other, I am obsessed with books set in World War One or World War Two. I don’t know why, maybe I was a spy in a former life. I’m not interested in the actual warfare of it, the guts and violence. What I’m interested in is the ordinary lives that somehow, through it all, just got on with it and made a life for themselves. I’m fascinated by the women who took over men’s jobs, the ones that found themselves, the ones doing the work beyond the frontlines. If the story is about a female spy parachuting into occupied France, I’m there, if it’s a romance set in the blitz, I’m also there.

But anyway, I digress. Let’s get back to my 10 favourite reads and I’ve just realised I gave them all 5 stars. They’re not necessarily new reads because I buy a lot of my books from Oxfam bookshops and it just depends what they have there at the time. So in no particular order:

1. Open Water by Caleb Azumah Nelson - 5 stars

2. The Artist by Lucy Steeds - 5 stars

3. The Names by Florence Knapp - 5 stars

4. Heart the Lover by Lily King - 5 stars

5. The Fair Botanists by Sara Sheridan - 5 Stars

6. Expectation by Anna Hope - 5 stars

7. The Echoes by Evie Wyld - 5 stars

8. This Book Made Me Think of You by Libby Page - 5 stars

9. The Wedding People by Alison Espach - 5 stars

10. The Safekeep by Yael van der Wouden - 5 stars

1. Open Water by Caleb Azumah Nelson - 5 stars

   I read this book in a day! Admittedly it’s quite a thin book but I hardly ever do that. I was gripped from the start by this tender love story between two young Black British people who meet in a pub in south east London. It reminded me of a mix between Sally Rooney’s emotionally stunted characters and a Zadie Smith novel. It’s all about the things that go unsaid and unseen, capturing the dizzy torment of falling in love, as well as the weight of what it means to be Black British today. The writing is very poetic and lyrical, rolling along through moments of intimacy and vulnerability, building to a crescendo.
   
   Here is a favourite passage that I underlined: ‘To have a home is a luxury. To know someone before you knew them introduces a freedom previously unknown, when in their presence. Perhaps this is what home is: freedom. It’s easy to stay furled up where you can’t live, like folding a book in half on its spine to fit into pockets.’

   

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Scentscaping comes from the idea of designing for all the senses. We don’t just experience an interior with our eyes – as beautiful as a room might be – we are constantly taking cues from our environment which inform how comfortable we feel in a space. There are the physical elements; the textures we touch, the furniture we sit down on, the objects we use everyday. But there is also an invisible, emotional layer that helps connect us to a space, which includes scent, sound, light, temperature and mood. If we focus on the whole sensorial experience of being in an interior, the idea is that we can create spaces that better ground us.

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What I found interesting when I was writing The Japandi Home was that we don’t just have five senses. Scientists estimate we could have upwards of 33 senses! Of course there’s touch, scent, sight, sound and taste, but we also use other senses to help us relate to our environment. There’s proprioception which helps us understand our movement and the position of our body in a space. There’s our vestibular sense that helps with balance and our spatial orientation. Then there’s also thermoception (temperature), nociception (pain) and chronoception (our internal body clock), among others. They all impact our experience of a space, showing that interior design is not just visual and it’s not just as simple as painting a wall.

It’s so easy to overlook these ‘invisible’ elements as we focus on the more tangible things in a room, when we’re choosing paint colours or picking out tiles. But the mood of a space really comes together when we consider the ‘softer’ details and finishing touches; getting the ambience right, layering up cosy textiles, lighting a candle. If you think about those moments when you really feel at home, it’s likely those moments when there is soft music on in the background, you’re doing one of your favourite activities like cooking, the light is looking its best and you feel relaxed and at ease. Those are the things that give a home meaning.

Scentscaping means intentionally designing scent into a space from the beginning. It’s not just adding a scented candle, but using fragrance to create different moods and zones that flow throughout your home. It is these zones that can help signal to the brain or nervous system that it’s time to work, or that it’s time to relax in the evening. You can therefore use scent to carry you through the day from room to room.

The first step is considering how you are going to be using each space and how you want to feel. For example, in a home office you might need focus and clarity, while in a bedroom you might want to inspire rest and relaxation. A living room will need something warm and grounding to reflect the idea of cocooning and gathering around a hearth, whereas a bathroom might mentally transport you to somewhere else. Scent can either feel familiar and bring you inwards, or it can inspire you and create a sense of escapism.

You can then use different scents in different parts of the home to evoke the right feeling. For example, fresh salty scents to remind you of the sea and give a spa-like feel in the bathroom, zesty citrus scents to complement cooking smells in the kitchen, or earthier woody scents in the living room to bring a moodier feel for the evening. Often these scents will be made up of a blend. A scent isn’t just one dimensional, it will have a base note, middle notes and a top note that help create a depth and complexity.

There are lots of ideas to bring scent into the home that go beyond simply buying more candles! Here are some suggestions, from simmer pots and homemade sprays to integrated scent diffusers and fragrant natural materials:

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But with this thought, I set myself the challenge of coming up with 10 ways to decorate a home for free. Instead of thinking you need something new to fix a space, it’s looking at what you already own with fresh eyes and coming up with creative ideas to bring new energy in. Sometimes when we’re surrounded by the same objects they become so familiar that we stop seeing them as we might have once done. They lose their appeal and sense of shiny newness. I think nowadays in our throwaway culture, we lose sight of the value of our belongings – not just the monetary value, but the emotional value – and it feels easier to think we can just go out and buy a new one.

Instagram has us thinking that everyone is spending money on their homes and changing rooms like they’re changing outfits. The truth is we don’t always need to resort to a full, flashy makeover of a whole room, and sometimes all it takes is moving the furniture around to gain a new perspective. There’s lots of simple ways to refresh a home without spending a lot of money. Let me see if I can get to 10!

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First let’s talk about why you might want to use wood in the first place. The addition of wood in a space gives warmth, tactility and depth, especially when paired with a neutral backdrop. It feels timeless and solid, and I think we recognise something familiar in its irregular grain and grounding surface. You can’t help but run your hand along the armrest of a wooden chair or appreciate the timeworn grooves on a wooden table.

Texture is ultimately what prevents a space from feeling flat or dull. If everything is perfect or pristine, all at the same material level, then a home can easily appear soulless and not very stimulating. I’m all about designing for the senses and focusing on how a space feels to be in, not just how it looks. Natural texture and complex, varied materials feel more intriguing to the eye and more delightful to touch.

I’m not just making all this up because I like wooden furniture. Studies have shown that the use of natural materials can help reduce stress levels and aid feelings of relaxation. One study found that if a room was made up of nearly 50% wood it led to significant decreases in blood pressure as well as a greater perception of comfort. A room made almost entirely of wood (covering 90% of its surface) even helped reduce brain activity. The presence of the material signals to our brain that we can relax and feel safe. Another study asked participants to touch panels of different materials, including steel, tile, marble and oak. They found that touching oak could induce rest and help calm the nervous system. It therefore makes sense that a wood flooring feels grounding under foot, or that a wooden cabin might make us feel like we can switch off and get away from it all.

But how do you actually go about mixing different woods and it not feel like they are all clashing for attention? Let’s break it down.

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When I did one on the best coffee tables under £500 earlier in the month, one of you suggested an edit of cushions would be useful, so here we are! I’ve rounded up 30 of the best neutral designs for the minimalist home. And I have three tips for styling cushions for you:

1. No one wants a flat, sad cushion they can’t squish into. Either choose a generous feather-filled inner (look to West Elm or John Lewis), or an insert that is just slightly bigger than the cushion cover so it looks fuller (for example 55 x 55cm insert in a 50 x 50cm cover). I find feather filled cushions a bit more malleable and easier to form rather than synthetic fibres which don’t have much give, but I know some people might have ethical reservations about them. But please, for the love of god, never karate chop them!!

2. Group cushions in corners of sofas in groups of three. Odd numbers always look more aesthetically pleasing than more ordered even numbers, which can look contrived. I also think it looks better when there’s a variety of cushion sizes, for example one bigger square cushion paired with a rectangular cushion and a smaller rectangular cushion.

3. Use plain linen cushions as your base then add one colourful cushion (eg. in sage green) and one patterned cushion (even if it’s just a bit of handwoven texture), to break it up and add detail to draw the eye in. With neutral schemes, the more texture the better.

Right, let’s get down to the edit:

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Copenhagen’s design festival 3 Days of Design is my annual ticket to spark my creativity and curiosity. It’s my favourite festival. For three days every June, the city comes alive with open showrooms, exhibitions, new product launches, talks and events. 3 Days of Design started as a tiny event with just four exhibitors in 2013 and has since grown exponentially to welcome over 400 design brands, makers and designers from across the world. There is SO much to see and take in. It’s free to attend, you don’t have to be press or an industry professional or anyone fancy, the showrooms have open doors and you don’t need to register or buy a ticket. The hotels have cottoned on and are charging more, but the flights are still reasonable and if you’re even a little bit interested in design, I recommend a trip to coincide with the festival. Prepare to walk 20,000 steps a day, take hundreds of photos, and return inspired, if a little design fatigued.

What I love about 3 Days of Design is it’s approachable and accessible. Even though there’s lots to see and tick off, there’s a relaxed, unpretentious atmosphere. Unlike Maison Objet or Salone del Mobile in Milan, you’re not in a soulless exhibition centre under artificial lighting. 3 Days of Design allows you access into beautiful showrooms, residential apartments and hidden corners of the city. It’s easy just to wander the city, showroom hopping from space to space. There’s the big Scandi brands like HAY, Ferm Living and Muuto, but there’s also lesser known names and emerging talents. As well as increasingly, more international names from Europe and further afield; although it is my understanding that the organisers want to keep it a Scandinavian festival.

This year I had two days to see everything I wanted to. I didn’t have any work commitments this time, so I was free to explore at my leisure. While I class this as ‘work’, it really didn’t feel like work at all and sometimes I pinch myself that I get to do what I do; my paid work helping to cover these ‘jollies’ as my mum would call them.

In this post, I’m sharing a few things that caught my eye from the festival and the new designs to know about. First, let me cover the design trends. I hate trends. They go against my values and everything I believe in – about creating timeless spaces that last and endure and are an expression of the person who lives there. This is what I love about Scandinavian design; there’s a strong heritage, a rich history and a desire to create spaces that stand the test of time. And much of that is still true at 3 Days of Design today; you’re as likely to find a reissued classic as a brand new design. While I take trends and fleeting fashions with a pinch of salt, they are useful things to know about and have on your radar. And there were some common elements I kept seeing as I ducked in and out of showrooms. In no particular order, here’s some micro trends, which aren’t really trends at all:

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If you think about it, straight lines feel very architectural and manmade. The key to a cosy interior is really in balancing the hard with the soft, the masculine with the feminine and the warm with the cool. If everything is straight and ordered, a space can start to feel contrived and uncomfortable. But introduce some curves and things start to feel inviting.

When I was doing some research for a book about biophilic design that never came to be I was fascinated by our innate draw to curves. It seems as humans we have a preference for the round over the angular. The rectilinear can be seen as harsh, where curves are graceful. Studies have found that we’re more likely to deem a space beautiful if its curvilinear, and that curved furniture creates greater feelings of relaxation, peace and calm. In fact, curves light up a part of the visual cortex that responds to rewards and the perception of how emotionally resonant an object is (known as emotional salience), suggesting it is a certain feeling that we connect with curves and circles. Fascinating stuff! Interior design runs so much deeper than just a shape.

Where am I going with this. Round coffee tables! I love a round coffee table and here I’ve curated 12 of the best minimalist designs under £500. A few are on sale at the moment. They’re mostly wooden because that’s what will also add warmth to a space. But they’re just simple, sleek and would make a beautiful addition to any living room.

1. Kuvu coffee table, £270, noo.ma – A simple, round coffee table with lollipop stick shaped legs, available in two sizes, either in oak or vulcano black. Made in the EU using FSC-certified matt wood veneer. I think two look great clustered together at different heights.

2. Kalia coffee table, £159.20, Dunelm [Ad - affiliate link] – Really reasonably priced for an 80cm wide wooden table. Available in a light and a dark finish, it has solid wood legs and an oak veneer top.

2. Winslow coffee table, was £310 now £279, John Lewis [Ad - affiliate link] – A round coffee table made of MDF and rubberwood (a cheaper wood) to look like oak. The criss-cross legs add a unique feature and moment of interest.

   

3. Alyasa oak veneer coffee table, £335.99 (currently 20% off), La Redoute [Ad - affiliate link] – La Redoute is surprisingly good for coffee tables, I always make sure to check their site. This design comes in at 74cm diameter, and is made of oak veneered MDF with solid oak legs. There’s also a lovely side table and a larger coffee table in the same range. Get an extra 10% off with code LASTDAY.

   

4. Pokhara solid walnut coffee table, £194.99 (currently 50% off), La Redoute [Ad - affiliate link] – Dark wood is having a bit of a moment and this is a beautiful sleek design. This is made of solid walnut and I love how the tabletop sits around the legs. Get an extra 10% off with code LASTDAY.

   

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What first struck me about Seville (apart from the temperature!) was the colour palette – plaster pinks and warm ochres, cobalt blues and verdant greens, butter yellows and chestnut browns. It really is a city that feels like a sensory overload; from the temperature to the tones to the tapas. I couldn’t help but take interior inspiration from all the little details – a leaf motif on a tile, a bright blue window frame, or a blue and white balcony trim. There was so much to take in, even if you were just going from A to B.

I would also describe Seville as a real fusion of architectural influences. It felt a little like going to Morocco by way of Italy, Spain and France. There’s historic mudéjar architecture and tiled walls with Renaissance colonnades and courtyards. I loved looking up at the ornate balconies and windows, some of which were still decorated with palms from Easter Sunday. As with anywhere, it’s a city that rewards you for getting a bit lost and discovering what’s around the corner. One evening I stumbled across these different music groups that were going through the streets, dressed in gowns with colourful ribbons and badges, singing traditional songs. It was just such a good vibe!

A perfect day in Seville looks a bit like this: get up early and head to a palace or site or museum before the crowds. Grab a pastry and a (preferably iced) coffee, more wandering then a tapas lunch (something light like a gazpacho or tomato salad with tuna), then back for a siesta. When the temperature later cools, head out for a rebujito or tinto de verano, before hopping from one tapas bar to another.

In this Seville travel guide, I’m sharing my favourite hidden gems, traditional taverns, coffee bars and craft shops. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Just maybe don’t go in summer…

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In this travel guide, I’ve curated the best places to stay, the tastiest restaurants, the coolest cocktail bars and the homeware shops not to miss. Oh and a gallery and exhibition too!

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As an only child I’ve always been someone who has enjoyed their own company and I’ve never really needed anyone else for entertainment or to fill the silence. I’m not a complete loner and of course I do like company occasionally (!) – I have close friends and can be an extroverted introvert when I want to be or when I’m in the right room with the right people. But as I’ve got older, and certainly since I’ve become a mother, I have come to cherish moments by myself even more. The complete peace and serenity of it! No-one telling me what to do or asking for snacks! No one demanding anything from me! My own agenda; a whole day, a whole week, a complete trip on MY terms. What bliss.

I mean, sometimes I worry I enjoy my own company a bit too much! And that I’m too independent and self-sufficient to be tied down into a relationship that might clip my wings and limit my freedom. While it would be nice to enjoy some of those moments on a trip with someone, I think I would still want to take solo trips even if I wasn’t single anymore. Just because you’re together with someone, doesn’t mean you need to be joined at the hip and it’s actually far healthier I think to have some experiences apart so that when you do come back together you feel more alive, more fulfilled and have more to talk about!

I think we’ve come to think that people go on solo trips out of necessity; perhaps because they’re lonely or they’ve got no one to go on holiday with. Or they’re just Billy no mates. People will look at you with pity or a waitress will say ‘just for one?’ as if it’s all very sad and melancholy. Someone to feel sorry for. But there’s so much to love about solo travel and so much to gain from it. It’s not ‘just one’, but a chance to be ‘a whole one’ complete on your own. It’s exhilarating and empowering and restoring and revitalising. And it doesn’t mean you lack anything. It’s something to be proud of.

I can understand why a solo trip might seem daunting. It’s having the courage to go out into the world on your own and be potentially confronted with your own insecurities, or the realities of your own mind. The quiet of it, without anyone else there to fill the blanks or talk to or lean on. But it’s precisely because it’s a little scary that I find so much joy in it. There’s an empowering feeling you get when you go on a solo trip and find you can do and don’t need anyone. When you get lost and have to figure it out for yourself, when you need to ask for directions or just have to wing it and see. The sense of achievement when you come back is so exhilarating because you’ve achieved something, you’ve done it!

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It’s easy to get overwhelmed with the volume of stuff out there. A quick Google for a pendant light and you will soon realise just how many options are out there. I don’t think people realise until they come to me or start an interior project just how long it can take to source the perfect item. You don’t just have to weigh up aesthetic, but function, material, practicality, cost. I believe good things not only look the part, but fit into your home and make it work harder and more seamlessly.

I find my style thrives on a balance of high and low; I love pairing a stylish Scandi design with something vintage or something from the high street. I aim for my interiors to be accessible and easy to achieve without a lot of effort or stress. I love easy wins – an easy-fit lampshade, a quick design hack, a framed poster, a foolhardy DIY. So anything I do share will tend to be timeless, simply designed and easy to integrate into any style. I love buying things that are versatile and can stand the test of time.

Good lighting is a little bit like jewellery for the home; it’s the top note that completes a space and transforms it from dull to cosy. For this round-up, I’m mostly focusing on Japandi-style paper or fabric pendant shades as I feel they give a beautiful, soft glow to a space, rather than a glare from above that can look harsh once the natural light starts to fade. I tend not to like to see an exposed bulb in a pendant unless it’s for focused task lighting over a specific area such as a kitchen island or dining table where you need better illumination.

Every interior designer will warn you against the ‘big light’. What they really mean is that one big light in the middle of the room can often feel like you’re sitting in a clinical waiting room when it’s turned on bright at night. It’s my personal pet hate when there’s too many spotlights in a room. What you actually need is ‘layered lighting’ which gives you different options depending on your mood or the time of day – this means making sure you have 4-5 different sources of light in one room, so you might have the main ceiling light, but you would also complement it with wall lamps, table lamps and floor lamps illuminating little pockets of light and creating a cosier ambience.

You can get around the glare of the big light by doing a couple of things. First, it’s not so much the light fitting that’s the problem, but the light bulb. It’s the colour temperature of the bulb that sets the tone of light, rather than the fixture itself. Warmer yellow-toned light feels much cosier than brighter blue-toned light that can feel overly stimulating and chilly. This can be fine in kitchens and bathrooms but you want to choose warm white bulbs with a Kelvin rating of around 3,000K for your living areas or bedrooms.

Then if you can, put the light fitting on a dimmer switch so that you can adjust the intensity and lower the lights to give a softer, more intimate feel in the evenings when you want to relax. This is especially true for bedrooms where you want to wind down and create a cocooning like feel that will drift you off to sleep. Lighting should set the feel of a space and adapt with the mood you want to create in a room. Before choosing a light fitting first consider what you will be doing in the space and how you want to feel.

The pendant shades I’ve picked for this edit also help soften the light because the fabric or paper helps create a warm glow rather than a harsh exposed light, so you don’t even mind having them on at night! These should just add to the ambience rather than detracting from it.

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Whitstable makes a perfect day trip from London – just an hour and 19 minutes from London St Pancras International – or a weekend seaside escape. It’s ideal for children because the waters are shallow as the tide goes in and out, and you can find some sand amongst the pebbles. I love that it’s completely unspoilt (you won’t find any cheap tat here), with independent shops, local eateries and beachfront takeaway shacks. White clapperboard fishermen cottages and pastel-coloured homes create this feeling of old-world charm. It’s a simple life really – stroll along the harbour, eat fish and chips fresh out of the paper on the beach, watch the sunset and enjoy a slightly slower pace.

In my Whitstable travel guide, I’ve gathered together my favourite places and tried-and-tested local finds, from cosy pubs and seafood shacks to artisan bakeries and sustainable fashion stores. Plus the best places to stay if you’re looking for a home away from home.

WHERE TO STAY

• West Cliff – keeperscottages.co.uk – This colourful townhouse has everything you could need for a weekend by the seaside. Designed in collaboration with SE London-based designer Hello Flora, it’s been lovingly restored by its owners into a welcoming family home with bold pops of colour and on-trend design details. Set over four floors, there’s three bathrooms and four uniquely decorated bedrooms – choose from a powder pink bedroom, a cosy room with a green-framed window looking over the garden, and two charming twin rooms on the top floor. It’s perfectly located just a short walk from the high street and nearby beach, and ideal for young families with kids thanks to the well-stocked cupboards with plenty of books, toys and games. There’s even a games room with table tennis and table football. The bifold doors in the kitchen open onto a lovely, wild garden where you can enjoy your morning coffee in (relative) peace. It’s also dog friendly! Get 10% off a stay at West Cliff (not including peak season) using code CATE on Keeper’s Cottages. [Ad – press stay – I was hosted at West Cliff]

• Keeper’s Cottages tends to be my go-to when looking for nice, stylish, boutique places to stay in Kent, and they have lots of other great options for Whitstable, such as a calm neutral loft and a cosy cottage with a sea view.

• Kip Hideaways is also a good shout for unique self-catered stays. I particularly like the look of Tides Cottage, a vintage-style cottage where you can take in the sea views and sunsets right from the bed.

• Otherwise have a browse on Airbnb – I wouldn’t necessarily recommend the one I stayed in a couple of years ago (dirty mugs and a lack of coffee marked it down for me!), but you can find some cute fishermen cottages and reasonably priced stays, such as here, here, here and here, which I’ll be bookmarking for next time.

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When I think about styling a room, I always think of that Coco Chanel quote: ‘Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and take one thing off’. Stripping things back to only what is necessary and beautiful, it suggests letting go of the idea of being too polished or overdone. If you put on earrings and a necklace, lipstick and a headband, a scarf and glasses, it might simply look too much. But if you just had some beautiful earrings and a statement lip, it would likely bring focus to the elegance of those two carefully chosen pieces. This less-is-more approach applies equally well to interiors as with outfits. You can only style a space to a certain point, a home also needs a bit of breathing room to truly come to life.

Sometimes the best spaces look a little undone; a sofa has a soft indentation where someone has sat, books are arranged haphazardly on a shelf, a chair is tilted just so, inviting you to settle into its welcoming embrace. There’s room for real life and it looks like a real person lives there. It appeals because it feels lived-in not overly perfect. Real homes aren’t set in aspic, frozen in time for a perfect picture on Instagram. Good design also allows for everyday living, creating space for a home to evolve and breathe.

There’s a couple of ways that you can design in this ‘breathing space’. The first rule of thumb: negative space is as important as the detail in a room. This means paying attention to the space around and in-between objects to allow them to breathe and take their place in a room. Allowing for some negative space brings focus and attention to the things you do have out on display, otherwise your eye doesn’t know where to land.

The Japanese are well practised in this – in traditional Japanese interiors they have a dedicated alcove for a floral ikebana arrangement, leaving the rest of the walls bare so your eye is immediately drawn to the display as soon as you enter the room. It’s something I learnt a lot from in writing The Japandi Home. In a contemporary minimalist interior, you might have shelves either side of the chimney breast for books and objects but leave space above the fireplace so it doesn’t feel too crowded.

Creating negative space also allows a room to flow harmoniously. If you overfill it, then it’s harder to move around and navigate your way through a space. Don’t be afraid to pull furniture away from the walls, creating space behind furniture also gives the illusion of more space as your eye can’t easily depict a threshold or boundary. Another clever trick is to place a narrow sideboard behind a sofa to display a vase, some books, a beautiful object. Just by pulling it out by 15-20cm you create a moment of intrigue and interest around a piece of furniture.

Another way you can design breathing space into a room is to choose fewer larger pieces than lots of little pieces. This works especially well in smaller spaces to play with the idea of scale, helping to make a room feel more spacious. It’s a bit like a garden patio – if you have a few large plant pots it looks like a statement, if you have lots of little plant pots, it starts to look cluttered and fussy. The same applies with a room, it looks much punchier (not sure if that’s a word!) if there’s less furniture or accessories in a space, but the things you do choose are bolder or bigger, for example, a huge pot with branches on a kitchen island, one big sideboard rather than a few mismatched pieces, one sculptural statement coffee table or oversized ottoman as opposed to a couple of little side tables.

Finally, let rooms evolve slowly. I think there’s something to be said for stepping back at the end of the design process and not letting things look too staged. I personally don’t want to feel like I’m living in a showroom where I can’t touch anything.

A home is a living, breathing thing, as are we; our tastes shift and change, we introduce new pieces we fall in love with, we might move things around when we get bored with a space. I think when you’re designing a room you get set in this mindset of this is how it should always look. But it helps to let go a little and embrace imperfection or just the serendipity or fluctuation of time. That might mean leaving space on shelves, painting walls a versatile neutral, choosing timeless pieces that will go with anything, or simply thinking about how you want to live in the near future. It’s about undoing the design a little so it makes space for real life and actual living.

On My Radar - A round-up of new launches and furniture finds that have caught my eye

I went to the Next Summer press show last week and they had some lovely new things. One for the minimalists out there, I particularly liked their new label THE SET Home, a collection of homeware pieces in coordinating neutral shades. Described by Next as a ‘capsule wardrobe for your home decor’, each piece has been designed with a refined, timeless aesthetic in mind.

From left to right: cushions, set of two rugs, glass storage jars, set of three hanging baskets, cutlery set, striped bedding

Beige garden set, Alice in Scandiland

Cornish design shop Alice in Scandiland has some lovely new arrivals, I just spotted this garden set on her Instagram stories and had to share. Powder coated steel in a soft clay colour, the set includes two lightweight chairs and a cute side table – ideal for a sunny little courtyard. Priced at £250, shop here.

Ferm Living Kids Spring Summer 2026 collection

Danish brand Ferm Living always creates the most charming homeware for kids, which still feel refined and aesthetically pleasing. I know I want anything I choose for my daughter to fit in with my home. Launched in April, their new kids collection is inspired by natural and celestial worlds, with playful shapes and creative forms; recognisable Ferm Living silhouettes scaled down to blend seamlessly into stylish homes. Explore the collection here.

New ceramic planters by Tina Vaia Studio

These tactile marbled planters caught my eye. Designed by ceramicist Tina Vaia and handcrafted to order in Valencia, the beautiful mottled finish comes from a Nerikomi-inspired technique, traditionally used in Japan to combine two different coloured clays. Available in black and rust, prices start from £125, available online here.

The Fumi collection by Guillaume Delvigne for Eldvarm

Founded in Stockholm and now based in Paris, Eldvarm is known for it’s hearth-side fireplace tools and baskets. But it’s these minimalist trays that caught my eye. Designed by French designer Guillaume Delvigne, they balance smooth powder-coated steel with tactile wood handles. They come in two sizes which can be nestled in one another, perfect for carrying drinks or arranging objects on a coffee table. Shop here.

That’s all for now, thank you so much for taking the time to read, and if you feel inspired please subscribe for more of where this came from!

Yours, simply,
Cate x

While I enjoy the stillness that the clear, negative space creates – there’s just less visual clutter – I want to make sure I’m choosing wisely. You see, I want the art in my home to really mean something. I grew up in a home where every piece on the wall told a story – you could point at a painting or sketch and there would be a tale behind it; of where it was picked up, how it made its way home, why it really connected to something deep within. Now I don’t just want something generic that anyone else has. I want my home to have soul. I’d rather live with nothing on the walls than have something just to fill a space.

We all make mistakes. I once had a gallery wall going all the way up my stairs, made up entirely of prints and frames from the same place. Admittedly, the black frames maybe weren’t the best choice, lending a somewhat severe quality, but I felt no connection to the pieces and after a while it all just felt flat and lacking in any personality. There was no nuance or sense of uniqueness. So now I’m a little more cautious with what I choose.

Art is deeply subjective and I think it can really say something about the person living in a space. It’s the one thing I struggle with when I’m working with an interiors client. Something I might like might really grate on them. There’s a real skill to choosing art, but I’ve learnt that art doesn’t always need to be held on such a high pedestal. It’s not just about the big pieces or grand gestures, but the smaller details too.

Almost anything can be art, especially in the home. There’s lots of creative ways that you can display artwork on a shoestring budget, whether it’s framing cheap exhibition postcards, pressed flowers, pages from your favourite design magazine or your children’s drawings. You can find vintage prints in flea markets, upcycle frames from charity shops or paint your own canvases. It doesn’t need to come shop bought and ready made. I love an exhibition poster, a map of a meaningful place or a postcard just tacked on the wall with masking tape. You don’t need to be too precious about it.

Art will often have more meaning to you if there’s intention behind it. I always think that the best gallery walls are made up of a little bit of everything; there might be personal momentoes and retro photo strips, antique frames or pretty plates. You can rememebr where you were the moment you bought or found each piece. With a gallery wall, I really think there should be no rules – it should be a visual representation of everything that makes you you.

This is really how I’ve got round my slight commitment phobia (to art), by slowly building up a collection of thoughtful, handmade pieces over time – one that allows me to experiment with art without spending a fortune. It doesn’t matter if I don’t like a piece in a couple of months or if I want to change things up. And the things I do have out, they really make my heart sing.

In today’s Substack, I’m opening up my little black book and sharing where I source my favourite prints, frame, artwork and more.

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I’m sure people in the know will say that green is out and we should all be painting our homes in butter yellow or sky blue. But stick with me here. Green is surely universally known as the colour of calm and tranquility, bringing to mind verdant landscapes, forest retreats and soothing scenes of natural life. In colour psychology, it’s associated with renewal, energy, balance and harmony. We know instinctively that green is good for us; we know that nature is a powerful mood booster, we know we would feel better if we would just put down the laptop and take a walk outside, we know that countryside air is better than city air, we know that we should eat our greens.

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