Hello! In the seven weeks since I finally relinquished my Barbican flat and temporarily moved in with my dad in Yorkshire, I’ve also been back to London, to Scotland, and now I’m in London again. I’ll often stay in hotels in the centre of town, but this time I’ve taken up residence in my friends’ empty bedrooms, road-testing different areas before I move back here.

There’s nothing else to report from April, as I was ill for three out of four weeks. I’ve learnt that when your life implodes, your immune system self-destructs in sympathy. It was the fourth virus I’d caught in three months, and honestly, if one more fucking germ finds me, I’m leaning into it and going full Colin from The Secret Garden. When I got back from the press trip to Scotland, I walked in to the sound of my dad and stepmum coughing emphatically back and forth, like a game of ping-pong. At that point, I took to hiding in my bedroom with the windows open. I’m living in a plague house.

Anyway, before it becomes a distant memory, I wanted to write about what it’s like to live in the Barbican Estate: a place so well known within certain circles that it’s a tourist destination in its own right.

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Barbican: a quick introduction

For the unfamiliar, the Barbican Estate is a Brutalist post-war housing development in central London, just inside the remains of the Roman city walls. People are either madly in love with it and dream of living there, or they can’t stand the place and think it’s the ugliest building they’ve ever seen. It’s rare to find indifference. A grey concrete monolith in an often-grey city isn’t for everyone, but I love it, and if I had a spare £850k for a one-bedroom flat, I’d be back there right now.

Barbican was built to replace an area of London destroyed during World War II (the first bomb of the Blitz landed on my street), and the residential part of the estate took around a decade to complete, from the mid-1960s to the mid-1970s. It’s big enough to feel like a village within a city, and it covers a whole tube stop on the London Underground, with Barbican station on the west of the estate and Moorgate station on the east. It’s maze-like by design, and it looks impenetrable from outside, with discreet entrances, hidden staircases, and buildings connected by raised walkways called the Highwalk. I’ve spent many a half-hour shepherding bewildered tourists from one side of the estate to the other, as they fret about missing the start of a show.

Inside its fortified walls, there are more than 2,000 flats, three private gardens, lakes, a shop, a theatre and arts centre hosting world-class concerts and exhibitions, a cinema, a library, cafes, a nursery, a conservatory, a medieval church, and a girls’ school. The Guildhall School of Music & Drama is also sandwiched between the arts centre and one of the residential blocks. There are over 100 different flat layouts within the estate (known as ‘types’, and they’re all numbered – I’ve lived in a type 21, a 57 and a 58). They range in size from studios that only just fit a bed to townhouses with double-height windows and roof gardens.

It’s a common misconception that Barbican was built as social housing. It is owned by the City of London Corporation, but it was never a council estate. The flats were designed for middle-class professionals, and they were all rented at market rate. This was before the Right to Buy scheme offered tenants the best investment they’d ever make. We paid more in rent over the past seven years than our landlords paid to buy the flat. There are a couple of promo videos from 1969 here and here, if you fancy!

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When your address becomes your personality

When I first moved into journalism, I quickly learnt that having a semi-famous address is a useful conversation topic to wheel out at work dinners, especially if you’re seated next to someone who asks where you live, and their face lights up as they tell you they’ve already done the architecture tour. Living in the Barbican started to feel like an integral part of my job. A styling prop, of sorts. It made a memorable background for my photos, and later, brands started featuring me in various ‘At home with…’ interviews. It undoubtedly gave me a leg-up in those early days of hustling for work in the London design world, when I didn’t have contacts or a way in. People followed me on Instagram because they loved the Barbican, and it was through Instagram that I landed the weekly newspaper column that opened the door to everything else. I stand by my work and my taste, but I’m not delusional – it’s the building I lived in that made me stand out.

The Barbican Estate: a place for people who like rules

I rented three Barbican flats over a span of 12 years, so I’ve been around the block. Three different blocks, actually. Speed, Defoe, and Andrewes. Barbican is a particular place for particular people, and there are specific rules to live by if you want to live there. These are just some of them:

• No pets allowed (but if you ask around, you’ll find a healthy supply of illegal house cats).

• No noisy work at weekends, and none before 10am or after 4pm on weekdays, so don’t even think about hanging a picture or a bookshelf on a Saturday.

• Ideally, there’s no moving in or out of a flat at weekends because you’ll hog the lift and the clattering around will disturb your neighbours.

• No ball games, large parties, BBQs, or portable speakers in the gardens. Every summer, some fresh neighbour-to-neighbour beef kicks off when someone decides to ‘reserve’ all the garden benches for their kid’s birthday party.

• All floors in the living area, hallways and bedroom should be carpeted (people turn a blind eye to this, but our landlords valiantly kept the same carpet down for 20 years, and I assume they’re aiming for another 20).

• Absolutely no putting your laundry airer out on the balcony on a sunny day (or ever). Other residents won’t stand for your exuberant washing-drying ways, and there are eyes everywhere. You can expect to be shamed in the estate WhatsApp group.

• I’ve never taken the Barbican architecture tour (they used to stand across from my bedroom window several times a week), but I hear they tell tour groups that all curtains have to be white or cream for a uniform look. Total rubbish – it’s not true.

• The concrete planters on balconies are supposed to be maintained and filled with flowers at all times. No one enforces this. I spent circa £1,000 on plants over the last seven years; not one of them survived my excessive affection, crowding, poor soil maintenance, or overwatering.

• No audible noise whatsoever after 11pm. My neighbours two floors up missed this memo when they used to partake in midnight vacuuming of their laminate floor.

• No flushing of the Garchey after 11pm. It’s loud when it flushes.

The goddamn Garchey:

What’s a Garchey? Glad you asked! It’s a monstrous, stinking waste disposal system that was installed in the kitchen sink of every flat because Le Corbusier used them first, and the Barbican architects were major fanboys of his. The idea is you flush kitchen waste (not just food – even tin cans) down a giant plughole in a second sink, and it all gets washed into an underground tank. This waste isn’t recycled or turned into something useful – it’s broken down with toxic chemicals and taken away by lorries to god knows where. If you live on the lower floors (and we did), gases from rotting food are pushed out into your flat whenever your upstairs neighbours flush their Garchey (they’re all connected in a stack), so our kitchen would often smell of farts. You can have them removed, and plenty do, but it costs thousands. Scented candles do a lot of heavy lifting!

Original kitchens

Having the original galley-style Brooke Marine kitchen (designed by yacht makers to maximise usable space) is still a selling point. I’ve had one in all three of my rented flats, and I loved the stainless steel worktops, the sliding glass pocket door, and the slightly sparse, clinical look that I wouldn’t choose otherwise, but which suits Barbican flats so well.

Original kitchens have a few recognisable details: four hobs in a row across the countertop, a pull-out breakfast bar, oversized white knobs for the hob, and a bizarre placement of the stainless steel plug sockets that always irritated me. They’re at eye level, high above the counter, so any appliances plugged in have ugly trailing cables, and I don’t understand how that wasn’t considered. There are passive vents to circulate the air, but people add modern extractor fans to their kitchens (another rule broken), and they’re powerful enough to push cooking smells into the bathroom and WC ventilation shafts of surrounding flats. It’s a unique experience to go for a pee and know that Roger upstairs is frying onions…

With a few top-floor exceptions, Barbican kitchens don’t have windows, but they do have a serving hatch through to the living room. My last landlords blocked ours up with glass bricks, so the kitchen was always dark and cupboard-like. Though the glass bricks ended up being quite a vibe by the time we moved out, since they were coincidentally having a design renaissance.

Original bathrooms

Unless you’re on the top floor, your bathroom doesn’t have a window either, so you’ll find it infuriatingly prone to mould. The combination bath/shower in several flat types shares a wall with the built-in wardrobe in the bedroom next door, so water damage is a rite of passage when the plumbing is 50+ years old. The damp patches and paint bubbling in our wardrobe were so bad that we had to tape bin bags across the walls to protect our clothes. Design-wise, the long horizontal mirror, hidden medicine cabinet and uniform square tiles from floor-to-ceiling look strong and intentional. Most bathrooms have a tiled countertop that spans the width of the room, but the dead space underneath it feels wasted for a small flat with very little storage. When people get their bathrooms redone, they almost always add fitted cupboards under the counter. In all but the smallest Barbican flats, the toilet is in a separate WC next door, with the iconic Twyfords sink, designed especially for the tight space.

Other things to know:

• Each block has 24-hour concierge known as car park attendants, which is wildly reductive considering all they do. They sign for and store parcels, they’re on the phone to repairs when there’s a 4am leak from a flat upstairs, they herd teenagers out of the garden who’ve broken in at night to get stoned on the waterfall, they offer shoulders to cry on, terrible dad jokes, and safety when you’re walking home through the car park at 1am and there’s no one else around. Shout-out to Rob, Steve, and David for being the best.

• You never have to worry about ‘bin day’. There’s a tall cupboard with two-way access next to everyone’s front door, and you just leave your bin bags inside, then a cleaner collects them from the other side every morning. When they take the used bags, they leave new ones to replace them. It’s so easy!

• You can’t control your own heating in Barbican, so if you’re freezing or sweltering, you have to buy an electric heater or open all the windows. Every year, there are pages of exasperated heating chat on the Barbican forum – there’s even an Underfloor Heating Working Party. Most people are like Goldilocks, and they’re never just right. The underfloor heating is controlled by the estate office, and it’s included in the service charge. They turn it off in April and back on in October. All flats get the same amount of heat regardless of their inside temperature, so the well-insulated ones in the middle of blocks might sometimes have all the windows open in March because they’re ready to faint, but people living on the first or top floors with single-glazing are wearing gloves indoors because there’s nothing above or below to keep the heat from escaping. Some might say it’s a hot topic…

• All residents have a magic key, which not only opens their own front door, but also the main doors to every other building and garden gate in the estate. I really didn’t want to give up my access to the garden – it was my favourite thing about living there.

• Bills are delightfully affordable in Barbican. There’s no gas, heating is included in the service charge, and it has one of the cheapest council tax rates in the whole of London.

• There’s an unspoken hierarchy of Barbican blocks, depending on whether you’re in one of the outer buildings that only contain studio flats, one of the ‘premium’ low-rise blocks such as Mountjoy House or Gilbert House, which straddle the lakes with no road outside, the townhouses, or the heady heights of the three towers. The high-rise towers are the only buildings your key won’t get you into if you don’t live in one. They have a manned reception desk making sure the riffraff from the less expensive flats can’t go for a joyride in the lifts.

• You might assume having a Barbican address gets you discounted tickets to the theatre, money off at the gift shop, residents-only access to the conservatory, etc. It doesn’t! On the plus side, you can pop to the cinema in your slippers without needing a jacket and take your own cup of tea. And on Mondays, tickets are only £7.

• Having lakes and fountains and tourists around all day feels a bit like you’re living in a cheerful holiday resort, in the best way. The gardens don’t even feel like you’re in London, as they’re at a sunken level and you can’t see beyond the surrounding flats. I used to love drinking coffee on a bench, listening to the birds sing while the toddlers from the nursery run around the playground like miniature drunks. Hang around long enough, and you’ll see overconfident squirrels, far too many ducks, moorhens, visiting pairs of Egyptian geese, a resident heron, urban foxes, and once a solo rabbit that lived in the bushes.

• There’s asbestos everywhere. I probably breathed some in last year when a handyman smashed the edges of an asbestos access panel in our WC, and I swept and vacuumed the debris without a mask. It’s also inside the bin cupboard doors, around some of the kitchen hobs, and in the original concrete planters. Fun!

• During lockdown, they took all the benches away and removed access to the gardens, aside from permission to walk a loop around the periphery path as daily exercise. I remember looking out of my window one day at a woman reading a book on the grass, wearing Lycra and very occasionally doing a downward dog to claim it as a workout if anyone questioned her. An icon! On another day, it was so hot that a few people started sitting out on the grass – several metres apart – but someone saw and called the police to eject everyone. Barbican residents love a rule, a formal complaint, and a curtain twitch to see what their neighbours are up to. I should know – I was always ratting on mine for throwing noisy parties on his balcony.

• There’s only one on-site convenience store, and it’s the least convenient shop I’ve ever known. It’s called Geranium (named after the unofficial Barbican windowbox flower), and it opens maybe three days a week, sometimes only for two or three hours. It feels like unfair retail space monopolising if you ask me. There are more than 4,000 residents who don’t want to go to Pret for their nearest croissants. The place is crying out for an independent deli/grocery shop that’s actually open, and a satellite bakery and coffee shop.

• There are a few WhatsApp groups for various purposes, and they all restore my faith in humanity and community. One of them is solely dedicated to borrowing things from neighbours who might have what you need, like step ladders and whisks.

• Sometimes, film and TV premieres are held on the Lakeside Terrace outside the Barbican Centre, and this is how I came to stand about six feet from Tom Hanks last year when I was cutting across the estate on my way home from the supermarket and noticed the red carpet.

• Every weekend, the estate is full of people filming music videos on the Highwalk underneath flats (they want a gritty setting that’s giving Top Boy, without any chance of actual trouble). There are also constant photoshoots, major film productions, dance troupes, and Gary Oldman is around a couple of times a year filming Slow Horses. During the pandemic, Harry Styles filmed the video for As It Was on the deserted school terrace opposite my bedroom window. I was out at a meeting that morning and missed it, but I’ve seen 76,897 renditions of the dance from his young fans, who film themselves recreating it in the same spot, day after day. It’s the best place to people-watch. I love it. I loved it all.

  

  

This is the letting agent link to our actual flat (and there’s a bad video tour in there too), if you’re curious enough to see where I lived for the past seven years.

It’s still available at the time of writing, but I can’t recommend taking it unless the landlords decide to do a refurb (unlikely), as the carpet is ancient and needs to be replaced. Also, being on the first floor with no flat below, it’s so cold in winter!

If there’s anything you’ve always wondered about life in Barbican that I didn’t cover above, feel free to ask in the comments below!

E xx

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I’m currently in London (we repainted our flat over the weekend before handing the keys back yesterday evening), and honestly, packing for a trip is not one of my life skills.

No one would list packing as a favourite way to unwind, but I hate it like I hate people who drop litter. I’ll put it off until the last second – thinking things will be different this time – and then take three hours for a short trip, or an entire day for a two-week holiday. The morning I leave for the airport, I’m frantically throwing sunglasses and camera chargers into bags, swearing like I’m being paid by the word, before running to catch the tube with arms full of bags, usually with wet hair. You’d think starting the day before would help, but I don’t finish any sooner – I just stretch the same task over more hours.

It’s the season of Easter breaks and planning summer trips, and though I have no plans of my own, it’s only because I haven’t made them yet! As I write this, I’m sitting in a hotel bed (The Newman – it’s excellent, with perfect pillows), so I’m sharing the things that always travel with me, and what I think I could do better.

As we’ve established, packing is not a sport I’d compete in, but I’m always trying to streamline what makes the cut. If you have it down to a fine art, share your wisdom in the comments! I’m always here for clever hacks to save time or space, and to hear what other people won’t leave home without.

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Cosy things

- I never burn candles in hotels – I’m paranoid about setting off an ultra-sensitive smoke alarm and causing 143 people to stand outside in their pyjamas – but I always take them to holiday home rentals. A beautiful scent + candlelight can work wonders when the Airbnb smells weird, or the light bulbs are all blue-tinged. A secure lid is essential in case of wax-related mess in transit, so I prefer to take a Ffern candle, especially as they use natural wax and fragrances.

- I have multiples of Uniqlo’s very thin, cashmere-mix heattech top. They’re less than £20, so I’ve got five – there’s one in every bag I ever pack. They’re so lightweight and small that they vanish in a suitcase, plus they add an extra layer of warmth under a shirt if it’s colder than you expected. With jewellery or a scarf, they look smart enough to wear for dinner.

- Last autumn, I was sent some Pairs socks after my friend worked on their rebrand, and I liked them so much that I’ve bought maybe 12 more pairs. I love their merino wool socks for everyday, but I travel in their merino bed socks. They’re so thick and comfortable to wear on a plane with roomy sneakers. If there’s space, I’ll pack a second pair to make cheap hotel slippers feel cosier.

- I won’t stay in an Airbnb without slippers. You never know whether there might be random pet hair on the floor that a vacuum missed (vom). I usually take shearling-lined Birkenstock clogs because I can wear them out on a terrace, but the structured shape takes up a lot of room. As a compromise, these Babbi shearling slippers would squish down flat (you lose the sturdy sole), or if I didn’t care about the whimsical pompom taking up space, these gold numbers.

- I always travel in Navy Grey’s Lorton hooded cardigan (I can’t link as it’s sold out, but I fancy this cardigan for summer trips). It’s so warm and heavy that it doubles up as a light jacket, but it’s even better because wool doesn’t restrict movement or feel weird to wear inside like an actual jacket would. If the plane’s aircon is going wild, you can just put the hood up.

- One cosy thing I haven’t nailed is the perfect big cashmere scarf that doubles up as a blanket for the flights when you really don’t want to use a synthetic one on the plane and spontaneously combust with static. Every year, I mean to buy this lightweight cashmere wrap from Rise & Fall. I’m also interested in this thicker double-faced style (though it’s slightly smaller).

The essentials

- Thanks to SURI for sponsoring today’s newsletter! My own toothbrush has been a constant travel companion since last year, and now I don’t go away without it. Pre-SURI, I’d end up buying a plastic toothbrush halfway through a holiday because my electric one had keeled over, which was both wasteful and annoying. That’s a non-issue here as the battery lasts over a month.

Dashing good looks and stamina aren’t all; the toothbrush body is aluminium, and the plant-based heads can be recycled, so it’s a more considerate choice all-round. The slim travel case was also designed with purpose, and its built-in UV-C light kills 99.9% of bacteria.

If travel friendliness isn’t a priority, note that SURI includes a space-saving magnetic strip to hold the toothbrush on a bathroom mirror or tile, keeping the sink clear of mess. The newest colourway is the extremely holiday-adjacent ‘Canyon Sunrise’, and you can try that (or any of their original designs) using my code ELEANOR26 for an extra 5% off their current sale.

- I’m an analogue gal who enjoys a treat, so I always travel with a monogrammed Smythson diary. This year it’s the blue croc Soho with a slide to keep the pages closed. I knowww they’re more expensive than other diaries that do the same job, but I get untold joy every time I see it. This is the mid-year version.

- I’ve got a full inventory of If Only If’s super-light cotton nighties. They’re so comfortable to sleep in, and the space they take up in a suitcase is next to none. I love them all, but for comfortable, barely-touches-your-body sheer coverage, I have a soft spot for the Isabel, and the Poppy is a dream for hot summer holidays.

- I can’t bear noise when I’m trying to sleep, so wax earplugs are essential! Foam is completely useless; mouldable wax is what you need. Loop are good, but they’re better for blocking out background noise when you need to focus. I buy multipacks of these (all pharmacies sell the same sort of thing). I’m scared of flying, so I also wear them on planes to block out engine noise when I don’t want headphones on.

- I use one of two tote bags when I’m travelling. My canvas tote from Daylesford, which I’ve covered in colourful patches, is light and comfortable on my shoulder, but I need a zipped top and an inside pocket, ideally. Right now, I’m using my Sezane Maxi Gabin in green suede, which looks chic, but it’s weighty, so once I’ve filled it up and added a laptop, it’s better for a car-to-hotel situation! I’m planning to share an edit of useful tote bags at some point, as I’m always looking at them.

- I take this green Antler suitcase on most trips. It looks smart, the wheels glide along quietly and easily, and the handle is comfortable, BUT I badly need a laptop compartment on the front. I always work on trains/planes, and it’s so impractical to keep opening the whole case to retrieve it. In hindsight, this style would have been more useful.

- For anything over a couple of nights, I separate everything into packing cubes, and I throw a couple of empty packing cubes in the case to use as mini laundry bags and keep worn clothes separate. I pack shoes in fabric pouches to keep the soles away from everything, and I use a hard-shell sunglasses case for jewellery. I keep another tiny drawstring pouch in my handbag with painkillers, travel sickness tablets, a hairband, L’Occitane shea hand cream and any old lip balm. I don’t feel like I’ve found the holy grail of lip balms yet, so I’m here for recs!

Extras

- I’ve mentioned it before, but I don’t go anywhere without a Fressko coffee cup in my bag. I’ve bought them for my entire family as presents in the past, and I have two of my own. You just flip the lid up to drink, and they don’t leak.

- I’m annoyingly particular about coffee, so I try to prepare in advance for the parts of the world where it’s hard to get a decent natural filter coffee. Side note: why do hotels never have proper speciality coffee?! If I’m staying in a holiday rental for a few days, I take a hand grinder, fresh beans, a Kalita Wave dripper and filter papers, but if space is an issue, coffee bags are really handy. Coffee roasters such as Dak or La Cabra do good ones, so you can start the day with a good filter coffee, as long as your hotel room has boiling water.

- An area where I’m woefully lacking is toiletries. I either take huge bottles that hog too much space, or I have to leave what I need behind and use mini products from Boots that don’t agree with my reactive skin. I’ve tried the empty bottles from Muji, but I can’t always get the product out easily once I’ve decanted it (depending on what it is). I also have an issue with taking too many medical products. I’m talking burn plasters, antiseptic cream, indigestion tablets, a full nail kit, tweezers in case of splinters, emergency scissors, spot patches - the list goes on. I also need better organised storage for said many products. I currently have a selection of mismatched, stained bags and pouches, and I need one or two useful, capacious, ideally clear, toiletries bags with separate compartments.

- When I’ve used my camera instead of my phone, it’s blindly obvious (imo) because the quality of the images is so much better. People always ask which one I use, and it’s the Fujifilm XT20, which I’ve had for about 10 years. There are newer and better models, but it still does the job for me. Even when I eventually get a newer camera, I’ll stick with Fuji – I love the stylised look it gives.

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When I’m not on Substack, I’m a freelance design writer, stylist and consultant. You can also find me on Instagram. If you’re a brand interested in partnering on a newsletter or a creative project, drop me an email: aconsideredspace@gmail.com.

E xx

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For those too elegant to engage with zeitgeisty TV shows, Love Story is a series dramatising John F. Kennedy Jr. and Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy’s relationship. The internet has gone wild for CBK’s low-key luxury ’90s wardrobe, so you’ve probably heard about it even if you haven’t seen it. Her personal style – iconic and sophisticated as it was – is quite different to mine, so her clothes don’t particularly excite me, but there are two other reasons it held my attention: John’s Tribeca loft and the Calvin Klein showroom/office.

A ’90s renaissance has been rumbling away for a while, and for me, the TV shows, fashion, and home styling of 25 years ago feel like a palate cleanser. Think back to 2020, when people were obsessing over homeware, and everything was lacquered, scalloped, bobbined and cottagecored. If that was the decorative equivalent of a milkshake with whipped cream and sprinkles, then the unselfconsciousness and simplicity of a Manhattan loft in the ’90s – before we considered how an interior might perform on the internet – is a tall, refreshing glass of water.

Raise your hand if you did a Sex and the City rewatch at some point between lockdown and now? Stainless steel kitchens started to blow up about four years ago, and images of them swim around Pinterest like a shoal of sardines. Glass brick walls turned their reputation around, and they’re currently a whole mood again. The Oasis tour sold out. There are entire articles about ’90s J.Crew catalogue styling. Julia Roberts’ wardrobe in Notting Hill gets copied by girls who weren’t born when the film was released. The Tiffany & Co. jewellery we tore out of magazines as teenagers is doing a roaring resale trade on eBay.

The appetite was already there for a new, design-focused take on ‘90s nostalgia (we’d squeezed every drop from the references we had), and it didn’t land so late that everyone had moved on. The timing was perfect – right on the nose!

I started collecting coffee table books featuring ’90s-and ’00s-era loft apartments when I was at university 20 years ago (gulp), so my own design awakening happened when interior decorating books were full of this particular aesthetic. I even rented a one-bedroom flat in a converted warehouse during my final year of uni. It had exposed brick walls, high ceilings, and there was a cool deli downstairs with the same industrial steel shelving that I’d bought for the flat. That was two decades ago, and when I flick through the pages of books I bought back then, I’m still drawn to the same rooms and the same details.

Watching Love Story, I was gripped by nostalgia, as I’m sure so many people were. I dreamt about growing up to live in a New York loft – with double-height rooms that would have looked similar to John’s apartment. And I’d still like to live in those spaces now, which is why I’m confident I’ll feel the same in another 20 years. Knowing when something is truly your innate style – and not just a passing fancy – is also knowing where to spend your money. Anything I buy homeware-wise that looks like it belongs in a loft in 2002 is likely to be a long-game purchase for me. Something I’ll keep and always come back to, even if it temporarily falls out of my favour.

If you haven’t watched it, Evan Ross Katz interviewed Love Story’s production designer, Alex DiGerlando, about the interiors in the show. Besides majorly reigniting my previous interest in being a production designer, it’s a great watch if you’re the type of person who pauses the TV to get a better look around the room (hi hello). It was fascinating to understand the stylistic decisions they made (such as the more muted approach to Jackie Kennedy’s apartment), and to hear what the real-life interiors would have looked like, and who designed them.

The decor from Love Story is actually too monastic and restrained for me, though there are elements I’d happily recreate. I love the low, wall-to-wall built-in storage that also serves as a headboard in John and Carolyn’s bedroom, and the industrial bookshelves in Calvin’s office. John Pawson, who designed the original spaces for Calvin Klein, is truly a master of minimalism, but I couldn’t live like that, and I wouldn’t want to. I need more stuff around me, and comfort is key, so Terence Conran and Ilse Crawford’s style from around a similar time (maybe add five years) is more my thing.

I’d love to hear what anyone else thinks about ’90s and ’00s decor. Are you into it?

In the mood to take your interiors back in time by 25 years? Here are some books you might like:

I rarely buy brand new coffee table books because they’re often £50 a pop, so unless I’m sent an advance press copy from the publisher, the majority of my design books are second-hand and/or old, and many are from the ’90s-’00s.

For a good starting point, I’d recommend any of the titles below. I’ve linked each one to a well-priced copy, but if the linked version sells out by the time you read this, just Google them!

• Any book by Terence Conran. My first purchase was Storage, but The Essential House Book is super.

• New York Living by Lisa Lovatt-Smith (I have the hardback version, but it’s considerably more expensive).

• Ancient and Modern by Cynthia Inions, and for those needing to divide the space in a flat creatively, One Space Living.

• Sensual Home by Ilse Crawford.

• The Private House by Rose Tarlow.

• New York Interiors by Beate Wedekind is a classic.

• The Way We Live series of books by Stafford Cliff is brilliant – start with this one for a city focus. I would also check out London Rooms by Stafford Cliff, which I don’t have, but I’d take a punt on it.

• The Houses of Greenwich Village by Kevin Murphy (side note: this is the least Love Story-ish of the list).

• Small Lofts by Alejandro Bahamon.

• Real Homes by Solvi dos Santos.

• Lofts by Orianna Fielding Banks has been on my watchlist for a while. I can’t personally vouch for it yet, but I plan on buying it!

• New York Living Rooms by Dominique Nabokov. This one (republished by Apartamento in 2021) is annoyingly expensive, FYI.

• Beta-Plus is one of my favourite publishers, and while the homes they feature are a real mixed bag architecturally, a lot of the interiors in their books feel relevant to this decorating style. Their pricing is £££, so I stock up on their older titles when they’re on eBay for peanuts. See a selection here.

Do you have any favourite design books from this era? I’m always adding to my own collection, so feel free to add recommendations below! Bonus points if we can buy them cheaply.

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Thank you so much for reading! The most impactful way to support my writing is with a paid subscription, but you could also make a difference by hitting the heart button or restacking the post. Interactions and word-of-mouth recommendations really help me to reach new readers.

When I’m not on Substack, I’m a freelance design writer, stylist and consultant. You can also find me on Instagram. If you’re a brand interested in partnering on content or a creative project, drop me an email: aconsideredspace@gmail.com.

E xx

Last week marked exactly two months since I learned – via a brief 10-minute conversation, with no explanation and no warning – that my boyfriend wasn’t in love with me anymore. We were meant to get married this year, then just like that, he was gone and I was single, having just turned 40. I can’t (currently) afford to live alone in London, so breaking up also meant losing my home.

This time last year, we were about to celebrate 10 years together – I thought then that we’d be together until we were old and grey. If you’d told me that 10 months later he’d feel the need to leave, and I’d move in with my dad in a run-down town that I have no connection to, where I don’t know anyone, I’d have sworn I couldn’t get through it. I wouldn’t believe I had it in me to cope with losing everything at once, not without being medicated up to my eyeballs.

Well, I have coped. You all told me I would, and I have.

The movers came on Friday last week (shout-out to White Van Gentleman for making a dreaded day run smoothly), and for now I’m living in Yorkshire, in the arse end of nowhere. If you’re picturing wild moorland or quaint tea rooms, it’s not that. It’s not remotely scenic or charming in this postcode, but I plan to get myself back to London within three months. Absolutely no more than six!

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The TV’s a great hang when you’re living alone, so in the past three weeks I’ve watched a casual 78 episodes of The Sopranos. I’ve long been partial to aspects of ‘90s and ‘00s interiors, and while I’m not about to emulate the swag curtains and columns of the Soprano house, Dr Melfi’s wood-panelled office hasn’t aged one single day. I’ve also paused to take various photos of lamps, and at one point, Tony wears a jazzy paisley robe that feels like an Autumn Sonata ancestor.

It’s a lot of telly, even for me, but I’ve been ill for the entire three weeks I’ve been back in London. It started with an everlasting cough/sinus/throat thing (I think everyone’s had it), and that kept me awake most of the night for two weeks. A couple of days after shaking that off and rescheduling the plans I’d cancelled, I got norovirus, which was (I assume) a lot like being exorcised for 48 hours. I think my immune system’s on strike.

I was meant to be in the city for heart-to-hearts and cosy dinners with friends, arranging a few speculative work meetings, doing actual work, and commencing the surreal dividing of our possessions. After a decade of living together (and assuming you'll always live together), what do you keep? What do you volunteer to leave behind? What did you once treasure but now have to bin or hide because it’s too hard to look at? It would have been a draining task to do alone, even without the violent hacking into the night, like a feeble Victorian.

It’s funny because I moved into the Barbican Estate twelve years ago when a relationship ended. It felt exciting then, making a new start in an iconic building when I was a young thing of 28. Now, I’m leaving because a relationship ended, but there’s no joy this time, and my face is losing the battle with gravity. I don’t think the love story between me and London’s concrete citadel will ever truly be over (I’ll miss the big windows too much, and you can be in Soho in 15 minutes door-to-door), but for now, we’re on a break.

It still doesn’t feel real, but in two weeks I’ll be living with my dad and step-mum in Doncaster for a while. Having no option but to move into their spare room has been humbling to say the least. At almost any point in the past, I would never have been reliant on a second income to pay rent, so I’m mad as hell at myself for losing my financial independence. It would be cheaper to relocate up north permanently – and I feel like a treacherous Yorkshire lass saying this – but after 18 years in London, it feels like home. Getting back here is the goal, but I can’t pretend I’m not feeling deer-in-headlights overwhelm about the months ahead.

I’ll write more about the moving/sorting/life-rebuilding process as it happens, but for now, let’s look at some pictures! Lord knows I’ve spent enough time doom-scrolling Instagram over the past few weeks, so below are some of the things I liked. I always enjoy snooping at what’s-in-your-handbag type content, and I think a person’s saved folders are equally insightful!

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The designer Gergei Erdei has collaborated with Porta Romana on a small collection of lighting, furniture and mirrors to look like draped fabric, and I think the Teatro wall lights in particular are sublime. There’s the finish below, or an all-white version, which looks incredible on a dark wall.

Sidenote that I was perusing Porta Romana’s website afterwards and also love the Cassia wall light, which isn’t from the same collection, but it would be such a sculptural beauty in a restrained space. It made me think of Heroldian Art’s draped shelf. I always enjoy a bit of trompe l’oeil.

I feel like bar stools/counter seats are often awful and read as an afterthought. There are too many cheap fruitwood stools around that ruin an expensive kitchen, or knockoffs of iconic dining chairs. Let’s do better! I’ve long-loved a red leather chair in an otherwise quiet space, so I thought these red Cassina Cab chairs were perfect for counter seating. This space was designed by Ome Dezin.

Despite never using a toast rack in my life (the bread’s cold before you’ve reached the table), I find myself regularly drawn to them as superfluous display items. This expensive silver-plated one by Sophie Lou Jacobsen is a classic example.

I really fancied this Rise & Fall suede trench last autumn and assumed I’d missed it, but now it’s back and popping up in my feed again. It’s giving ideal spring coat, and I dgaf about the trending nature of brown (brown suede especially), I’ve always loved it and always will.

I was so peeved when Quarters was closed for the week I was in New York last year (an exhibition changeover). I love them from afar, and I’m into their palettes that are often not technically ‘my’ colours, but I always appreciate how they put things together.

I’m not particularly into homeware that could be described as cute or pretty, so this neat wall shelf with a leopard decorative paint finish feels like the kind of thing I’m craving. It’s by Astrid Houssin, as is the ‘Nautilus’ mirror above it.

I’ve had a craving for vanilla rice pudding like I can’t even tell you. I made it twice last week using a recipe that I found via Instagram, but it actually lives here on Substack. I didn’t use any cream at all as I didn’t have any, but good quality full-fat milk from The Estate Dairy made it taste like I had. I halved the quantities, so it made two portions. I want to remake it again this week with stewed rhubarb!

In my head, I have a vintage side table like the above, and it’s next to my loose-covered sofa, in a large Spanish-style bungalow in LA. This one is sold already but it was from Studio & Store.

Look, I’ll probably never stop loving Ivy League-adjacent menswear brands like Drake’s et al. This excellent umbrella is by US-based J. Press, and as it’s rained almost every day of the year so far here in England, it feels like a wise investment. They sell a great mixed tatan patchwork style too.

This room stopped me mid-scroll because I was so surprised by its location tag. It’s just between Southampton and Winchester, of all places. It’s called Itchen Valley Studio, and it’s a two-bedroom holiday rental. It’s giving living gallery imo.

As I was, until recently, engaged for two and a half months, I had been spending a lot of time looking at jewellery, so my algorithm is still full of it. I could reset it, but it keeps introducing me to jewellers across the pond who I’d never have otherwise found, so I’m leaving it be for now. The multiple-stones-in-a-bezel-setting look is having a real moment across jewellery and also homeware, but I like it for now. The two designs above are by Alexis Pavlantos.

It was Tony Soprano’s paisley dressing gown (the one that first made me think of Autumn Sonata’s prints) that jogged my memory about Daniel Hanson! He’s based in the north of England and makes the most exquisite traditional robes. They’re handmade and wildly expensive, but so beautiful.

Jewellers making cutlery has also been a thing recently, but I’m not mad at it. Probably wouldn’t eat an everyday yoghurt with something as ornate as this, but then maybe I would? It’s a collaboration between jewellery brand Elhanati and artist Conie Vallese.

I’ll show myself out because I mention them too often (RL: please work with me or invite me to Salone in Milan, thank you), but I will never – never – get enough of Ralph Lauren menswear and the layering. This is from their A/W 26 collection.

I’ve shown this exact wall before but with different furniture and art. I save it almost every time I see it – it’s a colour that my favourite art gallery McCully & Crane have used to display their works against for photographs. If you have a few large-scale pieces of art at home, just look at how much they’d pop against this perfect plummy brown colour (in the right room/lighting situation).

Annie Meyers-Shyer of This Oak House recently shared a few of her favourite resources for handles in an Instagram post. Anyone who watched the process of her house renovation will know she researched the fixtures, fittings, fabrics and colours in her house to (what might as well be) PhD level, I’d trust any makers she recommends.

On the topic of hardware, I know everyone’s over brass now (I’m not), but brilliant Fabrizio Casiraghi created these hunky door handles in collaboration with Izé.

Nickey Kehoe can really do no wrong (except when they weren’t open on the Sunday I made a pilgrimage to their New York shop without checking timings first), and their Tuxedo sofa is another example of their mighty fine eye. It’s the embodiment of a chef’s kiss; the shape, the stripe, the colours!

My friend Alice shared this painting by Meghann Stephenson on her Instagram stories the other day, and although the red is actually a bit toooo vibrant for me, I do love it against the dark olive. Art is the best place to look for colour pairings!

I appreciate the wild skill level of contemporary decorative artists such as Tess Newall (wonderful painter, even more wonderful person), but I ordinarily don’t feel an affinity with painted florals or overly feminine decorative surfaces. If I were ever going to use a paint effect, it would be something like this faux stone, from a project by Casa Munoz.

When I was in New York last April, I walked by a window display of these monogrammed totes in Alex Mill. Annoyingly, I got distracted in there and bought ankle socks and shoes, totally forgetting the bags. Now I see them on my IG feed most days, taunting me.

Rose Tarlow’s interiors are always a reason to pause. This room would be beautiful regardless, but it shows how powerful an oversized vase of foliage is. The room would look completely different without that height and drama.

It’s rhubarb season, and one of my favourite combinations in the world is classic rhubarb and vanilla custard (I think this might only be a British thing?). I’ll be heading to Hideaway in Mayfair this week – they’re doing a special rhubarb month, and I really need this pastry…

Nice to see two servings of greens in the kitchen. I love stainless steel and rosso marble as much as the next guy, but this pairing made a nice change. The handles (which you can buy from Modern Metier) look like a pair of statement earrings.

Brooches are back in case you missed the memo (no one missed it). I don’t own any blazers and my hair covers the collars on my coats, so I’m unfussed about them, but I’m partial to a weird brooch and/or placement. No one could pretend they hadn’t noticed this, by glassmaker Justine Menard.

Merchant & Mills in Rye has opened a new homeware shop (also in Rye) selling double-sided quilts made from their own textiles. They’re all out of stock atm, but they’re making more and the colours on some of them are so good!

I’m really into freestanding TVs right now. In the era of them being cleverly concealed behind artwork or mounted on walls, I think there’s something nostalgic and honest about a telly on a stand, at eye level. Plus, you can pop them in a corner without having to dedicate a whole wall or console to one. I’ve seen these portable Pedestal designs a few times, and now their ads follow me around.

I thought this little stack of two rings by jewellery designer J. Hannah was beautiful as a pair (I love them individually, too). I also liked the story behind the designs. They’re real-life copies of rings noticed in a 1470 portrait painting by Hans Memling, which hangs in The Met in New York.

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I like a few of De La Espada’s chair designs, but this angular wood and leather armchair is one I really want around my dining table. I especially love the back.

Horatio is another menswear brand that Drake’s or J. Press fans would like. There’s a store close to my flat that rarely has anyone in there, which makes me think the city workers of London don’t know a good thing when they see it. Anyway, they sell great tote bags, but I also like their knitted polos.

My friend Phoebe had her flat featured in the Sunday Times Style mag (she’s also their beauty and interiors director), and she has this unreasonably attractive clothes airer. It’s not particularly space-saving, but the shape’s a whole lot nicer to look at, and a change is as good as a rest, so they say. It’s by Dunkerton Home.

There’s an Instagram account called @domicile.file, and they clearly love to do what I love to do, which is collect interiors books from the 1990s-2010s golden age of home decor. They scan and share the images, and I saved this one for the fireplace surround. Nothing pleases me more than an incredibly clean and simple stone or plaster fireplace. They’re so grounding in a room, and they set the tone for pretty much any furniture.

I’m drawn to angular task lighting in such a big way at the moment! I might even replace my bedside lamps with desk lights. This image was by @onistories.

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Thank you for supporting my writing (and me, in general) while I go through a major life upheaval – I really appreciate it!

Aside from a paid subscription, the second most meaningful way to help is to interact with my posts! Likes and shares mean I’m more likely to reach new readers.

When I’m not on Substack, I’m a freelance design writer, stylist and consultant. You can also find me on Instagram. If you’re a brand interested in partnering on content or a creative project, drop me an email: aconsideredspace@gmail.com.

E xx

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Hello! For the unfamiliar, my All Things Considered posts are medleys of notes, thoughts, saves, and anecdotes that I should perhaps keep to myself. For the familiar, a quick reminder that the previous Window Shopping element of these round-ups is now sent separately, like this.

In the future, I might change the format and perhaps the name of this series, but for now, here’s edition #12. It’s a lite version compared to the others, but I hear people prefer a shorter read now and again?

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I can’t quite process how quickly December flew by this year, can you? But between the days running at 10x speed, I hope you had a madly merry time, or at least had the chance to nap a lot – either option is always good.

My boyfriend and I are on a New Year’s mini break, and it’s after midnight as I type this from a B&B whose heart is in the right place, but whose ceiling is no match for the woman thundering around in the room above us. I know it’s a woman because I can also hear her violent coughing (in between the cannonball-throwing exercises she’s doing).

As my genes from both sides have dictated, I’m neurodivergent, which is mostly fine except that one of the bonus gifts that came with it is a life-controlling obsession with noise. It takes the fun out of every potential good time, and I messed up when I booked this room, wrongly thinking it was single-storey with no one above it. Rather than have an anxiety attack in bed, I’ve set up camp with my laptop, and I’m giving myself an hour to write without overthinking it.

I thought I’d do a quick catch-up to check in, because it’s been a strange Christmas this year. I’ve been in a major funk for the last two months, and I can’t seem to drag myself out of it. Maybe it’s the mid-afternoon darkness in London? Who knows, but the vibes are just off at the moment.

Ordinarily, no matter how weird I’m feeling (and I am prone to feeling like I’m suspended in a cube of jelly), I go out of my way to make December magical. This year was different, though. I didn’t see the friends I’d wanted to catch up with, I didn’t get invites to parties, and I forgot to book tables in the restaurants I’d wanted to eat in. I didn’t go to a ballet or a carol concert, or do anything at all, really. It wasn’t on purpose; I was just at home, distracted by my current funk, and I didn’t notice how quickly the days were passing. I did decorate my flat to look like a cosy grotto and bought several more boxes of decorations (priorities), but December 2025 came and went in approximately four and a half minutes.

I went home to see my dad for three days just before Christmas. We talk on the phone all the time, and I love him so much, but I also expect to disagree with him on some topics. This time, I was hit with the declaration that ADHD doesn’t exist, so that was something new. He’s clearly autistic and says he doesn’t believe in that either, so in the spirit of the season, I chose not to take the bait. Dismissing my brain chemistry aside, it was good to see some of the people I love, even if they do insist on sitting with the Big Light on.

From the 24th onwards, it was the usual quiet time in London, just my boyfriend and me. And it really wasn’t bad at all! I didn’t see A Christmas Carol at the Old Vic, or receive a luxury hamper, or get dressed up for festive drinks with loved ones, but I still had a totally delightful time binge-watching films and working through the 10-person chocolate panettone I bought on Christmas Eve.

We also added a new flourish to this year’s order of events, which was cycling to a park in East London on Christmas Day for a proper walk on actual grass, rather than a stomp around the concrete streets of the financial district where we live. The cafe by the lake was open, which I didn’t expect, so we bought hot chocolates and turmeric buns to fuel our short stroll. It was busy, and the cafe was playing cheerful Christmas music, plus we had the best weather London could hope for in December. It never snows here, and any movie that claims otherwise is a liar, but this year it was gloves weather with a bright blue sky, and I call that a win. Also, two separate people (a little boy and a man who was potentially high as a kite) yelled Merry Christmas to us in the street as we cycled by, and it was the kind of jovial acknowledgement of a fellow human that would never usually happen unless you were in A Wonderful Life. All in all, it was a good time.

I watched the Grinch again yesterday, and when it got to this line:

Maybe Christmas... doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps... means a little bit more!

It did make me seriously question why I’d still had a nice December, despite barely leaving my living room, feeling low, and never experiencing a raucous family or friends Christmas with games, a real fireplace, fancy snacks or 18 people around a table. For the past few years, I have neither given nor received Christmas presents (with a couple of close family exceptions), so gifts don’t cross my mind, and I’m not religious, but I still love Christmas, even in the absence of the usual festive accoutrements. If I had to assign one word to explaining why, I think it would be ‘light’.

I think it all comes back to the importance of home and my absolute passion for being in my own space, feeling safe and comfortable. When candles are lit, and the tree is decorated, and there’s a wreath on the door, it doesn’t matter about gifts or a lack of parties. Decorating a home with baubles collected over 20+ years, making the lighting cosy and playing nostalgic music is the best part of Christmas for me. It reminds me how much I care about my environment, and how it has the power to impact my mood. It reminds me that I already know how to calm my nervous system and lift my mood via my senses. December feels special, and it’s comforting, so I’m going to lean into what I love about it. I’ll use greenery, lighting, candles, fragrance, music and objects that I enjoy having in my eyeline to make my tiny flat feel more cared for and comfortable for the rest of winter, because feeling cosy isn’t just for Christmas.

On that note, I’m signing off to go to bed (the Riverdance upstairs has ceased for now), but I’m already partway through several posts that are coming in January. They include a new Window Shopping edit, a round-up of visuals that I saved on Instagram, some answers to FAQs (starting with my thoughts on work and Substack), and a new edition of design-led hotels and holiday rentals that I’d love to book in 2026.

I hate enforced fun, so I’m spending New Year's Eve in a cabin, wearing a really comfortable nightie, with my LED mask, a selection of moisturisers, rice pudding, and When Harry Met Sally. Whatever you do, I hope it’s your idea of a good time. Ending the year surrounded by trees and birdsong is mine!

Thank you sincerely for the likes, the restacks, the subscriptions and the general encouragement, camaraderie and mental stimulation this year. I see and appreciate you all!

E xx

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This format was a hit for the past couple of Christmases, so for a third year, I’m back with an updated version of my festive homeware edit for the eternally nostalgic! Personally speaking, I’m forever chasing that cosy ‘90s high.

I want Charlie Brown’s Christmas album on in the background, Home Alone, The Snowman, Little Women, old Ralph Lauren tartan, lametta (which only really works as a look if you use vast quantities FYI), chocolates individually wrapped in colourful foil, and the Christmas ads that were on TV when I was eight.

For me, the best kind of festive decorating has some tenuous link to years gone by. I want to feel like I’m at my grandma’s house, with coloured lights on a vintage white Christmas tree (it wasn’t vintage when she bought it), about to rewind Prancer on VHS while her blazing radiator makes my eyes feel too dry to blink. All I really want for Christmas is the ability to time-travel.

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As is now tradition, I’ve been through last year’s edit, removed everything that isn’t available anymore, and I’ve added plenty of new things. Everything you see was in stock at the time of hitting publish, but festive paraphernalia sells out fast, so I can’t guarantee it will stick around!

It's worth noting that I’m based in London, which is reflected in the selection below, but not everything is coming from the UK, and some of the shops do ship worldwide. If you’re overseas and you like something from a UK-based brand, try a Google Lens search on the image, as there’s a strong chance you’ll find something very similar (perhaps even the same) closer to home. I’d also recommend knowing your search terms and maker names when you’re looking for vintage decorations online. A few examples: vintage Czech ornaments, mercury glass baubles, German goose feather trees, vintage Swedish candelabra. You’ll find what you want more easily, and the algorithm inevitably leads you to other suggested pieces in the same style.

If you’re not in a position to shop for tartan things right now, there are so many nostalgic decorations that you can make yourself if patience for crafting runs through your veins. Think personalised stockings, paper chains, pomanders and handmade Christmas cards. One year, I threaded metres and metres of popcorn onto string to make a garland for the tree, but the house smelled so overwhelmingly of popcorn that I felt physically sick and had to throw the whole lot away. Another time, I made pomanders, but instead of drying out and releasing a Christmassy fragrance (in hindsight, the smell of cloves also makes me feel sick), the oranges all grew thick green mould. A DIY-er I am not…

You can help make it worth the time I put into posts like these by hitting the heart button, leaving a comment or sharing the post with someone who might like it. Any interaction boosts my chances of reaching new readers, so it would be much appreciated – thank you!

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Thanks for reading! I haven’t paywalled this edit as I wanted to keep it open to everyone for the next week, so if you enjoyed it and want to spread good cheer, I’d love you to leave a like, restack, or consider choosing a paid subscription.

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Hello! For the unfamiliar, my All Things Considered posts are medleys of notes, thoughts, saves, and anecdotes that I should perhaps keep to myself. For the familiar, a quick reminder that the previous Window Shopping element of these round-ups is now sent separately (like this).

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I am terrible at birthdays

First off, you might have noticed the chat thread where I asked for advice on planning a trip for my boyfriend’s 40th birthday, and then mine, a week after his. I was torn between Venice and Rome, but spontaneously booked a one-way flight to Rome, as I realised I could use airmiles to get first-class flights for £35. I planned to do a few nights there and celebrate 40th birthday number one in Rome, then drive up to Tuscany or Umbria to a couple of idyllic countryside hotels, before ending in Florence for birthday number two. It was going to be nine glorious nights away, and a bucket list trip for us. I’ve only been to Italy once, for a wedding back in 2011, and my boyfriend has never been.

And he’s still never been…

Annoyingly – but not uncharacteristically – I screwed up. I shouldn’t have been so hasty to book the outbound flights, as turns out our travel dates fall over half-term in the UK, a public holiday in Italy, and the most beautiful time of year for Rome/Tuscany/Florence, when the autumn colours are popping off and it’s warm but not blazing hot. Essentially, we couldn’t afford to go. Hotels were silly prices and flights home were between £300-600pp, so I swallowed the loss and cancelled the non-refundable flight to Rome.

In the end, we stayed in London, but we did eat delicious lunches at Cafe Cecilia in Hackney and Toklas, next to Somerset House, plus a very fun celebratory dinner at the Dante pop-up at Claridge’s. There’s nothing like eating a soft-serve ice cream at Claridge’s, with a background of ‘90s Mariah Carey. We also finally tried AIRE, which is a series of low-lit underground baths (small pools, really) at different temperatures. There are candles everywhere, and it’s all very relaxing (despite it being busier than I expected). So relaxing that we didn’t hear the hourly chime, so we accidentally floated around for too long and ended up 40 mins late for our lunch reservation. We semi-jogged there while my hair was still dripping wet, which wasn’t relaxing at all.

My own birthday is in a few days, and plans for that are still TBD. I’m glad I never wanted to go into event planning for special occasions, because this month has confirmed that I definitely should not. Ever.

The toothbrush that just won’t quit

Still on the subject of travel, I’d like to thank SURI for sponsoring today’s newsletter, and also for enabling me to go away for more than three nights without a toothbrush charger!

I actually bought a very snazzy electric toothbrush last year, but quickly realised the battery couldn’t make it through a short trip, so I ended up in the queue at the local pharmacy, spending £3 on a disposable spare. In contrast, my SURI brush is a new travel essential, as it lasts over a month on a single charge, and its slim travel case has a UV-C light that kills 99.9% of bacteria while it’s on the move.

I’m not saying my SURI is better at cleaning my teeth, but it feels equally good (it’s dentist-approved), and it’s a third of the price of my other, permanently-exhausted toothbrush. Plus, it looks smarter in the bathroom, lasts longer, and the plant-based heads can be recycled, so there’s less plastic waste.

Travel-friendliness aside, SURI toothbrushes don’t leave a white splodge where they’ve been sitting in a gross little pool by the sink; these minimalist aluminium babes come with a magnetic holder that sticks to a mirror or wall. It’s a small design detail that plays a major role in keeping the bathroom looking uncluttered.

What more could you want? 20% off? Sure thing, use my code ELEANOR2025 at checkout.

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In an ideal world, Home Work will become an ongoing series, but it depends on the reception to this first rodeo, so if you like it and you’d like to read more of them, let me know at the end by hitting the heart button or leaving a comment.

This took most of the weekend to edit, as it was the result of hours of back-and-forth voice notes, but there was much to say and I wanted to hear it! I’ve made it free to read, so I’d love you to share it with others (and if you don’t already, please subscribe before you scroll down – we love a fully committed queen)!

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The first person to answer my questions and endure my obscure voice notes is interior designer Sophie Rowell, founder of British design studio Côte de Folk and a friend of mine. I’m so happy to talk about Sophie’s rise in the design world, because I think hers is an inspiring story for women who realise it’s time for a career change, but worry it’s too late.

Until her mid-40s, Sophie was a successful fashion stylist and art director. In 2016, having moved from London to Folkestone on the Kent coast, and solo-parenting a young son, Sophie opened a homeware shop called Côte de Folk, hence the studio name. She realised retail wasn’t the right direction, but by then, she’d already been asked to design several friends’ houses, and she was getting more enquiries via word-of-mouth recommendations, so in 2019 she repositioned herself and Côte de Folk as an interior design consultancy.

Entirely self-taught, Sophie has spoken on podcasts and panels, and she receives frequent press coverage for her work. She counts well-known actors among her clients, has launched her own lines of furniture, wallpaper, and textiles, collaborates with other creatives, and regularly juggles design projects in both the UK and the US. Safe to say, she’s proof that with determination, it’s never too late to make a change and thrive in a whole new chapter of life.

I met Sophie about five years ago and, for a brief time, helped her with product sourcing for an early project. After our second meeting, a design book (Rattan, by Lulu Lytle) turned up at my flat – it was a just-because gift that she thought I’d like. That’s the kind of person Sophie is – down to earth, thoughtful, interesting, swears like a sailor, an open book, and always exudes warmth. She’s a memorable person (not least because of her wardrobe), and it’s impossible not to like her.

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy her insights!

You have to choose three different ways of finding inspiration. What are they?

1. I’d look at the fashion shows – for example, this colour reference from the new Miu Miu collection.

2. I’d pick up a book. Recently, it was Loos by August Sarnitz, published in 2004, about the work of architect Adolf Loos.

3. I’d go to the beach, five minutes from my house. I find inspiration through taking time to reset and gain perspective, and walking to the beach really helps clear my mind. The vastness of the sea and sky reminds me to step back and look at challenges from a broader viewpoint, and it’s often when I have my best ideas.

Which interior stopped you in your tracks recently?

This Madrid apartment, created by design studio Casa Josephine. It’s a feast for the eyes with such an abundance of texture, and the kitchen is just off the hook! It would be a b*tch to keep clean because you’d see every finger mark, which I couldn’t personally live with, but it’s unbelievably aesthetically pleasing!

Also, I read that it took three years to complete, and it’s a reminder that designers often work on projects for years before people see them. I guess I want to acknowledge the amount of effort that would have gone into it, from not only the designers and owners, but every craftsperson who was involved. The result is ridiculously good!

Is there any place you’ve stayed where the way they’ve decorated or utilised the space has stayed with you afterwards?

Yes, Heckfield Place hotel in England, which is the place I go for a treat, and Son Brull hotel in Mallorca.

You’ve moved into a rental on the same street as your own house, especially for your football-loving son to have access to a garden. How has that been?

Moving into the rental was a real eye-opener for me, because as soon as I emptied my own house of my things, I lost a bit of love for it, and it was very strange. I really love my house and I’ve put a lot into it emotionally and physically, but as soon as everything was packed into boxes, it no longer held so much power over me. I’d been quite worried about the rental because all the walls are grey, and the kitchen is grey, and you know that’s not my vibe at all, but again, as soon as I put my own belongings in, the grey felt less flat and appeared more blue. Once I added my furniture, natural wood, and all my favourite bits and bobs, I realised they actually look really f*cking cool in there. Having the things I love around matters more than the house itself.

When you painted your own kitchen aubergine and lilac, the colours were more divisive than they are now. What else do you think we’ll all come around to?

Thank you for highlighting the kitchen – I think it shows the beautiful, warm hues of lilac, which has become one of my favourite colours to use. The next colour for me is going to be a sickly, almost luminous green. Think something like New Lime by Mylands.

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What are you adding to your moodboards at the moment?

Conversation pits – an idea for a client. Also, examples of metal leaf, because we’re currently silver-leafing wardrobes and door surrounds.

What’s on the wishlist for a future home, if money were no object?

A yellow bathroom by The Water Monopoly. I’d want the bath, sink, taps – the whole lot! There’s something so practical, ergonomic, and beautiful about them.

Show me a photo of a design that you’re particularly proud of.

I’m still head over heels for the bespoke gingham kitchen floor we created. I was tired of seeing checkerboard everywhere, so we created a large-scale gingham pattern using individual tiles. It was actually quite painstaking to get the tile dimensions just right and ensure the three tones of brown worked together harmoniously. It’s made from linoleum, so it’s incredibly durable and practical, as well as full of character.

We have a saying in the studio, that if we can’t find a tearsheet for something to present to the client, we’re probably onto something. And that’s not to say that we’re creating things that have never existed before, but it does mean we’re looking at solutions that haven’t been overdone, or haven’t been done in that exact way. If we can’t find an image reference of exactly what we’re talking about, that’s when we need the client’s trust, which we’re usually lucky to have. It’s the new interpretations of classics (such as the gingham floor) that really excite me.

How could someone make a home feel special, even if they’re on a tight budget?

By customising relatively ordinary, generic things to make them look more expensive than they were. Going back to the house with the gingham floor, we loved the unusual wooden kitchen door handles so much that we made them a theme that threaded throughout the whole house. The kitchen itself is just an affordable white Howden’s kitchen, but the unusual handles make it look much more unique. In another project, we used a Howden’s kitchen again, but we had every piece spray-painted in a bespoke caramel colour, and then we had the handles sprayed in the same colour as the kitchen.

Which household/decorative object would you want to create a better version of?

Plug-in wall lights! They’re getting better, but I think there’s still a huge gap in the market.

Which brand or person would you love to collaborate with?

I have a new collaboration coming early next year with Maro, and another with Laura Stephens, but it’s still too early to share more than that. I’d also love to partner with The Lacquer Company on a product. In the studio, we’re lucky to work with many creatives, including actors and directors, and working closely with them always feels like a unique collaborative experience. For example, something I might view as a floral, they might interpret as camouflage, and it allows us to see the world through someone else’s creative lens. Those exchanges challenge our thinking and take projects in exciting new directions.

Who is producing some of your favourite homeware?

Galvin Brothers for handmade wooden furniture. Me for textiles and wallpaper (lol) and art from Chiara Perano’s new collection. I’ve just bought a piece from her and I’m obsessed with it. Plus, everything is framed by her husband at B-Side Framing, so it’s a family affair.

You’ve launched two products this year. Tell us about them!

The ‘Chubby’ range is a three-part upholstered furniture collection including a stool, bench, and coffee table. They’re brilliantly simple, but they’re also playful and versatile, because clients have the flexibility to have them made in any size and in any fabric.

Le Dot is my first wallpaper and fabric collection, and it has been a real labour of love to get exactly right. As interior designers, we function in a world of straight lines, and we’re always looking for the flow and the curve – adding softness through fabrics and furniture. I feel like this fabric brings fun and playfulness, and being playful is important to me. We don’t take ourselves too seriously as a studio, which is why the first colours to launch were inspired by classic condiments!

The thing that makes Le Dot so special (and expensive to produce) is that it’s all hand-printed in the UK, which is increasingly rare. It was important to me that it was done traditionally by hand, and not digitally printed, but that meant it went through a long, costly development and sampling process to get the shape and placement of the dots looking exactly right. Other colours will be joining the range, plus there are variations in scale to come. The matching wallpapers will also be added to my website imminently!

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Can you share something you’re searching for on eBay?

Vintage wallpaper! It’s hard to find multiple rolls of the same print, but it is possible. Old Laura Ashley is a favourite for us at the moment. Even with a small amount, you could paper the inside of a linen cupboard or toy cupboard, or a small utility room or WC, and you’ll find pleasure whenever you open the door and see it.

What have you used in a home before that you wouldn’t choose again?

Natural sisal flooring! It’s traditional and looks beautiful, but it marks so easily – it’s an absolute nightmare to live with. You can’t even spill water on it without it staining, and yet so many people still choose it for their homes. We always suggest Unnatural Flooring instead, as they sell a synthetic, washable sisal that’s waterproof and durable. I have it at home, and even though my dog puts it to the test, it always cleans up a treat.

When you walk into a project for the first time and it’s a blank canvas, where do you start?

Always with colour. This is going to sound wanky, but when I walk into a house, I get an instant feeling from it, and usually that feeling is about colour. In one project, for example, I knew it needed a lot of bright blue, and in a new project we’re just starting, I want to do it all with walls the colour of builder’s tea. Houses have their own energy, and based purely on instinct, I get an immediate feeling about which colour scheme to use. I think every single person on the planet has one thing that they’re especially good at (even if they haven’t found it yet), and I’d like to say colour is my thing.

Tell me something that you think is underrated.

My favourite thing in the world is finding the perfect white paint. The idea of white paint might seem unadventurous, but don’t underestimate it, because using the right shade of white for the space, with the right undertones, is transformative and powerful. We’ll often use rugs to add texture, plus a mix of patterns and colours with the sofa and upholstery fabrics, so white doesn’t have to mean minimal. A couple of shades that I love and have used before are Lotts Road by Mylands and Warm White by Atelier Ellis.

How do you help clients understand what they really want when Instagram and Pinterest serve us a constant tidal wave of images?

Very early on in the process, we ask clients to send us a selection of inspiration images that speak to them, and I think most people are intelligent enough and equipped enough to know what to focus on and what to ignore. In our experience, people are good at recognising what makes sense for their house and the way they live in it, so that already narrows down the options. I think it’s mostly about helping the client to really trust themselves and trust what they like. We try to make sure they’re not subconsciously steering towards what Shirley down the street did, or what their mum liked at Chelsea Harbour this week, and instead we get them to really focus on what they love and what they want to live with every day. Extracting that gets easier as the trust builds.

A detail or finishing touch that people overlook in their homes?

The flow between spaces – how one room connects to the next in terms of proportion, sightlines, and atmosphere. People tend to focus on designing individual rooms, rather than the experience of moving through the home as a whole. When that transition is considered, everything feels more balanced and intentional.

Also, don’t underestimate first impressions and storage. Make sure you can hide the bins, and allow for bikes, buggies, scooters, school bags and sports kits to be stored. There’s no point in making a beautiful house, only for the hallway or kitchen to be full of ‘stuff’ because there’s nowhere to put things away.

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What do clients frequently request, but you advise them against?

They often want to add more space with an extension when there’s usually already enough space, but it’s not being used well. In many cases, the houses are sufficient as they are, and they don’t need an expensive glass extension lumped on the back; all they need is a layout improvement. We encourage clients to work with what they have.

Something you often notice in other people’s interiors, and secretly wish you could go in and change?

I don’t like a huge black TV screen that dominates a space and becomes the focal point of a beautiful living room. We often create dark joinery to help the TV blend in. Also, rugs that are too small for a room. They make the space look unfinished – scale is everything!

Has your past career as a fashion stylist felt relevant to your work as an interior designer?

It definitely has with my eye for colour and what works well together. And you know my personal style is distinct* and probably quite eccentric. Maybe some people think I look like a tw*t, but I’m never going to turn up to an event in jeans and a t-shirt, it’s just not who I am, and I’d like to think my interiors work is also unique. When people meet me, I hope they get a sense of Côte de Folk’s approach to design and attention to detail from the way I present myself.

*Ed’s note: The first time I visited Sophie, she was wearing a Victorian nightshirt and mismatched earrings, and the second, I’m going to call it neo-Elizabethan. If Sophie’s outfits were on a mannequin, I’d still recognise them as hers.

Unrelated to interiors, what’s the last thing you saw or did that made you feel invigorated?

I hope this isn’t too depressing, but I went to a Death Talk last weekend, hosted at a shop near where I live. We don’t talk about death and grief enough in this country, and after losing my parents within two months of each other last year, I’ve experienced some real disappointment with people who don’t know how to handle it when someone is struggling with loss. We’re all expected to be ok, very quickly. There were artists, death doulas and somatic healers on the panel, and it was so interesting! I felt very uplifted by it.

You can have a perfect day at home. Describe the scene.

I’d be on my own, the house has just been cleaned, there’s a roast chicken and potatoes in the oven, and I’ll eat them with a great green salad. It’s springtime and the sun is out, but it’s not fiercely hot. I’ve just sprayed my new home fragrance (called STALK – a collaboration with Harvest) and I’m listening to something that makes me chuckle, like my client Angela Scanlon’s podcast, called Get A Grip. I’ve bought an armful of fresh flowers, and while I listen to that, I’m dividing them into vases to put all over the house.

You’ve spoken in the past about changing careers in your mid-40s, and the challenge of doing that as a single mum to a young son. Six years on, how do you feel about your work?

It’s really interesting because there are contributing factors to the way I feel now, such as losing both my parents, and my son just turning 14. I find myself with a lot more energy and free time now that he’s more independent, so I’ve been really looking after myself and feeling good. I feel like I’m on a mission now, and in the years since I first started the business, I’ve become even more focused. I turn 52 in February, so I have fewer working years ahead of me than I once did, but I feel like I’ve got so much energy, and there’s still so much more that I want to do. I really want to create something meaningful – I want to do well, and I want to create things that are special!

The main goal for me, and what makes me happiest, is when we hand over to the client at the end of a project, and there’s an amazing feeling in the house. I think that’s when you know everything has come together in the right way, and you can leave knowing the house is going to live its best life, basically! Along with all the people in it.

Contact Sophie or follow her work via Côte de Folk’s website or Instagram.

Substack is getting busier by the day, so I really appreciate you taking the time to read mine!

If you enjoy my writing, the most impactful way to support it is with a paid subscription. It’s the contribution of a small minority that keeps this newsletter going, but you can also help by liking or sharing this post, leaving a comment, or recommending my newsletter. They all boost visibility, and that’s half the battle!

E xx

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Earlier this year, I had therapy every week for six months. I’d tried CBT a few years ago but I’d never had traditional therapy, because this is England and we’re too embarrassed and self-deprecating to talk about our feelings. We prefer to wallow in private, then have a nervy-B while joking about being fine.

Our weekly tête-à-tête was courtesy of the NHS, so after 24 fascinating but finite sessions, the drawbridge to help was pulled up and I was alone with my thoughts again. I should add that the standard offering is eight sessions, so I feel like I won the public healthcare lottery when I was given 24. It was either luck or they thought I was particularly unhinged. We’ll never know…

When you’re trying to speed through everything from childhood trauma to adult trauma to an irrational obsession with sound and potential peril, six months barely scratches the surface. We briefly touched on the origin stories of my neurotic tendencies, but our sessions passed all too quickly, and although I found them cathartic (and lord knows I love a chat), I wasn’t really sure what we’d achieved. On my final visit, I asked my therapist if she’d noticed anything that I might have glossed over, and that’s when she pointed out that our conversations often drifted back to one topic: Home.

Home when I was growing up. Home when I’ve been obsessively searching for new homes. Home when I can’t switch off from intrusive noise. How home makes me feel at its worst versus how I feel at its best. Why I feel compelled to be at home, despite feeling detached from the flat we live in. Home. Home. Home. Like an Edward Sharpe song, without the whistling. She was right; the need to feel secure and live in a place that meets my precise criteria has been verging on an obsession for me – it pervades everything.

When I was really small, I was a fantasist who read a lot and dreamt of cosy homes on American farmsteads, in gypsy wagons, boarding schools, country estates and tree stumps (hi, Brambly Hedge books). When I was a teenager, the idea of leaving my parents to live in my own home filled me with dread. At 18, I did it anyway and left for university. That was the first time I ever gave real thought to my adult home and how it might look, now that I could choose.

Growing up, my dad did all the decorating and furniture shopping without consulting anyone else in the house. My own interest in design was expressed more through fashion back then, but I collected Habitat and IKEA catalogues, and I scrutinised them from cover to cover. I also remember asking my high school art teacher if I’d be allowed to take one of the giant Pierre Cardin posters from our classroom wall (he said yes), and I got a chrome wire Eames chair for my birthday. On the whole, though, I never even thought to ask if I could choose my own furniture or decorate my walls.

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Hi hi, I’m just back from Copenhagen (for the second time in seven weeks – I’m obsessed), so this month’s Window Shopping edit includes a few pieces I noticed while I was there.

If you recognise my groovy green header above, it’s because Window Shopping was previously a sub-section in my All Things Considered round-ups. They always take me such a long time to put together – too long, really – and I’d like to be more efficient, so I’ve decided to make them shorter! My shopping picks will now be separate, and especially for paid subscribers.

I’ll always make it clear if an edit is based on affordability or price point; otherwise, it’s fair to assume that most items could be considered expensive (which is relative to budget, of course), and I wouldn’t feel comfortable encouraging anyone to upgrade their subscription without that knowledge.

I’ll only ever feature what I’d love to own – my Substack is a window into my personal taste – so I won’t endorse anything I wouldn’t buy for myself, just because the price is low.

This month’s edit of 22 pieces includes lamps, knitwear, bed linen, the best pyjamas I’ve seen in ages and a couple of home-elevating accessories. As we move into a new season, it’s all a harmonious palette of brown, silver, blue and khaki. Note that I will sometimes use affiliate links at no additional cost to you.

If you’re new here and you’d like to read a free post to get a feel for the sort of things I’m into, try this one or this one. If you’re reading on the app, it’s worth noting that the images all look their best when viewed on a desktop!

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I got a press release last week from paper pulp lighting brand Palefire Studio, and I think this is their best colour palette yet. Their seasonal capsule collection is online now, and it includes this excellent table lamp. You can see the entire new collection here.

I first posted about Autumn Sonata on Instagram two and a half years ago, when they still felt like an undiscovered gem. The founder is a delight with a genuine passion for textiles, and I’m over the moon for her to see how the brand has grown. Their towels make my boring white bathroom look significantly smarter, and I’ve taken a shine to this new design from their collab with artist Alessandra Williams.

I strolled past Lié Studio in Copenhagen a couple of days ago and was stopped in my tracks by its stylish shop design and a suede bag in the window. This gold-plated ring was the first thing I picked up, and it also comes in sterling silver. Also, this black raffia bag was a perfect everyday size, and it felt comfortable on my shoulder.

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I’m rarely a woman of few words, but I do like to diversify now and again, so here’s a post full of excellent holiday home interiors, with minimal waffle from me.

My pal Charlotte told me about Viu Empordà in Spain, and you might know their name already (they have 43k Instagram followers, so it’s not a secret), but just in case… It’s a curated collection of holiday homes for design lovers, scattered around the Empordà region, above Barcelona. I spent a good hour on their website, mentally noting ideas for my fictional future house on the Med, and I thought you might feel similarly wooed by the interiors.

The houses are independently owned by architects, designers, artists, etc, so they vary in decorative style, but there isn’t a short straw among them (and I looked through every house on the site). It’s not like Airbnb, where you have to hunt for the good houses – they’re all truffles. Alas, a decent truffle comes at a price, and so do these, but for a special group trip, they look exceptionally good.

I’m not suggesting you restyle your home to look like a Spanish coastal retreat if you live in Chicago (for example), because existing architecture, light, weather, setting, etc, all matter when it comes to what’s right for a space, but I still think there are some lovely details to notice and take inspiration from. Whether it’s a glossy tile, a colour palette, a sleek oven in front of a window, a perfect tap or a striking painting, there’s plenty to love across their portfolio of houses.

Special mentions go to the art-filled Casa Riera, Casa Ju’s architecture and Casa Brava, which directly overlooks the sea, and has more than one Noguchi lamp and mid-century chair that I’d happily steal for home. I’ve linked them so you can see more photos if you like the look of something.

Enjoy!

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Casa Brava

Casa Emporda

Mas Flor

Mas Gran

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Casa Brisa

Casita Torre

Casa Ter

Casa Salada

Casa Clara

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Casa Verbena

Casa Carolina

Casa Terra

Casa Riera

Casa Gran Mont-ras

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Casa Bona

Casa Suro

Casa Ju

Mas Fonteta

Casa Daro

(All images are courtesy of Viu Emporda’s website)

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Substack is getting busier, so I really appreciate you taking the time for mine.

If you enjoy my writing, the most impactful way to support it is with a paid subscription. Besides making me deliriously happy and unlocking all of my posts, it’s the contribution of a small minority that keeps this publication going.

You can also help me reach new readers by liking or sharing this post, leaving a comment, or recommending A Considered Space to friends. And no matter what type of subscription you choose, I’m happy you’re here!

P.S. I just realised it was my second anniversary on Substack a couple of days ago and I forgot! As I head into my third year here, there are lots of things I want to test and refine. I’m looking forward to it, and I hope you’ll stick with me!

E x

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Hello! If you’re a new reader, All Things Considered is a recurring series and a fridge picnic of things I’ve seen/bought/saved in recent weeks. It’s a medley of life updates, current fixations and the recommendations I send to my friends.

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Let’s talk about skin

I’ve just started writing this at 2:30am because I’m at my most focused when everyone else is sleeping (I should probably move to Australia where I’d truly thrive as a morning person). It’s annoying to be this way, but the bodyclock wants what it wants, and I come from a bloodline of female night owls.

I’ll set the scene for you…

I’m horizontal on the sofa with my laptop on my belly, wearing Loop earplugs (so I can comfort-watch Wicked and muffle our neighbour). I’m dressed in a soufflé-light If Only If nightie because it’s 28 degrees in here and the laptop is doubling up as a portable heater.

Two months ago, we spontaneously spent £160 on this Meaco pedestal fan, which felt annoyingly expensive for an object I’d rather not look at, but in a country where aircon has not been embraced, it completely saved our bacon this summer. It’s cooling yet super quiet, so it won’t keep you awake – we rave about it to everyone. Anyway, that’s a few feet away, doing the lord’s work.

My hair is clipped off my face because I’m at the tail end of a mystery rash on my forehead and a flare-up of perioral dermatitis on my chin. For a week, I’ve been using a combination of azelaic acid (good for improving texture), followed by my go-to skin saviour: Avene Cicalfate (highly tolerable and soothing). They’re both affordable and, unless it’s a total coincidence, they’ve definitely calmed the situation.

My skin can be a bit of a prick in general – it’s spot-prone, congested, reactive, pigmentation-prone and dehydrated, all at the same time. I’ve spent a lot of money over the years trying to improve it, but I’ve still never found a product or combination of products that has made it look substantially clearer, more hydrated, or more even in tone. I also haven’t tried a sunscreen that my skin gets along with. I was using Heliocare oil-free gel to avoid sunscreen-triggered acne, but it makes my skin so dry. We’re back to the drawing board on that one…

For the past couple of years, I’ve used a gentle cleansing milk and moisturiser (both by Dermaviduals and safe for my sensitive skin), and that’s my entire routine, which feels woefully minimal for my age. I once tried to introduce retinol, and it took months to slowly repair my skin barrier afterwards. I also tried radio frequency earlier this year, which is well-tolerated by most skin types, but of course, my face looked like a pink and flaky gravel drive for a couple of weeks.

Despite all this, I want to try microneedling for pigmentation – I have a cluster of conjoined freckles above my upper lip, and I’m just not about that moustache life. I’m also interested in laser for sun damage and the thread veins around my nose, but it’s expensive and – frankly – I’m scared! We’ve all seen that SATC episode. I did find it insightful to read about Emma’s Fraxel laser experience, though.

If you’ve had a salon treatment or invested in a gadget that’s been the holy grail in skin texture or pigmentation improvement, I’d love to know what it was?

I’d usually dig out my rarely-used LED mask to help calm an unexplained skin reaction (I bought the award-winning Light Salon mask that everyone seems to rate highly, but for me, it feels like it’s crushing my average-sized nose). Thing is, I lacerated my eyebrow in an accident four weeks ago, and now I have an unnecessarily lumpy and red zig-zag of a scar because the hospital was slapdash when glueing it closed. I’m worried about antagonising the delicate scar tissue, so if you happen to be a dermatologist, please feel free to weigh in on whether LED might help or hinder the healing, or if it's too soon to use it?

I’d prefer the Dermalux Flex device to the mask I have, because it doesn’t touch your face at all and it’s more powerful. Alas, it’s £2000, so that’ll have to stay on the wishlist. Anyone tried it?

P.S. Googling reviews for those masks is how I discovered there’s a whole subreddit for red light therapy. Love a niche deep-dive!

The flat move saga continues

OK, so the most preoccupying topic in our household is still the need to move. If we’re not talking or thinking about flats/houses/areas/budgets/commute costs, then we’re both scrolling through Rightmove, sitting side by side on our laptops.

We made an offer on another rental flat in Barbican (rejected, once again), and then we missed an affordable dream rental by the sea, near Rye. It looked like a little Hamptons beach cottage, with views for miles, a smart green dining-kitchen with a skylight, a pitched ceiling, a garden, and two bedrooms so we could WFH.

We booked a viewing but couldn’t make our slot because the once-hourly train from London was cancelled, and hiring a car last-minute would have been over £100 for a few hours, so we decided to reschedule. That same afternoon, I had a bad cycling accident and ended up in A&E, and the following day, my boyfriend came down with Covid and a throat infection. When we finally felt well enough to rebook our viewing, another couple had put a deposit down that morning.

I have to hold on to the belief that the cancellation, accident and illness were fate telling us the cottage wasn’t meant for us, but we really loved it, and we’re not seeing anything else within our budget that feels right. We check every new listing in London (and surrounding counties) every day, which takes hours and leaves us feeling deflated and rudderless.

It would be far easier if I didn’t care so deeply about home, but I do.

A recent suggestion has been to follow the well-trodden path of many a Millennial before us, and temporarily move back in with a parent in our thirties to save for a deposit on a small flat or house outside London. It would be a door out of the rental circus, but we’d have to move to Doncaster (not a handsome place – think vape shops and Bargain Booze) for around six months.

For my boyfriend, that would look like a four-hour round-trip commute to London twice a week, which is doable but quite expensive, and I would be more or less stuck inside, as nowhere is walkable from the house, and I can’t drive. Still, time goes so quickly that I imagine six months could feel like three?

When I was up north visiting family three weeks ago, and bearing in mind I’m not far off middle age, my dad marched into my dark bedroom at 8:30am and woke me up with ‘Eleanor, you should be up and dressed by now! It’s half past eight!’

I can feel the potential teenage regression from here, but realistically, it’s the only way we’ll get on the property ladder. We’re still mulling over the importance of that, and I do worry how my mental health might fare after being isolated in a house that was never my home, far from friends, but it would be silly to exclude it as an option when it would be for a relatively short time.

I’m sharing the superb flat above because 95% of what I see in London is either in appalling condition, a featureless box, or it could be great, but it’s been grey-washed from top to bottom. This is in the other 5% – it’s a characterful one-bed flat in Chelsea Studios, Fulham, currently available to rent via Thirzie Hull (she’s about as stylish as estate agents come and her properties are always design-led).

I only came across Chelsea Studios for the first time recently and – despite its proximity to the football stadium – I’m fascinated by the idea of living there. It was designed by artist and sculptor Mario Manenti as a haven for artists and creatives, and it’s inspired by Florence, but to me it looks like it belongs in California – especially the gardens. This flat isn’t right for us as the kitchen isn’t functional enough, and the bedroom doesn’t have enough storage, but objectively, I love it, and the space with the marble floor under the skylight is very special.

If I’d had the foresight to search there a couple of years ago, we could have rented this two-bedroom cottage. With clever styling and some replacement carpet, it’d be giving Richard Curtis film house. As a lifelong sport-hater, I’m quite curious to know how noisy Chelsea Studios is on match day…

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*This post contains some affiliate links. I only recommend what I’d buy (or have bought).

I just bought these Burgundy Adidas SL72 trainers – an exclusive colourway for ASOS – and I am fanatically happy about the wine colour with the green trim and crochet stripe. They make you sign in to add them to your basket, which is weird, but we do what we gotta do. I wore mine today with my favourite green ribbed ankle socks from Alex Mill, and they were an absolute vibe together.

Sorry, I know it’s annoying that (almost) everything I like is expensive – it annoys me too. Anyway, I’ve taken a fancy to this checked Comme des Garçons men’s jacket. A few stockists have it on sale, but there’s a size small here and at £379, it’s the best discount I could find. If you’d need a medium, there’s one here on Mytheresa for £401.

This simple oversized canvas bag is the perfect colourway, and the strap is long enough to wear it over your shoulder. It’s a reasonable £37 from Arket men’s dept, but it’s constantly sold out online. According to their website, two of their three London shops have stock, so it’s worth keeping an eye out if you can get to a store!

Another very good fabric from Studio Ashby – a soft woven check that looks particularly good on this ottoman. It’s quite pricey at £230 a metre, so probably one for cushions, headboards and upholstered tops of footstools and benches.

I finally understand why everyone loves 90s Pinch Waist jeans by Agolde! They go with everything, they’re straight but not too slim, and they come in many washes. My hips are around 10-12 inches wider than my waist, so waistbands often gape, but these fit really well. I went for my usual size, not realising the waist would relax a lot with wear, and in hindsight, I could have gone down a size. They’re pricey at £310, but they’re often on sale (the black colour is currently).

Stainless steel coupes have been omnipresent for a while, but I love ice cream, choc mousse, rice pudding, trifle, etc, so there’s no problem here. The taller stem and fluted edge set this one apart from other coupes at this low price point (£9.99).

This striped alpaca jumper is in Toast’s new season menswear collection, and I love the grungy vibe. My boyfriend tried it on and it looked excellent, but this is very much my colour palette too, so I will 100% be borrowing if he buys it.

I came across Gazar on Instagram, and she makes some really beautiful vases and lamps. I’d go for this large brown ceramic number as it will never date, and no one would be able to guess whether it was old or new; it just looks great without being identifiable, which is always ideal. It’s €550, but quality lighting is always worth investing in – choose well and it’ll carry the whole room.

I struggle with round-toed Mary Janes in summer; I love them on others but they never feel quite right on me. I don’t often like to wear sandals, so a squared-toe espadrille flat like these leather-lined numbers from Castaner could be a sweet spot for holiday packing. They’re currently on sale for £91.

For a special event, how elegant is this full-length silk dress from Doen? The draped neckline and sleeves are a total knockout. I think it’s stunning. It’s £531 to buy in the UK, so FYI it’s cheaper to buy in the US. Undoubtedly more than I would have ever spent on a dress before, but I would if the occasion was worth it.

I probably share Liffner bags far too often on here, and I still don’t own one because I’m too indecisive, but there are at least five styles of theirs that I’d use to death. The large bucket bag is a current fave (I love all the colourways), but I’m also very partial to the idea of their smaller woven top-handle bags.

On two occasions in the past week, I’ve been at chic London restaurants that use the Odeon model of Bauhaus-inspired cutlery by David Mellor. Both times, it reaffirmed my love for its classic shape.

I don’t often shop on the high street for homeware, but this cotton bedspread has been on my radar for a while. I’d use it in a tiny, cosy bedroom with rich, earthy brown walls and wardrobes painted in a matching gloss. It’s £189.99.

I tried this mac in Soeur the other day and it went straight on the wishlist. Pale coloured Viscose wouldn’t have been my first choice for a coat as it’s so slinky and fluid, and I’d worry about marking it, but the movement and drape were undeniably good – it felt great on. It’s £500, so it is punchy, but if you’re less spill-prone than me, you’ll wear this forever. It’s generous, so I sized down to a 34.

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The annual rewatch of Girls

I binge-watched seasons 1-6 of Girls this week (Too Much didn’t hit like I’d hoped, so I rebounded to a classic). Here are some things that I think about every time I watch it from the beginning:

• I get glassy-eyed with nostalgia at the soundtrack, particularly the Dancing on My Own scene with Marnie and Hannah.

• No one but Adam Driver could have been cast as Adam; he’s superb.

• I now bristle at Jessa telling her ex-boyfriend that 38 is ‘old, like a mum’. When I watched it for the first time in my mid-20s, I would have agreed that 38 was old, like a mum.

• Marnie’s painful office karaoke for Charlie truly paved the way for Kendall’s rap in Succession.

• If I were playing any character on the show now, I’d want to be cast as Adam’s troubled sister. Or Marnie’s mum.

• But if I were to identify with the personality of anyone on the show, it’s probably Ray, the concerned, pessimistic coffee lover.

• I’d love to be as body-confident and fine with my own nakedness as Hannah.

• I want to learn the dance routine from Marnie’s weekend in the Hamptons.

• Charlie is hot in The Panic in Central Park bottle episode. Sorry, but he is.

• Fran is such a red flag in sheep’s clothing.

• The amount of boyfriend swapping for one friendship group is off. the. charts.

• I always regret watching the finale. The casting of Hannah’s child is puzzling. The penultimate episode felt more like an ending imo.

The other thing we’ve been binge-watching is Fargo, having somehow never seen it before! Season one was excellent, but two and five were true perfection. Three would have been better if Ewan McGregor hadn’t spoken in his Scottish accent half the time. Four was fine, but it didn’t really feel like Fargo at all.

I obvs watched the AJLT finale and can’t bring myself to comment, but this post by Vicky Smith summarises my feelings perfectly.

The audacity of the SATC theme music at the end! You can’t soften three seasons of utter tripe with a bit of nostalgia. That entire screenplay should have followed Epcot’s contribution to the finale and gone straight down Miranda’s loo.

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A few other links and things:

• Do you subscribe to Interesting Facts emails? I love reading obscure tidbits, such as J was the last letter added to the alphabet, and the sharks that live for 400 years.

• And if you like Interesting Facts’ emails, you’ll like History Facts, where I’ve received gems such as why we have middle names and 5 facts about England’s Elizabethan era.

• This hilarious summary of Brooklyn and Nicola’s vow renewal is why I love Substack.

• I plan on doing this today – ‘How to discover what you’re actually good at - 12 points of pleasure at work’

• I’ve been feeling increasingly bad about pigeons. We domesticated them and then abandoned them. I read this, among other things, and now I feel guilty.

• ICYMI, I wrote this note about my auntie’s near-death experience, when she received a message from beyond the grave. Her telling of it made me cry in a garden centre.

• I interviewed Utah-based boutique owner Kyong Millar about the renovation of her English-inspired holiday home in France for a House & Garden story.

• I love how previously over-polished heritage fashion brands are getting more creative and fun with ads. The new Baby Dior ‘Diorlings’ vid is perfection.

• I found this piece interesting as it explores what I’ve been realising when pricing up staying in London vs leaving. That is, leaving can actually make the cost of living more expensive, not less.

• In the past week, I’ve tried the £40 ‘Scratch’ set menu at Spring at Somerset House and the River Cafe’s newer, smaller Cafe (next door to the OG). On both occasions, they were excellent and much cheaper than the a la carte menus at the main restaurants, even though the experience felt much the same. I thought the set menu at Spring was especially brilliant for the amount of food you get. Both were PR invites, but there was no request for me to mention them here.

• My friend interviewed me for her podcast, and as per, I went straight in with the oversharing and buzzkill. It was quite a serious one about rejection, work and mental health, so I’ll share a link once my cheerful chat is live! Also, whenever I’m asked for recommendations, my brain wipes itself clean like an Etch A Sketch, so when Martina asked about my favourite Substacks, I forgot about 80% of the ones I wish I’d mentioned. If you hear it and think I surely meant to name-check yours, you’re probably right!

Substack is getting busier, and it’s hard to keep up when there are so many brilliant things to read, so I really appreciate you taking the time for mine.

If you enjoy my writing, the most impactful way to support it is with a paid subscription. Besides making me deliriously happy and unlocking all of my posts, it’s the contribution of a small minority that keeps this publication going.

You can also help me by liking or sharing this post, leaving a comment, or recommending A Considered Space to friends. And no matter what subscription type you choose, I’m happy you’re here, and I’d love you to stick around!

E x

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Did you see these already?

Hello! I’m not going to hold you hostage with one of my 500-word intros about the contents of my Instagram saved folder (i.e. a window into my brain). It’s truly not that deep, but I will say that I’m always intentional with the things I share here, so I’ve included a caption to explain why I saved each image.

Enjoy the below buffet of aesthetically pleasing things – it’s a mixed bag, featuring photography, homeware, and even baking.

Substack is getting busier by the day, so I really appreciate you taking the time to read mine.

If you enjoy my writing, the most impactful way to support it is by upgrading to a paid subscription. Besides making me deliriously happy, it’s the contribution of a small minority that keeps this publication going. If you’re already one of those people, thank you!

Any interaction with my work helps me connect with new readers, so you can also make a difference by liking or sharing this post, or recommending A Considered Space to your readers. And no matter what subscription type you choose, I’m very happy you’re here!

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1. This prototype of a woven rush lamp was made by Deborah Needleman for The Apartment showroom, especially for this year’s 3 Days of Design in Copenhagen. I thought I was done with woven lighting for a while (high-street mass production of rattan fatigue), but the neat, cube-like shape of this feels fresh to me. Click the image for the original post on Instagram.

2. This is hard to see because there’s a lot going on, but notice the bespoke design cut into a radiator cover? Even if it’s for another purpose and not actually a radiator cover (though, I assume it is), my brain is already whirring with radiator cover ideas and all the different shapes and patterns that I could program into a CAD cutting machine. This is from a restaurant project in Poland by Paradowski Studio. Click the photo for their Instagram.

3. I can’t stay away from blue textiles. Particularly anything that looks like (or is) antique indigo cloth from Africa, or a vintage Ralph Lauren Americana type vibe. Stuart Ellis, head of design at Susie Atkinson, shared this Schumacher Nils Plaid linen on his Instagram stories the other day, and it was love! I have to use this somewhere! Click the image for info.

4. Let’s ignore the TV placement above the fireplace (an ick of mine) and focus on the reason why I saved this: the rounded square windows! This house, built in 1953 and expanded by Barbara Bestor architecture, was featured in AD recently. Read the story by clicking the photo if you haven’t already seen it. I don’t love everything in the house, but those softened curves on the window frames are really hitting the spot.

5. I was drawn to the colour palette and crispness in this painting by Dick Ket – it looks like you could peel individual elements off the screen. I found it via Aloysius London’s Instagram, and it’s one of those accounts that I followed because it piqued my interest at the time, but I now don’t remember what it’s ‘launching in Autumn’ or who the person running it is. Still, I’m intrigued!

6. Antiques dealer Rachel from R&E Home has an excellent eye, and I always love to see what she’s unearthed (I started chatting to her on Instagram years ago when she was selling via her grid, but she’s now opened a small shop in Rye). This desk chair has been sold, but I thought the use of two antique Kuba cloths to recover the seat and backrest was inspired! Click the image to request to follow, as her IG account is currently private.

7. I have an unapologetic weakness for beautiful food packaging and will likely buy something I don’t even like (hi, tinned fish) if the box or tin is too good to resist. Duzi Studio in London have redesigned Audrey’s chocolate brand identity and packaging and I love it all! Click the image to see more on Duzi Studio’s Instagram.

8. I can’t even remember how I found the LA-based brand Studio Ford, but I loved these block-printed tablecloths when they popped up in my feed. If I’m being super honest, they’re more expensive than I expected, especially for a cotton/linen mix, but I do like the general vibe. I’ve linked their webshop here.

9. For someone who isn’t American, well-to-do, sporty, preppy, or even able to afford much from the brand, I save and share pieces from Ralph Lauren on quite a regular basis! I loved the elegant styling of Polo’s new Oak Bluffs campaign, which celebrates historically Black colleges and the Black community of Oak Bluffs on Martha’s Vineyard. Click the image to see one of their posts (I’d also recommend watching this 27-min vid on their YouTube about the history of Oak Bluffs).

10. Do you follow Kiln Farmhouse? It’s a mid-renovation Cotswolds home belonging to the founder of Faeger & Co interior design studio and store. I’m not a florals or ‘sweet’ kind of gal at home, but I do love Victoria’s work, and her house is no exception. The reason I saved this image in particular was the curtains. They’re vintage, re-made to fit and newly lined with a stripe. I think they were well worth whatever small fortune they would have cost – special curtains like this make a room sing. Click the photo for Kiln Farmhouse’s IG.

11. Let’s be honest, this divine bathroom (designed for a hotel project) is going to be a nightmare to maintain as soon as it meets water on a regular basis. Also, that sharp angular edge looks painful to sit against, but right now, when it’s still new and there’s dappled light reflected on its clean wood-panelled surface? Well, it’s just perfect. It’s the work of designer and art director, Charlotte Taylor – tap the image for her Instagram!

12. These ‘paper quilts’ made by Sandy Suffield were an unlikely Instagram find as I wasn’t following the account for art, I was following because she owns a very cool holiday rental called The Engine House in Suffolk. At some point, she started sharing these collages, and I love them. This particular post is old, but I asked about them recently, and they’re still for sale. Also, she can create something bespoke if you have a particular colour or pattern in mind.

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13. I saved this ages ago when I intended to have a designer create a logo and brand identity for me (I still will at some point). Anyway, I thought it was just the right amount of flourish. Not too ornate and with a nice sense of balance. It’s for the interior designer Astrid Houssin (her Instagram here). It says in the caption that the logo was designed by Lucie Clause, but she doesn’t seem to be online so I can’t link. Happy to update that if I’m wrong!

14. I enjoy a flashy Instagram house as much as the next person. Still, I'm more invested in smaller accounts that are doing tasteful things on more realistic budgets – they give me hope for one day owning my own home and doing something wonderful with a small space. This image is from a 1950s bungalow belonging to @notacottageorinaorchard.

15. You’ve likely seen these photos of Pamela Anderson (by Paige Powell) for her interview with AD magazine – they’re everywhere. Looking through my IG saved folder, I’ve saved almost every one, and I think they’re the most peaceful, elegant images. Beyond that, I’m someone who really fears getting older and what that might mean, so Pamela’s rediscovered ease in her 58-year-old skin makes me feel optimistic. Also, I just love that bob and short fringe on her! Click the image to read the story.

16. A standard bunch of supermarket tulips flopping around like spindly reeds is often lacklustre – I like to see tulips in BIG bunches. 15-20 flowers together have way more impact. Though I predominantly saved this photo for the simple vase, and that’s made by Mathilde Martin, a Paris-based ceramicist. Click the image for her Instagram.

17. The textile at the top was shared by Treverra Farm in Cornwall, where we stayed earlier this year. The second was shared by Thurstan Design – a piece that founder James sourced for a project. I’ve grouped them here as they both feature stripes sewn together in separate panels. The imperfection of the broken lines makes them extra special, imo. Click the photos for their respective Instagrams.

18. It was my boyfriend who first asked if I’d seen director Stella Blackmon’s work. The above is one of her photos of summer in the Ozarks, but her short films/videos are really where it’s at. Check out this one and this one. They feel so gentle and magical.

19. I was late to the party with Danish glassblower Alexander Kirkeby’s work, and I only found him via a recent stay at The Darling in Copenghagen. Click the image for his Instagram, or you can find some of his pieces for sale on Abask. Personally, I’d opt for this delicate single candle holder.

20. I don’t think I can pull off a cagoule in all honesty, but I did look at this image from Drake’s and thought, if I were a vivacious man, and not a woman with hair like a cocker spaniel, I’d prob try to wear this. I always have time for a lightweight Madras check. Click the image for their website.

21. I saved the ‘Rambling Chair’, designed by Yaniv Chen for Lemon Furniture, because I liked its hefty weight and the undulating shape of the base and seat. Although you could use it as a dining chair in a set, I’d prefer it as a single – in the corner of a bathroom, maybe, or at an occasionally-used writing table. Click the photo for Yaniv’s Instagram!

22. Are these not incredible? They look so much like squashed tangerines – even in texture – but they’re actually cakes, made by Marie at Arome Cassis. I love following her for beautifully presented cakes and dishes that look like art on a plate. Click the photo for her Instagram.

23. This bedroom belongs to Julien Devergnies, an interior/set designer in Brussels. There’s much to look at in his photos of home and work, and nothing about it feels current or designed with an online audience in mind. If you want to see more like these, click the image for his Instagram.

24. I loved this series of photos of (mostly) women cycling in Forte dei Marmi, Italy. They’re by Schott Schuman, aka The Sartorialist. Of course, it’s wildly unsafe to cycle in heels and without a helmet (I had a bike accident two weeks ago and glue is holding my eyebrow together, so I should know). Beautiful photos, nevertheless, and they have a romantic and nostalgic feel, like the way summers used to be as a kid – hopping on a bike in sandals without stressing about city traffic. Hit the image for Scott’s Instagram!

I hope you found a nugget of inspiration in at least one of the images. It would have been much quicker to put this together without captions, but I always think the ‘why’ is important. Show your working, as the maths teachers used to say.

As always, feel free to leave me a comment, and if you enjoyed this round-up, let me know by liking the post or sharing it.

If you came across this by chance and you’re into it, hello! I’d love you to stick around and subscribe.

Have a great weekend, all.

E x

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Friends have been asking about our non-impending move ever since the asbestos exposure incident in our flat, followed by two farcical months without hot water. It’s embarrassing that we haven’t ditched our flat of six years yet, considering I’ve been gently threatening to move for four of them, but also, the question is relatively short, and the answer is long.

Why haven’t we moved yet?

TLDR: London is so expensive that I could puke, but my boyfriend works there, so we have to be there or nearby. Mostly though, I’m a walking nightmare with sensory issues, a meagre bank balance, plus unreasonably strong opinions on how things should look and feel. It’s all a bad combination.

If you’ve got a minute and you’re interested enough to hear the long, honest answer, keep going and I’ll share it…

Substack is getting busier by the day, so I really appreciate you taking the time to read mine.

If you enjoy my writing, the most impactful way to support it is by upgrading to a paid subscription. Besides making me deliriously happy, it’s the contribution of a small minority that keeps this publication going. If you’re already one of those people, thank you!

Any interaction with my work helps me connect with new readers, so you can also make a difference by liking or sharing this post, or recommending A Considered Space to your readers. And no matter what subscription type you choose, I’m very happy you’re here!

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I have a few personality cornerstones (sarcasm, complaining, panicking about safety, etc), but saying we’re moving and then not moving makes up the very fibre of my being. Some would say The Boy Who Cried Wolf walked so I could run.

I’m not even sure who I’d be if I weren’t spending 30 hours a week scouring the rental section of Rightmove. I’ll hazard a guess that I’d be better rested and happier, but whatever…

I’ve been thinking/talking/writing about moving for years, including here and here on Substack, and here and here for House & Garden. I crumble internally whenever I see someone I haven’t spoken to in a while. I know the question’s coming – they’re going to ask if we’ve found a new place yet.

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‘Where is your rug from?’

A question I’m asked every time I share a photo of my flat. The chances are so high that when The Rug appears in the background of an Instagram story, I have my answer ready to paste into a DM. Who knew a multicoloured striped flatweave would whip up such enthusiasm?

Let me state for the record, it’s from Rug Vista. I bought it in early 2019, and it’s a wool flatweave from their ‘kilim modern’ section. It’s a useful size at approx 2x3 metres (though, if you ask me, 2.5x3 metres is most optimal for a versatile rug), and it was £650.

It’s both wild and annoying how much rug prices have leapt up since then. I assume import charges have gone up too, but Rug Vista don’t sell anything similar at that size for such a reasonable price anymore. In 2025, I think you’d be looking at £1000 for the same thing. Twice that if you buy from a more curated, ritzy website. I noticed yesterday that a one-off rug I featured in an edit back in 2023 is still available now, albeit at over £400 more than just two years ago. Ouch.

Gird your loins if you’re shopping for a decent-sized rug these days, because it’ll cost you!

One useful tip: websites like Rug Vista and Nain Trading (the latter is my total fave for striped flatweaves) have discounts and deals constantly, so the price on their site could change at any given moment. If a rug isn’t discounted when you first see it, chances are it will be within a week or two.

Vinterior is also worth a look, also 1stDibs or Chairish if you’re in the US. If you’re the intrepid explorer type and you travel often, the best deals will be via an inside contact in places like Turkey or India, as you’ll cut out the middleman. It’s less insane than it sounds if you have a large empty suitcase – they do fold well.

Etsy has an occasional decent vintage flatweave, though you have to rifle through a lot of bang-average new cotton rugs on there. If I’m being fussy (and I always am), I actually prefer Etsy for vintage Moroccan or Swedish rugs, not stripes.

On that note, cotton rugs are much more affordable for sure, but because the colours and the texture are flatter and more uniform, they’re just not as lovely as wool, in my opinion. They don’t have the same character or variation.

My rug was a one-off and it’s six years old, but try these search terms if you’re not sure what to Google, they’ll likely set you off in the right direction. At worst, you’ll end up coming across a site with an enormous amount of choice, so you can take it from there and figure out what you’re most drawn to.

• Striped kilim

• Striped flatweave

• Turkish flatweave

• Kilim Fars

• Jajim rug

• Stripe Dhurrie

• Antique striped rug

• Vintage striped rug

Some striped rugs that spring to mind…

Vincent’s Antwerp home is one of my fave ever living room references. He’s got a lot of stuff, but it feels uncluttered because the palette is tonal and gentle – neither too bright nor too stark. He uses this simple kilim in a brilliantly large size, and I think it’s perfect. For years, IKEA has made a wool flatweave like this, but it’s a crisp black and white. Cream and brown are much easier to decorate around.

I always think of this photo when I’m picturing my ideal neutral area rug. I love it for a couple of reasons: the stripes aren’t uniform in size or repetition, and the other is the specific beige/brown/pinkish combination. It’s so soft and versatile and will go with everything. It’s easy to find brown and cream striped rugs, but the addition of that elusive soft pink is much harder.

Designer Heidi Caillier is a prolific striped rug user in her projects, and she’s placed blue striped rugs in sitting rooms more than once. Antique blue Dhurries like this are always priced in the thousands, especially in large sizes. There are a few on 1stDibs, but in the UK, I also keep an eye on the spoils of Francesca Gentilli’s buying trips.

This is Soane Britain founder Lulu Lytle’s flat, and although it’s way too extra for me, this particular flatweave rug most reminds me of the colour combinations in my own. I have white walls as I’m in a rental, but think it’s a good example of how much pattern and colour a room can actually handle, if maximalism’s your style.

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21 rugs I’d use in my flat, if I had the right space

Things to know about the rugs behind the paywall:

• These are not the same (or even particularly similar) to my rug, as I couldn’t find anything in a palette close enough to show you. I’ve seen various very similar ones in the past, but not when I was looking this week.

• I’m based in the UK, and that will affect my search results

• I didn’t choose a broad mix of styles and price points like I would if I were curating an edit for a publication. I only chose designs that I’d buy for myself.

• The price points range from £371 to £5,017 but they’re mostly around £1k

• Most are one-offs, so when they’re gone, they’re gone

• I’ve included three runners, but they’re also available in area rug size, if that’s what you need

240x170cm from Rug Vista, £371

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Hello, hope you all had a good weekend!

After wanting to go to Toad bakery in Camberwell for so long, we finally tried it yesterday morning, and so help my cholesterol levels, it was good! The porchetta honey butter swirl was a total knockout, and I’d cycle there and queue all over again to eat another one.

We’ve finally had our heads turned by Lime bike over the past six months. I always hated them because they’re a favourite tool of teenage boys who ride around pavements stealing phones out of unsuspecting hands, but now I buy a monthly pass. The penny finally dropped that every restaurant, sandwich and cake that we’ve ever wanted to try is within 30 mins if we cycle, rather than walk or take a train.

Anyway, here’s my round-up for May! I haven’t offered a discount in about a year, so if you’d like to support my work and have full access to everything (including this post), here’s a spontaneous 25% off. It takes annual subscriptions down to £37.50 – click the ticket below to use it!

Cigarettes or cake?

I’m going to out myself as a killjoy and admit it, I don’t think it’s cool to smoke. Even though it admittedly looks chic in films (Margot Tenenbaum in a bath, etc), and many iconic photographs feature a cigarette teetering on a bottom lip. Here in London, they’re laid out on silver platters at posh parties. Still, I stand firm. I only have room in my life for one vice that might kill me, and that thing is sugar.

Speaking of sugar (we got there eventually), I loved this cake that my friend Alice had for her birthday. Isn’t it a work of art?! Her brilliantly talented flatmate Ian, a Mexican chef, created it as a surprise, like it was NBD to whip that up!

The cake was one of the things that sparked the idea for their new business, and I already love the sound of it. It’s called Get Laid, and it’s a creative studio dreaming up stories, design and menus for theatrical food-based events, and then bringing them to life around a table. Alice is a fellow ADHDer, and we’re similar in many ways, but she’s much naughtier and more fun than I am, so I imagine the workings of her brain being like going to a fairground while on mushrooms…

A Considered London guide

My favourite Substack is written by LA-based , so it was mega flattering when she asked about my favourite places in London for her Plus One series! You’ll need a paid subscription to A La Carte to read the tips I shared with Ali’s readers, but access to her inspirations and thought process is always money joyfully spent. I particularly love her ‘room recipes’ and themed moodboards.

My All Things Considered shopping picks are usually a 50/50 mix of interiors and fashion. This month, it’s all fashion. I have a couple of dedicated homeware posts coming up, but today, it’s shoes and accessories I saw in New York and wanted to save for later, plus a couple of recent menswear faves that I’d love to wear myself.

I have such dry and irritated eyes – I’m always rubbing them – so I wear sunglasses a lot, especially if it’s windy. I’ve been thinking about getting some ordinary glasses without a prescription, as I don’t have bad eyesight, but I do need an eye shield! I love aviators, but they never fit my huge moon face, so I’m thinking about this sort of shape. These are the Chloe West glasses.

I’ve never been drawn to Margiela’s replica of classic German military trainers, but I love Reproduction of Found’s take on them for two reasons: firstly, they’re so buttery soft, much softer than Margiela or Adidas’ versions. Second, the colours. I really like the black, but the lighter colours feel so elegant for trainers. The buttery yellow is very of the moment, and they do chic a muted mousey grey that my boyfriend tried on in New York, and I loved the colour. They’re harder to find in smaller sizes, but some stockists go down to a UK 4 / EU 37.

I was in Alex Mill on the Upper East Side, drawn in by something in the window, but I actually ended up stocking up on their perfect loafer socks. They’re ribbed, slim, not too high on the ankle, and they come in an array of excellent colours.

On our last day in NY, we ducked into Corridor to hide from torrential rain and ended up leaving with a unisex shopping list of embroidered jackets, camp collar shirts and could-be-vintage caps. My boyfriend bought the one pictured here.

I bought this £29.90 t-shirt from Uniqlo x Comptoir de Cotonniers last summer, declared it the perfect tee, then they promptly stopped selling it. Anyway, it’s back and I’ve bought three more. Now I have it in brown, navy, bright blue and white. It’s loose in the body, but with a neat shoulder and short sleeves, the deep collar gives it a vintage look. Made from 100% linen, it feels drapey and broken in.