On the weekend I brought Mary Randolph Carterâs book â A perfectly kept house is the sign of a misspent life. Couldnât have said it better myself, I took an hour off of working to spend some time flicking through the beautifully shot images of other peoples pads filled to the brim with stuff. Possessions, pets, children, books, art, records and so on â some lived in brownstones others in reconverted factories on the outskirts of Paris.Â All lived with clutter â some messy, some artfully placed but what shines through is how living with stuff transforms an interior from being overtly rigid into something more lived in and loved.
I spent quite a few years working over seas on some very formal interiors where everything matched, was overly organised and so so stiff.Â Clients had big budgets and thus wanted big designer pieces to match ($100,000 on one bedroom I recall was my first project â and no thatâs not a typo)! So I think as an antithesis to those years my style has morphed into an eclectic mish mash of styles. Yes I have some expensive pieces one chandelier is nearly the price of Mercedes Benz (whist I drive about in a car that has lost its wing mirrors is about 20 years old and the windows donât open) no logic I know!!. But thatâs not the point.
The point is my house isnât perfect some of the furniture is flea market think peeling leather armchairs Â coupledÂ with the odd bit of tatty velvet but its where I feel most comfortable and I guess that is all that really matters.