‘Take your pleasure seriously,” said Charles Eames. Choose work that fulfills you, and make room for people and pastimes that do the same. Charles, and his wife, Ray resolved to only take on projects that were of interest to them, and once committed to the project, give it their very best. Pleasure remained a priority all their lives, from the chairs they designed, to the picnics they prepared for gathering friends. To this trailblazing couple, seeking pleasure wasn’t a luxury, but a necessary pursuit, a process, and a way of being. Eames once said, “we worked very hard at that—enjoying ourselves. We didn’t let anything interfere with what we were doing—our hard work. That in itself was a great pleasure.”

I love the rubber flooring in this kitchen. I think you’ve got to be pretty bold to choose this much colour in your kitchen, and I’m not sure how practical rubber flooring is (scratches and stains) but the mango really is gorgeous. The cutting boards against those high gloss tiles look great, and I like the earthy tones in the wood, stool and pots. It grounds the whole look.

“We have suffered too long from the dull and the stupidly serious,” says Brooklyn-based artist, Wayne Pate. His paintings and collages are so full of whimsy. Iznik Blooms are my favourites. Have a look at his gorgeous textiles. I can’t imagine a room where his lemons and florals wouldn’t fit in. Wayne paints lampshades and ceramics with pomegranates and Chrysanthemums. What joy. “I’d be lying if I said Matisse wasn’t an influence. For him, every waking moment was about beauty. Matisse’s work was a true embodiment of the life he lived.”

“What people are craving isn’t perfection. People aren’t longing to be impressed; they’re longing to feel like they’re home. If you create a space full of love and character and creativity and soul, they’ll take off their shoes and curl up with gratitude and rest, no matter how small, no matter how undone, no matter how odd.” I love this quote from American author, Shauna Niequist. This is the house I grew up in, a red brick Victorian in the heart of Chelsea with more character than Joan Plowright. It was very colourful, with a mishmash of art and ceramics and weird and wonderful tchotchke that my Mum had collected at markets, auctions and bazaars all over the world. Our sofa was the colour of Arizona turquoise and our kitchen was the colour of a peach. The house was always full of friends, young and old, who gathered for roast beef on Sundays, or a glass of pinot grigio any night of the week. As our adolescent years set in, the house became that soft place where many lost, drunk and tired teens landed. My Mum stocked the cupboards with Jaffa Cakes and Frosties, and became a sounding board for all our friends. They loved her, and they were a little intimidated by her, which proved a winning combination. She had to steam clean the carpets once a year, and things got broken, but all in all, they were good years. Christmas, Halloween, birthdays galore, our house was that home where you knew you could bring your best friend’s cousin to and she’d just fit in. It had a feel, it had an energy. It was happy. It was grounding. It was my Mum.

I love walking into a home that feels like a self portrait, one that tells the story of the person living in it. I like to scan the books, photographs and tchotchke on the shelves. At best, these vignettes –– coloured glass, vintage tea boxes, shells found at a beloved beach –– provide tiny glimpses into the homeowner’s psyche. This wall caught my eye, and not just because of the Marlin. I love the mix of ceramics, books and bones. The shelf is curated, but not contrived. It feels warm, thoughtful and interesting. It’s busy, but loosely arranged. It makes me wonder who lives in this house; better yet, it makes me want to have a cup of tea with them.

For a long time I made plates. Or at least I tried to. Plates are tricky because they very often warp. But I loved having a white surface to paint on. And on the occasion that one didn’t warp, it was truly satisfying to eat my toast off. When I finally get back into the studio, I may well make plates again. In the meantime, I am lusting over all the gorgeous ones at Carolina Irving. Green flower plate and Bullseye dinner plate are two of my favourites, perfect for a piece of grilled fish, or a late summer salad. While perusing plates, you may want to have a look at Irving’s stunning textiles. Aegean stripes in terracotta and indigo is top of my wish list.

I have enormous respect for people who embroider –– it’s such intricate, painstaking work. I came across the vibrant creations of Zélia Smith today, and for a second or two I thought about picking up a needle and thread. I love her simple patterns and bold colour choices. I think I should start with mending the odd sock. With a neon thread, perhaps.

It’s a little fantasy of mine to own a pair of Jean Royère chairs. Royère was a French designer known for creating colourful and irreverent pieces like the iconic polar-bear sofa. “I’d always had a thing about interior design. So much so that as a child I didn’t want toys: I asked to be allowed to decorate a room in the attic in our country house.” These aquamarine beauties are to-die-for, as are these adorable ouefs. I’m quite sure that if I ever sit on an ours polaire, I’ll never get back up again.

I came across the exquisite photographs of Robert Polidori today. I’ve happened upon one or two of his images before –– most notably the Havana home of painter, Amelia Peláez –– but today was my first dive into his extensive body of beautiful architectural spaces. If you have a moment, have a look at his extraordinary range, from a beaten up old slave shack, to the restoration works at Versailles, to the weathered walls of Hotel Petra in Beirut. As we move into our new home –– a true labour of love –– Polidori’s wisdom resonated with me a great deal. “Besides the obvious sheltering from the extremes of the elements, people make rooms to live in as if they are animated by an unconscious desire to return to a prenatal life, or even before that, to a soul life. This is what they exteriorize in rooms, their internal soul life, or less magically put, their personal values, if you will.”