Lani Adeoye’s woven lights are handcrafted in Nigeria and exude such warmth and nostalgia. To me, they have a decidedly 70s vibe, with a modern, sculptural twist. The line is called ITE which means nest in Yoruba. Adeoye is Parsons trained and divides her time between New York, Toronto and Nigeria. These lights, she says, are Inspired by the layered structure of a bird’s nest.

It’s been a while since we spent a penny together, and this loo is too divine not to share. I have no idea what stone the sink is carved from –– onyx, granite, amazonite –– but it’s bonkers beautiful. As are the brass swan taps. The wallpaper –– swans and dragonflies on a Schiaparelli background –– is pure whimsy, and that chandelier of fern leaves is the perfect topper. If I ever write my tome on toilets, this one may make the cover.

I love this Kuba inspired cloth wallpaper from St. Frank. Kuba cloth is unique to the Congo, and was traditionally used during burials. Later, it was woven into ceremonial dresses worn at dances and other celebrations. St. Frank founder, Christina Bryant has the wallpaper on several surfaces throughout her eclectic NYC home. It looks beautiful behind her hand carved bowls and colourful books and tchotchke.

I love the crispness and possibility of bright, white walls. But that’s not to say I don’t dream of persimmon ones. Or peach ones. Or walls the colour of freshly churned butter. This gorgeous house in Los Angeles has all those colours and more. It’s hard not to love that rich raspberry sitting room, and the various shades of green in that arched throughway are divine. Most of all, I love how all these colours –– rich and decadent –– all come together.

On our ravine walks, we often snoop into people’s gardens –– those grand ones with lion statues, manicured lawns and elaborate stone planters filled with purple pansies –– and wonder who lives in such a house. We’ve watched the pools being filled, and Magnolia petals being swept up. We’ve watched hedges being trimmed to perfection. Growing up, my parents had a garden so big that a game of hide and seek could last all day. I remember that there were rose bushes and trees to climb, and a woodsy, path that always felt a bit Brothers Grimm. Fourty fourty was our absolute favourite game to play, and the home base was always a huge tree that stood near the back of the house. It wasn’t a grand garden, but it was big, and we had a ton of fun in it. My favourite gardens are the most natural ones, whimsical and wild, and I love English flower gardens. That said, I’d take my own a pool over a sprawling garden any day; tuck it in among trees and plants a plenty, and I’m in heaven.

I’ve looked at a lot of kitchens this year. I’ve thought about corian versus caesarstone, brass taps versus stainless steel, gas versus electric. I’ve looked at dozens of shades of white oak, white paint, and more pulls, knobs and levers than you can imagine. I’ve thought about farmhouse sinks and integrated ones, and I’ve thought about the pros and cons of a concrete one. I’ve thought about open shelving versus closed cabinets. I’ve thought about appliances and where they go. I’ve even measured my dinner plates. What I know about kitchens, is that we make them work, even when they don’t make sense. In fact, we get so used to their impracticalities and imperfections, that we don’t even notice them. The fridge in our rental juts out, and needs a big push to make sure it’s closed. There is no counter space. Our old kitchen on Robert Street was totally lopsided, had little counter space, and was a theme park for rodents. The kitchen in the first home Jason and I shared hadn’t been updated in over thirty years, (the ceiling eventually caved in, literally) and our tiny galley kitchen in Florence provided barely enough space to boil an egg. But I have gotten used to each and every one, and I have loved each and every one. To be honest, I’m not quite sure how it will feel to live in a kitchen that is as beautiful, and as thoughtfully designed as the one we’re moving into. Wonderful, no doubt. But I’ll always love the higgledy piggledy, makes-no-sense, jam-packed-with-charm kitchens that came before.

I keep circling back to Fornasetti’s clouds. A collaboration with Cole & Son, Nuvolette, little clouds, is such a moody and atmospheric wallpaper. It reminds me of a dramatic British sky, over Battersea Bridge, or the beaches of Norfolk. I’ve seen it used everywhere from laundry rooms to dining rooms.

The home decor I love most is the one that defies trends, the one that makes no sense, and all sense, and the one that reflects the spirit of the people who live within its walls. I don’t expect you all to love this aesthetic –– mismatched and decorated to the max — but we can’t not admire the creativity, playfulness, confidence and joy of it all. Scroll down from the top. If anything, it will make your jam-packed home feel minimalist.

It won’t happen in this life, but the idea of drawers lined in Schiaparelli pink billiard table cloth is a dream of mine. My grandmother’s cutlery would love it. Sometimes, the idea alone is enough. Know what I mean?