Dressing My Home

Someone asked me, so I am regurgitating.  Truth is, I dress my home in the same manner, I like to dress.

Our 15th home began life on disadvantaged footing…


I like white.  On a shirt, a bag, chunky bracelets, sometimes on my feet.  But a home with white, white walls, feels assaulting.  My grandmother had also passed away about the same time that I finally got keys and legal matters sorted out.  We were living at Blakes then, where the broody, black interiors, soothed me.

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There was a wallpaper print that I had grown fond of.


The new flat does not have period details, so chinoiserie-printed wallpaper covering an entire room would probably look as stylish as the mutton-dressed-as-that-lamb.  Reluctant to let the wallpaper go, I then decided to save the dull, bland, white hallway, by clothing the storage closet with the wallpaper instead.


The wallpaper became like the foundation garment, from which I built a look.  The navy and sand colours on its print were used to pull the rest of my flat together.  Away with white walls, I told my builder.  Pile on Blue Black (Farrow and Ball)!


The other idea I had was to rip out a wall, exposing bricks.  Last Christmas, we rented a loft.  Like a masculine necklace, or a pair of biker boots, the exposed brick walls and pipes brought edge to the living space.


My builder proposed laying a wall of brick-like tiles instead.  For a long while, this posed a mathematical conundrum, and my brick wall became, The Great Wall of-IMG_5534IMG_5539

Baby, Jon said.  Is the brick wall really necessary…

New pieces of furniture had to be bought.


Baby, is the chair really necessary…

Our things were moved out of storage, and Grandfather’s paintings loving hand-carried by Jon, on his flight from Singapore.

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Baby, where do you want the scrolls?

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Baby, is there really enough space for everything…

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Yesterday, I bought a new lamp.

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At the store, I asked for a larger-sized lampshade than the one it was displayed with.  The glass base needs to be framed with something bolder, I explained.

Looks good!  My husband said.

Because it is really like dressing oneself.  You wear somethings from the summer- jeans, sunnies, more black.  But a new season is also a time to relish change, and play.  At midlife, I don’t want to live in the same space I enjoyed in my 20s (24/7 air-conditioning, an infinity pool with city views). Nor I am interested in the same fashion (Miu Miu!) I wore then.

In my home, as in my dressing now, I crave comfort, practicality and an effortless sense of chic. Form must echo function, and function cannot be a slave to form.

Ok Baby, good night.  Love you very much, and glad you are happy with your new lamp.

Thanks, Baby!  Oh Baby, before you go?  I need to tell you something…


I also bought myself, a new dress.

*Photographs of the flat before its make-over belong to Foxtons.

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