Her Honest Space

Discover why the best homes reflect the people who live in them and learn practical ways to create a space that feels authentically yours.

One of the biggest misconceptions people have when designing their homes is believing they need to recreate the exact spaces that inspire them. I understand why, because I’ve done it myself. For years I admired the homes in films like The Holiday, Father of the Bride and Something’s Gotta Give. Like many people, I thought the magic was in the furniture, the kitchens and the styling. What I’ve come to realise over time is that the feeling I was responding to had very little to do with the furniture itself and far more to do with the people those homes represented. Every room told a story, and you could almost picture the person living there before they even walked on screen.

I think this is where many people get stuck. They find a home they love, save the images, buy similar furniture and recreate the colour palette, only to step back at the end and wonder why it doesn’t feel the same. The finished result often looks beautiful, yet something is missing because the one thing no one else can replicate is you. The homes we connect with most aren’t memorable because of the styling; they’re memorable because they reveal something about the people who live there. When we try to copy a space exactly, we’re often recreating someone else’s story while leaving out our own.

For a long time, I didn’t fully appreciate this. When I was studying design, my teachers would often tell me that my spaces felt timeless and that they could imagine themselves living in them. At the time, I was too busy comparing myself to designers creating bold concepts and dramatic interiors to understand what they meant. Looking back now, I realise they weren’t talking about trends, colour palettes or furniture selections. They were responding to a feeling. They were responding to spaces that felt real, comfortable and lived in.

I think that’s why I struggle with the idea that homes should look perfect all the time. In my job as a visual merchandiser, I can spend hours creating a store where every garment is folded perfectly, every hanger faces the same direction and every display is exactly as intended. I can take a photograph of that moment and it looks beautiful. Yet within minutes of opening, customers begin touching products, moving things around and interacting with the space. That doesn’t mean the display has failed; it means the space is doing exactly what it was designed to do. The photograph was never the purpose; it was simply a moment in time before people began engaging with the space. The real purpose was always the experience.

Homes are no different. They aren’t created to remain untouched. They’re designed to support the people who live in them, which means they should evolve as our lives evolve. The home I had ten years ago reflected someone who loved entertaining, gathering friends together and making use of a dedicated bar area. The home I have today reflects motherhood, family life and a little boy who has completely changed how I use every room. There are photos on my fridge, a framed collage of my son on the wall, a jacket often draped over a dining chair and a living room that functions as both a relaxing retreat and a play space. Neither version is more correct than the other because both reflected who I was at that stage of life.

When I walk into someone’s home, I don’t see a collection of decorating choices; I see clues about who they are. A wall of framed classic rock album covers tells me something about the person who lives there. A mushroom collection displayed alongside shelves of Pokémon memorabilia tells me something else. A home filled with plants speaks of someone who enjoys nurturing and caring for living things. Books, travel souvenirs, family photographs and treasured collections all tell stories. These aren’t things that should be hidden away because they don’t match a trend. They’re often the very things that make a home feel warm, authentic and personal.

Where I think many people become stuck is that they know what they love, but they don’t know how to make it work. They worry that displaying family photos will feel cluttered, that their collections won’t look sophisticated enough or that the things they enjoy somehow don’t belong in a well-designed home. What they often need isn’t permission to be themselves; they need someone to show them how.

If you’ve always wanted to create a gallery wall but don’t know where to start, lay your frames out on the floor in front of the wall first. Move them around, experiment with different arrangements and take a photo once you’re happy with the layout. Measure the spacing between each frame and transfer those measurements onto the wall before hanging. If you have a collection you love, gather it together rather than scattering it throughout the house. Use shelving, display cabinets or consoles and think about layering pieces at different heights to create depth and interest. Place some items towards the back, bring others forward and allow each piece room to breathe. What once felt random begins to feel intentional.

The same approach applies to books, plants, travel finds, family photos and treasured keepsakes. The goal isn’t to hide these things; it’s to display them thoughtfully so they contribute to the overall story of your home. Good design isn’t about removing personality or editing out the things that make you who you are. It’s about creating a framework that allows those elements to feel cohesive, balanced and purposeful within a space.

This is why I believe designers create the bones of a home, but the people living there are the ones who bring it to life. We can help with layout, flow, scale, colour and function, but the personality, memories, passions and quirks belong to the people who call that space home. Without those things, even the most beautiful room can feel empty. With them, a home becomes something far more meaningful.

The homes people remember aren’t usually the ones that followed every design rule perfectly. They’re the homes where they felt comfortable enough to kick off their shoes, curl up on the couch and let their shoulders drop because everything around them felt authentic. That’s the feeling people are often searching for when they save inspiration images, and it’s the feeling I try to help people create. Not by recreating someone else’s story, but by helping them tell their own.