Mariel Hemingway and green building go together like . . . OK, maybe the connection isn’t immediately obvious. But to the actress, a longtime proponent of yoga, natural foods and holistic living, it feels to be a natural extension.
This week, millions of people are posting pictures of their kids with backpacks and first day of school clothes. It’s such a kick to see those eager young faces and their carefully chosen outfits that will one day serve as objects of extreme mortification, then amusement, then nostalgia and finally, inspiration for revivals. I wish I had a similar record of transformation of my kids’ rooms.
The mix of natural stone and dark wood gives this kitchen a “kind of Northwest, organic, modern lodge look,” says Tammy Lefever, president of Interior Motives.
Handwoven, antique, overdyed — the beauty of rugs lies in the varied techniques that transform your floor into art.
Revel in autumn tones, cozy lighting, lush textiles and forward furniture.
I understand and appreciate white in clothes: a crisp white shirt, or a white tee, or white linen pants. And the cool thing about white clothes is you can bleach them when they get dirty and they brighten right up. Most of the time. But I don’t get white walls.
A friend of mine lives a beautiful life. She’s full of love, generous in spirit, and constantly bubbling with creativity. She fell in love — again — and now follows the currents of her heart between North America, Europe and Africa. She has a residence on each of those three continents but at times feels she has no home.
Home is a perspective. People can live inside the same four walls, sheltered by the same roof, sit around the same dining table and see different things. Or see the same things in entirely different ways.
Psychologists are fond of saying, “Every child gets his own parents.” In other words, siblings can have vastly different experiences, perspectives and memories of the same parents. I think something similar goes on with houses and the people who share them.
I am a snoop by nature and profession. Part Harriet the Spy, part Lois Lane, and a pinch post-prison Martha Stewart, I take notes on other people’s homes, write about them, and, occasionally, try to incorporate their nifty versions of domesticity into my own.
