Good morning,
Inspiration. This is something I feel like I have been coming back to a lot recently, and I think it is simply because I am right in the middle of a project myself, slowly shaping and designing our new home, and becoming much more aware of what I am naturally drawn to when I am not overthinking it.
I have just been away in Scotland and staying with friends in Northumberland, and I noticed, almost without meaning to, that I was looking at everything a little differently. Not in a critical or analytical way, but in a much softer, more instinctive way, where you begin to register how a space actually feels to be in rather than just how it looks.
And it made me reflect on where we really find inspiration.


As much as I love Instagram and Pinterest, and I really do use them all the time, especially when I am trying to sense-check an idea or explore a direction, they can only ever show you part of the picture.
Think of them like tools that are brilliant for helping you recognise patterns in your own taste, the colours you are consistently drawn to, the styles that feel familiar, the spaces you save without even thinking. However they cannot give you the full experience of a home, your home!
And a home is such a tactile, sensory thing. It is not just something you admire at a glance; it’s a space you live within. The way the light shifts throughout the day, how materials feel over time, where colours shift in a way that you only really notice when you are sitting quietly in a room.
That is the part I think we miss when we rely too heavily on perfectly styled images.
So lately, I have been trying to pay much closer attention to what I respond to in real life, without filtering it through what I think I should like.
It is often the quieter details that stay with me.
The warmth of timber that instantly makes a space feel settled.
The way a floor has been laid, and how that subtly guides your eye across the room.
The shape and rhythm of panelling, and how it adds structure without feeling heavy.
The way light hits a wall in the early evening and softens everything it touches.
None of these things are particularly loud on their own, but together they are what create a feeling.


One detail I became completely drawn to this week was tongue and groove panelling, which kept appearing in different homes we stayed in, and each time it had the same effect, adding a softness and quiet sense of character that felt both timeless and completely unforced.
It was one of those moments where you do not need to analyse it too much, you just know you want to live with it.
And then there are the details you can’t predict. While sitting in my friend’s kitchen, I found myself repeatedly glancing at her fridge, which was covered in years of photographs, invitations, drawings, little fragments of life that had built up over time. It struck me how much more compelling that felt than anything overly arranged or styled.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was entirely personal, and that is what made it feel so ‘right’.


I think when we consume a constant stream of interiors online, it is very easy to unintentionally create spaces that look beautiful but feel slightly disconnected from the people living in them. The homes that stay with you, the ones you remember long after you have left, are always the ones that feel layered, relaxed, and quietly reflective of the life inside them.
So if you are in the middle of decorating or renovating, I would encourage you to look up a little more. Take photos when something catches your eye, even if you cannot immediately explain why. Notice how certain colour combinations make you feel, rather than just how they appear. Pay attention to materials, to light, to the small decisions that often go unnoticed.
Even recognising what you do not like is incredibly helpful, because it sharpens your instinct just as much.
Over time, all of these small observations begin to build into something much clearer, a sense of what feels right for you, which is always a far better guide than anything you could try to replicate.


Until next time,
Tash x
