10/08/2026
Bigger isn’t always better. Sometimes it’s just more house to vacuum, more space to furnish and somewhere for the television to echo. 🏡
I would love to see a resurgence of well-crafted homes where the floor plan, functionality and character deserve as much attention as the square footage.
Give me a house that is stupidly functional.
Yes, that is my very professional architectural terminology.
I’m not against a big house. I’m against space that looks impressive but hasn’t been thoughtfully designed for everyday living.
Tall ceilings and enormous rooms can certainly make an entrance. But once the initial “wow” wears off, how does that space feel to live in?
Can you settle into a comfortable conversation, or does your voice carry through the house? Can someone watch television while someone else enjoys a quiet corner?
I want a home to feel welcoming when you walk in and comfortable when you stay.
Whether it’s for one person, two people or a family, I want a floor plan that makes sense.
Space to gather.
Space to retreat.
Storage where you need it.
Rooms that serve the people living in them.
🥾 Let’s start at the door.
Give me a proper mudroom. Enough room to sit down, remove your boots and put things away without doing a one-legged balancing act while holding groceries.
Somewhere for wet coats, muddy shoes, bags and winter salt to stay near the entrance, rather than travelling through the house.
I love the idea behind a Japanese genkan, where outdoor shoes come off before stepping up into the home. A thoughtfully designed, slightly lowered entry area with a durable, easy-to-clean surface is something I would love to see adapted for our Canadian winters.
Because I would much rather give the salt and slush somewhere sensible to land than spend the evening chasing them across beautiful wood floors.
🧺 Then give me a laundry room that actually lets me do laundry.
Space to hang the things that cannot go in the dryer.
A surface for folding.
Room to steam a blouse or set up an ironing board.
Useful storage for the supplies.
Somewhere the clean laundry has a fighting chance of making it off the chair.
🤍 And the kitchen? That is where I would happily put serious thought into the design.
In my experience, people gravitate toward the kitchen. They gather around the island, lean against the counter and chat while someone cooks. It’s where an ordinary evening becomes a good conversation.
To me, that is the heart of the home.
I want useful work surfaces, sensible storage and a layout that lets you cook, clean and spend time together comfortably.
Cabinets that reach the ceiling, so there isn’t another awkward ledge waiting to be dusted.
I want thoughtful details that make an ordinary Tuesday easier.
The living room doesn’t need to be enormous to be lovely. Give me comfortable seating, a sense of warmth and enough room for how the household actually lives.
I don’t want to shop for extra furniture simply because the room looks unfinished without it.
A chair should have a better reason to exist than “we needed something in that corner.”
📚 And please, bring back the reading nook. Or a little library.
A quiet place to sit with a book. Somewhere silence is welcome and you can enjoy your own company without competing with the television.
🛏️ That same thoughtfulness should extend to the bedrooms.
For me, less clutter does not mean less comfort, and it certainly doesn’t mean every bedroom should be tiny.
A bedroom should be a sanctuary.
Enough room for a bed, a dresser, perhaps a reading chair and space to move around comfortably. Somewhere you can retreat and enjoy being.
For children, I love the idea of having a room they can take pride in. Their own little domain to arrange, care for and grow into.
And closets should function beyond looking tidy in a listing photograph.
Space to hang dresses without bunching them at the bottom.
Storage that suits the person using it.
A place to keep an extra set of bedsheets in the bedroom where they belong.
I want belongings to have a home, so putting them away doesn’t become a daily puzzle.
🌿 Because this is where design becomes personal for me: clutter carries mental weight.
Every crowded surface feels like another little job waiting for my attention.
Move this.
Organize that.
Dust around those.
Find somewhere for the thing that never had a place.
The more I own, the more I have to manage.
The world already feels busy enough. I want to walk into my home and exhale, rather than mentally clock in for another shift.
A blank wall is allowed.
An empty corner is allowed.
A clear countertop is a beautiful thing.
Negative space is part of what I enjoy about a room. I don’t need every surface styled or every gap filled.
Sometimes the best thing to put there is absolutely nothing.
🔧 And while we’re discussing things that earn their place in a home: my fridge does not need a computer.
Personally, I have yet to stand in my kitchen and think, “You know what would improve this experience? Another screen.”
I’m all for a smart home when the technology makes life easier. But I want it to be dependable, understandable and fixable.
Give me appliances designed with longevity in mind.
Parts that can be replaced.
Repairs that make sense.
I would love the ambition of building a refrigerator to last fifty years, rather than making me excited about features I never asked for.
I want well-made things worth maintaining.
Quality over quantity.
Craftsmanship worth keeping.
🪵 My personal design bias leans toward organic modern and Japandi, with an appreciation for natural texture and imperfection.
I love stone and slate beside warm wood. The contrast of cool and warm, smooth and textured. Materials with character that I can imagine enjoying for decades.
I want a home that still feels like me after the trend has passed.
I appreciate that thoughtful design and craftsmanship cost money. If I were choosing where to put my budget, I would rather invest in how a home functions and how well it is made than add space without a clear purpose.
Real estate is about square footage, but it is also about what that square footage allows you to do.
Where do you put your boots?
Where do you fold the laundry?
Can you find a quiet place to read?
Does the storage suit your life?
Does the home give you room to breathe?
Those are the details I care about.
🏡 And while “cookie-cutter” is often used as a criticism, I don’t think a familiar floor plan automatically deserves dismissal.
If a layout works beautifully for everyday life, I can appreciate why someone would want to repeat it. Individuality matters, but so does having somewhere sensible to put your boots.
A home doesn’t have to be one of a kind to be deeply personal. The people living there, the traditions they create and the memories they make give it that meaning.
That’s why functionality matters so much to me.
The less time I spend working around a room, finding places for things or managing belongings, the more attention I have for the people sharing that space.
The conversation around the kitchen island.
The family dinner that stretches into the evening.
The friend who stays for another cup of coffee.
The ordinary moments that become the memories we treasure.
I don’t necessarily want a bigger house.
I want a better-functioning house. A comfortable, intentional, well-crafted home that asks less of me and leaves more room for living.
🤍 Home is where the heart is. And to me, the heart of a home is the loved ones we welcome into it and the memories we make together.
“Four walls give us shelter. The people we welcome and the memories we make give us a home. Thoughtful design leaves more room for both.”
What is one design feature that would help you spend less time managing your home and more time enjoying it? 💬
