Home is so often defined by the notion of comfort, and for me this has always translated as the absence of things that offend the senses. This deep reassurance can come in a spartan little cottage, just as it is there is in an extravagant, opulent, and ornate mansion. It’s a sentiment that can be missed in the humble new-age minimalism we have labelled as ‘quiet luxury’. So, I see this as a moment for us to learn how to better measure beauty in things and progress our tastes by simply asking ourselves is something good or not good? A fresh atonement to the pleasures derived from the inherent aesthetics in more mundane things: the utility of the spaces we inhabit and our daily rituals within them, along with the new and the old, the refined and unrefined. And as such, I leave you with these ideas on comfort…
Eat dessert first. Think a sumptuous, meringue topped Bombe Alaska, the tart raspberry pinging on your tongue; a coffee-drenched tiramisu that transports you to Northern Italy. Even the Viennetta of your childhood will do.
Remove all your jewels and go naked for the day. Let the elements touch your skin and in the evening return to full regalia appreciating the polarity.
Curl up in front of the fire and re-read the novel that first awakened you to all the possibilities of life.
Find two colours that clash and persevere until they sit in unity. Every room needs a little ugly in it.
Pretend you’re a curator and move the art and photography around your home, making old things new again.
Don a pair of thigh high boots and walk the town accumulating admiring glances.
Visit your favourite gallery and leave your phone at home. No documentation allowed, only your senses.
Cook Julia Child’s boeuf bourguignon or Marcella Hazan’s pasta of tomato sauce with butter and onion and retire with a glass of wine, feet slung over the end of the sofa, while everyone else does the cleaning up.
Attend a packed concert to remind yourself how infinite the world is, and of how everyone is just here doing their best.