Sanctuary

Pretty things make me feel good. I can walk for hours on end in museums, roam the streets of Paris, stare at historic buildings and admire ‘Art Nouveau’ street lights like I’m ready to French lick its dark green paint.

From smelling exquisitely well prepared food and dining out in beautifully designed restaurants, to natural frenzies from gawking at fashion that tells a great story. From century old music and ultra-modern contemporary art, to loving the sculpted physique of a David (Gandy)  or Idris Elba. From devouring intensely thought provoking novels and a morning walk on a deserted North Sea beach; pretty things make me feel good.

When something speaks to me I have to stop, look and listen. Because I love life and the beauty surrounding me, and I have learned to grow my appreciation for the things that we have been blessed with. Yes, even the teeny tiny things that seem insignificant to many. It is so important to me to be surrounded by things that make me happy or remind me of something that is happy. Like a collection of pebbles or a bouquet of tulips. To live in a house that feels like a home is what I wish for everyone.

Making a home is done with care and mine is a representation of my strong conviction that love is visible. The things in my house are either pretty, practical or have sentimental value. Anything else is superfluous.

Creating an environment for yourself, where you can recharge by simply being in that space is so important. A lot of people don’t understand the need to surround yourself with pretty things. They do not understand why some people take their time to set a table with attention and care. Or why they persist in having their fruit match the striped lining of their curtains.

I get that. It can be quite the enigma, but today we’ll just leave it at, ‘it’s just not their thing.’ Which is fine because who cares what someone else thinks of what you do right? I don’t, and as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone, we can continue with being fashionably hysterical about the right sized candles and the perfect incense holder that nobody notices but you. I mean, I am fussy. I admit it. I really understand weird obsessions and why some people love busting their brains over things that seem insignificant. If you, like me, are able to question the placement of napkins and the perfect wooden clothes hangers, then say thank You and enjoy those moments. I think people who judge me over this so called interior decorating frenzy are the ones who have way too much time on their hands.

Leave me be. I like superficial things.

To those who get me, my home is a reflection of my inner world. And I believe that the outside world, when consciously placed and styled, can be a tremendous source of inner peace as well. It’s like a perpetual upward spiral of inspiration. I walk into my house and the first thing I see is beautiful things. It’s the Moroccan carpet that fans my flame for Arabian nights. It’s my strong and withered ‘Jane Eyre’ that reminds me of personal victory. It’s a beautiful old photograph of my young parents just about to embark on a life together, that strengthens the deep love I feel for my families’ traditions.

This is what pretty things mean to me. A reminder of that which I already possess. Happiness, memories of joyous times, family, art, love.

My home is a place of tranquility and stillness. In this house I went through some of my biggest changes yet, and especially my bedroom has significant meaning and memory attached to it. I take care of it and turn every common habit into a purposeful ritual. Because it helps me set good intentions for myself and the day ahead.

I make my bed every morning, smell the flowers on my bedside cabinet, light scented candles, write in my journal, pray, and feel my deepest emotions in that room. I command strength and quiet my nerves. And even though there’s nothing of economic value, or even historic value there, it is of value to me.

When I wake up, I do so with a sense of joy and excitement. Even if I have to deal with difficult things that day, at least my start was a bouncy and happy one.

Sending you a bucket full of peace all the way from here to wherever you are,

Monique