I didn’t set out to become an interior designer.

For almost twenty years, I worked in the press - first in Paris, then in London - as an editor and journalist. I wrote about fashion, culture, design. I interviewed people about how they lived, what they wore, what they built around themselves. I spent most of my career observing.

Looking back, it makes sense.

I was always more interested in the spaces than in the headlines. The rooms behind the stories. The way someone’s home revealed more than their answers ever could.

Paris shaped my sense of proportion. London taught me how to layer without fear. Los Angeles, where I now live, keeps me on my toes. The architecture changes from street to street — Spanish, mid-century, Craftsman, glass boxes perched on hills. It refuses to be one thing.

Design allows me to enter different lives again, just in another way. Each project begins with questions. How do you wake up? Where do you drop your keys? Do you cook? Do you host? Do you hide?

I look at circulation before color. I care about whether a door should exist at all. I think about how light moves across a wall at 5pm.

Beauty matters, of course. But so does function. A house has to work. When it does, you feel it immediately. People relax. They stay longer at the table. They move differently.

That part never gets old.

Alongside the studio, I write The Walkthrough, which feels like a continuation of my years in journalism — still observing, still curious, still interested in how people inhabit space.

I suppose I never stopped being a journalist. I just changed the medium.