In the wake of Mother’s Day, and having a been mother now for a monumental 18 months, I’ve come to realise I have been heavily influenced by my mum in so many aspects of my life, and more so than I realised.
My mum is a very houseproud person. She, like Monica from Friends, has 11 categories for her towels, hoovers the hoover and cleans the cleaning bottle (a trait I didn’t acquire – damn!). My mum was always decorating and took great passion in it but was severely colour blind, so would take her “baby” along to help her. Introducing moi, only I wasn’t a baby, I must’ve been anything from aged 10 onwards at the time.
Our Saturday mornings were spent at Fishpools choosing wallpapers or John Lewis collecting swatches for furniture. I was her wingman, or her personal interior designer, I like to think.
But it was during this time that I developed an interest for the home, decor and all the furnishings to boot. However, I didn’t realise it until I moved out and got my arse down to the Next sale (they’re really good!). I spent a few hundred quid on loads of bits and pulled it together really well. My friends were in awe and would come and stay, and it went from there.
I soon met my Frenchie, we bought a flat in Clapham and completely gutted it out, new pipes, electrics, the works. And that’s where I learnt the beauty of a blank canvas. In every home since, I’ve been passionate to put my stamp on it, and make it ours. As I believe every home should tell your story.
Our story is still unfolding, and my passion for the home still evolving. So who know what I’ll be into next. One thing I do know is that it all started twenty years ago as my mum’s accomplice. Where she fell short, I stepped in to help out. And now, having a bubba of my own I’m often the one who’s falling short, (or having meltdowns of exhaustion), and boy is my mum ready to step in and help out. Merci Maman!