My absolute favorite movie from ages 2 to 8 was the 1939 classic The Wizard of Oz. I have seen this movie more times than any other, having watched it on a daily basis for six years straight. Much later I learned that the movie was a political metaphor, and also upon an adult viewing realized how terrifying parts are, but as a kid, I just simply loved it. The message sank in, because the older I get, the more I feel there's just no place like home. I don't necessarily mean home in a physical sense. I mean home in that warm, relaxing place where you can kick back and take a beat, enjoy your family, maybe cook a meal, and escape the world for a bit. One point the film makes is that it's who's in it, not how it looks that makes a house a home. Kansas in black and white isn't exactly thrilling. But why can't home look more like Oz and still have those people you love? We're not in 1930's dust bowl America- in other words, it can.
Don't get me wrong, traveling is probably my favorite thing to do save design. My husband and I had quite the August adventure all in one trip: a beautiful wedding in the Berkshires, LA and a convertible drive up highway one, and family and beach time in Oregon. Blanket statement: everything was awesome. We always have so much fun together, but there's nothing quite like experiencing new places with someone. From the Hearst Castle to the mind-blowingly beautiful drive up the California coast to beach fires, we got to know parts of the country that were pretty unfamiliar to us both. I loved every second of it and cherish trips for the visceral change in scenery, inspiring and unfamiliar texture + color palettes + design, and of course the opportunity to learn new cultures and ways of living. I hope to always travel extensively, and often think about the next vacation right on the tails of the previous one. Maybe it's always looking for the new and the next, but I'd do anything to see every corner of this world. All that being said, on that last day in Oregon, I was absolutely ready for home, both in the physical and mental sense. Stepping through the doorway felt great.
I think that's one reason I love what I do and feel like it's an important vocation: to help people fulfill their ideal sense of home. This can be done on a shoestring or with crazy amounts of money and likely somewhere in between, but that sense of peace and soulfulness is undoubtedly the end goal. This sense also means wholly different things to different people. A job well done is when my clients feel that there's no place like their home, and they brought some of the rainbow back with them.