2014 is over and despite feeling like I was going to lose my mind, I’ve come out the other side relatively unscathed. If you count losing some of my hair and having a serious teeth grinding problem unscathed (ignore the wig and mouth guard if you run into me, ok?). I made another book, Bohemian Modern and judging by the picture below, I am so pleased with it that I want to eat it.
But seriously, 2014 was a pretty nutty and stressful year for me. In March I said yes to both a new book deal and a new job. I thought I could somehow do a very challenging full-time job for Anthropologie at the exact same time as travelling Europe to make this book and oh yeah, be a mum to a teen and pre-teen. Add to the mix the death of my dad in March, and you’ve got a pretty intense year.
But here we are in February 2015, almost a year later and I didn’t get fired from Anthropologie (in fact, they extended my contract to continue working on other projects), my publisher just sent me a big stack of books that I’m really proud of, my kids are still talking to me, and my husband hasn’t left me, despite me being a pretty unpleasant person to be around for the past year. So I think it was worth it.
Bohemian Modern has so much of what I love in interiors: colour, pattern, textiles, plants, originality, creativity. It’s not all kilim rugs and dream catchers as you might expect from a book about bohemian interiors. I featured a number of different styles including a traditional barn on the windswept coast of Morocco, a Victorian loft in Tottenham, London, a huge converted mechanics garage near Amsterdam, and a grand town house in Ghent, Belgium. All very different from each other, all unique, and all occupied by creative rule breakers, doing interiors their own way.
I really hope you enjoy it. I’d love to hear your feedback. If you do choose to buy it, I encourage you to support your local bookshop.
A sneak peek of a few of my favourite spreads.
And my house below, including the sofa where I currently sit. The real world styling of the sofa upon which I am now sprawled features the little photographed hot water bottle/ pajamas/piles of papers/used coffee cups scene. Oh sorry, did you picture me sitting here typing in leather jeans and red lipstick? Talk about bursting your bubble, right?