Creative tips

I used to think dining tables were just furniture—something you ordered online, waited three weeks for, and then crammed into whatever corner had an outlet nearby.

I used to think felt balls were just something you’d find in a craft store bin, the kind of thing people buy once and then forget about in a drawer.

I used to think painting geometric patterns on walls was something only people with engineering degrees could pull off. Turns out, the diamond pattern—those

I used to think paint was just paint—slap it on the wall, call it a day, maybe obsess over whether “Agreeable Gray” was actually agreeable.

I used to think mudrooms were just a fancy name for “that place where shoes pile up until someone yells about it.” Then I spent three months

I used to think concrete was just for sidewalks and brutalist architecture. Then I watched a friend mix a batch in her kitchen—wearing an apron, no less—and

I used to think painting stripes on a wall was something you did in a kid’s bedroom and then regretted for roughly a decade, give or take.

I used to think golf course properties sold themselves—the manicured fairways, the sunset views over the eighteenth hole, the promise of weekend mornings

I used to think magazine racks belonged in waiting rooms, gathering dust next to decade-old copies of Reader’s Digest. Then I installed one in my

I used to think all Nordic design looked the same—clean lines, white walls, maybe a sheepskin rug if someone was feeling wild. Then I spent three weeks