What My House Actually Looks Like (And Why I Don’t Keep Everything)

Vintage pieces that have worked their way into everyday life around the house.

I get a lot of questions about what my house must look like.

People assume that because I run a vintage shop my house must be overflowing with collections. I hear things like:

“How do you stop yourself from keeping everything?”
“Your house must be like a museum.”

The truth is a lot less dramatic.

I don’t really collect anything.

Over the years I’ve settled into a pretty specific style for our home, and while I handle a lot of beautiful pieces through the shop, most of them are purchased with someone else in mind. Usually you.

Our house is actually pretty calm visually. I’m a neutral person when it comes to interiors. Muted tones, simple materials, and then the color comes from a few places that naturally bring life into a room: vintage rugs, artwork, and plants. Lots of plants.

At this point the anchor pieces in our home are pretty set. The sofa isn’t moving. The dining table has earned its place. What changes over time are the smaller things: something on the mantel, a lamp that catches my eye, a plant stand that solves a problem I didn’t know I had.

Those are the pieces that move in and out.

Recently a few things made their way home with me.

One was a ceramic vase that caught my attention because of its shape and color. Later I learned it was a piece of Royal Haeger pottery. It ended up on the mantel holding a few plant propagations next to a single copper candlestick from a pair I found.

On the other side of the mantel sits an onyx vase with a beautiful mix of colors. I’ve sold pieces like it over the years, but this one spoke to me enough that I decided to keep it.

There’s also a vintage cake tin nearby and a duckpin bowling ball that came from an estate sale years ago. That one stayed simply because it makes me smile every time I see it.

In the dining room I recently added a small nesting set of burnt bamboo plant stands. That room gets fantastic afternoon light, and raising the plants off the floor helped the whole space feel more balanced.

Interesting objects tend to gather and create their own stories over time.

A few other pieces have worked their way into everyday life around the house too.

A 1940s phone and ringer box now sit on my desk. A small Tiffany-style lamp joined a vintage globe and a plant in our home office. And a sweet little Art Deco-style lamp landed on the buffet in the dining room.

None of these were grand decorating decisions. They were just things that felt right when I brought them home.

Everything else in our house is thrifted or vintage too. I definitely walk the talk when it comes to buying secondhand.

Lately I’ve also been thinking about a bigger question: why we care so much about our homes in the first place.

Why do we spend time arranging things, moving objects around, and trying to make a room feel right?

Part of it is probably instinct. Humans have been adorning themselves and their surroundings for thousands of years.

Part of it is about comfort. Our homes are where relationships happen, where people gather, where everyday life unfolds.

And part of it is about expression. The things we choose to keep around us quietly say something about who we are.

I think most homes end up being a mix of all of those reasons.

The goal isn’t perfection. It’s simply having a space that feels good to live in, a place where you’re comfortable inviting people over, and where the objects around you carry a little bit of story.

Most of our house stays pretty neutral. The color usually comes from plants, art, and a few vintage pieces.

Maybe one day I’ll do a full house tour.

But let’s be honest.

Who has time to clean that much?