Arlington Street
Studio Apartment | Chicago, IL
This was my own space, my first apartment, which made it the most honest kind of design project there is. No client brief, no budget conversation. Just a small studio in a 1920s building that had once been a hotel, with all the character that implies: tall moldings, built-in display cases, rooms that felt like they had a history worth respecting.
My approach was the same one I bring to every project. I wanted the space to feel layered and collected — furniture, artwork, and objects that each had a reason to be there, gathered slowly rather than bought all at once. Comfortable enough to actually live in, but considered enough that the design still showed through. A clean-lined piece next to something ornate and worn. Something old earning its place beside something new.
The building had real bones, but a few details hadn't aged as well as the rest. The kitchen cabinetry, a golden oak, in a tiny galley, didn't belong alongside the white walls and molding that ran through the rest of the space. I convinced my landlord to let me paint the cabinets white, add some proper hardware, and swap out the standard periwinkle walls for a warm white. It sounds like a small thing. It changed everything.