7 Mothers on What Grounds Them at Home

There's a particular kind of tired only mothers know.

Not the tired of a hard day at work. Not the tired of a bad night's sleep. The tired of having held everyone emotionally, logistically, and lovingly while still trying to hold yourself. The tired that doesn't end at 5 p.m. because motherhood doesn't clock out.

And every Mother's Day, we get told we deserve a spa day, with brunch afterwards, or a beautiful bouquet. Something pretty, wrapped up, with a card.

I love a bouquet. But this year, I wanted to ask a different question.

I wanted to know what holds us when the bouquet is gone. What roots us back into our bodies when the day has pulled us in seventeen directions. What's waiting at home - not as a luxury, not as a reward, but as a quiet, daily reset.

So I asked a small group of mothers I admire one question:

What's one thing in your home that grounds your nervous system at the end of a long day?

The answers came back tender, honest, sometimes funny, always specific. None of them said "a spa day." All of them said something about home. And reading them together, I realized our homes are doing more for us than we give them credit for.

Here's what they said.

"It's not even just the end of the day. It's all of the times."

Nicole Peraino, mortgage broker & advisor, mother of one fun toddler | Philadelphia, PA.

Nicole's answer caught me off guard in the best way. She named what every mother knows but rarely says out loud: the nervous system isn't just frayed at night. It frays all day long.

For her, the things that bring her back are small and specific. Photos of her daughter, her family, her wedding day, her newborn arranged in a collage her husband hung with care. "They look really nice. Beautiful memories," she said.

There's a viral wave-projection light next to her yoga mat on the third floor. She turns it on before bed and lets the soft motion settle her mind.

And then there's the espresso corner in her kitchen with an espresso machine, coffee beans, a little faux plant, a setup for making lattes with steamed milk and latte art.

"It's a cute little coffee station," she said. "That brings me a little bit of joy and happiness."

Reading her answer, I noticed something. None of Nicole's grounding objects are the room everyone admires when guests walk in. They're a wall of photos. A light. A coffee corner. Chosen. Placed. Within reach.

Home grounds us through the small, intentional things we put within reach.

---

"Having us all together is where I feel most grounded."

Suzette, co-host of Raising Kids, Raising Glasses podcast, mother of two.

Suzette's answer wasn't about an object at all. It was about a moment.

"At the end of a long day, what grounds my nervous system most is simply being present with my boys. The noise slows down, the phones go away, jazz music is usually playing in the background, and it's those little everyday moments together that bring me back to center."

"And when my husband walks through the door, seeing the joy on his face when he sees all of us together — that's my dream come true."

I read this and had to pause.

Because what Suzette is describing isn't really an evening routine. It's a home that has been arranged, intentionally or not, to hold a family's coming-back-together. The jazz playing. The phones away. The kids close. A home that has been quietly designed so that when her husband walks in, the first thing he sees is togetherness.

That's not an accident. That's the work of a woman who knows what her family needs to feel like and has built her home to deliver that feeling, on repeat.

Home grounds us when it has been arranged to hold the moments that matter most.

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"Lavender. Eucalyptus. Lemon. Rosemary."

Eureka, physician assistant, mother of two | Havertown, PA.

Eureka's answer was the shortest of the long ones. And maybe the most precise.

"One thing that grounds my nervous system when I get home is turning on my diffuser and using calming essential oils like lavender, eucalyptus, lemon and/or rosemary for a fresh, clean scent."

There's something I love about a woman who works in healthcare choosing scent as her reset. She knows what the body actually needs. Lavender lowers the heart rate. Eucalyptus deepens the breath. Lemon and rosemary lift the fog of a long day.

She walks through the door, turns on the diffuser, and with one small ritual changes the air.

Scent is the fastest sense to reach the nervous system. Faster than sight. Faster than sound. It bypasses the thinking brain entirely and lands in the part of the body that decides whether or not we're safe yet.

A home that smells like calm tells the body: you can put it down now.

The Belfong Candle Collection. Hand-poured scent for the rooms that hold us.

This is one of the reasons I started The Belfong Candle Collection because I came to believe scent isn't a finishing touch in a home. It's a foundation. The way a room smells decides how the room feels, before we ever sit down.

Home grounds us when the air itself has been considered.

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My family’s Friday night ritual: homemade popcorn with melted butter and Tajín Clásico Chile Lime Seasoning.

"Lights out, popcorn, no phones."

Sabine, founder of Georgette Marise Interiors, mother of 2.

For me, it's two things and they live in the same room.

The first is my deep-seated sectional in the family room. Deep. The kind of sofa you sink into. The kind of sofa where I take naps I didn't plan. The kind of sofa that has held more of my unwinding than any spa ever could.

The second is what happens on that sectional on Friday nights. Family movie night. Lights out. Homemade popcorn with melted butter and Tajín Clásico Chile Lime Seasoning (try it, it will change your life). The debate of whose turn it is to pick the movie always begins. My phone is put away. We watch as a family.

My son makes sure that if we miss it on a Friday, we have it on Saturday. He guards the ritual the way I guard our home.

Home grounds us when we let ourselves stop performing in it. When we let it be a place of rituals, naps, butter, and the people who know us best.

---

And then a few more women answered, and the conversation kept going.

Sherine, an attorney and mother of two, came home to her family room couch and a wall of photos:

"That area just decompresses me after a long day at work. I have a gallery wall on each side of the TV and I seriously find myself looking at the photos and feeling relaxed. Seeing all the photo shoots we've done."

The photos again. The faces of the people we love, framed and within reach. Twice now, mothers told me their families' photographs were what brought them back. Maybe the simplest grounding tool we have is being able to look up and see who we love.

Chinemelu, founder of Prodigy Peacebuilders Collab and mother of three, made me laugh out loud:

"It's definitely my back deck… and my front porch too… when the kids are inside"

A mother of three knows. Sometimes the room that grounds you is the one outside the room with all the children in it. I see this as a deeply intelligent act of self-preservation. A porch is a threshold. A deck is a doorway to the part of you that isn't anyone's mom. Every mother needs a square of square footage that's hers.

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“A Land Where There is No Worry.”

“A land where there is no worry." Ayinké Hipps-Feit · @itsaaries

Ayinké Hipps-Feit, singer/artist and design enthusiast, mother of one, took me upstairs into a renovated mid-century:

"I love to spend time on the 2nd floor of my home in my reading/music nook. We renovated a beautiful mid-century home. This is where I go to relax and unwind. This nook filled with books and records takes me to a land where there is no worry. Just music or a beautiful story to read."

A nook with books and records. No worry. I think about that phrase a lot. So many of us have homes that are beautifully decorated and yet contain no room where worry isn't allowed. Ayinké has built one. Every mother deserves one.

What I noticed reading all of these answers

Seven different women. Seven different homes. Seven completely different answers.

But underneath, the same thing.

None of these mothers named a showpiece. They didn't name the room everyone admires when guests come over. They named the family collage in the kitchen. The light next to my yoga mat. The jazz playing when the boys are home. The diffuser and the clean scent of a Tuesday. The deep sectional. The popcorn ritual. The gallery wall by the TV. The back deck. The reading nook upstairs.

The objects were specific, but the function was identical: each one was a quiet anchor, placed within reach, that returns the nervous system to center.

Some of these things were investments. Some were small. That's not the point. The point is they were chosen deliberately and placed in the path of a woman's daily life so that her home could meet her where she needed to be met.

That's the difference between a beautifully decorated home and a home that holds you. Decoration fills space. Design holds a person.

That's what I do for a living.

If your home isn't holding you the way you need it to, that's something we can change together.
Start Your Design Path →

A different kind of Mother's Day reflection

This year, instead of a spa day, I'd offer this:

Walk through your home tonight. Notice what already grounds you. The chair, the corner, the photo, the lamp, the smell of the candle, the bowl by the entryway table. Notice how much your home is already doing for you, quietly, without thanks.

And if there's one thing you'd want to add, tweak, soften, or rearrange so that your home holds you a little better. That's the most meaningful Mother's Day gift you can give yourself.

Because the bouquet wilts. The brunch ends.

The home is what stays.

To the mothers reading: I'd love to hear yours. What's one thing in your home that grounds your nervous system at the end of a long day? Comment below. I'm gathering responses, and there may be a part two.

Happy Mother's Day. May your home hold you the way you hold everyone else.

With intention and love,
Sabine

Why Your Home Should Make You Feel Something and How to Design for It

She spends her days holding space for other people. Listening. Regulating. Helping them feel safe enough to fall apart a little and then put themselves back together. And when I asked her what she wanted from her own home, she didn't hesitate.

"I need somewhere that does that for me."

She's a therapist. And like so many of the people I work with who give enormously in their professional lives, she had almost nothing in her home that gave back to her. Her screened sun room sat mostly unused and damaged from a house fire - bare, cold, empty of intention. It had good bones and incredible natural light. But it felt like a room that didn't know what it was for.

We changed that. And what happened next is exactly why I do this work.

Pretty is easy. Feeling is the work.

Every client I work with starts by telling me what they want to see. The aesthetic, the palette, the style. But somewhere in our first real conversation, they say the thing that actually matters. "I want to feel calm when I come home." Or: "I want a space that's just mine." Or simply: "I want to feel something here."

Those aren't decorating requests. They're a brief for how a room needs to function on a sensory and emotional level. And that is a completely different kind of design.

I always say: a well-designed space uses all five senses. Not as a gimmick but because that's how your body experiences a room. Your nervous system is collecting data from the moment you cross the threshold. The smell in the air. The quality of light. The sound - whether it bounces off hard surfaces and keeps you subtly alert, or gets absorbed into softness and tells your body it's safe to exhale. The texture under your hands and feet. The visual weight of what surrounds you.

When those inputs are working together intentionally, a room can make you feel calm, restored, held, or alive without you being able to explain exactly why. When they're random or accidental, a room quietly fights you. And most people spend years in that quiet fight, assuming the problem is them.

It is almost never them.

The therapist who needed her own retreat

When I walked through her home, the sun room told the whole story. The bones were beautiful screens on three sides, natural light pouring in from every direction, a direct sightline to the backyard where her kids played. But the space was empty in the way that unused rooms feel empty. Not just of furniture. Of intention.

She knew what she wanted it to feel like. Natural. Calm. Nothing busy, nothing competing for attention. A space large enough to breathe in, furnished with pieces that felt comfortable without being casual — structured enough to define it as a real sitting area, soft enough to actually rest in. She wanted the outdoors to be the backdrop, not something to block out.

That brief guided every decision. Weathered wood furniture with clean, generous lines that complement the natural light rather than fight it. Linen cushions in soft, quiet tones that don't interrupt the green beyond the screens. A jute rug that grounds the seating area and brings another layer of natural texture underfoot. Simple, intentional styling… nothing busy, nothing decorative for its own sake.

The result is a room that knows exactly what it's for.

Now she takes her client calls from that room when she works from home. She sits in it on weekend mornings with her coffee while the kids play in the yard. It's where she decompresses between sessions. It's where she exhales.

"This is my favorite room in the house," she told me. Coming from a therapist, someone who understands better than most what it means to restore yourself. That meant everything.

What this means for your home

There's a version of design that gets everything technically right and still misses the point entirely. The finishes, the square footage, the price tag - none of that is what makes a home feel like one. I've walked into houses finished with materials most people only see in magazines and felt absolutely nothing. And I've walked into modest spaces that stopped me completely because someone had designed them with real intention around how they needed to feel.

That's the difference I care about. Not the cost of the finish. The feeling when you walk in.

Before you think about a single piece of furniture or a paint color, ask yourself this: what do I want to feel in this room? Not what do I want it to look like. How do I want it to feel at the end of a long day? What does this space need to do for me?

Once you're clear on the feeling, every decision follows. The materials, the scale, the lighting, the texture, the scent all of it becomes intentional rather than accidental. That's the shift from designing a room that photographs beautifully to designing a room that changes how you actually live inside it.

Your home should be giving back to you. Every single day. That's not a luxury, it's the whole point.

Luxe Noir Reed Diffuser

→ Ready to design a space that actually works for you? Let's start the conversation. Begin your Design Path here.

11 Years of Georgette Marise

April marks 11 years of Georgette Marise… and sitting with that feels both grounding and a little surreal.

Recently, I went back through old brand photos, something I don’t do often enough, and I had to laugh a little. The hairstyles, the glasses, the outfits… every version of me thought she was doing her thing. LOL.

Some seasons I looked more polished, some I was clearly figuring it out as I went. But every version of me was building something. Learning something. Becoming.

And that part means a lot to me.

The Part People Don’t Always See

From the outside, interior design can look like a beautiful, curated career. Pretty spaces, finished rooms, styled photos. And yes, those moments are real. They’re rewarding in ways that are hard to explain. But what people don’t see is everything it takes to get there.

This work asks a lot of you.

It’s research - constantly staying on top of new materials, products, and innovations.

It’s understanding how people live, what they need, and sometimes what they can’t yet articulate.

It’s translating ideas into something tangible, functional, and deeply personal.

It’s presentation, problem-solving, pivoting when things don’t go as planned (because they won’t always).

It’s building systems, managing timelines, navigating challenges, and holding space for your clients throughout the process.

And some days, it takes everything - mentally, physically, emotionally.

There have been long days. Moments of doubt. Times where I’ve had to stretch beyond what felt comfortable and trust that I would figure it out.

But Then…There Are These Moments

When a home comes together in a way that feels effortless but you know how much intention went into every detail. When a client walks into the rooms in their home and exhales. When they say, “I couldn’t have done this without you. You got me.” That feeling never gets old. It’s still one of the most meaningful parts of what I do.

Looking back over these 11 years, I’m deeply grateful. For every client who trusted me. For every lesson, every challenge, every version of myself that kept showing up and choosing to grow. April feels like both a reflection and a reset. A moment to honor what’s been built—and to look ahead with quiet excitement for what’s next. Because I’m still evolving. Still learning. Still dreaming.

And still showing up 🤍

If you’ve been following along, supporting, or trusting me with your spaces, thank you. Truly.

Should I Stay or Should I Go? The Question Every Homeowner Eventually Asks

There's a moment I've witnessed more times than I can count.

A homeowner walks me through their home (sometimes proudly, sometimes apologetically) and somewhere between the front door and the back bedroom, they pause. They look around. And then they say some version of the same thing:

"I love this house. But I'm not sure it loves me back anymore."

It's not a real estate question. It's not even really a design question. It's something deeper, a feeling that the place you've built your life inside has quietly stopped fitting the life you're actually living.

As an interior designer, I've spent years helping homeowners in Southeastern Pennsylvania and beyond figure out what their rooms need. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's this: the question of whether to renovate or sell is almost never just about the house.

The Crossroads Nobody Prepares You For

We talk a lot about the financial side of this decision. Square footage. Comparable sales. Renovation ROI. And yes, all of that matters. We'll get there.

But before the spreadsheets, there's something else going on. There's the Sunday morning you spent scrolling Zillow even though you told yourself you weren't looking. The contractor quote that made your stomach drop. The neighbor who just sold for a number that made you wonder. The guest room that became a storage room that became a symbol of everything you meant to do but didn't.

The crossroads is emotional before it's financial. And if you try to make a purely financial decision about something this personal, you'll either talk yourself into the wrong choice or talk yourself out of the right one.

So before we talk numbers (and we will) I want to start where I always start with clients: with the feeling.

What Are You Actually Tired Of?

This is the first question I ask. Not "what do you want to change" — but what are you tired of.

There's a difference. Tired of the kitchen layout is a renovation conversation. Tired of the commute, the school district, the neighborhood that used to feel like yours…that's a different conversation entirely. No renovation fixes a zip code.

When I sit with a homeowner and really listen, one of two things tends to emerge. Either they're tired of specifics: the dark hallway, the master bath that never got updated, the open floor plan they thought they wanted but actually hate…or they're tired of something bigger. Something the house itself can't solve.

Getting honest about which one it is? That's the starting point. And it's harder than it sounds, because sometimes we convince ourselves we're tired of the house when we're actually just tired. And sometimes we convince ourselves we just need a change of scenery when what we really need is to finally make this place ours.

Georgette Marise Interiors

The Designer's Honest Take

Here's what I see from where I stand.

People underestimate what a home can become. I walk into rooms all the time that feel hopeless to the people living in them. Whether they’re too dark, too chopped up, too stuck in 2003 — and I see potential with the right intervention. Not a gut renovation. Not a second mortgage. Sometimes it's a wall coming down. Sometimes it's light. Sometimes it's just making decisions that were never made in the first place.

Renovating well is an act of intention. It's saying: I am choosing this home. I am investing in this life. I am going to make this place actually mine. When it's done thoughtfully with a clear vision, a realistic budget, and the right guidance it can be transformative in ways that have nothing to do with resale value.

But I also see the other side.

I've worked with clients who renovated because they couldn't face the decision. Who spent money updating a house they were never going to love because it was easier than admitting they'd outgrown it. Who finished the project and felt…nothing. Because the problem was never the kitchen.

A renovation can change a home. It cannot change what the home means to you. And it cannot change the life happening outside of it.

The Question Underneath the Question

In my experience, the homeowners who are most stuck at this crossroads aren't stuck because they don't have enough information. They're stuck because they haven't asked themselves the real question yet.

Which is this: What do I actually want my life to look like — and can this home support that?

Not the life you have right now. The life you're trying to move toward. The way you want to feel when you walk in the door after a long day. The space you want your kids to grow up in, or your parents to visit, or your mornings to unfold. The version of home that matches the version of yourself you're becoming.

That question changes everything. Because sometimes the answer is: yes, this house can be that with the right changes. And sometimes the answer is: no. And no amount of shiplap, paint, or wallpaper is going to fix it.

What Comes Next

This is exactly the conversation I want to have with you in person, face to face, over a cup of coffee.

On Thursday, March 26th at 10am, I'm sitting down at Maman (Suburban Square) in Ardmore, PA with Melissa Zimmerman, an interior designer and licensed realtor with Serhant for a free, intimate Q&A we're calling Renovate or Sell?

You get one question. We give it our full attention. No pitch, no pressure just two professionals who have guided a lot of homeowners through this exact crossroads, ready to help you think it through.

Melissa Zimmerman, Serhant + interior designer Sabine Hayes

We'll have free digital guides for every attendee covering real renovation costs at every budget level and the true cost of listing your home. And there's something else we're only sharing with the people in the room.

Coffee is on us.

If you've been sitting on a question about your home, this is your moment.

Ready to ask your question in person? Join us March 26 in Ardmore…it's free. → Reserve your seat

A Home Is Not a Performance

A Women’s History Month Reflection

Last month, I wrote about Paul R. Williams and the kind of luxury that endures.

His commitment to excellence.
His integrity.
His restraint.

And in that piece, I shared something I hear often from women:

“My house doesn’t feel personal.”
“I’ve saved a thousand Pinterest photos, but I’m still stuck.”
“I want calm… but I don’t know how to create it.”

Today, during Women’s History Month, I want to continue that conversation.

Because I’ve realized something deeper.

Many women don’t feel disconnected from their homes because they lack inspiration.

They feel disconnected because they are aiming for perfection.

The Magazine Illusion

We’ve been conditioned to admire the finished look.

The hotel aesthetic.
The styled coffee table.
The immaculate kitchen with nothing out of place.

And while there is beauty in finesse (in proportion, detail, and refinement) what we often forget is this:

A magazine is staged.
A hotel is transient.

A home is lived in.

When you try to replicate a space designed for photography or temporary stays, you can unintentionally erase the very thing that makes your home yours.

Perfection can feel polished.

But it can also feel impersonal.

A Home Is Always Becoming

Here’s the truth most design magazines won’t tell you:

A home is never finished.

It is layered over time.
It shifts with seasons of life.
It responds to growth, change, and new rhythms.

Instead of chasing a final reveal moment, what if you embraced the idea that your home is always becoming?

Not incomplete.

But unfolding.

The pressure to “arrive” at a perfectly styled space often keeps women frozen.

Waiting for the right sofa.
The perfect layout.
The final touch.

But beauty rarely arrives all at once.

It gathers.

Refinement Without Rigidity

When I think about the kind of luxury I believe in, the kind Paul R. Williams embodied, I think about restraint and integrity.

His spaces were detailed and refined.

But they were designed for living.

Luxury does not require sterility.

It does not demand that you hide your life.

True refinement makes room for reality.

It is possible to create a home that feels elevated and welcoming.
Curated and comfortable.
Structured and soulful.

The key is intention.

A thoughtful layout that supports how you actually move through your day.
Materials that age gracefully.
Layers that reflect your story, not just a trend cycle.

Finesse is not the absence of life.

It is the thoughtful framing of it.

What Makes a Home Feel Personal

It isn’t perfection.

It’s presence.

The art that reflects your heritage.
The books you return to.
The chair where conversations linger.
The table that holds both work and dinner.

Personality is what transforms a house into a home.

And personality requires permission.

Permission to shift things around.
Permission to edit slowly.
Permission to design in seasons instead of sprints.

A Picture of Possibility

Imagine walking into a room that feels calm not because it is untouched, but because it is aligned.

The sofa supports your posture and your lifestyle.
The lighting softens the edges of the day.
The layout allows your home to breathe.

There is refinement.

But there is also warmth.

Nothing feels staged.
Nothing feels forced.

It feels like you.

That is possible.

Not through perfection but through clarity.

This Women’s History Month

We celebrate women who built, led, nurtured, and created — often without applause.

Your home is no different.

It does not need to be a showroom to be worthy.
It needs to support your becoming.

And if you’ve been waiting for the “perfect” moment to design your space, consider this your permission to begin where you are.

Your home is not a performance.
It is a reflection.

And reflections are allowed to change.

The only thing they need is direction.

Because becoming doesn’t happen by accident.
It happens with intention and with a plan.

If you’re ready to move beyond inspiration and design a home that truly supports your life, this is where we begin.

The Design Path is my guided framework that helps you move from overwhelm to clarity aligning layout, function, and aesthetic so your home feels refined, personal, and deeply livable.

Not perfect.
But purposeful.

Explore The Design Path →

Because your home isn’t meant to impress the world.

It’s meant to support you.

With intention,
Sabine

Black Architects and Interior Designers Who Inspire Intentional Homes Today

During Black History Month, we often talk about supporting Black-owned businesses.

And that matters.

But this year, I want to talk about something deeper.

As a Haitian American designer, the daughter of a Haitian mother and Cuban father, I carry legacy in everything I create. I think about resilience. Craftsmanship. Hospitality. Story.

And I think about how Black architects and interior designers have shaped the way we experience home in America, often without recognition.

Because here’s the truth:

Our homes, the way they function, feel, and flow have been influenced by Black brilliance for generations.

Because design is more than aesthetics.
It’s about effective problem solving.
It’s about storytelling without words.

And as a homeowner, especially as a woman shaping the emotional tone of your home, if your home doesn’t feel aligned right now, that conversation matters.

Why So Many Women Feel Disconnected From Their Homes

Right now, many women tell me

• My house doesn’t feel personal.

• I’ve saved a thousand Pinterest photos, but I’m still stuck.

• I want calm… but I don’t know how to create it.

The real problem isn’t a lack of inspiration.

It’s a disconnection.

And that’s where history quietly guides us.

Let me show you what I mean.

Paul Revere Williams: Designing Luxury That Felt Livable

Photo Source: The Crisis, Vol 14 No 2, June 1917 (page 83)

The more I learn about Paul R. Williams, the more inspired I become.

Paul R. Williams was one of the most influential architects in American history, designing over 3000 buildings and homes in the Los Angles area. He was the first African American member of the AIA (American Institute of Architects) in 1923.

Blackburn Residence, Paul R. Williams, Architect 1927

Source: MichaelJLocke

He didn’t design for just one type of client. He designed affordable housing for everyday families and he also designed for Hollywood icons like Frank Sinatra, Lon Chaney, Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz to name a few. He helped shape the elegance of Los Angeles itself, including work on the legendary Beverly Hills Hotel, even contributing to its iconic signature identity.

His range alone is extraordinary.

But what moves me most is this:
During segregation, many white clients refused to sit beside him. So he mastered drawing upside down across the table, sketching detailed architectural plans while facing them.

The discipline.
The composure.
The excellence.

He didn’t allow exclusion to limit his excellence, he led with charm, class, and grace.

And here’s why that matters to you as a homeowner.

Paul R. Williams understood that design is not about status. It’s about experience.

Whether he was designing a modest home or a grand estate, his spaces felt balanced, elegant, and welcoming. They were elevated but livable.

That is what I mean when I talk about approachable luxury.

Not excess.
Not intimidation.
Not rooms you’re afraid to sit in.

And as women carrying full lives - careers, children, marriages, aging parents, dreams, responsibilities - we don’t need homes that perform.

We need homes that restore.

We need rooms that hold us with the same level of intention and care Paul R. Williams brought to every drawing - even when the world made it harder.

Luxury should feel like walking into a space that understands you.

Paul R. Williams designed with that level of care even when the world made it harder.

And that kind of intention is timeless.

Norma Merrick Sklarek: Structure Creates Peace

Norma Merrick Sklarek was the first Black woman licensed as an architect in both New York and California. She helped execute large-scale projects like the Pacific Design Center and the U.S. Embassy in Tokyo, complex buildings that required precision and mastery.

She was known not for flash, but for discipline.

For making sure bold ideas could actually stand.

We naturally gravitate toward the visible elements first…
the sofa that makes a statement.
the paint color that feel fresh.

They shape the aesthetic and bring personality.

But it’s the invisible decisions - spatial planning, layout, proportion, function, and storage that determines whether a room truly supports you.

As women, we often carry the invisible load of our homes. If the systems don’t work, we feel it first.

Norma’s legacy reminds me of something essential:

Calm isn’t accidental.
It’s engineered.

A peaceful home begins with thoughtful layout, intentional furniture placement, and functionality that supports your real life.

Beauty matters.
But structure sustains it.

Sheila Bridges: Cultural Storytelling Through Interior Design

Sheila Bridges is one of today’s most influential interior designers.

She took the traditional French toile pattern, long associated with European pastoral scenes, and reimagined it through the lens of Black life and culture.

She didn’t just design wallpaper.
She reclaimed narrative.

That kind of confidence in storytelling through interiors is powerful.

Design becomes powerful when it reflects lived experience.

Because here’s the quiet question many women wrestle with:

Does my home reflect who I am or who I think it’s supposed to impress?

Your heritage, your upbringing, your memories, your traditions - they deserve presence in your space.

Not in a loud way.
Not in a forced way.
But in a way that feels honest.

When design reflects your culture and lived experience, it doesn’t just look beautiful.

It feels anchored.

And anchored spaces create emotional security.

Designing With Intention in Your Own Home

Black architects and designers throughout history understood something profound:

Space shapes experience.

And you have the power to shape yours.

If your home feels disconnected right now, begin here:

Remove one item that no longer feels aligned.
Add one object that reflects your heritage or a meaningful memory.
Rearrange one room based on function before aesthetics.

Design is not about copying trends.

It’s about curating identity.

This Black History Month

But also recognize the deeper legacy, the architects and designers whose resilience and brilliance shaped how America lives inside its homes.

And then ask yourself:
What story is my home telling?

As women, we deserve homes that feel like sanctuary not performance.

Homes that are calm, multifunctional, and layered with meaning.

Homes that tell our story.

If you’re ready to create a home that reflects who you are becoming, I invite you to begin with clarity and purpose. The Design Path is where we begin →

2026 Is the Year of Personalization: Designing a Home That Tells Your Story

There’s been a quiet shift happening in the world of interiors.

Not louder trends.
Not more things.
But more meaning.

As we move into 2026, the luxury conversation isn’t about what’s new, it’s about what’s yours. Personalization is no longer a bonus; it’s the expectation. And I don’t mean monograms on everything or initials sprinkled throughout your home.

I mean pieces that don’t announce their importance but carry it.

The kind of home where someone can walk in and sense there’s a story here… even if they can’t quite name it.

Personalization Isn’t Obvious - It’s Intentional

I recently worked with a family on their lower level, a space designed to flex with real life. A place for kids to play video games and host friends, but also somewhere adults could relax, create, and unwind.

Naturally, we discussed a gallery wall. Their first instinct was family photos - which I love - but those already lived throughout the main level of the home. The lower level had a different energy. More playful. More “game night.” More personality.

So instead of defaulting to logos or sports memorabilia, I started asking deeper questions:

• What moments matter most to you?

• What would make you smile every time you walked downstairs?

• What memories feel joyful, not obvious?

That’s when it surfaced: one of their first dates was an NFL game.

Rather than hanging team logos, they framed replicas of those original tickets. To a stranger, it might look random. But to them, it’s layered - romantic, playful, personal. It honors their story while still fitting the space.

We layered in artwork from places they’re connected to as a family, added a changeable cinema-style letterboard for the kids, and suddenly the room felt like theirs. Not staged. Not generic. Lived-in and loved.

When One Image Shapes an Entire Room

Earlier this week, I had a consultation with a client whose home is already rich with personal touches - family photos, travel memories, meaningful moments.

In their bedroom, one enlarged photograph stopped me.

It wasn’t a traditional engagement photo. No poses. No faces. Just their backs, standing on a mountain, overlooking an incredible view in Norway.

That single image (rooted in nature, stillness, and connection) became the emotional anchor for the entire room. We’re pulling colors from it. Texture. Mood. It going to be our guide for the entire design of the room.

That’s personalization done well. One meaningful piece speaking louder than a dozen decorative ones.

Your Home Should Hold Pieces of Your Life

In my own home, there’s a gallery wall in the dining room that evolves but almost every piece carries meaning.

An old-world map of the West Indies, honoring where my parents are from.
A silhouette that’s iconic to my mother’s homeland.
A black-and-white oak tree photograph that reminds my husband of his grandparents’ farm and childhood summers in Virginia.
A sketch my daughter created on her iPad of my grandmother’s home, layered over an old photo.
And a framed scripture my mother hung in every home she ever lived in, long before I was born.

My mom has since passed, but that piece still anchors me. Every time I walk by, it feels like a quiet conversation.

That’s the power of personalization. It doesn’t fade. It deepens.

Designing Beyond the “Standard”

There’s nothing wrong with mass-produced artwork or beautiful decorative pieces. They absolutely have a place.

But when you combine them with:

• meaningful memorabilia

• travel memories

• heirlooms or reimagined keepsakes

• places you’re from—or dream of going

• things you collect or love

…your home becomes irreplaceable.

Luxury today isn’t about excess.
It’s about intentionality.

Your home should feel like you - layered, thoughtful, lived in. A place that doesn’t just look good, but feels right every time you walk through the door.

Until next time - à la prochaine,
Sabine

Thinking About Updating Your Home This Year? Start Here.

January is a quieter month - and for many homeowners, that’s when the questions begin.

The decorations are packed away.
Life slows just enough.
And suddenly, you notice your home again.

The sofa that worked in your last place but feels off now.
The empty walls you’ve been hesitant to touch.
The colors you love but feel unsure about committing to.

You might not be planning a major renovation.
But you are thinking.

And that’s where most meaningful design journeys begin.

“I Know Something Needs to Change… I Just Don’t Know What Yet”

If any of these thoughts sound familiar, you’re not alone:

• “How does one even work with a designer?”

• “I just moved and my old furniture doesn’t work in this house.”

• “I get overwhelmed by color.”

• “I’m scared to hang things and mess up the walls.”

These aren’t design mistakes.
They’re signs that you’re ready for clarity.

What most people don’t realize is that working with a designer doesn’t require having a fully formed vision or a big plan in place. In fact, many clients begin with uncertainty - and that’s expected.

Design Isn’t One Decision, It’s a Journey

One of the biggest misconceptions about interior design is that you either need to “go all in” or do it all yourself.

In reality, design support can — and should — meet you where you are.

Some homeowners start by asking questions and gathering information.
Others need help making sense of a new space.
Some want focused guidance before making decisions.
And some are ready to hand it over entirely.

At Georgette Marise Interiors, our services are designed to grow with you - whether that means starting small or eventually expanding into something more comprehensive. There’s no single entry point and no pressure to have everything figured out at once.

Calming home exercise room Design: Georgette Marise Interiors

The First Step Is Often a Conversation

If January feels like a season of researching, observing, and quietly asking yourself what could feel better in your home, that’s not hesitation - it’s preparation.

And sometimes the most helpful next step isn’t choosing furniture or paint colors.
It’s having your questions answered.

To support homeowners in this planning phase, I’m hosting a free New Year Design Q&A — a relaxed, no-pressure space to ask the questions you’ve been holding onto and gain clarity around what your next step might look like.

I’m keeping the session intentionally small (just 10 women) so it feels conversational and everyone has space to ask what’s on their mind.

We’ll talk about:

• How working with a designer actually works

• When it makes sense to start small versus go all in

• Common concerns around layout, furniture, and color

• Those moments of hesitation many people don’t talk about - like hanging things on the wall or committing to a decision

A Calm Place to Begin

You don’t need answers to join.
You don’t need a plan.
You just need curiosity.

If 2026 is the year you want your home to support your life more fully — with less stress and more intention — this is a thoughtful place to begin.

Pantone’s 2026 Color of the Year Is White…Here’s Why Designers Are Divided

A professional interior designer’s perspective on Cloud Dancer, color psychology, and cultural fatigue.

When Pantone announced Cloud Dancer, a soft white, as the 2026 Color of the Year, the design world reacted instantly. Some people were confused. Others joked that it looked like a “landlord special.” And some even tied the choice to the cultural and political climate.

While all of that commentary is interesting, I want to offer a different perspective — not political, not reactionary — but from the lens of a professional interior designer who lives and breathes color.

Let me start here:

I understand what white does. I respect its place. I just don’t believe it should be crowned the lead character of 2026.

And that distinction matters.

What Pantone Says Cloud Dancer Represents

Image courtesy of Pantone®

Pantone describes Cloud Dancer as a color that reflects:

• Lightness

• Simplicity

• Calm

• A desire for quiet and clarity in an overstimulated world

From a color psychology standpoint, white is associated with cleanliness, openness, renewal, and mental clarity. In a season of visual and emotional overload, a collective craving for calm makes complete sense. From that perspective, Pantone’s choice is logical.

But in design, logic and inspiration are not always the same thing.

My Honest Reaction as an Interior Designer

With a trained eye that studies undertones, saturation, contrast, and harmony every single day, my response was simple: I felt underwhelmed.

Not offended.
Not angry.
Just… uninspired.

We’ve already lived through:

• All-white kitchens

• All-white sofas

• Layered whites on whites on whites

• Neutral minimalism dominating interiors for years

White has been the backdrop of nearly every major design trend of the last decade. So when I heard “Color of the Year” and then saw white, it felt less like a bold declaration and more like the absence of one.

This particular shade, Cloud Dancer, feels:

• Sterile

• Flat

• Void

• Almost like the removal of color rather than a celebration of it

That emotional pause is what made me reflect more deeply on what Color of the Year is really meant to represent.

The Role of White vs. the Role of a Lead Color in Interior Design

White is powerful but its power has always been in what it supports, not what it replaces.

White:

• Gives the eye space to rest

• Allows other colors to shine

• Creates balance and contrast

• Acts as a visual transition

• Frames beauty rather than becoming the main subject

White is the pause between chapters in a book - necessary and peaceful, but not the chapter itself.

As a stand-alone “Color of the Year,” it feels like placing the spotlight on the background. And for a title that historically pushes creativity forward, this feels like a missed opportunity.

Why Color Matters So Much to Me

I don’t just see color as décor.
I see color as language.

Color is personal.
Color is cultural.
Color is emotional.
Color is memory.

My love for color was shaped by contrast - by movement between worlds.

On one hand, my heart lives in tropical, Bohemian design. I’m endlessly inspired by the Caribbean islands (my mother’s homeland) the richness of palm trees, the drama of banana leaves, the way greens layer into one another as sunlight filters through them. The Caribbean is never flat. It is saturated, alive, and layered with warmth and rhythm.

Georgette Marise Interiors vignette

On the other hand, I am a city girl at my core. I was born in Queens, New York and often spent time visiting my grandmother in her Manhattan home. The city sharpened my eye through Art Deco geometry, Art Nouveau curves, bold architectural ornamentation, metallic finishes, and contrast. New York taught me that color can be dramatic and commanding, even when restrained.

Between the tropics and the city, my design language was formed:

• Lush yet intentional

• Expressive yet structured

• Bold yet balanced

• Emotional yet refined

Nature remains my greatest teacher. The sky never shows up as one blue. The ocean never offers a single tone. Sunsets arrive layered, glowing, complex, and imperfect. I see nature’s palette as a gift, one we’re meant to experience with both our eyes and our bodies.

White isn’t where the story begins.
It’s where one chapter ends so another can start.

Interior Design Trends, Timelessness, and Color Fatigue

As an interior designer, I respect all styles - even the ones that don’t personally resonate with me. Minimalism has a place. Neutrals have their elegance. Restraint can be beautiful.

But Color of the Year is not about safety.
It’s about direction.

It’s meant to:

• Spark creativity

• Signal cultural movement

• Influence interiors, fashion, branding, and art

• Invite us into something new

Choosing white feels more reflective than forward-looking.

Right now, many homeowners are craving:

• Warmth

• Expression

• Depth

• Personality

• Life

Not just quiet.

My Professional Take on Pantone’s 2026 Color of the Year

Cloud Dancer isn’t wrong.
It’s just not bold.

It isn’t layered.
It isn’t emotionally complex.
It isn’t pushing the visual conversation forward.

I respect what white does.
I respect its place in interior design.
I use white constantly in my work.

I just don’t believe it should be the lead character of 2026.

For me, white will always be the supporting act that elevates the true stars of a color palette - not the star itself.

Ready to Create a Color Palette That Feels Like You?

If this conversation has you rethinking the role color plays in your home, you don’t have to navigate that shift alone. If you’re ready to move beyond trend-driven choices and into a color palette that truly reflects you, I offer a personalized e-Design Paint Color Suggestion Service designed to remove the guesswork and replace it with clarity and confidence.

Together, we’ll create a color direction that feels intentional, layered, and aligned with how you actually live in your space.

To learn more and get your personalized Paint Color Palette CLICK HERE.

A Home Filled With Gratitude

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite moments of the year to reflect on what makes a home feel calm, grounded, and full of warmth. As an interior designer, I’ve learned that the foundation of a peaceful home doesn’t start with the furniture or the paint - it begins with gratitude.

When we approach our homes with appreciation, our energy shifts. We start noticing what we love, honoring the small comforts, and designing with intention instead of urgency. A grateful mindset transforms the way we see our space, and this mindset naturally leads to a calmer, more harmonious home.

This year, I’m deeply grateful for my family, my clients - especially those who celebrated with me at my Anniversary Soirée and the partners and collaborators who supported my work. Each person has played a meaningful part in my design journey, and I carry that gratitude into every project.

Why Gratitude Matters in Home Design

A calm home is created from the inside out. When gratitude is present:

• You make clearer design decisions

• You select items that bring joy instead of clutter

• You let go of unnecessary things more easily

• You create spaces that support rest, connection, and well-being

Gratitude becomes the guiding force, and your home becomes a reflection of that peace.

Black Friday Sale — 30% Off All Digital Products

To celebrate the season, I’m offering 30% off all digital products through Cyber Monday. This includes:

• My home design e-books

• My curated color palette boards

Black Friday SALE - Shop all digital products (ebooks + color palettes)

What Is a Color Palette Board?

A color palette board is a designer-curated collection of paint colors that work beautifully together across an entire home.
These palettes are thoughtfully selected by me to help you:

• Create visual flow from room to room

• Choose colors confidently

• Reduce the overwhelm of selecting paint

• Design a cohesive, peaceful home environment

Whether you’re updating one room or refreshing your entire home, these palettes bring order, harmony, and unity to your design plan.

Shop Curated Color Palettes - 30% off until Monday

Final Thoughts

As you enjoy today—whether you're hosting, traveling, or relaxing—I hope you take a moment to look around your home with grateful eyes. Notice the small things that already make your space feel comforting and safe.

Remember: a calm home begins with gratitude

From my family to yours, Happy Thanksgiving.
Thank you for being part of the Georgette Marise Interiors community.