there’s no place like home

I have a thing about spaces. I think it stems from living in New York, and thus having none of it for quite some time. For awhile I hoped to pinpoint my own idea of apartment perfection. But it became an honestly endless catalog of textures, structure and colors. Before giving up completely, I managed to truncate it down into these two words: Apothecary chic.

Now that that has been explained, I want to crawl into this photograph and create a life for myself.


It probably didn’t help matters that I have a mid-century-esque chair obsession*.


Anyhow, the space is from  The Depository, a photography studio in North London, fittingly created from a 19th Century Depository. It boasts three floors, each with a distinct feel, an abundance of natural light, and an eclectic mix of furniture and props, which you can rent—or hire, as the Brits like to say.


Beams. Sigh. Wood floors. Swoon… if you’d ever seen my apartment you’d notice there is nothing apothecary about it—I think without some good wood it’s nearly impossible to pull off. Instead I’ve generally opted for a more color therapy approach to happy apartment living. But hopefully someday, with more space and budget, I’ll be able to create that leather chair, book filled, wood lined, light filled oasis in my dreams. Perhaps I’ll even snag the coveted Flemming family secret globe bar; A girl can dream.

* Thank you Mom and Dad again for my amazing Eames rocker!

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