The Power of a Home That Reflects Your Soul - La gazette #7
Hello friend,
Does your home restore you, or drain you?
You step into your house at the end of a long, exhausting day. You’ve spent hours giving your best—being sharp, responsive, efficient. Out in the world, everything demands something from you: energy, focus, time. But when you finally close your front door behind you… do you feel like you’ve come home?
For so many of us, the answer is unsettling. Instead of feeling embraced, our homes feel impersonal—just a place where we sleep, eat, and repeat the cycle tomorrow. The walls don’t speak to us. The spaces don’t comfort us. And, somehow, we feel just as drained at home as we do out in the world.
A home should be a place of restoration, not just function. It should reflect you—not a trend, not an algorithm, but your story, your memories, your dreams.
The moment I realized my home needed a soul
Growing up in France, I spent hours flipping through glossy interior design magazines. Every image showed pristine, architecturally perfect spaces—empty rooms with white walls, sleek furniture, and carefully placed objects of strange, unnamable shapes. These homes looked effortless, elegant, untouched. For years, I envied them. I thought this was the dream—a perfectly curated life in a perfectly curated space.
Then I had kids. Chaos unfolded. The mess arrived—objects broke, dust settled, tiny hands left fingerprints everywhere. And yet, past the mess, I saw something those magazines never showed me: life.
Those pristine homes I once admired felt hollow. They weren’t designed for comfort, for personal history—for belonging. They lacked warmth, layers, and most importantly, soul.
I began to look past the mess and saw something deeper: the objects and paintings that made my home mine. This coffee pot with a big red apple on it from my grandmother, a set of dice from my parents’ house, a Julia Manning’s print from an adventure in the Hebrides, a Vettriano’s painting from the time I met my husband. These weren’t just things; they were silent keepers of memory, each one carrying a story—reminders of who I was, where I had been, and who I still hoped to become.
And I realized that without them, I might lose sight of who I am—drifting in and out of spaces that didn’t truly reflect me.
Art: The Anchor of Your Home, the Keeper of Your Story
So many people chase perfection in their homes, hoping to create peace—but what if true restoration doesn’t come from perfection, but from connection?
This is where art transforms a space.
A painting isn’t just decoration—it’s a companion, a storyteller, a touchstone. Every time your eyes settle on a piece of art, it should offer something back to you: a moment of deep joy and beauty, a memory resurfacing, a sense of grounding.
The right painting anchors you in your space, reminding you: This is who I am. This is what I love. This is home.
Does your home reflect who you are?
If you feel disconnected in your space, it might not be the furniture—it might be the lack of emotion, of personal connection, of art.
Look around. Does your home tell your story? Does it restore you after a long day? Does it allow you to daydream, recharge, and feel like yourself again?
If not, maybe it’s time to surround yourself with art that speaks to you—art that fills your home with soul.
Thank you for reading,
warm hugs,
Marion V-W.