Hi, I'm Katherine,

Interior designer, interior architect and someone who has probably spent more than 20 years asking “but why?” about spaces.

I notice things.

How people move through a room.

Where everyone naturally congregates.

The awkward route nobody questions anymore.

The chair nobody actually sits in.

The cupboard that’s technically full of storage but somehow stores nothing useful.

I’m interested in all the little clues that tell us why a space works or why it doesn’t, and looking back, I probably should have realised much earlier that I’d end up doing something like this.

Looking back, it all makes rather more sense than it did at the time.

I never had one big moment where I suddenly decided I’m going to be an interior designer. It was more like a collection of things I’d always been drawn to gradually started joining themselves together.

I loved making things — and still do.

Drawing.

Art.

Understanding how things work and how they’re made.

I could happily wander around historic buildings looking at how they were put together, how people used them and why spaces built at different times feel so completely different.

Then came theatre and set design, where you learn pretty quickly that a space can’t just look good. It has to work from every angle for the people actually using it.

Eventually, after a conversation with my DT teacher, Interior Design became the obvious direction, although I suspect everyone else may have seen the pattern before I did.

More than 20 years later, I’m still asking why.

I’ve been working across architectural and interior design since 2004, across residential, hospitality, commercial and retail projects, luxury care and boutique hotels.

I’ve worked on the creative side, the technical side and all the fiddly bits in between.

I’ve drawn details.

Surveyed buildings.

Specified materials.

Worked alongside joiners, lighting designers and contractors.

And solved problems on projects where there really wasn’t much room for getting things wrong.

So I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about why a space works — not just what it looks like.

And all of that has shaped the way I look at homes now.

I'm naturally curious.

I like joining the dots. Puzzles. Things that don’t quite make sense.

I notice details, and I ask why - probably more than is strictly necessary. Which, it turns out, is quite useful when you’re trying to work out why somebody has rearranged the same room six times and it stilldoesn’t feel right.

It’s probably also why I’ve become a bit of a Design Detective.

I don’t want to jump straight to the answer, I want to understand the clues first.

That curiosity means that when I walk into your home, I’m not only looking at whether the colours work together or whether we could fit a bigger sofa in. I’m looking at how you live there.

Where everyone dumps their things when they come through the door. Which spaces naturally get used and which don’t.

Where you’re forever walking around something. What happens when everyone’s home at once. What you’re trying to make the house do now that it simply wasn’t designed to do.

And yes, I’ll notice the beautiful possibilities too.

But before deciding what your home should become,

I want to understand the life it needs to support.

Because a home isn't a hotel, showroom or mood board.

It’s where your actual life happens.

And that’s the bit I really care about.

I want your home to work for the life you’re living now, not the life you had five years ago.

Not the imaginary version of your family that somehow keeps the kitchen immaculate, and not the room that looks beautiful in a photograph but is impossible to actually live in.

Your home should support you, reflect you and make sense for the people who use it.

And yes, I want it to look beautiful too.

Because function and feeling aren’t separate things.