I like to visit crowded, cluttered houses. Houses full of antiques and memories. Things a bit bizarre, often beautiful. Found. Gifted. Passed down from hand to hand, home to home.
Everywhere you look, your eye finds somewhere novel to land. You ask questions and uncover stories. Those white boxes with clean lines and Scandinavian wood can't hold a drippy candle shoved into a old Chianti bottle to this.
Never have two people's styles merged as perfectly as Joanna and Geoffrey's. Maximalist to their cores.