MAGIC KINGDOM
when the universe presents you with a big girl home in west town, and your inner leo latches onto the unobstructed sunrise and sunset views, maybe—just maybe—it was meant to be.
but make it your own.
a tucked away, black-on-black kitchen—uh huh. a work space with a woven leather banquette that sexily transitions for dinner parties and drum circles—but of course. a flying saucer-shaped, suspended fireplace—that, too.
and because it called out to you on the streets of brazil, a shaggy sofa made up of hundreds of strands of nylon rope for a little drama. then, turn an old closet into a “monkey bar” for serving up mixed drinks and never-ending conversations.
here, dirt, rocks and rebar from time spent building schools in tanzania become art. here, energy crystals and sentimental gifts fill in the gaps.
and up, up, up in the master, beyond a wall of breeze blocks that let the light in, a bed in the center of the room is draped in gauzy linen to remind her of camping under the stars with the massai.
settle in, girl. it’s time to let yourself grow.
