Lately I have been thinking about the house I grew up in. It was built at the turn of the century, a tall brick semi, with black and white accents and a red door. We refer to it in my family as 'Sandy Lane'. This house was special for so many reasons, the most being that it was the only house that all 7 of my siblings and I lived in together, before the oldest ones fled the nest. It was my first home, and the only one I knew until I was 14.
When searching for inspiration for my home, I always recall that beloved house; although I know it wasn't the tall windows and doors, or the antique fireplaces that made this house special, I still am attracted to the Edwardian style.
My mum is a big believer in classics, the couch of my childhood was the Chesterfield. The first one I recall was a dark velvet green, later replaced with a more traditional brown leather. It's quite funny to think of how many memories one couch can hold: me and my sisters used to pretend the arms were horses, we'd be off riding in the country, or in an intense race; it was the haven for a sick child, and Christmas morning it held mountains of presents.
When we finish our basement, I plan on moving our lovely brown leather sectional down there, and replacing it with one of these.
There are just some things about my childhood I want to keep forever.