Welcome to my home.
I love colour.
I wish I was one of those chic Parisian types who thinks purely in monochrome, but alas, that’s not me. Although I do occasionally sport the tortured artist look in all black with red lips, my home is a riot of different shades. It’s my firm belief that a home should perfectly reflect its inhabitants and express who they are, and I feel very strongly that that is exactly what my habitat does. I’m very lucky that the man I share my home with has no qualms about painting the kitchen wall dark grey, or toying with the idea of a turquoise front door. It’s not cost a pretty penny either. Almost everything has been lugged home from a boot fair or charity shop, won for tuppence on eBay or sourced in the sales. The priciest possession would be the 1957 Wurlitzer jukebox, which we fell in love with whilst wandering through an LA flea market and promptly shipped across the Atlantic. It’s packed with Elvis, Dylan, Nancy Sinatra and The Beach Boys, and the fuzzy sound of its speakers fills the air and warms my heart.
Oh, to be a simple, level-headed lover of monochrome. I fear it will never be.
That Dorothy Gale was right. There’s no place like home.
Images shot with a Contax 645 on Ektar 100 film