A JULY 2025 EDITION

The clearest sign of intellectual chemistry isn’t agreeing with someone. It’s enjoying your disagreements with them. Harmony is not the combination of identical sounds. It’s the pleasing arrangement of different tones, voices, or instruments.
A good choir produces beautiful music. At first it seems like every member is doing the same thing. But in a choir you need bass, baritone, tenor, soprano, mezzo-soprano, and countertenor - voice ranges at different ends of the scale but the end product is harmonious.
Creative tension makes beautiful music.

Sited at the confluence of the Limpopo and Shashe Rivers, on the border of Zimbabwe and Botswana, the Mapungubwe National Park celebrates the site of an technologically advanced ancient trading civilization in the context of a natural setting. Its flowing, arched forms draw inspiration from the ancient dry stone walls of Great Zimbabwe, where craftsmanship and local material was sacred. Peter Rich didn’t just design with earth—he designed through it. By using rammed soil, low-tech vaulting, and local labour, the architecture becomes an echo of how our forefathers built: wisely, beautifully, sustainably.

There’s something spiritual in the repetition of arches and vaults throughout the centre. Daylight filters in softly, casting moving shadows over the earth-toned surfaces. The texture is raw, the forms ancient, yet the geometry feels modern. Rhythm and repetition aren’t about perfection- they’re about resonance. More of evoking a long lost memory.

I grew up in a rocky area—stone was everywhere, stubborn and beautiful. But oddly enough, 99.9% of everyone around me built with brick. Stone was seen as too "rural," too risky. Meanwhile in places like Nairobi and Nakuru, where soil is soft and rich, homes are built from cold, quarried stone. Come cold season, the chill settles in—stone doesn’t hold warmth, and of course, no one installs AC. It’s peculiar how often we ignore what the land offers, choosing instead to import discomfort. Mapungubwe makes me wonder: what would it look like to trust our terrain more? To design with it, not in spite of it?

This is what happens when every surface evokes an emotion. Curved leather headboards, handcrafted rattan baskets, pin-tucked throws, and clean-lined side tables—each piece speaks its own language. The woven mats, the layered linens, the deep browns and gentle creams. Creative tension makes beautiful music indeed.

Sometimes inspiration doesn’t shout from across the globe—it sits right at the corner of tradition and refinement. The details here—curved backs, striped upholstery, soft drapery—could sit in a Paris apartment or a Nairobi villa. And that’s the point. We’re allowed to love both. This edit is for the woman who’s grown beyond trends. Who knows that timeless design is about knowing what to keep, what to honour, and what to reinvent.

Sunlight streaming in softly, woven textures grounding the palette, the quiet beauty of well-made furniture. You’d be forgiven for thinking this was a home in Tigoni or Nanyuki. But it’s not. It’s a gentle reminder of what Kenyan design could look like when simplicity reigns

The rounded stools in Kanju’s collection are absolutely gorgeous. Sun-drenched cork, rough plaster, matte terracotta, volcanic blacks. Experience the fusion of artistry and sustainability with the Wiid Stacked African Cork Stool. These stools showcase the natural beauty of cork.

Is Functional, yes. But also playful. They blur the line between furniture and sculpture. For the woman who curates her home, these are objects that hold space with grace, finding an unexpected muse.

A softness in the repetition. Whether clustered around a dining table or staggered like stepping stones through a garden, these forms invite pause. They slow you down. And in a world that always asks for more, that might be the greatest luxury of all.

I got a referral client this morning who needs a podcast space designed—and now I’m deep in the spiral of inspiration-hunting. Just sitting with ideas, scrolling, saving, downloading… imagining how it might all come together. It’s that exciting, slightly nerve-wracking phase where nothing’s real yet, but everything feels possible. I have a love-hate relationship with this part, the quiet chaos before the design concept settles. Let’s see where it takes me.

With a new week comes a new studio obsession. This time, it’s not a fabric or finish—it’s a feeling. I’ve chosen a photo of African girls in their natural crowns; bushy, soft, free. Click the image above to feel the texture that’s inspiring us this July. Because sometimes, good hair is the mood board.
See you next week, internet buddy.