Image: Nicole Morell Interiors
My perfectly imperfect entry. It's a scant 5 feet wide and maybe 6 feet long. It sees a lot of action when three kids come tumbling in the door with their backpacks, jackets, hats, and shoes, shoes, shoes.
We don't have the luxury of a second entrance or - my stars - a mudroom, so we ask a lot of this little space. It takes some doing to keep it tidy. Truthfully, my kids loathe digging through baskets for their shoes, but I hate shoe piles so the basket stays in summer. In winter a big boot tray sits beneath the bench.
Yes, I would love a sleek console table and a huge round mirror with a perfectly aged Persian runner underfoot, but...reality. That runner wouldn't last a month. Without a perch to sit and put on shoes the walls would have more hand prints than they already do. And the tiny coat closet would be maxed out if we eliminated the wall hooks.
I've come to believe, strongly so, that a house has to feel right to the people who live there. When we focus only on how a space looks - or how we think it should look - and forget about how it feels we miss out on the part that makes our home lovely, comfortable and inviting.
My place isn't perfect. That's OK. It feels good to be here.