The Beauty of Less

I’ve just come back from a week in Greece, and one of the things holidays always remind me is how differently we experience the world when we’re truly present.

For a few precious days I focussed on spending my time with loved ones, slowing down and my senses seemed to wake up. I noticed the rhythmic, ever present chorus of cicadas rising and falling with the afternoon heat, the gentle lap of the sea against the rocks below our villa and that delicious sensation of a warm breeze on sun-soaked skin that makes every muscle in your body relax. Walking home up the hill after supper, the air carried the sweet, almost earthy scent of fig trees mixed with the salty brine of the shoreline. And the colours, faded turquoise shutters and crumbling pink walls popping against the white washed houses and everywhere there was blue – the Ionian stretching to the horizon, dissolving into the palest sky. It became a constant companion, following me wherever I went.

It reminded me how rarely I experience everyday life with quite the same awareness.

One evening we wandered into Fiskardo harbour, a place I first visited more than twenty-five years ago. The faded Venetian buildings remain as beautiful as ever, but the harbour itself has changed. It was filled with superyachts, each one seemingly trying to outdo the last.

I found myself wondering, not for the first time, when enough quietly becomes excess.

I have nothing against wealth. Quite the opposite. But sitting there, it struck me that the greatest luxury wasn’t moored in the harbour.

It was the sea itself.

The breeze.

The scent of wild figs on the walk home.

Swimming before breakfast.

Time with all six of us together.

It made me wonder how often we mistake more for better.

Returning home, I found myself thinking not about holidays, but about rituals.

How often do we make everyday life more complicated than it needs to be? How often we forget to slow down and appreciate the simple actions that make everyday life a pleasure.

I’ve been rethinking my skincare routine recently and, oddly enough, I realised it suffers from exactly the same problem. Somewhere along the way, looking after myself had become a procession of bottles, layers and decisions. Cleanser. Serum. Moisturiser. Sunscreen. Foundation. By the time I’d reached the final step, I often felt slightly flustered, a little sticky and vaguely irritated.

It struck me that perhaps the problem wasn’t my skin.

It was friction.

I’ve spent much of my career encouraging people to edit their homes. We live in a world that constantly tells us to add another cushion, another lamp, another layer, another trend. Yet the homes that make me feel happiest are almost always the ones where somebody has had the confidence to say less is more. Where They’ve left space for light, space for air, Space to breathe.

I began to wonder whether our daily routines deserve the same consideration.

Not because simpler is always better, but because unnecessary friction has a nasty habit of stealing our ability to enjoy the moment.

The truth is I am equally tempted to those miracle claims of reduced wrinkles, a tighter neck, smoother complexion as the next person. But the more products I added, the less inclined I was to do any of it. So in the pursuit of true honesty I’ll confess that that LED face mask lies lurking, collecting dust in a cupboard and that expensive exfoliant, used once or twice in early enthusiasm now sits unused in the bathroom cabinet.

Then it suddenly dawned on me… What if the answer wasn’t another product, but one less?

Genius. Such a simple thought and annoyingly It hadn’t really occurred to me before.

Instead of layering one product on top of another until I felt overwhelmed, what if I simply chose one product that did two or three jobs well?

It reminded me of something I’ve always believed about interiors.

The calmest rooms aren’t really about being empty, they’re the ones where everything has earned its place. As William Morris said… "If you want a golden rule that will fit everything, this is it: Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful."

Perhaps our bathroom cabinets should feel the same. Perhaps our wardrobes should too. Perhaps even our calendars.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve become far less interested in owning more and much more interested in understanding what is enough.

Enough products.

Enough furniture.

Enough commitments.

Enough noise.

The irony is that reducing things often gives us more.

More time.

More clarity.

More pleasure.

More chance of actually following through with the habits that matter.

I’m still refining my own skincare routine. There are bottles on the shelf I’ll finish before deciding what truly deserves to stay. But I’ve realised I’m no longer searching for the perfect routine.

I’m searching for the one I’ll happily keep doing.

Because good design has never really been about adding more.

Whether we’re talking about a sitting room, a bathroom cabinet or the way we begin each morning, I suspect it begins in exactly the same place.

With the quiet confidence to edit.

Calm doesn't always come from making big changes. More often, it begins with one small, thoughtful moment.

That's exactly why I created One Calm Moment — a simple guide to help you see your home differently and discover how small changes can have a surprisingly powerful effect on the way you feel.

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