I have moved a lot. At four, from the US to Asia. At fourteen, back to the States. At eighteen, from Northern California to Southern California. Every move came with the same quiet task underneath the obvious one — not just finding a place to live, but figuring out what would make it feel like mine.
Home has never been a fixed coordinate for me. It has always been something built — slowly, intentionally, out of the pieces that actually mean something. That is as true in a rental as anywhere else.
This season, after a few months in my new place, things are finally clicking. The dining nook is almost done. The office has its own room now. And the rest of the home has come together through five things: paying attention to what draws your eye (research optional), making a considered investment, stumbling into a nostalgic find, sourcing vintage, and getting your hands a little dirty. Here is how it went.
01
The Smart Splurge: A Bed That Finally Let Color In
The story: Blue has always been my favorite color — long before it became the design moment everyone is talking about. There is something about it that soothes the nervous system in a way no other color does. It can be as bright and open as a clear sky or as deep and mysterious as the darkest parts of the ocean. Both versions feel like home to me.
In design, and honestly in life, it’s rewarding to lean into being playful and bold. More pattern, more texture, more color. Less safe. I had been eyeing a Nordic Knots rug in red as my entry point into something bolder, but the price kept it firmly in someday territory.
The find: Then SoftFrame Designs dropped their new Aqua colorway. Bold, unexpected, and at a price point that made the decision easy. I did not overthink it. SoftFrame was already something I loved — living in a two-story condo with limited space, their no-assembly, slips-over-your-box-spring design had been a genuine solution for me. The foam frame, the clean upholstered finish, the fact that it arrives ready to go — all of it made sense for how I actually live. Adding the Aqua to that equation, at a reasonable price point for what you are getting, just felt right. Bold in color, practical in everything else.
SHOP THE SOFTFRAME ULTRA BED SET IN AQUA
The specs: The SoftFrame Ultra Bed Set in Aqua — all-upholstered bed frame and headboard, built for actual living:
- 5-inch thick CertiPUR-US certified foam, upholstered in resilient poly-blend fabric
- No assembly — place the frame around your box spring, slide in the headboard, add your mattress. Done.
- Handcrafted and made to order in the USA, ships in 1–2 weeks
- Available in Queen and Eastern King, requires an 8–9 inch box spring (not included)
- A patented SoftFrame Designs exclusive
The result: Aqua changed the whole temperature of the room. Color is not decoration. It is mood, set on purpose. And beyond the visual — the soft edges and the firm headboard have been good to my rest. No sharp corners to navigate at 3am, nothing that feels cold or hard against the wall. It looks like a statement and functions like a sanctuary.
02
The Project: A Light Inspired by Italian Design History
The problem: Lighting shapes everything — the way shadows fall, where warmth pools, how a room feels at 7pm versus midnight. Most rentals come with the same overhead fixture: cheap plastic cover, harsh light, zero personality. The ceiling is part of your home too, and mine had become an eyesore. Which, as it turns out, is just another word for creative opportunity.
The inspiration: I have been drawn to soft shapes lately — things that flow, that diffuse rather than direct. Tobia Scarpa has been on my radar for a while: an Italian architect and designer whose work spans MoMA and the Louvre, and whose collaborations with Flos in the 1960s through 80s produced some of the most quietly iconic lighting in modern design history. I kept returning to the Celestia pendant on 1stDibs — chromed spokes, draped linen, light diffused the way a cloud does. Not a fixture so much as a soft architectural gesture. Also coming in at nearly $7K, which I knew wasn’t happening.
The process: Trial by error — which is also what made it fun. One trip to Michaels: linen fabric, fabric-covered buttons, granular bar glue. I measured where each button would go before starting, cut the fabric to circle, draped it over the existing fixture, and anchored it at intervals until it fell the way I wanted. No screws, no nails, nothing that would upset a landlord. Half a day, just under $60.
The result: Not a Tobia Scarpa light. Something more personal that softened the room and added a touch of warmth and elegance I did not know it was missing. Proof that the instinct behind great design can be borrowed and translated with a glue gun.
03
The Memory: A Painting Too Big to Be Sensible
The idea: My dad is my favorite artist. For a few years, we had a tradition of hand-painting Christmas postcards together — but I always wanted to make something we could keep. Art has always been a big part of my life, and I knew I wanted that reflected in my space too. When he visited earlier this year, the dream finally had a clear opportunity.
The process: We got a 40×60 canvas — almost the largest at the art store — which felt genuinely intimidating even just to carry home. My dad taught me what he always teaches me: stay in the moment and don’t overthink it. A few things I learned that are worth passing on:
- Pick 3–5 core colors you love and stick with them, at least for abstract work
- Do broad strokes — commit to the gesture
- Acrylic forgives you. You can paint over almost anything, and every layer you second-guess becomes part of the depth of the final piece
The result: Completely different from how it started — which was the best part. I may have guiltily painted over more of my dad’s marks than I intended to, but it is still a compilation of both of us. The shapes and strokes are unexpected in the best way, a record of two people fully in the moment together. Art is subjective, which means there is no pressure — just whatever comes out. And what came out is something that will mean something to me forever.
04
The Heirloom: Finding the Chair That Got Left Behind
The story: Flipping through our 90s Polaroid home pictures, I noticed a common thread — a beautiful statement chair. We had a Wassily chair in our home in Fremont. The Marcel Breuer design from 1925: tubular chrome frame, black leather straps, one of the defining icons of modernist furniture. Named after Wassily Kandinsky, who admired the prototype when Breuer was still at the Bauhaus. My dad worked in architecture. The chair made sense in our home then, and when I started looking for something that would make my rental feel more like mine, I found myself looking backward.
The find: Since moving, I have gotten really into Facebook Marketplace — the vintage finds on there are genuinely something. I went looking for a well-made reproduction in black, knowing it might take a while. But I tend to believe that when something is meant to be yours, it finds its way to you. And it did. My seller even delivered it — all the way up the stairs to my unit.
The result: Friends ask if it is comfortable. It is, actually — more than it looks. But that is not really the point. Not every chair needs to be sat in constantly to earn its place. Some things are there for what they hold emotionally. This one holds the first home my family ever had together.
05
The Character: A Vintage Mirror and an Old Habit
The inspiration: Not every piece needs a long backstory. Rentals can feel impersonal by design — cooler tones, sharper lines, nothing that feels like it chose you. Natural wood and vintage pieces have a way of warming a space immediately, and when I moved in I knew I wanted as much of it as possible. A mirror made sense too — the space is cozy, and mirrors have a gift for making a room breathe.
The find: Back on Facebook Marketplace. A vintage wooden mirror from a nearby neighborhood that seemed, again, to just find its way to me. One thing worth knowing if you go this route: solid vintage wood pieces can be surprisingly heavy — just be prepared for that part of the journey. Worth it though. It now sits casually on my floor, leaned against the wall, not trying too hard.
The habit: Making a space feel lived in is also about functionality — letting it serve how you actually live. I do my makeup on the floor. Have for years. The mirror propped low finally gives that habit somewhere to live, and honestly it feels more like me than a mounted mirror ever would.
What Actually Makes a Place Feel Like Home
None of this is a formula. Just what worked for this particular version of home, in this particular season.
A splurge that finally let color in. A craft project borrowed from design history with a glue gun and sixty dollars. A canvas that started as a moment with my dad and became something else entirely. A chair that found its way back to me. A vintage mirror that gave an old habit somewhere to live.
Home has never been one thing for me. It gets built differently every time. You do not need all the answers at once — just a few pieces that mean something, and the patience to let the rest follow.
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The home story continues and it’s not the first time we’ve talked about SoftFrame. Read where it started here and here.
More on renting, modular & sustainable furniture: You Don’t Have to Own It to Make It Yours: An Introduction to CORT and Eco-Friendly Never Looked So Good: Inside Sabai Design.
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