The Space Between What Exists and What Could

Growing up in Argentina, design wasn’t something reserved for magazines or showrooms. It was woven into everyday life.

Walking through the neighborhood, you’d pass a fabric shop, a woodworker, a metal shop. People were always creating. Materials weren’t tucked away behind warehouse doors. They were out in the open, becoming something new in the hands of skilled craftsmen. It was simply part of the rhythm of daily life.

At the time, I didn’t realize how much those experiences were shaping the way I would one day see the world.

Without even thinking about it, I learned to look beyond what something was and imagine what it could become. A bolt of fabric wasn’t just fabric. A piece of wood wasn’t simply lumber. Every material held possibility. Every object had the potential to tell a different story.

Years later, after moving to Arizona, my husband and I purchased a beautiful Spanish-style home. I knew exactly how I wanted it to feel. Warm. Layered. Timeless.

The problem was, I couldn’t find the furniture.

I visited showroom after showroom, hoping to stumble upon the pieces I had imagined. There was beautiful furniture everywhere, but none of it belonged in our home. It wasn’t that the pieces were wrong. They were simply telling a different story.

That was the moment my perspective shifted.

Instead of asking myself, “Where can I find it?” I started asking, “How can I create it?”

Working alongside a designer opened an entirely new world for me. I realized I didn’t have to choose from what already existed. I could begin with an idea, a feeling, and build something that had never existed before.

That experience eventually led me to become an interior designer myself.

Today, I still approach every project the same way.

Clients rarely come to me with all the answers. Sometimes they arrive with a Pinterest board. Sometimes it’s a photograph they’ve saved for years. Sometimes it’s nothing more than a feeling they can’t quite put into words.

For me, that’s enough.

Because my role isn’t simply to source furniture or select finishes. It’s to listen for the story they’re trying to tell, then imagine the space before it exists.

I’ve never believed a home should be limited by what’s sitting on a showroom floor. The most meaningful interiors begin with imagination. They begin by asking what could be, rather than settling for what already is.

Looking back, I realize Argentina gave me far more than an appreciation for beautiful design. It taught me to see possibility. To look at a space, a material, or even an empty room and imagine what it could become.

I think that’s where every truly remarkable home begins.