I live here with my husband, Max, and our three children: Attilio, 16, Romy, 14, and Cosimo, 4, our little surprise gift! We’ve been together for twenty-five years and married since 2005 — already an old couple. Max works in finance, and to follow his career, we’ve moved 13 times. First New York, then London, before coming back to Paris and having our first child.
As for me, I grew up in the Oise region, really in the middle of the forest. I always wanted to write, to be a journalist. Unfortunately, even though I spoke good English, it wasn’t possible for me to work as a writer in English-speaking countries. I then found a position in the watchmaking industry, within the Richemont group, where I was marketing director for many years.

In New York, we were 20 years old and repainted everything: windows, cupboards, walls. We’ve always loved color. And whenever we move… by the first evening, the four walls are repainted and the curtains are up! I’ve had a khaki bedroom, black doors, a burgundy entryway — it was the Farrow & Ball period! We always hung things on the walls, a mix of personal photos and flea-market finds. That’s what we did here too, especially in the hallway. I’ve never been able to stand “passage spaces”; a place has to feel alive. Even when we thought we’d stay somewhere only briefly, we always behaved as though we were settling in for twenty years.

When Max was transferred to Paris, I left my job to follow him. I suddenly had to rebuild everything and told myself, “This is the moment to try. I have nothing to lose.” Since I knew the watchmaking world well, I started writing for Montres Magazine. Then I expanded: jewelry, menswear, children, weddings, women… I became a freelance writer and now I produce content for brands. I’ve been freelance for sixteen years now. And it was also that year, in 2009, that Attilio was born.

No. We went back and forth between Paris and London and stayed near Avenue Marceau. We rented this place eight years ago, thinking we’d only stay for a year — just long enough to finish renovating an apartment we had just bought. Then lockdown happened. We found ourselves in Ramatuelle, found a house we adored… and to finance that new project, we sold the apartment under renovation. We finished it hastily, sold it, and in the end never moved in. We stayed here. What was supposed to last one year has now lasted eight!

I painted the hallway green, put down carpet, added woven straw — from Bineau, I think — in the dining room. It gives a retro, slightly Mad Men, very 1950s feel, while bringing warmth. It’s a family apartment, with a bedroom for each child. Then we closed off the double living room to create Cosimo’s bedroom. I was afraid it would be too exposed, right off the entrance, but on the contrary, it’s wonderful: Cosimo has become a child who sleeps well — and everywhere! Finally, we added our stamp: thrifted pieces, photos, objects on the walls.

We just returned from India, which we visited during our last holidays. We found small miniature paintings and boxes there, which now sit in our living room. There’s also a mask from South Africa, vintage armchairs, small lamps… In Ramatuelle, we thrift constantly — especially at the Jas des Robert, an amazing flea market. I think that if you look for something too specifically, you never find it: you just have to go and see what shows up. We are always on a treasure hunt. These objects create atmospheres; they contribute to the feeling of having lived somewhere for a long time. Mixing pieces gives a place a soul. I have paintings by my grandfather, who was a postmodernist in the 1970s and 1980s.

Not really — my father was a wine merchant, passionate about gastronomy and very attentive to detail, and my mother was a homemaker. After my parents’ divorce, my father moved into another house — inherited from my grandfather — decorated in a very 1970s spirit, with leopard sofas. He had incredible taste: rather British, with checks, beautiful fabrics, cushions everywhere. He was an inveterate bargain-hunter: he spent his life in auction houses, especially at Drouot. There was always a chest of drawers, a bronze, or a trinket arriving at home. At the time, I hated following him there, but I realize today that I inherited that taste completely. Very young, when I came to Paris to see my siblings, I already went to flea markets looking for jeans or vintage jackets — long before it was trendy. As for my grandfather, he could do everything: build, sculpt, paint. He even had a ceramic kiln. He died when I was little, but I’ve always felt a strong bond with him, a kind of instinctive admiration. I can’t do things as well as he did, but I am creative, and I like to think I inherited a small part of him. With my brand and my videos, I feel like I’m letting that creative side express itself.

We’ve always put up beautiful curtains, even in rentals. People thought I was crazy: “Why spend money on an apartment you might not stay in?” But for me, curtains transform a place. Here in the living room, they’re India Mahdavi, very sixties. The cushions come from all over: some from the Saint-Tropez market, made by a vendor who reuses vintage fabrics, also from the 1960s. I adore that era: Citroën DS cars, lacquer, tulip bases, formica. As a child, I watched many Louis de Funès films — they fascinated me; I immersed myself in that visual world. Today, many interiors are very minimal, very The Row. It stresses me out.

The

, which I adore. It looks like a flying saucer — very flat — but the draped effect gives it volume. It occupies the space in an incredible way.