Long before that, I had gone to see Caroline in China. We even found a video of me proposing to her at 5 a.m. (laughs). “I’m 22, I want children, and you’re the woman of my life.” The next day, Caroline met someone else, with whom she stayed for seven years. I went back home and, two weeks later, I was seeing another woman… We lived like that for ten years! There was always something between us. The turning point came at the end of the pandemic. We were by the fire in the Perche, at a friend’s place. We shared a moment… a moment of grace.

It was 16 May 2020. Nine months later, I was pregnant.

I travelled a lot with my parents. We went on a world trip for a year and a half! I’ve always wanted to travel for my studies afterwards, but I never really could. My academic record often wasn’t strong enough! Luckily, I went to visit all my friends abroad, like Caroline.

I’m sure that one day we’ll be able to leave, that we’ll have a project. We don’t feel like living elsewhere for now. On the other hand, our travels often happen through work. For example, every year we go to Morocco because I take part in an artist residency there for a project I’ve been continuing over the years. So I’m certain of it: one day we’ll have a project that allows us to collaborate together, somewhere far away, and we’ll have to take the whole family with us. We might leave for six months or a year, and Hugo will be able to realise his dream!

I was born in Rueil-Malmaison, in the Hauts-de-Seine. After that, I lived in Suresnes and Saint-Cloud. That’s where I met Hugo, at the Collège Émile Verhaeren in Saint-Cloud. At 16, I moved to the 17th arrondissement of Paris with my mother. And at 18, I left to live abroad. At home, there were lots of books and paintings, but no particular style that I can identify myself with. We weren’t especially taken to museums either. Art is really something I went out and searched for. It’s a need, almost a matter of survival. The love of beauty that I put into my paintings is a necessity. Earlier I was talking about mental wellbeing. For me, it depends on reclaiming what surrounds me and making it my own truth.

I grew up in the west of Paris, in the Yvelines. Then I went to school in Saint-Cloud. My father worked in advertising. Every Sunday, he would take us to museums and the cinema. It was my parents who gave me a sense of aesthetics, a taste for beauty, and particularly for design. They built a remarkable house over three years—quite unusual, almost like a huge loft. I used to go to the site meetings, and that’s really when I realised: this is what I want to do.

We were already living in the neighbourhood. Friends of ours lived in this apartment and decided to sell it in order to find somewhere bigger. A stroke of luck! Before that, when we were looking for our previous home, Hugo had suggested I consider Saint-Ouen. I hesitated for a long time—I hadn’t thought about moving back to the suburbs. But I’ve realised that the inner suburbs of Paris are nothing like the outer ones. Saint-Ouen doesn’t feel like a suburb anymore. It has a mix of different cultures, the flea market, a real neighbourhood life, but also a sense of calm. So I discovered that I actually have a suburban soul.

We are colour activists! So we wanted a space that would be extremely colourful and stimulating—for us, for the children, and for our mental and physical wellbeing. An apartment of a thousand colours, that’s how we might describe it. It revolves a lot around yellow, orange and turquoise, echoing the tones we each use in our work as an interior architect and a painter. In terms of design and favourite pieces, we’ve surrounded ourselves with the work of our friends as well as our own. It’s a truly living space, one that also invites daydreaming.

It’s also the only place where we could really allow ourselves to try things! On my side, as an interior architect, professionally speaking, I always find it a bit difficult to push clients towards a turquoise and yellow kitchen (laughs). Here, we’ve indulged ourselves. We’re free to try whatever we want.

Quite little, mainly decoration. We built a niche to integrate the fridge and freezer. We laid tiles in the dressing room, painted the floor white, made a headboard, and assembled our shelves… We also painted the radiators and pipes, as this was very much part of our apartment’s graphic identity. The kitchen came later, a year after we moved in, during the summer of 2022. There was a period of reflection, drawing and execution. So when we arrived, we really furnished the apartment gradually. It was a process that unfolded over several years. But yes, it’s very much a decorative exercise—finding the right pieces, spending six months discussing and agreeing on a table, these chairs… We always share a common vision, but each of us still has different references and things we want to defend. There is also the constraint of having furniture that isn’t fragile with children around, and that’s easy to clean. This melamine table is very easy to wipe down, as are the chairs, with their leather and metal.

I was anxious about the idea of an apartment with toys strewn across the floor and a playpen right in the middle of the room. And at the same time, we fully want to embrace the fact that we have children who can settle down anywhere. So every piece we chose is guided by that criterion. The children live very happily here; they have access to everything and can play everywhere. But each of them still has their own spaces—though not always the most expected ones: the girls love playing at the back of the dressing room, and our son, whenever he wants some peace and quiet, takes his toys and locks himself in the toilet. (Laughs.)

I should add that we don’t specifically adapt our style to children. Rather, they inspire us. For me, ageing well means nurturing a sense of wonder, staying constantly stimulated, and holding on to that childlike spirit. I think there’s so much we can learn from children.

For our home, as well as for certain projects, we’ve worked together, which has been a real pleasure. Even before we were a couple, we were very invested in each other’s careers and would often advise one another, so it feels very natural for us.

We have an emblem that we both had tattooed—it’s our signature. When we were younger, we used to call ourselves “the balls.” We decided to turn it into a real piece for the apartment: this neon light on the living room wall. We drew a house for the house of the “Balls,” because we didn’t want something too closed off. Freedom and security—that’s what home means to us. And this emblem, in its luminous form, lights up our apartment: a love that warms, that illuminates.