My house has been abuzz for the last couple of days, as I have been sprucing it up for a photo shoot. It’s lovely in the flesh but somehow contrives to be even lovelier on celluloid. The colours come up beautifully and untidy corners get edited out. A far cry from reality, where all that minimal chic is buried under piles of children’s toys, old towels, books, papers and all the usual clutter of family life. I actually prefer the lived-in look, but can’t help falling in love with the glossy fantasy that photographic images of my home evoke.
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