Interior designer Poonam Khanna, founder of Unionworks, is one of Homes & Gardens' new Editors-At-Large for By Design, sharing her thoughts on decor through her lens of soft light, vintage pieces, and a sepia-tinged palette. See the rest of her articles here.
Houses are physical structures, built for human habitation. A home is something else entirely – more a feeling than a construct.
Your mental image of a house is probably similar to mine: a front door, rectangular windows, a pitched roof sitting on a box-like volume, perhaps a chimney. But I’d wager that our ideas of home are nothing alike. I know they’re different, because home is deeply personal – unique to each of us.
When we begin working with clients, we are often in the realm of ‘what home is’ long before the house itself exists. From the earliest conceptual phase, a conversation begins – one that runs through the entire life of the project. It’s a continuous dialogue made up of countless decisions about structure and space, alongside hundreds of smaller conversations about dreams, wishes, memories, and aspirations.
There is always so much to discuss, and even more to learn – about our clients, their lives, and the houses that will eventually become their homes.
It starts with words. Then lines. Then materials, colors, and textures. Fixtures and furnishings follow, then art and objects – and finally, the personal touches.
The last and most critical ingredient is the people themselves. They are what transform a house into a home.
One of the first shopping trips I ever took with a client was to France. We traveled with a dear friend and one of my earliest mentors, Ted Wolter, who knew every brocante, fair, and vintage dealer worth visiting. We knew we would find something special.
We started at the Paris flea markets, then wandered through L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue. In the back of a tightly packed shop, a group of 17th-century wood boiserie panels hung quietly on a wall. Almost immediately, we knew they were right – perfect for our client’s snug in a West Village townhouse we were renovating.
The panels are simple, yet they bring immense feeling to the space: history, warmth, texture. And now they carry a story – of how they were found, and where they live today – in a room that fits them, and a family that fits them too. That’s home.
For another project in the Hamptons, we spent countless hours searching for the right stone with our client. Nothing quite spoke to us – or rather, nothing felt like home. So we went straight to the source and travelled to the Carrara quarries outside Pisa.
Suddenly, we were surrounded by stone we’d never seen before, stretching endlessly in every direction. Beyond the vast blocks and slabs, we were invited to ride to the top of the quarry – the top of the mountain – a place rarely accessible due to its extreme incline.
The drive up was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure: a narrow gravel ledge carved into the mountainside, a sheer drop on one side, barely wide enough for the Land Cruiser carrying us. When we reached the top terrace, we stepped out of the car and into the clouds. We were impossibly high. It felt like we had left the world behind. I will never forget the magnitude of that experience. Every time I visit our clients’ home and see those stones in their kitchen and bathroom, I feel the clouds around me again. That’s home.
How a house becomes a home is simple: there is a story built into it – one that belongs entirely to the family inside.
