Welcome to the first installment of a new column series by Poonam Khanna, designer and founder of Unionworks, as she joins Homes & Gardens’ By Design to reveal how she crafts her soulful, layered interiors.
Where to begin when decorating your home? It’s the very question I’m asking myself as I type these first words onto a blank page, reflecting on how design takes shape. My thoughts wander to sedimentary rocks – specifically a conglomerate stone with rounded pebbles and cobbles, affectionately known as Puddingstone for its resemblance to a classic British Christmas pudding dotted with raisins. Layered, textural, and full of character, it feels like the perfect metaphor for how design unfolds.
I’m thinking back to a blustery March day, scrambling over the tectonic formations along a beachfront property with a new client I had met only hours earlier. Out of curiosity – and then simply for the fun of it – we began gathering rocks of different shapes, sizes, tones, and textures as we walked and talked about the project. We weren’t collecting them with design in mind that afternoon, but in retrospect, that’s exactly when our design process began – naturally, and without planning.
Over the years, I’ve come to realize something about design that hides in plain sight. The answer to ‘where to begin’ is this: design is both intentional and fortuitous – shaped by careful choices but also by the happy accidents we stumble upon. That single tea leaf carries immense permission: to be surprised by how beautifully green tones harmonize, to suddenly see how painting ceilings the same color as walls can make a room feel more expansive, or to understand why designers so often turn to black – using it to ground a space while making everything else stand out, almost like a magic trick.
If you find yourself staring at your own version of a blank page, unsure of where to start, take a walk. Notice how colors sit together in nature or in the built world. Pause when something makes you stop and look twice, take a photo, and remember the combination – whether pleasing or unexpected. And if you have a moment on your way back, step into a shop or public building you’ve never visited. You may find just a fleeting detail or perhaps a spark big enough to shape your whole design.
In the early days of my career, my partner and I traveled to Milan for Salone. We wandered into a small gallery on Via della Spiga, where Nina Yashar, founder of the Nilufar Gallery, graciously walked us through a handful of vintage treasures. Then we saw it – a rare Swedish rug by Marta Maas-Fjetterström that stopped us in our tracks. Its unusual dimensions, we realized, were a perfect fit for a project we had just begun.
On impulse, we called our clients. It seemed crazy to purchase such an expensive piece before we’d even created mood boards or a design presentation, but we were certain it was right. To our delight, they agreed. And so that project began not with a plan, but with a rug we hadn’t been searching for.
That March day, I felt like a child making a new friend – playing, exploring, discovering. I hadn’t brought a presentation or a plan, yet I left with more than I could have expected (much like our trip to Milan). When I look back at photos of the completed project, I can still see the textures, colors, patterns, and qualities of light from that afternoon woven throughout the design.
Just this morning, driving through coastal Virginia, my eye caught an old house painted in a shade of acidic celadon. That oxidized, bluish-green-almost-grey tone instantly became the new direction for the walls in my son’s bedroom. I’d been testing paint colors for weeks, searching for the right one, but nothing landed until today – when a weathered façade turned my head.
Not long after, from the back seat, my son asked if I thought rocks were smart or dumb. I told him rocks have been here longer than we can imagine, so of course they’re wise – if you listen closely, they’ll tell you stories.
And that’s the heart of design: listening. To the rocks. To the unexpected shade of paint on a house you pass on a rural road. To the serendipitous encounter with a maker whose work sparks something new. Stay open. Keep your eyes sharp. Let chance guide you – and you’ll always find where to begin.
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