We're Moving!

After a decade in our tiny canal cottage, we are moving. (And not to the French farmhouse quite yet.)

You see, we made the offer on the farmhouse the same week I conceived. Before discovering that I was pregnant, our plan was to travel to France (contingent upon COVID) in April to begin eight months of restoration work on the property. Naturally, our baby is expected to arrive in late April. (Ah, the universe!) 

So we had a choice: Either stay in our beloved little LA cottage for the birth + fourth trimester (knowing that we’d have one foot out the door, plus zero help with the baby, West or my small business), or take the leap and uproot our company and home lives by my third trimester to be closer to family. 

We chose family. Especially since, like so many other folks across the globe, we haven’t seen each other for a year or more.

After much deliberation, we’ve started planning an ~800 square-foot, sustainable cottage (classified as an ADU or “Accessory Dwelling Unit”) in a clearing on my parent’s property in Northern Florida.

The intention of this little space is for it to be a combined home/office/studio for my family and business when we’re not in France, and for it to be enjoyed by others when we’re away. Then, down the road, it can become a private residence to long-term care experts for my parents, should that become necessary.

Just like with the farmhouse, what drew me to this concept (beyond the proximity to family) is the idea of shared spaces and belongings. We’re excited to experience multigenerational living and support one another while sharing select amenities and goods. 

Plus — with the arrival of the baby and some larger work projects unfolding behind-the-scenes — Adam and I could use some help in the months to come. And my folks, who are in their mid-70s, could use some help lately, too. 

While we design and build our little ADU and await the right moment to begin our journey in France, we’ll be staying in my parents’ home. Initially, I dug my heels in about this, stubbornly repeating to Adam that I would not be turning 40 and having a baby in a home that’s not my own, thank-you-very-much. I paced the weathered floors of our beachside home while wondering out loud, on a relentless loop, just how on earth I could continue to nurture my interiors business while living for months out of a suitcase in the upstairs of the house in which I grew up. 

After all, as someone who has carved out a career in the home space, and as someone who is the sole income earner for her immediate family, it is nerve-wracking from a business perspective to abruptly have no dedicated space in which to create for several months. But this move feels right. 

We will actively be working on two entirely unique small spaces (the prairie cottage, and the 1800’s farmhouse), which we get to call home and share with others, both physically and digitally. We get to expand our son’s world and bring new life into it. Our adventure-loving pups will be able to run through a slice of paradise, no leashes required. And we can finally, FINALLY hug our wonderful parents.   

The financial jump of going from renting in Venice to co-owning in France and building in Florida might seem extravagant, but it’s actually not. Our Venice cottage, although tiny, is located in a major, expensive city, and its proximity to the beach, marina and canals makes it a real estate goldmine. During our decade there, we invested as much in rent, updates, and the heightened cost of living than the farmhouse and ADU will cost us combined— especially since the farmhouse is shared between three parties. 

To be able to introduce West to new natural splendors while welcoming his baby sibling into a home that’s overflowing with helping hands and unwavering love is such a privilege and gift. 

We’ll have a live/work space of our own soon enough. For now, that love is all we need.