Last week, when I hit publish on a newsletter with clothing links and packing recommendations, I felt a twinge of worry that it might read as too “influencer-y.”
The truth is that was never the intention. I’m not an influencer and I don’t imagine sharing links will ever be a meaningful source of income. Long before I knew about Substack, I started Field Notes simply as a way to share more context with people who followed my work. It was a place for things that don’t quite fit into an Instagram caption or fleeting story.
Before I was a designer, or even working in the industry, I was a devoted reader of shelter magazines. In my teens and college I didn’t own a home of my own, and couldn’t afford custom finishes or high end interiors vendors, but I wanted to learn. I wanted to know what was the best, and more importantly, how designers thought about the world.
Of course, I wanted to know where Charlotte Moss bought baskets, and which CB2 pieces Miles Redd deemed worthy of placing in his projects. But it went far beyond catalog shopping for my room. I paid just as much attention to where designers traveled (always in search of beauty for beauty’s sake), what they wore (usually classic rather than trendy), how they hosted (graciously), and what they were cooking (taste forward, always). Their recommendations felt aligned with my tastes in a way that celebrity culture or trend-driven fashion, food, and travel writing rarely did.
At some point, the magazines shifted. They became more focused on ad dollars and clicks than on sharing those notes from designers, and I found myself missing that quieter, more personal kind of guidance. A few blogs filled the gap for a time, but many of them either disappeared or followed the same path of the magazines when the influencer economy took hold.
When I started my business and built a small following on Instagram, I noticed something interesting: people asked me just as often about books, clothes, travel, and recipes, as they did about rooms and furniture. That curiousity inspired Field Notes, which became a space to hold and share all of that, and a creative outlet within my business that could expand on the design work.
Field Notes has always had strong open rates, and I like to think that’s because it offers something similar to what those pre-internet shelter magazines once gave me: a small spark of inspiration that can be applied to everyday life.
A few sparks from this week that I wanted to pass along:
Valentino’s London flat in the 90’s by Roger Banks-Pye of Colefax & Fowler is a masterclass in maximalism that still influences so many of us. I saw it pop up on my friend Max’s instagram this week and again on Natalie Catalina’s newsletter.
Natalie also shared a link to an archive H&G article on Graydon Carter’s apartment in the 90’s. I split screen with his current downtown apartment, recently featured by AD and styled by my friend Mieke ten Have, for a little side-by-side on how his style has changed and stayed the same.
My favorite line from the H&G article: ‘But I think my favourite time is the winter when, a lot of weekends, we never get out of our pyjamas. You can order in anything locally - world-class Chinese food, all the newspapers, and videos too. Often the whole family never leaves the apartment. Those really are the best weekends of all.' 
The 90’s Study, papered with maps. 
The Entry in his current duplex. 
My guess is the architecture and life in the new space called for a simpler palette and fewer prints. 
Per the AD article, this sink has moved from place to place with them. A few people mentioned The Artist’s Way to me recently, and Sam Penner wrote about it here. I completed the course in college for a creative writing class and kept up with morning pages for years because of how much mental clarity they brought me. Rereading it now has been a reminder of why those pages work, and of the brilliant concept of artist dates.
Belle Burden’s Strangers is incredibly hard to put down. Naturally, I’m hoping someone publishes her home next.
We made beef bourguignon with toast to get through this bitter cold and it was delicious but also, maybe more importantly, made for excellent leftovers.
I keep trying to fit in a trip to Ikea, mostly because I really need a fresh set of these classic dish towels and a few of these bags that are really the best for schlepping.
I hope these notes land with you the way those shelter-magazine moments landed with me - small nudges towards a richer, more inspired life. If there’s anything specific you’d like me to write about, I’m all ears!
x Lilse
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