Blushing pink in Jaipur. Mossy green in Dublin. Grand archways in Rome. A tiny, square one in Kyoto that I’m convinced must hold the memory of a thousand bowing guests. When I travel, it’s always the doorways that get me - losing my companions to side streets while I whip out my phone for yet another photo of a particularly aesthetic frame. Is it an architecture thing? A basic design fetish for knobs and knockers? Possibly. All I know is: I love a good door. Whether exquisitely detailed or gloriously weathered, ancient or ultramodern, there’s magic in the threshold of potential, of what’s beyond or what’s been left behind.
Doors to manual - a good portal is a powerful thing. It’s an instant story, a symbol of transition, opportunity - or loss. One door closes and another always opens, as we all know. In ancient architecture, the doorway is a liminal space, a place between realms. In spiritual symbolism, crossing a threshold marks a change in state. In dreams, it can represent choice, readiness or fear. In Feng Shui, it’s even more literal: the front door is considered the “mouth of Chi” the main entry point for all energy flowing into your home and life. If your door sticks, your life might too.
Thanks for reading! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.
Which brings me to the week everything with a hinge in my house began to protest. First, our front doorknob threatened to fall off. Then the gate short-circuited. The back door handle wobbled its way to uselessness. The bathroom door handle jammed. Then it was a cupboard. Then another. Then my car door wouldn’t open and that was the point I finally thought to ask: was the Universe trying to tell me something?
Whether that otherworldly message was “Get a grip” or just “Get a handyman” we’ll never be completely sure, but for anyone who believes (as I like to) that our environment is a mirror of our inner world, it wasn’t hard to connect the dots. There were some things I’d not been dealing with (handling, if you will, and I wasn’t). And maybe, just maybe, my sticky doors and broken handles were staging a gentle - if increasingly shouty - intervention.
Design-wise, doors are seriously underrated. They’re the punctuation marks in the story of your home. Their material, colour, hardware and proportions can frame your next move, literally. A thoughtfully placed doorway can elevate a space, subtly shifting the energy of an entire floorplan. And the handles? In Feng Shui, they matter. Brass, for instance, symbolises strength and protection; wood, creative flow. Loose fittings or locks that won’t budge might signal a need for personal clarity, stability or movement.
We spend so much time styling our spaces to look good in photos, but doors can be the first emotional cue we come across. A welcoming front door sets the tone, it should be: clearly visible and easy to find, clean, well-maintained, uncluttered in and out, and beautiful. Naturally it should open freely and fully. A strong, healthy front door brings good energy, opportunities and prosperity.
Interior doorways meanwhile, are energy pathways. Doors between rooms frame transitions - thresholds of purpose and intention. Too many open doors or a corridor with several doors facing each other can lead to scattered energy (and scatter-brained residents, hello ADHDers), and closing doors to bedrooms or bathrooms can help when sleeping too.
So how’s your emotional joinery? Do you think there’s something to all this or does it just sound… unhinged?
In the meantime, I’ll be over here still photographing doorways everywhere I go. Not because I need more pictures of paint chips or patina, but because I love the way they frame a moment, and the meaning, in how we come and go.
With love and a few loose screws,
Henrietta
#alwaysthedoorways
No posts
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.