(as of right now)

After nearly five years of designing custom homes and seeing roughly 200 projects come through our office each year, I've discovered something unexpected:

I don't know if I actually have a dream home.

At least not in the way people usually think about one.

Working alongside Ken, I've adopted a philosophy he often shares with clients. He jokingly calls himself a "cheap Swede" and likes to ask, "How would I accomplish this with my knowledge, make it economical, and still make it look good?"

That way of thinking has shaped how I view my own home.

My dream isn't a sprawling estate or a house built all at once. It isn't based on the assumption that money is no object. In fact, I think some of the most beautiful homes are built with limitations. Some of the most beautiful homes are built with limitations. They force us to prioritize what matters and get creative with what we have.

More than anything, I've learned that homes should evolve alongside the people living in them.

And after spending years drawing homes for everyone else, these are the design decisions I would make in my own.

The Shape & Structure

I think we've become obsessed with the idea of building our "forever home" before we've even lived enough life to know what forever looks like. There's something appealing to me about allowing a home to change with the seasons of life rather than demanding that it have all the answers from day one.

I actually have two concepts drawn out, but my favorite starts small.

I envision beginning with a simple 26' x 26' home designed just for me. As life unfolds, marriage and eventually a family (fingers crossed), the house will evolve with us. The original structure would be intentionally planned so additions could happen naturally, eventually transforming into the Mid-Century Modern rambler of my dreams.

Instead of tearing down and starting over, I love the idea of designing spaces that can evolve. Building in phases allows each chapter of life to shape the home instead of demanding that we predict the future all at once. More than anything, I want a home that reflects patience and stewardship rather than instant gratification.

The Small One

Craftsmanship & Sweat Equity

I don't necessarily want perfection. I want memories.

One of the biggest decisions I would make isn't actually a design feature at all. I want to learn as much as I can and be as hands-on as possible. That’s how I learn best. I want to leave my fingerprints on the house.

Whether that's laying tile, installing flooring and trim, or building cabinetry, I want to be able to point to parts of the home and say, "I did that." The imperfections would become part of the story.

I think somewhere along the way we've confused convenience with fulfillment. There is something deeply satisfying about learning a skill, making mistakes, and seeing tangible evidence of your effort every day.

I don't necessarily want a perfect house. I want a house that reminds me of the people who helped build it and the lessons learned along the way. I want memories tied to the trim work, stories hidden behind the cabinetry, and small imperfections that make the home uniquely ours. Sounds soooo cliche, but it’s so true.

After all, some of the most meaningful things in life aren't the ones that came easily. 0They're the ones we helped create.

Interior Materials & Finishes

Architecturally, I have always gravitated toward soft edges and clean lines. When it comes to furnishings and decor, however, I lean much more toward the funky and eclectic side, which is fitting, considering the name of my business.

A little backstory on how I named La Clectic: I would describe myself as an eclectic person in many areas of my life. I have several hobbies, my wardrobe is far from a capsule collection, my playlists jump from one genre to another, and if you asked me to pick one favorite food, I'd probably need a few business days to come up with an answer.

I've never been someone who fits neatly into one category, and I don't think homes should either.

I appreciate good architecture and timeless foundations, but I also love the unexpected, like a vintage lamp, an odd piece of art, a bold tile, or something that makes people stop and ask, "Where did you find that?"

Sometimes I really love a strong color or pattern, but I prefer to use those elements intentionally. Not necessarily in the form of an accent wall, which, to me, always seems to scream a particular era. 2010??

I like to think of a home the same way I think about getting dressed. You start with the basics: good jeans, a simple top, and a great pair of shoes. Then you add the fun jacket, the jewelry, the vintage purse, and suddenly the whole outfit has personality.

I think homes work the same way.

I would invest in timeless cabinetry, quality countertops, and beautiful materials that age well, while allowing the personality of the house to come through the things that can evolve.

As they say, "Buy the weird stuff."

I fully intend to.

Because those quirky pieces are usually the ones with the best stories, they spark conversations, reflect personality, and remind us that homes, much like people, don't need to fit perfectly into one category.

Time

Pinterest and Instagram have conditioned us to believe that homes should appear overnight. But some of the most memorable houses I've walked through didn't feel decorated in six months; they felt collected over decades.

That's what I want.

I want books accumulated over years, artwork discovered on trips, furniture with stories, and pieces that remind me of certain seasons of life. And if you know me, I already started this collection.

Honestly, some things are worth waiting for.

Lighting

Lighting would play a huge role in my home. I adore soft, layered light and as much natural daylight as possible. There's something appealing about living more in tune with our circadian rhythms and allowing the natural rise and fall of the sun to guide my day.

Some people worry that large windows sacrifice energy efficiency, but I still believe they're worth it. The connection to the outdoors and the quality of light they provide far outweigh the trade-offs.

I also think light-filtering glass panels are genius, especially for rooms without exterior windows. A basement bathroom or walk-in closet doesn't have to feel like a cave.

And one thing you will not see in my house…

Nipple lights!

Also, dimmable lighting is non-negotiable.

Trends

After designing homes for several years, I've realized that trends themselves don't scare me. Overcommitting to them does.

I don't mind incorporating something bold or playful, but I prefer to do it in ways that can evolve over time. Tile, paint colors, art, and furnishings are much easier to change than cabinetry, floor plans, or architectural details.

I'd rather my home feel collected than timestamped.

Outdoor Living

Growing up in the country ruined me… In the best possible way.

In this industry, I've heard the phrase "bringing the outdoors in" more times than I can count on both my hands and feet.

Growing up in the country taught me to appreciate privacy, quiet, and open space. My core memories are the simplest ones: dirt roads, fields, trees, little ponds, and evenings spent outside without a schedule.

My parents’ back patio is one of the most peaceful places I know, and I hope to create something similar someday.

I want a place where I can walk around barefoot, catch fireflies on summer evenings, and feel connected to nature. Maybe there would be a creek, a pond, or even a small waterfall nearby. Mostly, though, I just don't want to look out my windows and feel like I'm staring directly into my neighbor's living room.

And if I can run around topless in complete privacy?

That's the dream.

The Big Picture

My dream home isn't really about square footage, luxury finishes, or having everything completed at once.

It's about creating a home that grows alongside me. A home built thoughtfully, one phase at a time, with spaces that support my everyday life and materials that age beautifully.

Most importantly, it's a home that tells a story. Not just through its design, but through the work, memories, and experiences that shaped it along the way.

After spending the last five years helping other people design their dream homes, I've realized mine isn't defined by perfection.

It's defined by patience.

by stewardship

by craftsmanship

It’s weird art and dimmable lighting

It’s catching fireflies barefoot on summer evenings

It’s creating a place that feels more like me with every passing year.

Maybe that's what a dream home really is, not just a finished product.

But a life, built slowly.

xoxo

Lilianna

My Dream Home