Second Chances
Some people collect sneakers or limited-edition tech. I collect houses that need a second chance.
My obsession started in the 90s on Capitol Hill, when I bought my first house and—armed with youthful optimism and a laughably thin budget—set out to undo a truly tragic 1980s renovation. I could only afford cosmetic fixes back then, but it was enough to catch the restoration bug: the thrill of peeling back mistakes, honoring a home’s era, and making something old shine again. I learned the value of good bones… and the high cost of bad bathrooms.
Sydney: Creativity with Constraints
Sydney came next. On the Balmain peninsula, I bought a bungalow that had already pushed my budget to its absolute limit—so the renovation funds were… let’s call it aspirational. That constraint forced real creativity.
I learned how to fix bad cosmetics in tight spaces, make small rooms feel intentional rather than improvised, and stretch every dollar without sacrificing design.
Of course, I wanted to do more—reinforce the bouncy first floor, relocate the staircase, really reshape the space—but every project needs a ceiling or you risk renovating yourself into a financial black hole. When I finally sold the house, the profit was modest, but the relief was enormous. And honestly, that might be the best lesson I learned: beautiful transformations only count if they’re also smart.
“A building is alive, like a man, and its spirit is the spirit of its maker”
— Frank Lloyd Wright
Africa: A New Design Language
Living in Africa expanded my taste for ultra-modern forms—clean lines, natural materials, architecture that dissolves the boundaries between indoors and out. Living in that environment rewired how I think about space, light, and the way homes shape how we move through our days.
Scaling Up Stateside
Back in the U.S., the next project marked a turning point—the moment I graduated from cosmetic updates to full-scale reinvention.
I tackled a complete primary suite overhaul, replaced every inch of flooring (including a modern take on a classic Washington standby: black-and-white checkerboard, reimagined in oversized porcelain), and even built a dedicated movie theater. That was the project that taught me restoration is only half the story—the other half is reimagining how a home functions for modern life.
Then came a new-build industrial townhouse in Downtown Crown. Watching a house materialize from dirt to drywall is like seeing its DNA assemble in real time. You learn every system. You appreciate craftsmanship. And you develop an allergy to builder-grade finishes even the biggest budgets can’t fully fix.
The Latest Project
Which brings me here: my newest project, and the heart of Restore & Reimagine.
My husband and I are restoring a mid-century modern home—rare in Washington’s colonial-heavy suburbs—and bringing it back to life with respect, intention, and a fresh perspective. Everything I’ve learned comes into play: how to honor a home’s period without turning it into a time capsule straight out of Stranger Things.
Our goal is to enhance its connection to nature, return to materials and a color palette true to the era, and modernize it for today’s living without erasing what made it special.
This is the journey. The decisions. The discoveries. The wins and the inevitable “why is this wall shaped like that?” moments… maybe because it’s covering up a leaky furnace exhaust.
And you get to watch it unfold.
Behind the Build: What’s New
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