Why I don't believe in a perfect home

William Morris once said that all rooms ought to look as if they were lived in, with a friendly welcome ready for the incomer. He said that in the 1880s. It's never felt more relevant.

We're living through peak perfect home. Curated feeds, neutral palettes, everything matching, nothing out of place. And I'll be honest -- I've felt the pull of it myself. There's something seductive about the idea that if you just get the right things, arranged in the right way, everything will feel calm and considered and complete. I've chased that feeling. It doesn't quite deliver what it promises.

Because I don't think a home that looks untouched actually feels welcoming. I think it just makes you nervous about putting your mug down.

Here's what I believe in instead.

1. Evidence that children live here

Artwork sellotaped to the fridge. A bowl of toy cars on the windowsill. Pencil pots on the kitchen table, a hook by the door for school bags, a basket overflowing with shoes that never quite make it upstairs. These aren't things to tidy away before guests arrive. They're proof that small people are growing up in this house, and that is worth celebrating.

2. Art that means something to you

Not a gallery wall sourced from a single shop. Your grandmother's silk scarf in a clip frame. A flea market oil painting you bought because something about it just got you. A greetings card propped on the mantelpiece because you liked the illustration too much to put it in the recycling. A vintage movie poster, old photographs, pictures your kids made. As designer Elsie de Wolfe put it:

"A room should feel collected, not decorated."

3. Flowers, imperfectly arranged

A bunch of supermarket tulips in a jug you love is worth ten times more than a precisely styled arrangement you felt pressured to buy. Seedlings on the kitchen windowsill you've been nurturing along. Herbs hung to dry by the back door. A handful of wildflowers from an evening walk, stuffed into whatever was nearest. Flowers don't need to be perfect to make a room feel alive.

4. Everyday objects on display

Your collection of studio pottery mugs on an open shelf. A stack of books that's slightly too tall. Magazines on the coffee table. Beeswax candles in mismatched candlesticks on the kitchen table. A pot of wooden spoons and spatulas by the hob. There's a quiet pleasure in seeing the things you use every day displayed with a bit of care, rather than hidden away in a drawer. Your everyday objects are worth looking at.

5. Textiles that add warmth

A vintage rug with a bit of history in it. Cushions that have actually been sat against. A small cafe curtain in a print you've loved for years. Texture and colour are what make a room feel warm rather than cold, inhabited rather than staged. Don't be talked out of the things that make you feel comfortable.

6. The things that make you smile, even if they don't match

The funny ornament your nan gave you. The silly postcard from a childhood friend still pinned to the noticeboard. The cocktail glass you may or may not have liberated from a pub in 2009. These things are not clutter. They are your home telling its own story, in its own voice. Don't let trends talk you into hiding them.

Nate Berkus said a home should tell your story and be a collection of what you love. I'd add only this: the best homes are the ones where you can tell someone actually lives there. Where the welcome is genuine, the kettle goes on without asking, and nobody minds the shoes by the door.

That's the kind of home worth making.