Stylist on the Loose

Dagmar
Aug 5
3 min read

Updated: Aug 31

“Stylist on the Loose: Peeking Through Windows & Falling in Love with Weathered Floors”

By Dagmar – stylist, designer, curious wanderer with a suitcase that’s always almost too full.

Holidays are supposed to be for switching off, right? Well… not for me. At least, not entirely.

When I was in the U.S. recently, something happened that always happens: I found myself slowing down at every shop window.

But not for shopping. Nope.

I’m that person squinting through dusty old panes into forgotten bakeries, staring at a wooden bench with chippy paint. Or stepping into a sleepy café not just for coffee, but to take in the aged wood floor and the worn linen napkins that feel like a dream.

My Eyes Are Always Styling

Even when I’m walking through a sleepy street in a small town somewhere between coast and canyon, my mind is working like a collage board.

That soft worn blue of a door against a rust-red brick wall? Noted.

The crumpled linen curtain swaying in a breeze? I can feel it in a future bedroom project.

A stack of handmade bowls in earth tones on an uneven shelf? Please stop, I’m already redecorating in my mind.

I can’t help it. It’s like the stylist in me is always collecting, combining, and filing away textures, shapes, and colors — whether it’s for a client or for myself.

If Only I Could Bring It All Home…

There’s a kind of heartbreak in finding the perfect weathered cabinet or vintage lamp and knowing:

a) It won’t fit in my suitcase

b) My husband is already eyeing me suspiciously as I hover too long in yet another dusty shop.

But oh, how I would bring it all if I could.

Linen tablecloths soft as fog.

Old wood stools with legs worn by decades of boots.

A faded shop sign that belongs in my garden (or at least on my Pinterest board).

I don’t just see things — I feel them.

The warmth of real wood, the breathability of linen, the charm of imperfect handmade ceramics… These are the materials that tell stories. That live and change with you.

And for me, that’s what makes a house a home — and a styling project real.

A Designer’s Holiday (Is Never Just a Holiday)

So yes, I went on holiday.

I walked beaches. I drank iced coffee. I caught sunrises.

But I also filled my phone with hundreds of snapshots of peeling doors, tiled counters, and cafe menus with just the righttypography. And somewhere between a coastal highway and a sleepy antique store, I started dreaming up three new interiors.

Because for me, designing isn’t something I turn on or off.

It lives in me — like the scent of driftwood and coffee and wildflowers after rain.