Category: Interior Design

AI has Bad Taste

AI is amazing. I use it all the time.

But I also think we need to be very clear about what it is and what it is not.

It does not understand taste.

It does not understand humanity, or how people live, or why one room makes you want to stay and another room makes you want to leave. It does not understand the way a family actually lives in a house. The mess, the habits, the dogs, the kids, the husband who only sits in one chair, the person who needs quiet, the person who likes to cook while everyone hangs around the island.

And even if it could understand all of that, it would be pulling from millions of things that have absolutely nothing to do with you.

That is the part people forget.

AI is not sitting with you in your kitchen. It is not watching how your family moves through the house. It is not noticing that you say you want formal, but every image you save feels relaxed. It is not hearing you talk about your childhood home, or noticing that every time you describe your perfect day it involves being outside.

It is not understanding the tiny, weird, wonderful things that make your life your life.

Design is not just “make me a pretty room.”

Pretty is easy.

Good is harder.

A beautiful room can still feel wrong.

Good design knows when something is too much. Or not enough. It knows when a room needs warmth, or restraint, or a little tension. It knows when something should be edited out, even when it is beautiful.

AI can show you a hundred rooms in ten seconds.

But it cannot tell you which one feels right for you.

And a lot of what it creates is the average of everything. The average of thousands of images, trends, homes, hotels, Pinterest boards and magazine spreads.

Sometimes that is helpful.

Sometimes it just creates more noise.

The people who get the most from AI are usually the people who already know what they are looking for. They can look at what it produces and say, no, warmer. No, less expected. No, that feels generic. No, that doesn’t feel like me.

They are directing it.

The people who struggle with AI are often asking it to make the decisions for them.

And that is where things go sideways.

Because AI doesn’t know what good taste is. It doesn’t know what makes something timeless. It doesn’t know what will still feel special ten years from now. It doesn’t know your family, your routines, your aspirations, or the way you want to feel when you walk through your front door.

It only knows what has already been done.

A home should feel personal. It should tell your story, not the internet’s story.

And for all the incredible things AI can do, that part still comes from people

help us understand how you live

One of the most important parts of designing a home is understanding the people who are going to live in it.

Not just what colors you like, or whether you prefer modern or traditional, but how you actually live. Where you put your bag when you walk in. Where your kids drop their shoes. How you drink your coffee. Whether you really sit at a desk, or somehow always end up on the sofa with your laptop.

Those little things matter.

As designers, our job is to make your life better, prettier, easier, more comfortable, and more functional. But to do that well, we need to understand you.

We can guide the design. We can see possibilities you may not see yet. We can think through scale, layout, lighting, finishes, furniture, flow, and all the layers that make a home feel complete.

But you guide us too.

When you review plans, look through quotes, and ask questions, you are helping us understand what matters to you. Maybe something feels too formal. Maybe you need more storage than we realized. Maybe a chair looks beautiful, but you know your husband will never sit in it. That is useful. That helps.

We don’t expect clients to know every design answer. That is our job. But we do need to know what you are thinking, especially before decisions are finalized.

If we are not given the information we need to make the best decision, we will fill in the gaps based on our experience and what we believe is right for the project. You will see what we have done, and that is the moment to guide us, ask questions, and let us know if something needs to shift.

Because once something is reviewed, approved, and signed off on, it moves forward. At that point, it is no longer an idea floating around. It becomes an order, a drawing, a finish, a measurement, or something that other people are now working from.

The earlier we understand how you live, what worries you, what excites you, and what does or doesn’t feel right, the better we can design for you.

Good communication is not about questioning the process. It is part of the process.

Because the goal is not just a beautiful home. The goal is a home that supports your life, your family, your routines, and the way you want to feel every day when you walk through the door.

The Best Thing I Bring Home From Vacation

I always think vacations are so funny because you go away thinking you’re just taking a break, but really you come home with a whole list of things you suddenly want in your house.

And I don’t mean the obvious stuff. Yes, I notice the hotel lobby. Yes, I’m looking at the bathroom stone and the restaurant lighting and the cute little outdoor chairs. I can’t help myself.

But the thing I really notice is the feeling.

Like how good it feels to sit outside in the morning with coffee and not be staring at a million things that need to be done. Or how everyone somehow gathers in the same spot without anyone planning it. Or how a room can be simple but still feel so warm and good and easy.

Sometimes I come home and think, I need more places to sit outside. Or better light. Or less clutter. Or a room that doesn’t feel like everyone has to stand on ceremony.

And sometimes I come home knowing exactly what I don’t want. I don’t want a house that feels too formal or too stiff. I don’t want pretty rooms that nobody uses. That makes me crazy.

Travel reminds me that home is not just about how it looks. It is about how you live in it, how your people move through it, where they sit, where they talk, where they stay too long.

That’s usually the best thing I bring back from a vacation. Not a souvenir, not a shell, not another photo on my phone, although obviously there are a lot of those.

It’s the reminder of how I want home to feel when real life starts again.

The Project That Made Me Add “Please Behave” to a Legal Document

(a story about instincts, promises, and why contracts now have feelings)

Every designer has one story.
This is mine.

The setup

I said no.

We were busy. Properly busy. The kind where you know taking on one more project is a bad idea for everyone involved. So I did the responsible thing and declined.

She cried.

Actual tears.

And said, “I promise I will be your best client.”

Now, in that moment, there are two paths.
Stay strong. Or… be human.

I was human.

I said yes.

The beginning

At first, everything felt fine.

Excited emails. Big ideas. Energy that makes you think, maybe I got this one right.

Then little things started to feel… off.

A tone that didn’t quite match the moment.
A reaction that felt slightly oversized for what was happening.

You tell yourself it’s nothing. Everyone has a day.

The unraveling

It was not nothing.

The first vendor call came in.

“Hi Nikki… quick question… is there any way I could… not go to the house?”

I laughed. It sounded dramatic.

It was not dramatic.

Within a week, it became a pattern.

Electrician suddenly “unavailable”
Tile installer asking if someone else could go
Cabinet guy texting me like we were coordinating something classified

And then, my personal favorite
“I’ll go, but can you stay on the phone with me?”

At this point, you start to reassess your life choices.

The office mood

Then the client calls started.

The office would go quiet in a way that felt almost rehearsed.

Someone would look at me.
Someone else would whisper, “it’s her.”
One person would stand up and leave the room like they didn’t want to be involved in whatever was about to happen.

I would take a deep breath and answer like a very calm, very composed version of myself.

All for things like… a drawer.

The moment

There is always a moment where your brain just goes, enough.

Mine was watching a very kind vendor being spoken to in a way that made absolutely no sense for the situation.

And I thought, no.

Not happening again.

Not to my team. Not to our vendors. Not on my projects.

Because these people matter. They are the reason anything gets built.

Also, I like them. I would like them to continue liking me.

We finished

And yes, the house turned out beautiful.

Because we always deliver.

But behind the scenes, I was already rewriting how we operate.

The contract enters the chat

Next project. Updated contract.

Right there, quietly included like it had always been there
A code of conduct.

Simple expectations
Be respectful
Be professional
Treat people well

Nothing aggressive. Just clear.

The plot twist

Since then

Everyone is lovely

Vendors show up willingly
My team answers the phone without a moment of silence beforehand
Install days feel like they’re supposed to feel

Now I don’t know if
People read it and think, noted
Or if I got better at spotting the early signs
Or if something about seeing it in writing makes people pause for a second

But I am not asking questions.

If I could really add anything to a contract

and people actually followed it

Here is what would make life wildly better

1. If you open with “I trust you,” it has to last longer than a week
Not until the next screenshot arrives.

2. Pinterest is inspiration, not instruction
We are not recreating a stranger’s house with different ceilings and different light and a completely different life.

3. No one is allowed to discover their personality through grout
Choose it. Live with it. Grow as a person.

4. Vendors are to be treated like the highly skilled professionals they are
Because they are. And also because they are the ones holding the tools.

5. “While we’re here” should come with a warning label
That phrase has never once stayed small.

6. Decisions are not a revolving door
We make them. We move forward. That is how projects get done.

7. If something doesn’t fit, it’s not a surprise twist
The room did not shrink overnight.

8. Storage is not optional, it is a life strategy
You will have things. The things need a plan.

9. Comfort is not negotiable
At some point, someone needs to sit down and enjoy the house.

10. Everyone remains a nice person from start to finish
A simple concept. Surprisingly effective.

Final thought

The best projects are the ones where people actually enjoy the process.

Where vendors want to show up. Where the team feels good walking into the house. Where conversations feel normal and productive.

That energy shows up in the end result. You can feel it in the space.

So yes, we design beautiful homes.

And now, we quietly make sure the experience feels just as good as the outcome.

Interior Design Thoughts That Actually Matter

(the things I say out loud on jobsites that somehow end up being useful)

Interior design is not always these big sweeping moves.
A lot of it is small, slightly obsessive decisions that quietly make everything work.

Here are more of them. No order. Just real life.

Your rug is too small

It is. I don’t need to see it. It is too small.

Rugs should sit under furniture, not float like a lonely island.

Lighting should happen in layers

One overhead light is not a plan.

You need lamps, sconces, maybe something low and warm that makes everyone stay longer than they meant to.

Plan your art early

Do not wait until the house is done and then panic-buy art.

Think about it during the architectural phase. Wall sizes, lighting, even where a picture light might go.

We have literally moved walls to make art sit properly. That is how much it matters.

If you don’t know where something goes, you need storage

Not another basket. Actual storage.

Drawers, cabinets, places where things disappear easily.

Move your art down

It is too high. Lower it. Then a little more.

Mix materials like you mean it

Stop matching everything.

Let things have a bit of tension. That is where it gets interesting.

Are you really going to use that thing

This one is important.

That extra bar. The second island. The oversized tub. The built-in coffee station.

It sounds great. Will you use it? Every day? Once a year? Never?

We have seen beautiful spaces designed around things that no one touches.

Curtains should go higher and wider

Always. It changes everything.

There should be somewhere to put your drink everywhere

Every seat needs a surface. No one enjoys balancing a glass on their knee.

Stop buying furniture without a plan

That chair you loved online might be perfect. Just not for your house.

Use your weird spaces

Awkward corners are usually the best opportunities. Storage, seating, a moment that feels custom.

Your entry sets the tone

Even if it is tiny. Especially if it is tiny.

Give it intention.

If everything is special, nothing is

Pick your moments. Let them land.

Comfortable always wins

If no one wants to sit in it, it is not working.

Plan your trash cans

No one wants to talk about this.

Where are they going. Kitchen, bathrooms, laundry.

We have seen stunning kitchens with nowhere for a trash can. It becomes a daily annoyance.

Hide them, integrate them, but plan them.

Cabinet pulls, the decision everyone avoids

For some reason, no one wants to deal with this.

You can design an entire kitchen and then freeze when it comes to hardware.

It matters more than people think. Scale, finish, how it feels in your hand, how it lines up across drawers and doors.

We have seen beautiful cabinetry completely fall flat because the hardware was an afterthought.

Pick it early. Test it. Commit to it.

Think about outlets before it is too late

Where are you plugging in lamps. Charging phones. Plugging in vacuums.

Outlets placed badly will irritate you forever.

Walk your floor plan

Before anything is built, walk it. Tape it out.

See how it feels. Where you turn. Where you bump into things.

It will tell you more than a drawing ever will.

Think about doors

Door swings matter more than you think.

Doors hitting each other, blocking furniture, opening into tight spaces. It is avoidable.

Storage where you actually use things

Not where it looks good on paper.

Where do you drop your bag. Your shoes. Your keys. That is where storage goes.

Don’t forget the boring things

Cleaning supplies. Laundry flow. Where the vacuum lives.

If those are not planned, they take over.

Your home should feel like you, just edited

Not a showroom. Not a copy.

Take what you love and make it work better.

Final thought

Good design is a thousand small decisions that make life easier without you noticing.

Also, again.
Your rug is too small.

Designing for the Real VIPs

(Milo, Ralphie, and everyone else with paws, claws, or a very strong opinion about where they sleep)

Let’s start here.
If you have pets, they are not part of the home. They are the home.

Milo and Mr. Ralphie run ours. Cats do the same in their own, slightly more strategic way. Birds, bunnies, whoever is living with you, they all quietly take over and somehow it feels completely right.

They are family. Big time. Everything shifts around them without it feeling like a compromise. It just becomes how the house works.

And yet, people still design homes like pets don’t exist. Beautiful, precious, nowhere for anything, and then two weeks later it all unravels.

If you are going to have pets, design for them from the beginning.

They need real places, not leftovers

Pets do not want the space you didn’t use.

They want to be where you are. Always.

So instead of hiding a bed in a hallway, we build it in. A sleep spot tucked into millwork. A place under a console that actually fits them. A corner in the family room that feels intentional, not like an afterthought.

Milo has very strong views on proximity. Ralphie pretends he doesn’t, then quietly moves closer.

Cats are even more specific. They want height, sunlight, and the best seat in the room. Give it to them properly and it becomes part of the design.

Food, water, and the mysterious movement of bowls

Dog bowls move. Cat bowls move. It is a phenomenon.

You start with a neat setup and suddenly they are in the middle of everything like they made a decision.

So we plan for it. Built-in feeding stations, tucked into cabinetry, easy to clean, easy to access. Water that does not damage floors. Food storage that looks like it belongs in your kitchen, not like a temporary solution.

It is simple. It just needs intention.

The bath situation no one thinks about

Washing a dog or even rinsing muddy paws should not feel like a full production.

A proper setup changes everything. A handheld spray, the right height, surfaces that can handle water, a space that makes sense.

Milo tolerates baths. Ralphie negotiates every step.

Either way, the design helps.

Fabrics are not about you anymore

This is where things shift.

Your fabric choices are for them.

Performance fabrics, forgiving textures, materials that can handle being climbed on, curled into, and lived on daily. Not delicate. Not precious. Just smart.

A beautiful sofa that no one can sit on because of the dog is not a win.

Cats will test everything. Dogs will claim everything. Choose accordingly.

Furniture that knows what is coming

There will be jumping. Sliding. Spinning.

Furniture needs to handle it.

Solid frames, good proportions, pieces that feel stable and comfortable. Layouts that allow movement without constant correction.

If you are thinking your pet will not do that, they will. Milo and Ralphie have already tried it.

Floors that forgive

Paws, nails, water, quick turns for no clear reason.

Floors take it all.

Wood works with the right finish. Stone works. Tile works. The goal is something that looks better with life, not worse.

Anything too precious becomes stressful very quickly.

Storage, because their things multiply

Toys, leashes, treats, towels, more toys. It grows.

If there is no place for it, it spreads everywhere.

So we build it in. Drawers, baskets, cabinets. Easy to use, easy to maintain, nothing complicated.

Because no one is reorganizing pet things every day.

The part people don’t always realize

When you design for pets, the home becomes better for everyone.

More thoughtful layouts. Better materials. Smarter storage. Softer edges. More ease.

It feels relaxed. It works harder without looking like it is trying.

Milo and Ralphie, for context

Milo believes everything belongs to him. He is persuasive.

Ralphie is gentle until he decides otherwise. Then he is very clear.

Both assume every space was designed with them in mind. Which, at this point, is not far off.

If you are designing a home and you have pets, include them properly.

Dogs, cats, whoever is part of your world, they are not an add-on. They are part of the brief from day one.

Design like they live there. Because they do.

Things That Quietly Drive Me Crazy in Design

(unpopular, subject to change, but here we are)

There are things in this industry that get labeled as “style” or “preference.” Some of them are neither. Some of them are just bad decisions wearing good lighting.

Here is where I stand today.

1. Designers being mistaken for decorators

We do not place pillows and call it a day.

If that’s all it was, I’d be out of a job and frankly a lot more relaxed.

Designers think through structure, flow, scale, materials, lighting, and function. We are in the bones of the house, not just the last layer.

I cannot tell you how many times we walk into a home mid-construction and something feels off. No one can explain it. Then you start looking and realize the kitchen doesn’t relate to the living space, the lighting makes no sense, and there is nowhere to actually live.

That is not a styling issue. That is a design issue.

20 things designers do that decorators don’t:
Space planning
Architectural detailing
Lighting and electrical layouts
Plumbing layouts
Millwork design
Custom cabinetry
Material specification
Finish coordination across an entire home
Door, trim, and molding design
Stair and railing design
Kitchen and bathroom layouts
Exterior material selections
Furniture layouts based on circulation
Built-ins and integrated storage
Ceiling design
Window and door placement input
Construction drawing packages
Coordination with architects and builders
Problem solving on site
Designing how a home functions, not just how it looks

2. When everything is so busy it loses the point

If your eye doesn’t know where to land, it gives up.

We once walked into a home where every wall had a moment. Every light was a statement. Every rug had a personality. It felt like being yelled at from every direction.

Editing is not you holding back. It is you knowing when to stop.

3. Designing for photos, not for living

If it looks great but doesn’t work, it is a prop.

Homes should handle real life. Not abuse. Nothing can handle abuse. Nothing lasts forever. A little wear is normal. It means people actually live there.

We have seen kitchens that belong in a magazine and nowhere else. No prep space, no storage, just vibes. Stunning, until you try to make breakfast.

The goal is not untouchable. It is livable and still beautiful.

4. Repeating the same look over and over

If every project looks the same, it is not a signature. It is a copy paste.

It is lazy and a slap in the face to a client who is paying for a personalized process. The client deserves more. Their home should be 100 percent them, not a recycled version of someone else’s.

There are designers who stay in one lane and do it well. That works for some clients.

Our clients expect more.

If you look across our work, it is all over the place in the best way. Different tones, different moods, different directions. Still a clear point of view, still a vibe, just never the same answer twice.

We have clients show us inspiration all the time. The job is not to recreate it. The job is to understand why they love it and then do something better and specific to them.

You are not hiring a look. You are hiring thinking.

5. Not pushing beyond what the client asked for

Clients hire designers for perspective, not agreement.

If we are just nodding and delivering exactly what was asked for, something is off. The value is in showing what could be better.

At the same time, there is always that moment where a client is locked into an idea and you are trying to gently say there is a much better move here.

We have had to say, just trust this one thing. Those are usually the decisions that change everything.

No trust, no great design.

6. Design without a clear point of view

A home should have variety, but it should make sense.

This is the “I love everything” problem. Modern kitchen, coastal bedroom, traditional living room, a little glam powder room for fun. On paper it sounds great. In reality, it feels like four different houses sharing a zip code.

We had a project where the client loved very clean architecture and very soft, organic materials. That can go wrong fast. Instead of choosing one, we defined how they work together. Clean lines as the base, warmth layered in. It all spoke the same language, just with different accents.

If every room is trying to be the star, the house gets exhausting.

A clear story fixes that.

7. Playing it safe with color

I love color. I use color.

What I don’t love is fear disguised as sophistication. Entire homes washed out because no one wanted to take a chance.

At the same time, color is not easy. We have all seen what happens when it is used without control. Suddenly everything is competing and nothing feels grounded.

I am not convinced most designers know how to use color well, and that is part of the problem.

When it works, it elevates everything. When it doesn’t, everyone runs straight back to beige like it’s a safe house.

8. Wasted space and poor planning

This one hurts because it is so fixable.

Wasted corners, awkward layouts, hallways that go on forever for no reason. All of it comes from not thinking things through early enough.

We have pushed clients to move walls over inches. Inches. Not to spend more, but because those inches change how a room works. Suddenly a bed fits properly. Suddenly there is storage. Suddenly the room makes sense.

We are not pushing for more space. We are pushing for the right space.

There is a difference.

9. Thinking interior design has no real value

This one is always surprising.

Interior design is not just how something looks. It is how you move, how you feel, how your day runs without you even thinking about it.

We have seen homes where doors hit each other, kitchens don’t flow, and there is nowhere to put anything. You feel it every day.

There is psychology in this. Scale, light, layout, storage. All of it affects how you live.

Good design is doing a lot of work quietly.

And then there are the small things that drive me insane

The quiet offenders. The ones that don’t seem like a big deal until you live with them.

Switches in the wrong place
A bathroom with nowhere to put a towel
Beautiful stone with terrible seams
Lighting that makes everyone look tired
A sofa floating for no reason
Rugs that are too small
A kitchen with no landing space near appliances
Closets that look good and function terribly
Hardware that fights the door it is on
Millwork that almost aligns but doesn’t
Chairs that no one wants to sit in
Overhead lighting with no layering
And the big one
People who spend millions on a home and then slowly chip away at it with bad decisions

This is the part no one talks about. Design is not one big move. It is a thousand small ones.

Get those right, and everything feels easy.
Get them wrong, and you feel it every single day.

How Food and Design Interact (More Than You Think)

Food and design are not separate conversations.

They live in the same room.

At Nikki Levy Interiors, we don’t design kitchens as appliances and cabinetry. We design them as stages. For dinner parties. For homework at the island. For late-night tea. For holiday chaos. For Sunday morning pancakes.

Food shapes how a space is used — and design shapes how food is experienced.

Here’s how they constantly influence each other.

The Kitchen Is the New Living Room

For years, formal dining rooms sat untouched while everyone crowded into the kitchen.

Now? The kitchen is the living room.

Large islands become gathering tables. Upholstered counter stools matter. Lighting isn’t just functional — it sets mood. When we design a kitchen, we think about sightlines, seating depth, and how people lean, perch, spill, linger.

If food brings people together, design determines whether they stay.

Scale Changes the Energy of a Meal

A massive 12-foot island says: gather here.

A smaller, round breakfast table says: slow down.

Long rectangular dining tables feel celebratory. Round ones feel intimate. Banquettes pull conversations closer. Oversized pendants hung slightly lower create warmth.

The scale of a space changes the tone of the meal before a single plate hits the table.

Material Matters (More Than You Realize)

Marble feels cool and elegant.
White oak feels grounded and warm.
Polished brass catches candlelight.
Matte finishes absorb it.

Food is sensory — taste, smell, texture. Design should support that sensory experience, not compete with it.

We think about how a stone reflects under evening light. How a dark countertop makes white dishes pop. How textured plaster behind open shelving adds depth without overwhelming the eye.

The backdrop affects the entire experience.

Storage Shapes Lifestyle

Pantry design isn’t glamorous — but it changes everything.

A well-organized pantry encourages cooking. A beautiful bar area encourages hosting. A hidden appliance garage keeps counters calm.

Design quietly nudges behavior.

When everything has a place, the kitchen becomes usable, not just beautiful.

Dining Rooms Deserve a Comeback

There is something powerful about sitting at a proper table.

Layered lighting. Comfortable chairs. A rug that grounds the room. Art that sparks conversation.

Food tastes different when the space feels considered.

We design dining rooms to feel like experiences — not relics.

Outdoor Dining Is Design, Too

In warm climates, outdoor living is not an afterthought.

An umbrella for shade. Proper outdoor dinnerware. Comfortable lounge seating near the table. Lanterns for night.

Food doesn’t stop at the sliding door. Design shouldn’t either.

Design Creates Ritual

The coffee station you pass every morning.
The bar cart you roll out for guests.
The drawer that perfectly holds linens.

These small design decisions create rhythm.

And rhythm creates ritual.

The Real Intersection

Food brings people together.

Design determines how they feel while they’re together.

Are they relaxed?
Are they lingering?
Are they hosting more?
Are they proud of their space?

A kitchen isn’t just cabinetry. A dining room isn’t just a table.

When food and design work together, the home becomes more than beautiful.

It becomes alive.

10 Housewarming Gifts That Feel Thoughtful, Elevated, and Actually Special

When someone moves into a new home — whether it’s new construction, a renovation, or a long-awaited upgrade — this is not the moment for a generic candle.

A new home is a reset. New routines. New memories. New energy.

The best housewarming gifts elevate how they actually live — with kids, dogs, patios, dinner parties, and real life happening every day.

Here are 10 that feel considered, refined, and genuinely exciting to receive.

1. A Statement Coffee Table Book

Brand we love: Assouline

One oversized, beautiful book that anchors the table. Travel, fashion, architecture — something that reflects who they are or where they dream of going next.

It instantly makes a living room feel finished.

2. A Sculptural Bar Moment

Brands we love: AERIN, Georg Jensen

A stunning ice bucket. Elevated bar tools. Elegant coupes.

It says, “You’re hosting now.” Even if it’s just Friday night with family.

3. Elevated Outdoor Living Pieces

Brand we love: Business & Pleasure Co.

A striped umbrella. Chic outdoor pillows. Beautiful melamine dinnerware.

Outdoor space shouldn’t feel temporary. Help them use it beautifully from day one.

4. A Proper Dog Situation

Brand we love: Lords & Labradors

A tailored dog bed that blends into the interior. A refined leash. Elevated bowls.

Luxury living includes the four-legged family members.

5. Monogrammed Towels

Brand we love: Weezie

Oversized, plush, personalized bath or pool towels feel indulgent and practical at the same time.

It’s a daily luxury.

6. Linen Bedding from Boll & Branch (And Have the Bed Made)

Brand we love: Boll & Branch

Fresh, beautiful linen bedding is one of the most underrated luxuries.

And yes — have it delivered and the bed made for them.

Walking into a new house and seeing a perfectly dressed bed waiting? That’s peace.

7. A Kids’ Creative Corner Starter Kit

Give them a ready-made creative zone.

• A beautiful wooden easel
• Linen art smocks
• Quality paints and sketchbooks
• A giant roll of craft paper

It gives kids ownership of the new home — without sacrificing style.

8. A Private Chef Night in the New Kitchen

Skip the object. Give an experience.

Hire a private chef for their first dinner party in the new house. It celebrates the kitchen immediately and removes all stress.

That’s memorable.

9. A Backyard Movie Night Setup

Portable projector. Neutral floor cushions. Cozy throws. Popcorn bowls.

First movie night becomes a tradition instead of a someday idea.

10. A Custom Home Essentials Box

Curate it beautifully:

• A marble catchall tray for the entry
• High-end hand soap for every sink
• A chic lighter + candles
• A handwritten note

Thoughtful details make a house feel intentional instantly.

The Only Rule

If it feels like you grabbed it on the way, it’s not it.

The best housewarming gifts elevate everyday living, create a moment, or make the home feel finished from day one.

A new home is possibility.

Bring something that honors that.

FROM THE START

Nikki Levy Interiors wasn’t born out of struggle.

It was born out of courage.

Our life in South Africa was beautiful. Established. Comfortable. Surrounded by family and friends. We had community. We had rhythm. We had a full life.

And then Mike and I chose to leave it.

In 2010, we moved to the U.S. with a 7-week-old baby, a four-year-old, and a six-year-old. Three little kids. Big leap. The kind where you don’t fully let yourself think about what you’re giving up.

What people don’t always understand is this: when you move countries, your currency doesn’t magically follow you. Our rand did not translate kindly into dollars. What looked substantial at home became very modest here.

We didn’t arrive “starting fresh” in a romantic way.

We rebuilt from scratch.

New systems. New network. New reputation. New everything.

For the first few years, we focused on stabilizing our family. Learning how things work here. Figuring out schools. Finding our footing.

In 2013, I started Nikki Levy Interiors at my kitchen table.

It wasn’t about chasing design fame. It was about building security. Every client mattered because every project meant progress. Progress meant options. Options meant our children would grow up with opportunity.

Mike and I worked relentlessly. We put clients first. We reinvested in the business. We built systems slowly and carefully. We learned the financial side as seriously as the creative side because there was no room for casual mistakes.

One project became two. Two became referrals. Renovations became large-scale new construction. Bathrooms multiplied. Kitchens multiplied. Complexity grew.

And so did we.

What began as survival turned into strategy.
What began as rebuilding turned into growth.
What began as necessity became a studio known for layered, story-driven, exquisitely livable homes.

But underneath all of it is this truth:

We didn’t build Nikki Levy Interiors because we had to.
We built it because we chose to bet on ourselves.

And we did it together.