A Tiny Apt.

A Tiny Apt.

11+ (Not So) Tiny Things That Make a House a HOME

To settle your soul + allow space to grow.

Christene Barberich's avatar
Christene Barberich
Jan 06, 2026
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Back in November, me and my family spent a Saturday venturing out to the Sayville Ferry on the South Shore of Long Island. We were headed to the Pines on Fire Island to see the Bamboo House for one of our Tiny Tours here. While I was getting to know the group of creatives behind the collective who lovingly spent the previous months reviving this mid-century modernist beach cottage, August West (whose family the house belongs to) and I went to work fussing with pillows and smoothing bed linens as I was shooting various corners w/my iPhone.

As we futzed, she looked up and asked me, “Do you chop?”

I knew what she meant. She was referring not to a kitchen thing but a classic styling move design pros use to give throw pillows a more polished “done” vibe. “YES…” I told August. “I do!” I am 100% a vivacious chopper. For me, fluffing the couch cushions and chopping pillows before heading to bed is like the period at the end of a long day. Because if my sofa is good, a good night’s sleep is almost definitely on its way.

Our exchange about chopping got me thinking. About all the things, customs, habits, doo-dads we collect over our years of living—with/without other people, in temporary spaces or longterm ones, in awkward conditions or more square footage than we even know what to do with. Moving in and out of spaces and really LIVING in a room or a house means collecting not just stuff but a means of making that space a world…a place you want to keep coming back to, over and over again.

It got me thinking—about all the things, customs, habits, doo-dads we collect over our years of living—with/without other people, in temporary spaces or longterm ones, in awkward conditions or more square footage than we even know what to do with. Moving in and out of spaces and really LIVING in a room or a house means collecting not just stuff but a means of making that space a world…

Home isn’t something you can conjure overnight. It takes form over time (or lifetimes?), settling into its sounds, its grooves, its smells…the way the floor-beams or tiles feel in winter as opposed to spring. Or how the skylight sun beams transform your curtains or sofa slipcovers into some other faded fabric altogether, like it has (quite dramatically ⬆️) done to ours. Sometimes even the bad homes, the ones where we weren’t happy or felt stuck or lonely leave us with memories and vibrations that are hard to shake.

For better (or not), that feeling of home sticks. So, it started out almost like a game…moving around our apartment and noticing what objects or rituals I seemed to favor that made me feel present…or loved and considered. Since we finished most of the construction and design on our cabin upstate, too, I’ve never been more aware how that special and rare feeling of home isn’t something you can rush. As much as I love our cabin, I’m still connecting with it. Getting acquainted. Feeling it at different times of day…wondering what it needs from me (other than another space heater!). Imagining how the patina on the plywood will look once the strips of sunlight do their handy work, warming and deepening the wood season after season.

And so, at the start of this new year, after all the stuff we’ve been purging/releasing/and invoking, some of my favorite things that make a home…or the start of one. And I’ve asked a few home-fluent friends I look up to and admire to share some of the little things that speak HOME to them, too—let’s get into it…xxCb

1. A kitchen stool. An anywhere stool.

I have had this red metal IKEA stool since my first solo apartment in the late ‘90s/early 2000s. I lived in a studio and had no room for a proper kitchen table (or any table), but I managed to tuck this red stool underneath a white metal sewing table I’d thrifted that by the grace of God fit perfectly in my teeny windowless galley kitchen. Some mornings, I would sit at that metal table on my stool and imagine what it might be like someday to have a real kitchen with room for other people other than me. Occasionally I would have a few friends over in my one little room, and we’d use this stool as an extra chair or a cocktail table. Decades later, I have a kitchen, and my stool still reminds me everyday of my first real home…and all the homes I haven’t yet met. ❤️From left: 2Modern stool, Hopp stool by Maison Flâneur, and IKEA Domsten stools.


**Amanda Hesser, HOMEWARD, on what makes a home. “This bowl of citrus is comforting; it helps me feel more. connected to the place we’re in.”

“My husband Tad and I are the kind of people who move into a house and then only intend to come out feet first. We've been married for 23 years and have never moved! However, we are just settling into a second home in Ojai, California where we'll split time, so I'm learning what makes us feel at home while workers hammer and saw around us. This bowl of citrus is comforting; it helps me feel connected to the place we're in. Figuring out our coffee ritual has also been key. Nice coffee mugs were the only tableware I purchased in advance, and it's been so grounding to be able to make a good cup of coffee in the morning, even when we don't yet have a toaster or a proper pan to cook eggs in.”


2. Go deep/big with ONE color.

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