Well, well, well.
You found me.
I'm Lucy — founder of Twin Palms, and the person who'll actually be designing your room. I've been quietly redesigning every space I've ever walked into since about 1995. In my head, mostly. When I became a designer, it was a relief to finally have somewhere to put it. Now my obsession is at your service.
The Lore
Before Pinterest. Before algorithms. Before anyone called it "curation."
Just a girl in West London whose head was a montage. I was cataloguing the world into aesthetics long before I knew that was a thing you could do for a living — the sets in music videos, the houses behind the people in the films, a room glimpsed for two seconds and rewound four times to catch the art or the sofa pattern. Nobody taught me to notice. I just never managed to stop (it didn’t always help in school… especially maths).
What I Believe
Design is the residue of culture. Every film you've loved, every hotel or bar you've drooled over, the outfits you spent hours researching and putting together, the music videos you knew off by heart — that isn't trivia. It's the raw material of a home that could only ever be yours.
A room that works for everyone works for no one. The most beautiful spaces are the ones that could belong to exactly one person. So I don't do quiet-and-forgettable, and I don't do beige-as-a-concept. I do you — the most chic, considered, unapologetic version of how you actually want to live.
The technicolour life isn't an indulgence. It's the whole point.
A Long Way Round
I grew up. I became a lawyer. I stopped being a lawyer. I taught history to teenagers. I had two children. I studied design. I designed rooms for other people. And then, in the most gloriously chaotic season of my life, I built this studio — because I was dreaming in colour schemes and layouts, and I knew that if I didn't start making the thing I could see, I was going to come apart at the seams.
Twin Palms is what thirty years of obsessive noticing looks like when it finally has somewhere to go.
No Velvet Rope
I'm not the intimidating kind of designer — the kind who makes you feel you need to over-explain your tastes, or that the good stuff lives behind glass, that it’s for other people. (You don't want a designer who condescends. Big mistake. Huge.) What I bring is thirty years of an overactive aesthetic brain, a genuine obsession with getting every detail exactly right for you, and absolutely no judgement about those cheeky decor purchases you bought that you secretly know are not really right for the space (but they were calling your name).
It's time to tell a better story about your home.
