Some spaces come with stories you couldn't invent. This apartment had belonged to the priest of Mallorca Cathedral—and hadn't been lived in for over forty years. When our clients found it, it was a time capsule of dust and devotion, waiting for resurrection.
The brief was gloriously unconventional: transform this sacred space into a fun, crazy mausoleum—a personal museum that would give visitors a glimpse into their world and travels. Every object would tell a story. Every corner would spark a conversation.
We began with a complete refit, but the bones were too beautiful to hide. The original lime-washed walls with their imperfect ochre patina—earned through centuries of Mediterranean sunshine—stayed exactly as we found them. The exposed wooden ceiling beams, weathered to a silvery grey, remained our overhead canvas.
Then came the layering. A faded Persian rug, hung vertically as art—a treasure from their travels that deserved to be seen, not walked upon. Antique carved settees collected from markets across three continents. French doors with their original hardware, paint peeling in all the right places, opening onto views the old priest once contemplated.
And suspended from those ancient beams? A vintage "Flying Circus" biplane—because this is a home for people who refuse to take life too seriously. Because the best collections include the unexpected. Because when you're creating a mausoleum of memories, you need objects that make people smile.
This is what happens when you give collectors permission to be themselves. Not a showroom. Not a museum. A living, breathing autobiography written in objects—eccentric, layered, and gloriously rebellious.