Dries Van Noten

This was the look that started the whole apartment. I kept returning to the tiny floral jacket, the acid-lime layer underneath it, the faded blue-green skirt, the mixed tights and the snakeskin boots. Nothing is quiet, yet the silhouette is disciplined. I wanted the living room to feel exactly like that: generous and maximalist, but still composed.

The chair takes its cue from the patchwork feeling of the tights. I wanted one piece to carry that complexity, not an entire matching set. The dark walnut frame keeps it sharp and makes the upholstery feel collected rather than decorative. Beside the carved marble fireplace, it gives the room a slightly unexpected, almost English note.

The faceted brass sideboard brings another jewellery-like surface into the room. I balanced it with the dark lacquered doors and the view into the dining room, where the lime returns. The colours continue from one room to the next, but they never appear in quite the same way.

Seen close up, the sofa explains the balance of the room. The cognac leather is deliberately plain and beautifully tactile, while the snakeskin cushions bring in the boots and the narrow lime piping repeats the sharp layer beneath the jacket. It is a small detail, but it stops the leather from feeling predictable.

The dining room comes from the same runway look, but I wanted it to read as a lighter chapter. The pale blue-green print of the skirt moved to the ceiling, where it could be seen as one continuous surface. The lime from the layer beneath the jacket became the chairs: a small colour accent in the outfit, enlarged into the room’s clearest gesture.

The walnut sideboard is intentionally calm. After the patterned ceiling and lime chairs, the room needed one broad, uninterrupted surface. A loose arrangement of pale flowers keeps it from feeling too severe without introducing another competing print.

From the dining room, the open black doors frame the living room and make the two spaces feel like consecutive looks in the same collection. The antique walnut vitrine adds history, but cobalt ceramic, coral lacquer, lime glass and ivory tableware keep it from becoming too polite. Through the doorway, the two amber tables read as jewellery against the quieter rug.

The kitchen began with an oversized varsity jacket worn over mismatched tartan panels. I loved the tension between something sporty and something traditional. The deep aubergine of the jacket became the cabinetry, while the checks wrapped the island like a piece of fabric pulled around a solid block.

I kept the tall cabinets almost monolithic. The aubergine is dark enough to feel neutral at first glance, but warmer and more interesting than black. Fine brass handles pick up the small metallic details on the jacket without turning the whole kitchen gold.

The blue-and-cream striped collar gave me permission to introduce cobalt glass into the chandelier. It is a small part of the outfit, but above the island it becomes the detail that sharpens the entire palette.

For the bedroom I chose the most layered look: a coat and scarf built from checks, florals, mustard, blue, brown and burgundy. My first instinct was to repeat the patchwork everywhere. It quickly became too literal. The room worked only when the wall carried the main idea and the bed, bench and chair answered it in different patterns.

The bed uses stripes and irregular woven bands rather than repeating the wall. The colours belong to the same family, but the rhythm is different. The bench introduces another small-scale pattern. Together they feel related, not matched.

On the opposite wall, the wardrobe combines dark walnut with muted olive panels. It repeats the room’s architecture rather than its textiles. That difference matters: without the calm wood, the bedroom would feel like a fabric showroom.

The hallway came from a long brown tailored coat with a bright orange-and-red striped collar and only a glimpse of printed satin underneath. I liked that most of the look was controlled and serious, while the colour appeared in narrow, unexpected places. The room follows the same balance.

The runner is based on the colours visible beneath the coat rather than the brown tailoring itself. Deep red, pink and ochre stretch through the long space and make the corridor feel intentional, not simply like a route between rooms.

The bathroom is built around a green plaid coat worn over a black wrap top and dark checked trousers. I first tried carrying all of the green into the room. It felt too polite. The black from the top gave the scheme the contrast it needed and made the plaid wall feel stronger.

The vanity is warm, dark wood with a softly curved front. I wanted something tactile beside the hard stone and black fittings, but not another patterned surface. The mirror reflects the plaid wall and lets the pattern return without physically repeating it.

The smallest room takes on the collection’s largest flowers. The oversized coat is covered in coral, pink and red blooms on a black ground, but I did not want a tiny space wrapped in a literal floral print. Instead, I concentrated the colour and made the rest of the room dark and close. Black marble, deep brown panelling and black cornices make the narrow format feel cocooning rather than cramped, while the coral lacquered ceiling gives the eye somewhere unexpected to go.

The olive relief vanity is the counterpoint. Its carved waves and visible handles make it feel like a real piece of furniture, while the green introduces one colour that is not obvious in the coat. Sometimes the room needs an answer to the inspiration, not another repetition of it.