What does your home say about you? I started thinking seriously about this after a visit to an elderly neighbour's flat a few years ago. She lived below us – in a space identical to ours in terms of square footage, ceiling height and other architectural particulars – and I'd gone down to inspect a leak from our kitchen into hers.
Our own apartment was sun-filled, open and recently renovated. Its main room served as a foyer, living room and home office, while a spacious kitchen doubled as an informal dining area, TV room and children's crafts space. Our walls were white, punctuated by modern artwork; our furniture was colourful, eclectic and mostly minimalist; and we co-existed with toys and clutter.
Our downstairs homologue was, by contrast, a dark, heavy hybrid of Bavarian mountain chalet and 1960s bourgeois aspirations, its layout sliced into conventional compartments that shut out light and closed in space. Impeccably maintained fittings and furnishings – velvet drapes, lacquered wooden furniture and baroque-framed figurative oils – spoke of dwellers that preferred sombre solidity over cheer or whimsy. One bedroom bore traces of a young adult who had left 15 to 20 years previously. The kitchen, which had a footprint mirroring our own, was a nearly vacant service space, with a small Formica table, a white enamel sink and other ageing basics. When my neighbour despaired about how hard it would be to touch over the concentric brown water stains in the ceiling, I had to agree; the white paint would be impossible to match as it had turned sepia.