I always start with the stone, for a reason. It’s a good jumping-off point and everything builds from there. You either pull colors from the veining, or keep the room around it quiet so the stone can do the talking. It dictates so much of what comes next.

People are busy. They entertain, they live in their homes and still, in all these years, I’ve never had a client ruin their stone. A little patina is the whole point. It’s what gives a home its character, what tells the story of the people inside it. Think of the Vatican: thousands of feet across those floors every day, for centuries, and they’ve only grown more beautiful for it. If you’re nervous, seal it. There are good products made for exactly that.

Walking a stone yard is its own kind of ritual. Don’t over-select. Take a picture of every slab that pulls you in, then sleep on it. Come back the next day and see which ones still have that wow factor. It’s an instinctive process for me, and for a client, it’s the most honest read on what they actually love, before they start talking themselves out of it.

Stone can be leathered, honed, or polished. My preference is almost always honed or leathered - there’s a quietness to it, a sense of hand. The shiny days are over, in my opinion. And I hope they never come back.

Hot tip: mark your slab. When stone gets cut, the piece at the front of the bundle can look completely different from the one in the back. Mark it, photograph it, claim it. Otherwise you could end up with something you never chose.

At the end of all of it, the yards, the slabs, the marking, the process - what you’re really choosing is something that will outlast every trend, every renovation, every second-guess. Stone doesn’t go in and out of style because it was never in style to begin with. It just is. And if you let it, it’ll tell the story of your home better than anything else in the room.

So no, I’m not budging on this one. Bring me the stone.

If you’ve made it this far, here’s our list of Toronto suppliers we always come back to:

Stone Tile International, Ciot, Olympia Tile, Cava Surfaces, Marble Trend

This trip wasn’t about discovery in the traditional sense. It was about refinement. A return to the things we’re instinctively drawn to: material honesty, craftsmanship, and the quiet tension between old and new.

Mexico City doesn’t reveal itself all at once. It unfolds neighbourhood by neighbourhood, texture by texture.

Here’s everything we loved.

Polanco

Polanco feels intentional. Every line considered, every surface curated. It’s where craftsmanship meets clarity.

At MASA x Modern Art, the pieces exist somewhere between sculpture and function. Furniture that feels almost too considered to sit on, yet entirely meant to be lived with. It’s a reminder that design, at its best, carries presence. Not just visually, but emotionally.

At Xinú, scent becomes spatial. Notes of wood, resin, and green florals linger in a way that feels architectural, like stepping into a room built entirely from atmosphere. It’s something we think about often at Salt: how a space is experienced beyond what you see.

Roma Norte & Condesa

Roma Norte and Condesa feel more intuitive. Less polished, but more personal.

At Casa Onora, textiles become narrative. Handwoven fabrics, imperfect in the most intentional way. Pieces that hold the mark of the hand that made them. This is the essence of what we’re always searching for. Objects with a sense of origin and place.

Pirwi and Clásicos Mexicanos offered a different dialogue. Clean lines rooted in heritage, yet undeniably modern. There’s restraint here, but it never feels minimal. It feels resolved.

Walking through these neighbourhoods, you start noticing the layering everywhere. Iron against stone. Linen against wood. Polished surfaces softened by time. Nothing feels overly designed. Everything feels collected.

Mercado de Jamaica

The market is a study in abundance.

Flowers in impossible shades, stacked, clustered, spilling into one another. It’s maximalism without excess. There’s an ease to it. A kind of confidence in letting things be full rather than edited.

It’s a reminder that restraint isn’t always about less. Sometimes it’s about knowing when to let something be exactly what it is.

Eating as Ritual

Meals in Mexico City feel like extensions of the spaces themselves. Immersive, sensory, atmospheric.

Tacos La Chula, on the first afternoon, was immediate. Uncomplicated and deeply satisfying. The kind of food that doesn’t try to be anything other than what it is and is better for it.

At Green Rhino, things felt lighter and fresher. A shift in pace.

Cana introduced a certain intimacy. French inspired, but grounded. Soft lighting, quiet details, a sense of pause.

Campobaja carried a coastal energy. Bright, textural, effortless.

Breakfast at Mendl felt nostalgic in a way that’s difficult to define but easy to recognise.

And Marmotta, on that first night, set the tone entirely. Warm, layered, inviting. The kind of place that makes you want to linger long after dinner ends.

What Stays With Us

Travel always finds its way back into the work.

A sensitivity to texture. A willingness to let materials speak for themselves. A continued pull toward pieces that feel storied rather than styled.

This is what Salt by the Caza Project has always been about. Curation as a form of storytelling. Objects that carry something with them. Pieces that don’t simply fill a space, but shape it.

Mexico City reinforces that the most compelling interiors aren’t static. They evolve. They collect. They breathe.

And perhaps most importantly, they feel like they’ve been lived in long before you arrived.

For Maison Classique, that moment came early.

I’ve always believed lighting is less about illumination and more about atmosphere - about how a room feels at dusk, how a shadow softens a corner, how a single pendant can anchor an entire story. With Maison Classique, I wanted each fixture to feel as though it had been collected over time.

What you’re seeing here is less a lineup and more a language.

The Wall as Sculpture

We began with sconces that feel almost carved rather than manufactured - shell forms, fluted silhouettes, pieces that read like fragments of something ancient. There’s a quiet romance to them. Mounted on plaster walls, they glow like artifacts.

Wall lighting should never shout. It should whisper.

The Pendant as Jewelry

Then came the pendants - delicate glass drops, petal-like forms, pieces suspended like heirlooms. I’m drawn to fixtures that feel weightless, as if they’re hovering rather than hanging. The right pendant doesn’t just provide light; it punctuates space. It becomes the necklace of a room.

In a breakfast nook, a single pendant can make mornings feel ceremonial. In an entry, it becomes a soft welcome.

Flush Mounts with Presence

Flush mounts are often overlooked, treated as the “practical” choice. But I see them as an opportunity for subtle drama. Textured glass. Gentle scalloping. Warm brass detailing. When done right, they feel intentional.

They’re perfect for hallways and secondary rooms.

The Chandelier as Centerpiece

And then, of course, the chandeliers.

There is something undeniably classical about a chandelier. I gravitate toward pieces that feel sculptural and airy. Some are delicate and branching, others layered in glass, catching light like water.

A chandelier should command attention without overwhelming the architecture. It should feel like it belongs to the bones of the home.

Maison Classique isn’t about matching fixtures. It’s about harmony. Each piece carries its own identity - shell-inspired forms, hand-blown glass, aged metals - but together they speak the same language: timeless, textural, warm.

When I design lighting palettes, I think about rhythm. Where does the eye pause? Where does it travel? Where does the room exhale?

Light is emotional. It shapes memory. It turns architecture into experience.

For this home, I wanted every fixture to feel as though it had always been there - as if the house had quietly gathered them over generations.

Because when lighting is done well, you don’t notice the fixture first.

You notice how you feel.

x Montana

Panelled Wood as the Base

I started with vertical paneled wood for the millwork because it immediately brings warmth and texture into the room. The rest of the home features rich, natural wood tones as a foundation, so carrying that language into the kitchen helps create continuity throughout the interiors. The paneled millwork ties the spaces together, keeping the palette cohesive while still giving the kitchen its own expression. To introduce a subtle crafted element, I added a custom scalloped detail to the island and cabinetry - something distinctive that brings a tailored feel without overwhelming the design.

Marble With Movement

From there, I selected a marble with strong veining and soft undertones for the island and perimeter counters. I love how it adds movement and energy to the palette while still feeling calm. It acts as a visual anchor and balances the simplicity of the wood.

Micro-Cement Hood Panel

For the hood, I wanted a finish that felt modern but understated. The smooth micro-cement panel does exactly that. Its matte surface softens the upper portion of the kitchen and offers a clean contrast to the warmth below. It keeps the room feeling cohesive without competing with the stone.

A Soft Green Breakfast Nook

Designing the breakfast nook became an opportunity to introduce a slight shift in tone while maintaining connection to the main kitchen. The panelled millwork is painted in a muted green, giving the area its own identity while still working seamlessly with the broader palette. To keep the detailing consistent, I carried the scalloped feature from the kitchen cabinetry into the built-ins here. It helps unify the two areas and gives the nook a custom, considered feel.

To ground the nook, I added Louka Hardware pulls. They bring weight to the cabinetry and introduce structure, tying the nook back into the overall kitchen palette.

As this first round of the design comes together, it’s exciting to see the materials begin to speak to one another and hint at the final vision. There will be refinements as we move forward - there always are - but the foundation feels strong, balanced, and true to the direction of Project Hamptons. I’m looking forward to developing these concepts further and watching the kitchen take shape in the next phases of the project.

We’re lighting candles earlier, reaching for layers that feel like a second skin, and surrounding ourselves with objects that carry intention - pieces that hold a little magic in their craftsmanship. There’s something about December that invites softness, a return to ritual, a desire to create beauty in the everyday.

So consider this our gentle nudge to Santa (and perhaps to ourselves): we’ve been good this year… mostly. And even if we’ve stumbled, we’ve done our best - which surely counts for something. If the universe (or Santa) is listening, here’s what we’re dreaming of unwrapping.

Flamingo Estate - Agrigento Olive Tree Candle

Oatmeal - Arco Sculpture

Salt By The Caza Project - William Sheep

Jacquemus x Nike - The Gore-Tex Ovalo Jacket

Chidy Wayne - Edo 149 Artwork

The Row - Marlo 12 Bag

Simone Fanciullacci - V1 Armchair

Toteme - Silky Shearling Jacket

Paloma Wool - Napoli Boo

Carlo Bugatti - Mahogany Chair

Tkees - Lilly Platform

Elisa Uberti - Refuge Lamp

Louka Hardware - The Mallet Pull

And as we wrap the year in its final, glimmering ribbon, we’re reminded that gifting - whether to others or to ourselves - is really a way of honouring the moments that shaped us. A quiet celebration of the beauty we noticed, the comfort we created, and the small joys that carried us through. May whatever finds its way under the tree feel like an invitation to slow down, breathe deeper, and step into the new year with a little more softness.

At Salt by The Caza Project, the Design Lab is my way of honoring the artisans whose work becomes the soul of a home. I wanted to build a space that celebrates the makers behind the materials - those who carry heritage in their fingertips, who understand the rhythm of tradition yet aren’t afraid to reinterpret it for the world we live in now.

From hardware to pigments, switches to finishes, every element in the Lab is chosen with intention. These are materials that invite touch, that age with grace, that hold the memory of the hands that shaped them. I wanted to bring together disciplines that so often stay separate - the metalworker, the painter, the weaver, the ceramicist - and let them exist side by side in conversation.

The Design Lab is the result of that belief: a place where craft meets contemporary design, where old-world technique finds new-world expression, and where the home becomes more than a structure - it becomes a story. This is why I created it: to preserve artistry, to spark collaboration, and to help others build spaces that feel deeply human, beautifully made, and truly lived in.

Sumum

When I first discovered Sumum, what drew me in was its confidence - the way something so functional could feel so pure. Born in Belgium from a single, beautifully designed switch, Sumum has evolved into a brand that embodies excellence in simplicity.

Founded by Wesley Demeester, whose deep respect for craftsmanship runs through every detail, Sumum creates architectural hardware that feels both intelligent and soulful. His work blends technology with touch, and precision with emotion - an approach that mirrors my own philosophy in design.

In my projects, Sumum pieces often become the grounding elements - tactile points of connection that quietly anchor a space. They’re refined without shouting for attention, yet they hold immense presence. Every switch, every plate, feels considered; a reminder that beauty lives in the smallest gestures.

Sumum’s focus on purity, adaptability, and craftsmanship allows each piece to complement its surroundings rather than compete with them. It’s this harmony that makes their work so timeless - and why their designs have found a natural home within my own projects.

Bauwerk Colour

Working with Bauwerk Colour feels like collaborating with nature itself. Their limewash paints are alive - breathing, shifting, and responding to light in a way that few materials can. Each wall becomes more than a surface; it becomes a story of tone, texture, and quiet movement.

Bauwerk’s philosophy is rooted in the earth - creating natural lime-based paints that are safe, sustainable, and beautifully imperfect. Every pigment is drawn from the natural world, and you can feel that honesty the moment the colour touches the wall.

In my own work, I turn to Bauwerk when I want a finish that feels lived-in from the start - organic yet refined, grounded but full of depth. Their limewash creates a sense of calm and continuity that connects spaces across a home. It softens hard lines, catches daylight differently each hour, and brings a sense of timelessness that no synthetic paint could ever achieve.

Studio Loho

What first drew me to Studio Loho was their quiet strength - the way each piece feels grounded, elemental, and timeless. In a world that moves too quickly, their work stands still in the best possible way.

Studio Loho began with a collection of sculptural clay bathtubs - raw, tactile, and unapologetically honest. Those forms captured something essential: a reverence for material and a belief that design should outlast trend. From that first collection, their vision expanded into sinks and vessels, each one holding the same sense of permanence and serenity.

In my projects, Loho pieces become the emotional anchor of a space. They remind us that function can be poetic - that a bathroom, for instance, can feel like both sanctuary and sculpture. I’m drawn to their use of clay not just as a medium, but as a message: that simplicity and longevity can coexist beautifully.

Their philosophy, to craft designs meant to be cherished for generations, mirrors my own belief in building homes that breathe with time. Each Loho piece carries that intention, becoming part of the architecture rather than simply an object within it.

Louka Hardware

Louka Hardware is a bespoke hardware company I founded in 2024, born from a desire to bring a refined and timeless quality to the homes I design.

Created as an amalgamation of beauty and function, Louka offers style without ever compromising durability. Each piece is a study in proportion, touch, and quiet strength - a balance between architecture and emotion.

The collection draws inspiration from nature and its forms - the way lines curve, edges soften, and materials evolve with time. Every handle and pull is designed with the user in mind, handcrafted by local Canadian metalworkers who share a commitment to precision and craft.

Hardware is one of those details that can define a space - it’s where form meets hand, where the tactile becomes emotional. Louka grew from that belief: that the smallest details carry the greatest weight.

It’s also a labour of love. A celebration of collaboration, craftsmanship, and connection - values I see reflected throughout the Salts Design Lab community.

Bycocoon

What I love most about Cocoon is the way it redefines the bathroom - not as a purely functional space, but as a sanctuary. A place where form, material, and water come together to create calm. Cocoon invites you to step into a world where the bathroom sits at the heart of the home - a space to engage the senses and offer comfort to the soul through timeless, intentional design.

Their collections are born from collaboration with design masters - John Pawson and Piet Boon - each bringing a distinct language of minimalism and restraint. Yet, every line shares a unified sensibility: quiet elegance, enduring quality, and an almost architectural simplicity.

In my projects, Cocoon’s bespoke taps and basins are more than fittings - they’re sculptural moments. Each piece holds its own weight and stillness, grounding the space through proportion and material honesty. I’m drawn to the way their finishes age gracefully, how brushed metal softens over time, and how each collection feels considered, curated, and deeply human.

Cocoon reminds me that ritual matters - that design should serve both body and mind. Their work transforms the everyday act of living into something beautifully intentional.

1. Slipcovers are your best friend
I love using slipcovers on sofas and armchairs because they make maintenance so much easier. They can be removed, washed, and replaced - perfect for spills, paw prints, or life’s everyday messes. Opt for washable cotton, linen blends, or durable performance fabrics for longevity.

2. Choose high-performance fabrics
Look for upholstery with a minimum rub count of 20,000 double rubs - this measures how many times a fabric can be rubbed before showing wear. The higher the number, the more durable the fabric. It’s a simple way to make sure your upholstery holds up to playtime and pets alike.

3. Be mindful of chemical treatments
Whenever possible, choose COF-free (chemical and off-gassing free) materials. Many stain-resistant coatings release volatile compounds that can impact indoor air quality - especially in spaces where kids and pets spend time. Natural fibers or untreated performance fabrics are a healthier, more sustainable choice.

4. Rethink your wall finishes
I love using limewash paint for its texture and movement, but when designing for families, consider applying it only to the upper portion of the wall. Use a flat paint or microcement finish below for durability. Since kids love to touch walls, this approach keeps marks and scratches at bay while maintaining a warm, layered look.

5. Soften your edges
Sharp corners and delicate materials can spell trouble in high-traffic family spaces. I like incorporating rounded furniture edges, upholstered corners, and soft shapes wherever possible. They’re safer for little ones (and pets) and bring a relaxed, organic feel to a room that still feels sophisticated.

Designing for real life is about striking a balance - creating spaces that invite play, connection, and comfort without compromising on beauty. With a few smart choices, your home can be as resilient as it is inspiring.

I’m so glad you’re here.