Heather’s journey to a perfect Clerkenwell home
Heather stands in her dream kitchen. The golden light streams in through the tall windows, falls across the walls and gives the kitchen a warm morning glow. She looks around the room, her hand resting on the edge of the counter. You could tell she was proud. “Everything just works.
She makes a coffee on her pride and joy, a bright red Jura Ena machine. She leans back, watching her cat, Phoebe, stretch out in a warm patch of sun, so lazy. There was peace in the way she moved through the space. No hurry. No fuss. Just the satisfaction of a thing done right. “My mornings feel like a ritual now,” she says, putting down her favourite Big Bear coffee mug on the beautifully bespoke concrete counter top.
Her home is tucked into a quiet Clerkenwell courtyard. The large industrial windows rise high, letting in the day. The place speaks for itself; it has the essence of city lifestyle at its best, clean lines, open air, and a kind of feeling that comes from living well.
Heather’s journey to this home - this quiet, sunlit corner of Clerkenwell - is as layered and steady as the life she’s lived. She was raised in Southwestern Ontario, in a small farming town where the seasons marked time She later built a career in accounting and finance - and that work carried her across the globe. Toronto first, then Zurich, London, and Brisbane. Cities with different rhythms, yet all part of the same long journey. She returned to London as a Chief Financial Officer in the insurance world, and now she serves as a Non-executive Director.
It was a friend - someone who knew the ins and outs of Clerkenwell - who gave her the hard sell. “It’s walkable,” they said. “Independent. You’ll love it.” They were right. Heather moved in, and the convenience struck her at once. No more long rides or waiting in tunnels underground. She walks now. Through old streets with names that sound like history. To the City and back again. And when she needs to go farther, the Elizabeth line hums quietly just down the street, ready to take her to the airports and beyond.
“There’s a stark contrast between my first London flat, a lower-ground apartment, and this place,” she says as she parks herself at the breakfast bar. I had to rely on lamps even on the sunniest days, and I swore never again. Here the daylight sold me instantly and the location sealed the deal. Walkable, independent, just the right fit for me and my cat Phoebe,” she says.
Heather’s home - and especially the kitchen - have undergone a transformation. Not overnight. Not in a rush. Ten years under the same roof had taught her what worked and what didn’t. The bones of the place were solid. The layout did its job. But it lacked heart. It lacked purpose.
“The kitchen needed a complete rethink,” she said, matter-of-fact. No drama, just the truth. “I wanted a wine fridge for dinner parties. And those frustrating, wasted corner spaces? They had to go.”
The old IKEA setup had served its time - modest, temporary, forgettable. It never made the most of the space. Never felt like it belonged. It was a placeholder for something better.
“It was time for something thoughtful. Something intentional.”
Interior design had always felt like foreign territory. “If you show me something, I can tell you if I like it or not,” she laughed. “But I can’t do anything with a blank piece of paper. I’m an accountant. Creativity is not our strong suit!”
She said it with a self-deprecating grin, the kind people use when they’ve spent years excelling in one world, only to find themselves humbled by another. But Heather knew numbers. She knew value. And she knew what it felt like to walk into a space and finally feel at ease.
She started scrolling through renovation posts, half-looking, half-dreaming, when a comment stopped her. A woman spoke of a designer - clean lines, nothing loud, nothing wasted. Stylish but quiet. It sounded right. “I didn’t want ultra-luxury. Just something solid. Something that worked.”
The words stayed with her. Testimonies about budgets kept, homes that felt lived-in and loved. That sealed it. She reached out to Lisa at Malt Interiors.
Lisa’s New York roots, paired with twenty years in the UK, struck the perfect balance. American efficiency with an understanding of British design nuances. They clicked instantly. Now, three years later, Heather couldn’t be happier.
“Small things made the biggest difference,” Heather said. “The pantry, the wine fridge. Moving the washer-dryer. Gave me space I didn’t know I was missing.”
They were quiet changes. The kind of changes that don’t just fill a room - they make it work. She moved through the kitchen now with ease, cooking often. A friend had given her a cookbook, filled with recipes shaped just for her. The Caesar salad - simple, sharp - was the one she returned to again and again.
“It feels like me now,” she tells Lisa when they speak.. Not just a kitchen. A home. Something she’d wanted for a long time. And in building it, she found more than space and light - she found a friend. One who listened. It’s been a win in every sense of the word.
The home she built here isn’t just well-designed. It’s a reflection of that long journey. A place where all the cities, all the years, all the work finally found rest. Where she could brew her coffee, feel the morning light on her face, and know she had arrived.
