Some objects are loud. These aren’t. These are the pieces that hum. That sit quietly in the corner, casting long shadows and behaving themselves. Pieces that make a space feel finished, maybe even a little loved.

First up, Henry Wilson’s cast aluminium wall reliefs. Brutalist, but in a well-mannered way. Raw, weighty, and full of textures. We’ve circled them for years and most recently pitched them for a powder room, because why shouldn’t the smallest room feel like a small gallery? Each of the five profiles is hand-cast in Sydney. Slightly irregular, intentionally imperfect, somewhere between architectural detail and archaeological find. They’re designed to repeat, but never feel repetitive.

Then there’s the Martyn Thompson rug from Tibet. Silk, splattered like paint. It sounds like a bad idea, but somehow it isn’t. It’s equal parts chaos and luxury. You roll it out, and the room stops looking like it’s waiting for something.

Michaël Verheyden’s bronze trays are small, heavy, and oddly magnetic. Sand-cast and full of surprise textures. They don’t shout, but they do insist you touch them. Often.

Society Limonta throws have been around our studio and homes forever. Think cashmere, angora wool and colours like olive and camomile. They offer mild existential comfort without needing to talk about it.

Next, there’s a glass vase by Vogel Studio via Ondene. Not too perfect, slightly warped. Comes to life with a loose, unruly bunch of stems inside.

And then, the Presidencial Armchair by Jorge Zalszupin from Mama Casa. A longtime love affair. Rich, low-key, vaguely smug. The kind of chair that makes other chairs feel underdressed.

We’ve always leaned bespoke. Furniture, cabinetry, wall panelling: all tailored, never templated. Tim Noone, our resident timber whisperer, has been carving up finishes that are equal parts primal and polished. Quietly tactile. With just enough irregularity to warrant a second touch. Maybe a third.

We’re not big on decorative flourishes, but Dimore’s Iris Field brocade had us reconsidering. Deep, dark, almost too much. Much like their metallic checkerboard silk, it shouldn’t work. And yet.

And finally, Atelier Février’s exquisite Équilibre rug. Circle, triangle, square—almost textbook. But in silk, it becomes something else entirely. Less diagram, more daydream.

All ten tread that fine line between functional and poetic. Thoughtful things with feeling. The kind that stays with you, and occasionally make them useful.

Still curious? Over on The Local Project, I talk through my ten design essentials. Nothing showy. Nothing that needs a drumroll. Just well-behaved pieces with good posture and better proportions. The kinds that quietly earn their place—useful, beautiful, and occasionally both. You can watch it here.

1. Henry Wilson’s cast aluminium wall reliefs. Designed to repeat, but never quite the same twice. Image courtesy of Studio Henry Wilson.

2. Martyn Thompson’s rug collection. Splattered like paint, equal parts chaos and luxury. Image courtesy of The Local Project / The Local Production

3. Perfectly imperfect, this sand-cast glass vase comes to life with a loose, unruly bunch of stems inside. Image courtesy of The Local Project / The Local Production

4. The Presidencial Armchair by Jorge Zalszupin—it’s one of the sexiest chairs on the planet. Image courtesy of The Local Project / The Local Production

5. Dappled, drilled, and scaled to suit. A collaboration with Tim Noone that’s become a dependable mainstay—equally at home on wall panelling or joinery facades. Photography by Si Kirk

6. Equal parts restraint and rebellion. Tim Noone’s textures are carved, not styled—quiet under the surface, faintly imperfect, all the better for it. Photography by Nic Gossage.

7. & 8. Dimore’s Iris Field brocade. A jacquard woven fabric in inky navy, scattered with rust and apricot flowers. Ornamental but grounded. Photography courtesy of The Local Project / The Local Production

9. & 10. Atelier Février’s Équilibre rug. Earthy, layered, quietly grounding—a palette we’ll always stand behind. Photography courtesy of The Local Project / The Local Production