When I was a magazine editor, we often debated whether the properties we featured on our glossy pages should be referred to as houses or homes. The architecturally minded members of the team favoured ‘houses’, while the emotionally inclined (that would be me) preferred the more evocative ‘home’. To my mind, a house is square metres, bricks and mortar and a floorplan. Whereas a home is the sum of all those parts plus the human and decorative elements that make it unique, personal and ours.  

Emotion always won out, not just because I was the editor – although that may have helped – but because we agreed the houses we published, while almost invariably spectacular from an architectural perspective, also told very individual stories of their owners and the lives lived in them. They were indeed homes. Home is something I care passionately about, and never more so than in the last two years, when our personal spaces have become so central to our lives. But creating a home can take a while, a lifetime even. As someone famously once said, home wasn’t built in a day … or something like that.  

Neale at home with his partner David and two of their boys.

A home tells a story

The home I share with my partner David is a complex equation of personal taste, architectural style and the functionality demanded by a rural location and a family of four dogs. (By the way, never underestimate a dog’s nose for style. Our boys, familiar with the ads they’ve heard me voice over the years, know the KING sofa is an infinitely better place to sleep than so-called ‘ordinary’ furniture.)  

But there’s no denying that our property is every inch a home. And people are often surprised that the furniture, art works and possessions we have in the country are the same as those we had in the city. That the furnishings of an inner-city warehouse apartment can work perfectly in a country cottage. Why? Because they’re the pieces David and I have selected over almost two decades to tell our story.  

 Every book on our shelves, every painting, every rug, lamp and cushion has meaning and significance. Pieces we have collected on our travels overseas or purchased closer to home, but almost invariably together. Vintage sits with contemporary, classic with country, tribal with traditional. And it’s always been that way.  

Zaza Outdoor in Malibu Eucalyptus sits on Neale’s verandah along with the Luna Chair in Rock, Oasis Outdoor Inset Tables in Slate and Dusk WeatherWeave® and Avalon Indoor Outdoor Rug. 

Create your sanctuary

In my longstanding role as a judge on The Block (twelve years and counting), I often remind people that the show’s contestants are not creating homes. They are building houses – real estate – that they hope will sell for a big profit and become someone else’s home. It’s an important distinction, because I believe far too many of us prioritise the resale value of homes we don’t intend to sell and deny ourselves the satisfaction of personal expression. As I’ve said many times on The Block, nobody ever didn’t buy a house because of the colour of the walls, the rugs on the floor or the cushions on the bed.  

So, what price a home? The best advice I can give is to allow it to grow organically. The most interesting homes I saw in my career as an editor were those that allowed the passage of time to add depth, interest, and patina. I also advise against placing too much emphasis on trends that will inevitably come and go. Far better to choose for love - styles, colours and fabrics that resonate. Romantic as it might sound, a home should bring joy. Whether it’s a compact apartment, a family duplex or - as in our case - a small country property, it’s a sanctuary from the world.