There is something quietly radical about the way Kelly Wearstler speaks about her home. Not as a finished masterpiece or a carefully preserved showpiece, but as something alive; a place that softens and deepens, absorbing time within it.
Her Beverly Hills residence, originally designed in 1936 by architect James Dolena, carries the weight of Hollywood history in its bones. It is a house shaped by narrative long before Wearstler ever stepped inside. Yet what she has created within it is not a restoration, nor a rebellion, but something far more nuanced. “This house has always been my laboratory,” she says. “It’s where ideas are tested in real life, where nothing is too precious to move, rethink, or completely transform.” The word laboratory feels exact. This is where ideas are not just imagined, but lived. Materials are tested in the rhythms of daily life, and colours are experienced through morning light, afternoon shadows, and the quiet glow of evening. “You only really understand a material, a colour, or a room once you’ve lived with it through time, light, and daily life,” Wearstler enthuses.
It is perhaps this openness that gives the home its emotional depth. Nothing feels static, and rooms that once carried a certain boldness have softened over time, becoming more intimate and reflective of the life unfolding within them. Others have settled into themselves exactly as intended, growing richer with age. “The house holds so many chapters for me,” she says. At the heart of it all is the living room, the space Wearstler describes as the most personal. “The light is extraordinary, and it’s where the family naturally comes together,” she smiles. “It holds both energy and ease, which is something I’m always chasing in design.” That balance feels central to her philosophy. Design, for her, is not about control; it is about creating environments that hold both dynamism and comfort, where people can feel something without being overwhelmed by it.
The architecture itself plays a crucial role in shaping that feeling. Dolena’s original design carries a kind of cinematic glamour, a distinctly Hollywood sensibility that Wearstler chose not to compete with. “A house like this arrives with so much character, glamour, and history already embedded in it,” she expresses.“There’s a real sense of Hollywood storytelling in the architecture, and I wanted to preserve that soul.” She has evidently leaned into that soul, allowing the house’s history to remain visible while introducing her own contemporary language.
Sculptural furniture sits against classical proportions, contemporary artworks interrupt and enrich traditional forms, while materials shift from expected to surprising. “What excites me is creating a dialogue between that legacy and a more contemporary point of view. The tension between classic architecture and sculptural furniture, contemporary art, and unexpected materiality is what gives the house its energy. I never wanted to compete with its history, only to build on it in a way that felt alive and personal.”
That same sense of layering extends to the objects within the home: artworks, vintage pieces, sculptural forms. Many of them have travelled with her for years, long before this particular house entered her life. They are not simply decorative choices, but emotional anchors. “There are many pieces in the house that feel like part of the family,” she reminisces. “Often the connection happens instantly; you fall in love with something before you even know where it belongs.”There is something deeply human in the way she describes these objects. The connection, she says, is often love at first sight. Yet, even these beloved pieces are not fixed in meaning.
As rooms evolve, so too does the presence of each piece. “What’s beautiful is how those pieces evolve over time. A sculpture, a chair, a stone object can take on a completely different presence as the room around it changes. The ones that matter most are the pieces that have earned their place, that hold memory and witness life.” What determines whether something belongs in that narrative is, for Wearstler, instinct. “A piece either adds to the conversation or it interrupts it.” There is no rigid formula or checklist, and importantly, there is no obligation to keep everything forever. “Over time, I’ve become more fluid about that,” the designer admits. “Not everything you love needs to live in a space forever. Some things are seasonal, some transitional, some meant for another chapter… A home should keep evolving. That’s what makes it feel alive.”
This fluidity sits at the beating heart of Wearstler’s approach. A home should never feel finished; it should move with you, and grow as you grow, and change as your life changes. It is a philosophy that resists the idea of perfection in favour of presence. Presence is, in many ways, the emotional thread running through everything the designer creates. “I want people to feel more connected to the space, to themselves, to the moment they’re in,” she says. In a world defined by speed and constant distraction, that intention feels almost radical. “We move so quickly through life. A great room can interrupt that. It can slow you down, pull you in, and make you feel something. That sense of presence is always what I’m after.” It is an idea that extends beyond interiors into her broader creative work.
Her recent collaboration with Edelweiss Pianos on TIMBRA reflects this same sensitivity to atmosphere. “Music has always been part of how I think about space. Sound shapes an atmosphere just as much as light, form, or material.” The piano, inspired by fluid natural forms, becomes both and instrument and a sculpture. “I kept thinking about fluidity, like the movement of water, dunes, and organic form, because sound itself is so fluid,” Wearstler shares. “The piano became both an instrument and a sculpture shaped by that idea.”
Similarly, her newest collaboration with H&M HOME introduces modular furniture designed to evolve alongside its user. “I’ve always believed interiors should never feel finished,” she reinforces. “A home should evolve as life evolves.” It is a philosophy that feels deeply personal, rooted not just in design theory but in lived experience. “That’s what I love about modularity. It allows a space to shift with you, with your routines, your family, your needs, and your point of view. Furniture should support that kind of movement and change. What excites me about this collaboration is making that philosophy more accessible.”
And yet, despite her global influence and decades of shaping the language of luxury interiors, there is no sense of rigidity in her thinking. If anything, there is a persistent curiosity, and a willingness to question and to experiment. When Wearstler speaks about the homes of the future, her hopes are not tied to technology or trends. They are emotional, almost philosophical.
She pauses, “I hope people rediscover presence. Slowness. A deeper connection to the spaces they inhabit.” In a world filled with noise, she sees design as a counterpoint. “I think design can remind us that beauty is not just something we see, it’s something we feel. A home should invite you to notice, to engage, and to fully arrive.” It is a perspective that brings us back to her Beverly Hills home. It’s a place where history and modernity coexist, and rooms evolve over time.
A residence that invites you, above all, to live in the moment. In the end, that may be the most defining aspect of Kelly Wearstler’s work. Not the boldness of her materials or the distinctiveness of her aesthetic, but her ability to create spaces that ask something of you: to slow down, look closer, and live more fully within them.
