Wanderlust

Homes shaped by journeys and dreams.

Wanderlust (from German wandern “to wander” + Lust “desire”) is that powerful longing to roam, an urge to explore, discover, or feel something beyond the familiar. At its heart, it can mean freedom, the wish to step away from what is known, to shed what feels heavy, and to seek out the new.

It is also about connection, the way we hold on to pieces of our heritage and carry them forward. In Australia, where almost every life is tied to migration, travel, or cultural exchange, that balance is everywhere. Maybe your grandparents brought treasured ceramics with them, maybe you once backpacked through Asia with a worn out Lonely Planet in hand, or maybe you have never travelled but feel drawn to colours, patterns, or objects from elsewhere.

In our living spaces, wanderlust is not only about where you have been, but about being open to difference, resonance, and beauty wherever you find it. Here are five ways to let that spirit flow into your interiors.

Caspar David Friedrich’s Wanderer above the Sea of Fog (1818).

Objects with a pull

Treasures that speak, whether from travels or dreams.

Not every piece has to be collected overseas. Sometimes it is the carved chair you spotted at a local market that reminded you of your grandmother’s kitchen. Or a patterned rug you have never seen before but somehow know belongs with you.

The pull can also come from imagination. A book that shaped you, perhaps a tale about a Russian cat that left vivid images in your mind, might make you stop in your tracks when you see a certain colour, pattern, or object. And sometimes it is less about the piece itself and more about the moment it carries, like something you bought with a dear friend from a vendor in a bustling Indian market, laughter and heat mingling in the air.

These objects do not need to be tied to geography to hold significance. They become little anchors, things that tug at us for reasons we cannot always explain. The key is to notice that pull and give them a place where they can be part of your daily life.

You don’t need to have a world map on your wall but if you want to, this is a fun option.

Patterns that tell stories

From folk stripes to desert dots.

Patterns are more than decoration, they are cultural handwriting. Think of the geometric mosaics of Morocco, the bold ikats from Central Asia, or the folk art stripes painted in European villages. For some, it may be Aboriginal dot painting rich in symbolism, for others a Mexican serape with its joyful bands of colour. And for me, the memory of the burl wood veneer in the bedroom furniture at my grandparents’ house still lingers. Its swirling, organic grain looked like maps and rivers, a natural design that felt both comforting and mysterious to a child.

Designs like these have always travelled across borders, carried in trade, migration, and imagination, shaping how we see and decorate even today. They hold meaning, whether personal or imagined.

Start small: a patterned cushion, a tiled splashback, or a framed textile. Each one becomes a visual language in your rooms.

I would seriously love to have a chair like this one in my own house.

Colours that hold memory

Palettes shaped by place, past and longing.

Colour carries emotion across traditions and places. Ochres and earthy reds tie us to desert landscapes, baked hot underfoot. Deep blue recalls the sea in Rhodes, the way it looked when you stepped off the ferry, young and in love, when the world felt wide open. Pastel shades echo the enamelware found in many migrant kitchens, chipped but cherished through years of meals. Saffron yellows bring to mind spice markets in the Middle East, stalls bright and fragrant in the heat.

Sometimes the connection is immediate and deeply personal, like choosing a tile for a bathroom renovation because its soft forest hue recalls the woods that surrounded your childhood home. For others, colour is pure longing, like a sun washed terracotta wall that whispers of afternoons far away.

You do not need to overhaul a room to invite colour in. A painted doorframe, a collection of ceramics, or a single piece of upholstery can shift the mood and bring that association or dream into daily life.

A bird by Tjanpi Desert Weavers, a social enterprise of the Ngaanyatjarra Pitjantjatjara Yankunytjatjara (NPY) Women’s Council.

The human hand

Craft as a universal language.

Every region has its crafts: weaving in West Africa, porcelain in China, wood carving in Northern Europe, ceramics in Mexico. They may look different, but they all share the warmth of human touch. These objects remind us that beauty does not come from perfection but from the marks of the maker. A hand thrown bowl, a woven rug, a carved spoon, each of these everyday things holds something no machine can replicate. They carry rhythm, patience, and often centuries of knowledge passed from one generation to the next.

When we bring these pieces into our houses, we do more than decorate. We acknowledge the maker and the tradition that shaped the object. A hand knotted rug is more than colour underfoot, it is hours of work tied knot by knot. A piece of pottery carries the trace of the potter’s hands, every slight irregularity reminding us that it was made by a person, not a process. Choosing handmade pieces, whether from a local artisan, a weekend market, or a small workshop halfway across the world, is a way of honouring heritage and ensuring those skills continue.

Some beautiful handmade Japanese vessels.

Spaces for ritual

Designing for how we gather and connect.

Wanderlust is not only about landscapes and objects, it is also about the ways people live. Travel often opens our eyes to rituals that are different from our own, tea poured slowly in Japan, families gathered around long shared meals in Southern Europe, or evenings spent on low cushions in the Middle East. Bringing that awareness home can change the way we shape our spaces.

And sometimes the inspiration does not come from travel at all, but from the traditions we already know. A verandah at sunset, or a weekend afternoon at the table with your own family, food shared and laughter rising, can be just as powerful. Designing for rituals means allowing space for gathering, pausing, and connecting, a cosy reading nook, a table that invites people to linger, or a corner for tea or meditation. This is how wanderlust settles into ordinary life, reminding us that tradition is not only seen but lived.

At home, wanderlust can mean freedom, the thrill of bringing in something unexpected that shifts how you see a room. It can also mean connection, holding on to objects, colours, or rituals that carry heritage and feeling. A splash of blue that recalls a faraway sea, a handmade piece touched by another tradition, a fabric that sparks joy, or even something that reminds you of a tale that once moved you. These small choices open our interiors to both new horizons and deep roots, creating spaces that feel alive, layered, and unmistakably personal.

Until next time.

Vera x