My eye was shaped by years living across Australia, England, New York, Gibraltar, Spain, and Costa Rica — places where light, texture, and patina matter more than trends. Those experiences taught me to notice what makes a space feel grounding and lived-in, rather than styled or temporary.

But my last stop — Escazú, Costa Rica — was the one that truly rewired me. A sunlit apartment with a wide-open terrace, mountain views, and that golden-hour hush that makes everything feel softer. It taught me that space can change you — with the kind of quiet that settles your nervous system before the day even starts.

Studio Halo & Fitz grew from that perspective: a way to translate the ease of travel — and the holiday feeling — into real-life homes, without the excess, the overwhelm, or the guesswork.

When I came home, it hit differently.

Returning to Melbourne after a decade abroad felt sharp.

I moved into a one-bedroom rental in St Kilda — and it didn’t feel like me. Not yet. So I started small: a breezy palette, a few grounding pieces, a gentle sense of soul. Friends noticed.
“This feels like you — calm, supportive, grounded,” they’d say.

That’s when it clicked:

Design isn’t just visual. It’s emotional.
When a space works, you feel it in your body. When it doesn’t, no amount of “nice things” will fix it.

The pivot

That spark marked the birth of Studio Halo & Fitz — and the end of a burnt-out chapter in PR and communications, swapping media briefings for mood boards.

I followed the pull, retrained with the Interior Design Institute in 2024, and built this studio to help others feel the same sense of alignment — through space, story, and globally layered design.