• I've been an interior designer for years, and I believe some design "rules" are worth breaking.
• A room not working doesn't mean you need to make it bigger or completely remodel it.
• Don't avoid using furniture that's "too nice," or do open shelving just because it's in magazines.

In my years working in interior design, I've had many clients approach me looking for definitive "rules" for decorating their homes.

They want to know how to make their home look good and function better, assuming there is a set of guidelines to help them get there.

Certainly, there are building codes, safety requirements, and circulation considerations that must be met. However, much of what we think of as design and decorating is guided by rules of thumb, best practices, and even cultural assumptions.

The longer I practice design — over 20 years now — the more I learn that there are very few set rules to follow. Although some can be a good starting place, they often overlook the people who actually live in the space we're designing.

Here are a few design "rules" I think are worth breaking and why.

If you're remodeling your kitchen, you definitely need some open shelving.

Open any shelter magazine, and you will likely see open shelving as a prominent kitchen feature.

Open shelving is beautiful, often breaking up a wall of cabinetry, making a kitchen feel lighter and more open while creating a place to display dishes, glassware, cookbooks, or other collected personal effects.

Although I, too, am drawn to open shelves, I question whether it's the right choice for every client. Those beautifully styled shelves require you to decide what stays visible, keep some degree of order, and deal with more dust and kitchen grime.

For some people, that's no problem — or even enjoyable. For others, it's one more thing to maintain.

Before my clients make this design choice, we talk through what would actually live on those shelves and whether they want the responsibility of keeping them looking the way they imagine.

After all, a trend can show you a new possibility, but it can't tell you whether that possibility fits your life.

Your interior style should match your home's architecture.

I have many clients who make this assumption: If my home has a traditional architectural character, my new kitchen or bathroom must also have more traditional elements — think Shaker cabinetry, crown molding, and bronzy hardware.

Although I agree that architectural continuity can create cohesion, the architecture of your home is context, not a mandate.

When someone doesn't identify with their home's traditional character, I think it's important to honor the individual. I have seen many contemporary interiors set within traditional homes, and the juxtaposition can be breathtaking.

If your home isn't working, you need more space.

When a space feels cramped or isn't functioning well, I often see clients immediately assume they must add square footage.

Sometimes an addition is the right answer, but often the problem lies in how the existing space is being used.

For example, I had a client who was considering an addition to their kitchen. As we studied the existing space together, it became clear that the kitchen already had plenty of room, but the current layout wasn't making good use of it.

Rather than expanding the footprint of their home, we focused on reorganizing the space they already have so it functions better for them.

Before assuming more space is needed, identify where the friction is coming from: difficulty moving through a room, belongings that pile up in unwanted places, or things stored far from where they're used.

It's impossible to solve a problem you don't fully understand.

Some furniture is too nice for everyday use.

If you've ever invested in beautiful or expensive furniture, you may have worried about how you'll protect it from getting "ruined" by daily life.

But here's the rub (pun intended): When protecting furniture starts interfering with actually living in your home, we may have a problem.

Think about the white sofa featured in the aspirational home decor imagery in magazines or on social media. It's beautiful. It's pristine.

However, every Friday night, it needs to be covered with a blanket before anyone settles in to watch TV with a glass of red wine and a piece of chocolate. At some point, the needs of the furniture began to take priority over those of the person using it.

Here is the truth: Furniture is meant to be used, and a home is meant to be lived in.

Your kitchen trash can should be next to the sink.

This is a pretty standard kitchen-planning rule of thumb: Put waste collection close to the area where food prep and cleanup happen.

However, this is based on an assumption about how people use their kitchens. Sometimes, there are better layouts depending on your situation.

For example, many of my clients compost most food scraps. One such client keeps a small compost container on her counter, which is convenient during food prep and clean-up. Between composting and recycling, her regular landfill garbage gets very little use.

Once we uncovered how little this client uses the conventional trash can in her kitchen, we decided to relocate it elsewhere, freeing up valuable cabinet space near the sink and dishwasher.

This may not follow the design "rule," but it's a more practical arrangement for her space.

Empty spaces should be filled.

Sometimes an empty wall, shelf, or corner of a room can make a space feel unfinished, and our natural inclination is to fill it.

However, is empty space actually a problem that needs to be solved? No … at least not immediately.

I often encourage my clients to experiment with leaving something empty as part of the design process. It gives you an opportunity to live with the space and discover what — if anything — you actually need there.

You may discover a function you hadn't anticipated, eventually find something you genuinely want there, or realize that the room works better without anything at all.

If a room isn't working, it needs a makeover.

If a space feels unfinished, disjointed, or just "off," we often believe it needs a substantial change — new furniture, different finishes, or even a remodel.

And with so many dramatic reveals and before-and-afters, it's no wonder we think meaningful improvements require meaningful (and expensive!) interventions.

Rather than replacing everything, sometimes small, thoughtful changes can alter how a whole space feels.

For example, I had a client whose guest bathroom was remodeled several years ago. The materials, fixtures, and finishes were beautiful, but they didn't quite come together as a whole.

Rather than replacing them, we added a single wall of peel-and-stick wallpaper, a DIY project the client could tackle over a weekend. It connected what was already there and made the room feel cohesive.

Your interior designer has better taste than you.

Because an interior designer has professional expertise and experience, homeowners assume their aesthetic judgment is more valid — or that the designer has the "right" design answer, and they do not.

Designers understand proportion, scale, color, materials, and composition, but clients know more than they give themselves credit for. They notice when a color feels wrong, have strong reactions to particular materials or furnishings, and can identify what they prefer even if they don't have the design vocabulary to explain why.

Although a designer can help you understand those preferences and translate them into a cohesive space, your own sense of what feels right should be part of the design process.

After all, expertise isn't about applying rules indiscriminately — it's about knowing when they serve the person in front of you and when they don't.

I have a saying in my practice: "You do you!" You are the expert in how you live, what you like, and what makes you feel at home.

• My husband and I moved from the US to the Netherlands without seeing our new apartment in person.
• We encountered lots of surprises, like the lengthy Dutch application process.
• Although we love our apartment, we've had to get used to a few cultural differences.

After living as digital nomads for nearly two years, my husband and I decided to move from the US to the Netherlands.

We'd visited several times and fell in love with the walkability and bike culture. Plus, I have a connection to the country, since my great-grandparents were Dutch.

With the help of a real-estate agent, we found an apartment remotely from the US, signing a yearlong lease in the city of Utrecht before ever setting foot in the home.

We encountered some surprises while looking for an apartment

Since the process of finding an apartment abroad can often take months, we chose to search remotely from the US. To make things easier, we hired a Dutch real-estate agent with local connections who could view apartments for us in person.

The prep work was much more intense than I was used to. In the US, I've leased apartments in three different states, and the extent of the application typically included filling out a basic form and sometimes completing a background check.

That wasn't going to cut it in the Netherlands.

Our agent gave us a long list of materials to prepare, from 12 months of bank statements and links to our LinkedIn profiles, to a "get to know us" letter, which included our hobbies and photos of us. Then she went looking.

Rentals often get snatched up within a few hours or days, so my husband and I were regularly waking up at 4 a.m. in Colorado to read our agent's emails about the new listings each day.

When we finally found one that checked all our boxes, we asked her to schedule a walkthrough. Luckily, she recorded a video for us to review, so we didn't need to wake up early for this part of the process.

It was during the walkthrough, however, that we learned Dutch apartment listings aren't as detailed as the ones we were used to in the US. When our agent arrived, we discovered the listing had omitted several important pieces of information.

For example, there was a fully fenced-in back garden, complete with a shed, picnic table, and blackberry and rose bushes. The kitchen had a dishwasher. And there was a washing machine hidden away behind a cabinet door — and a dryer (which is not as common in Europe).

Score, right? So we jumped at the opportunity, put in our bid, and jumped for joy when our offer was accepted.

Despite a few setbacks, we fell in love with our apartment

We arrived in the Netherlands a few weeks later, traveling directly from the airport to our rental. When we unlocked the door for the first time, hoping we'd fall in love with our new home, it was … freezing.

Turns out, the heat had stopped working, and the rental company couldn't send someone to fix it until the next day. So, we spent our first night in the Netherlands at a hotel.

Thankfully, the heat was fixed the following day, and then we could start unpacking. This is when we began to notice some of the more nuanced differences of a Dutch house compared to an American one.

The first thing to get used to? The alarmingly steep stairs (a hallmark of skinny, tall Dutch houses) which made moving furniture up to our second-floor office feel like a Herculean feat.

We also learned to accept moths and gnats as houseguests, since Dutch windows don't typically have screens. However, with no air conditioning and a 100-year-old house that was built to retain heat, we definitely want to keep those windows open.

Overall, aside from a few stowaway insects and some hot days, we've been very fortunate with our rental. I particularly love the neighborhood and how we can walk to a grocery store, bakery, or park within five minutes.

The biggest lessons have come from being part of a Dutch neighborhood

Although finding our rental was a whirlwind process, I've found the most interesting parts of living here have come from the cultural differences between American and Dutch neighborhoods.

For example, shortly after arriving, our neighbor invited us to the neighborhood WhatsApp group. If you need to borrow a drill or lose your cat, you send a message to the group.

It's very active, and joining the group helped me feel like I was part of a community before knowing anyone here. Although I've heard of similar groups in the US, I've never been invited to join one.

Ordering packages is also very different. Back in the States, packages would be left by my door. In the Netherlands, however, they aren't left unattended.

Instead, the delivery driver will start ringing the neighbors' doorbells until someone is home. Then, they'll leave a digital note about which house has your package.

One place I didn't expect to feel such a contrast is the sidewalk. On sunny days, my Dutch neighbors bring out their dining room chairs, park them on the bricks outside their front door, and enjoy a cold drink. Sometimes, it'll feel like an impromptu block party — and I couldn't be happier to join in the festivities.

After leasing an apartment across the world, sight unseen, would I do it again? I sure would — especially if I could hire a real-estate agent to check out the home in person.

The quirks of our apartment and neighborhood are all part of the experience of living abroad, and although I may not have expected them, I've now grown attached to these cultural differences.

• After college, my best friend and I committed to going on a trip together every year.
• It's been a great way to stay connected and make new memories, even as our lives change.
• Our trips are more relaxed in our 30s than they were in our 20s, but they've all been wonderful.

I'm a firm believer that there are some people in this world you're simply destined to meet and have in your life forever. For me, one of those people is my sorority-Little-turned-soul-sister, Lisa.

After bonding over many things during recruitment sophomore year — including our shared love for Blink-182 and punk rock — we both unknowingly wrote down on the get-to-know-you quizzes for the committee that we hoped to be paired as Big and Little sisters.

We were, and the rest is history. Our college days were constantly filled with plans together, and by graduation, we couldn't imagine embarking on this next phase of adulthood with over 180 miles between us.

She's from the Boston area, while I'm from Connecticut and moved to New York City right after college. So, we agreed to prioritize our friendship and made a pact to spend time together in person every year.

Since graduating in 2015, we've planned a getaway together every summer.

Our trips haven't always looked the same, but they have some constants

Right out of college, Lisa and I looked forward to a few sun-drenched days spent catching up on Long Beach Island, New Jersey.

From the Victoria Guest House to the Engleside Inn, we'd book a charming yet affordable place steps away from the beach to spend long days working on our tans, cranking up the tunes, and sipping spiked seltzers.

At night, we'd head out for bar hopping and dancing to live music until the wee hours of the morning. The next day, we would rinse and repeat.

We initially chose the Jersey Shore because it's an easy ride to perfect summer weather and beautiful beaches. It became our go-to place, though we now switch up locations every now and then.

Fast-forward to more than a decade after graduating from college, and our summer tradition is still going strong — but it looks quite different.

For this year's getaway, we stayed in a charming room at Greydon House in downtown Nantucket, Massachusetts. (We've always taken the aesthetics of our accommodations seriously and became obsessed with B&Bs and boutique hotels early on.)

We brunched at Lemon Press, popped into all of the boutiques (and shopped for Lisa's little ones), enjoyed early afternoon cocktails at CRU (the restaurant's signature Crucomber cocktail was a must), pedaled our beach cruisers past the hydrangea-lined shingled homes, and relaxed at the beach while we gabbed and reminisced.

Although we're no longer partying like it's 2015, we've come to genuinely enjoy an early dinner reservation at an aesthetically pleasing restaurant, plus after-dinner cocktails. A perfect night usually includes slipping into our PJs and streaming a chick flick.

We're also more organized these days, sticking to a well-planned itinerary to ensure our experience is top-notch.

In fact, we both watched "Five Star Weekend" before heading to Nantucket and knew we absolutely had to grab morning buns from Wicked Island Bakery. (If you know, you know!)

Above all, we don't let life get in the way of our friendship or summer tradition

Our lives look very different now that we're in our 30s. Lisa married her high-school sweetheart and is a mom of two, while my husband and I recently purchased our first home and have been tackling countless renovation projects in between doing lots of travel.

It takes true commitment from Lisa and me to carve out time for our tradition amid this hectic stage of adulthood — and it's always well worth it.

We know the importance of prioritizing our time together and start planning our trip in the early spring so we can block off a time that works for both of us in the summer.

While, like fine wine, our getaways have improved in the best way, one thing has always remained the same: We still talk, let our hair down, and laugh until our sides hurt from start to finish.

There's rarely a moment of silence, and when there is, it feels completely natural.

We can go weeks or even months without gabbing and somehow always pick up where we left off. We listen, give advice, and discuss what we both have planned in the near and distant future. We celebrate each other's successes and offer endless support.

Our friendship has grown with us and is incredibly strong; it's exactly what a best friendship should be. Of course, our summer tradition is here to stay.

• During my senior year of college, my 24-year-old brother became my roommate.
• Living together seemed like a crazy idea, but he ended up becoming a safe space for me in the house.
• The experience brought us closer and made me less afraid of postgrad life.

Before heading out to the bar on our final day of junior year at the University of Maryland, I sat in my empty college apartment with my friends, laughing over a dumb sitcom while scrolling on our phones.

Half of our stuff was in boxes as we were preparing to move into our very own house for the next school year. We fantasized about the parties we would throw and the decorating we would do.

But then, two months later, everything was turned upside down when one friend backed out and moved to Wisconsin to pursue a new career path. We were scrambling to find a replacement, but luckily, we weren't the only ones looking for a roommate.

When I was talking to my mom about the situation, my 24-year-old brother, who was three years out of college, was on the other end of the phone. Turns out, he was trying to find a place to live after his arrangements in Baltimore — about 40 minutes from my school — changed at the last minute.

My mom listened to both her children in a state of panic and was able to solve both problems with the most cruel suggestion a college girl could ever hear. "Why don't you move in together?"

Sure, that's just how every girl wants to spend her senior year of college. It was my parents' dream and my own nightmare.

My brother and I are close, but this still seemed like a crazy idea. However, we'd already signed a lease and didn't want to cover the rent for our friend who moved away. So, my brother and I talked on the phone, toying with the idea, before meeting up for lunch and deciding to officially become roommates for the first time since high school.

Despite any hesitations, once the summer ended, we all moved into the house together.

Suddenly, my senior year of college looked less like a coming-of-age movie and more like an episode of "New Girl." Three college girls and my older brother, all under one roof.

My brother became an unexpected safe space for me

Whenever my brother and I told people we were living together, we got some crazy looks. There were a lot of questions for him about how he could live with a bunch of college girls and function as a full-time adult. There were also a lot of questions for me, a full-blown party girl, about whether I would feel uncomfortable living with my overprotective brother.

We were living different lives and were on completely different pages — or so we thought. Surprisingly, after moving in, there were moments when I was thankful my brother was there.

When I had a falling-out with my roommates around the second half of the school year, and tensions grew, my brother was there to have my back. The living room no longer felt like a safe space, so I would go to his room instead.

Then, six months into our living arrangement, I got news that one roommate had received a full-time job offer, while the other was accepted into graduate school. Meanwhile, I was a straight-A student with four different internships, who was going to be completely jobless.

It felt unfair and difficult to speak with my friends about my unemployment and fear of adulthood since they couldn't relate. So, in these moments, I ended up going to my brother, since he had gone through the same situation a few years back when he was finishing school.

As I learned more about his life, his perspective helped me navigate my own experiences — and brought us closer, too.

Fast-forward a couple of months, and my brother and I spent the majority of our time at home laughing on the couch, watching reality television, and talking about our weekday struggles. While I was struggling to find a job, my brother was struggling with his work as an elementary school teacher.

When I was complaining about guys, he was telling me about his dating failures. Sure, living together while navigating our respective romantic lives was occasionally awkward, but we did our best to keep our flings from crossing paths.

Before long, we were both spending our Sundays hungover on the couch, debriefing our weekends. Although my brother may not have found the same common ground with the other girls I was living with — who were practically strangers to him — we were closer than we've ever been.

Living with my brother made me less afraid of life after college

Spending this much time with my brother alleviated any fears I had of adulthood.

His day-to-day life wasn't too different from mine, but while I was attending classes as a student, he was leading them as a teacher. Although I had no plans to become an educator, he gave me advice on navigating the workforce and figuring out how to be a grown-up.

More than anything, he showed me that postgrad life could still be fun. I could go to the gym and blast my music, grab drinks with friends, and binge-watch my favorite shows. The difference was that life felt a little more elevated, with new opportunities to step outside my college bubble.

At the end of the day, he taught me that the problems we face after college are not so different from the ones we had in college. Whether someone is newly postgrad, graduated 10 years ago, or is still completing their studies, we are all figuring things out in our own way.

We now live in different cities with our significant others, but spending a year together created a bond that makes my brother feel more like my best friend than a sibling.

We still talk every day, and now we get to laugh with each other's partners about the realities of living with us. After all, we've both been there.

• Over the past decade, I've traveled solo to all 50 US states and most major US national parks.
• Although I've found beauty in every state, there are some that I want to visit over and over again.
• I love traveling to places like New Mexico, Montana, New Hampshire, and Arizona.

Over the past decade, I've successfully visited all 50 US states solo, and have even made it to most of the major US national parks along the way. Because of this journey, I'm often asked which states I'd recommend to travelers.

Although most international travelers gravitate toward states like Florida and New York, I've found fantastic beauty and history in every state.

However, these are the 10 I always return to.

New Mexico boasts a surprising variety of stunning landscapes.

New Mexico is always at the top of my list of recommendations. Nicknamed "the land of enchantment," it lives up to its moniker — and then some.

Those who haven't visited New Mexico may think of the state as a mostly barren desert, but it's actually the diverse landscapes that keep me coming back.

From the otherworldly dunes of White Sands National Park to the snow-capped Sangre de Cristo Mountains, there's beauty to be found around every corner.

Outside the natural beauty, the state is chock full of history, art, food, wine, and culture.

California is full of diverse landscapes and experiences.

Every time I visit California, I feel like I'm entering a completely different reality.

The sheer size and diversity of the state are impressive, and it has gorgeous beaches, cities, forests, deserts, mountains, and even volcanoes.

I love road-tripping up the coast, visiting Yosemite National Park, taking a boat to the Channel Islands, and wine tasting in places like Napa and Sonoma.

Montana is a must-visit state for any outdoor enthusiast.

With its vast open spaces, majestic mountains, and endless opportunities for outdoor adventure, Montana is a must-visit state for any outdoor enthusiast.

The state is home to the breathtaking Glacier National Park and parts of Yellowstone National Park. The sky is vast and open, the mountains are towering, and the lack of development makes me feel like I'm entering another world entirely.

I've returned to West Virginia multiple times.

Although it may not get as much attention as some of the other states on this list, I've returned to West Virginia multiple times since my first visit.

The state's natural beauty is stunning, from New River Gorge National Park to ample lush forests, underground caverns, historic small towns, and over 200 waterfalls.

Wisconsin is home to beautiful scenery and great dining options.

Wisconsin has so much more than first meets the eye, from the natural beauty of the Apostle Islands and the 15,000 lakes in the state to the classic cheese curds, breweries, and wineries that dot the landscape.

I love spending time along the shores of Lake Michigan and Lake Superior, dining at one of the state's famous supper clubs, and exploring the many Wisconsin state parks.

There's no place quite like the Maine coast.

There's so much to love about Maine, but my favorite part of the state is the coast. With jagged and dramatic cliffs, lighthouses, and lobster shacks, visiting the Maine coast is an unforgettable experience.

It's easy to find peace in the state that sees the first sunrise of the year and is home to Acadia National Park, which is one of the country's most-popular national parks.

I love to road trip up the coast, stopping in beautiful towns like Kennebunkport, Bar Harbour, and Lubec.

As my home state, Colorado will always hold a special place in my heart.

I couldn't write a list like this without including my home state of Colorado. The state has so much to offer, from beautiful views to fun activities.

On the Front Range, I enjoy hiking in Boulder and exploring Cheyenne Cañon. I like to spend the night at the The Broadmoor hotel in Colorado Springs before heading over to Great Sand Dunes National Park.

In the Rockies, I love driving Independence Pass to Aspen, as well as exploring the underrated Grand Mesa, which is the biggest flat-top mountain in the world. I also enjoy taking road trips to the charming mountain towns of Telluride, Buena Vista, and Steamboat Springs.

No matter where you find yourself in Colorado, there's no shortage of incredible natural beauty and outdoor adventure.

New Hampshire boasts some of the best skiing and hiking in the Northeast.

The Northeast is famous for its fall foliage, but I can't help but think that New Hampshire is sometimes overshadowed by its neighbors, Maine and Vermont.

I was stunned by its natural beauty during my first trip to the state. From the White Mountains to Franconia Notch State Park, the state boasts some of the best skiing and hiking in the Northeast.

Utah is home to five major national parks.

Utah is a state that you have to see to believe. With five major national parks, 46 state parks, 15 ski resorts, and hidden gems at every turn — you'll never get bored here.

I love visiting Moab to hike in Arches National Park, Canyonlands National Park, and Dead Horse Point State Park before heading south to Bryce Canyon National Park, Kodachrome Basin State Park, and Zion National Park.

I also like making stops in Park City and Grand Staircase Escalante National Monument.

Arizona is the perfect escape for adventure and relaxation.

Arizona is well known for the Grand Canyon, but the state has much more to offer. From Flagstaff's high-altitude forests to Sedona's iconic red rocks, Arizona's diversity is surprising and worth a trip.

I love hiking among the cacti in Sedona or Scottsdale before heading to one of the many resorts to jump in a pool or hit the spa — the perfect escape for adventure and relaxation.

This story was originally published on April 5, 2024, and most recently updated on October 23, 2026.

• I swapped homes with a stranger and traded my San Francisco condo for a house in Seattle.
• For a month, I lived in Seattle to figure out if I would want to move there permanently.
• Although Seattle isn't the right city for me, the experience taught me what I want in my next home.

After 18 years of living in San Francisco, I was seriously starting to consider moving.

I loved the life I had built there, but taking the next step — like buying my own house with a yard — felt out of reach for me. However, I was afraid I would regret leaving the place I had called home for so many years.

When thinking of places I'd like to live, Seattle immediately came to mind. I figured the city would offer similar energy and career opportunities as San Francisco, and I loved its proximity to striking natural beauty.

Plus, I'd visited the West Coast city many times and had a good friend who lived there, so it seemed like a logical move. But instead of taking the leap immediately, I decided to test out living in the city for a month to make sure it was the right fit for me.

Through HomeExchange, a platform that allows users to swap homes with people from around the world, I traded my Noe Valley condo for a house with a yard in the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle for the month of July.

I got to experience Seattle as a local instead of a tourist

Although I'd visited Seattle many times over the years, this was my first chance to test everyday life there with my dog, Pepper — not just experience the city as a tourist.

I worked remotely, went grocery shopping, and checked out the Ballard Farmers Market on Sundays. Pepper and I explored different parks on morning walks and went to local breweries in the evenings.

I really prioritized spending time in Ballard, since that was the neighborhood I was most interested in possibly calling home. I loved that the residential parts were filled with single-family homes on tree-lined streets, but the location was also walkable to a historic core filled with shops, restaurants, and bars.

It felt like it could be the perfect combination of having a home with a yard in a residential neighborhood, while still having the city life and walkability I loved in San Francisco.

However, staying for a month also allowed me to experience some of the pain points I'd deal with as a local.

For example, although I found Ballard incredibly walkable, once I left the neighborhood, Seattle as a whole felt much more spread out and suburban than San Francisco. I found myself driving and sitting in traffic more than I'm used to.

One night, I was invited to go to my friend's house for dinner. What I thought would be a quick, 30-minute drive turned into a 55-minute headache in rush-hour traffic. In this moment, I realized moving around the city would require more planning than I initially expected.

Having Pepper with me also gave me insights into dog regulations that I never would have noticed on vacation. Although Seattle is a very dog-friendly city, I found there are more restrictions around water access and off-leash areas than I ever would have known about as a tourist.

I'm used to letting Pepper run off-leash in the sand at Fort Funston in San Francisco, but I found that most sandy beaches in Seattle don't allow dogs. Luckily, she was still able to sunbathe and people-watch from the yard of the house we were staying in.

The house swap helped me figure out what I want from a permanent home

Having someone stay in my home gave me insight into what she loved about it, and it made me appreciate what I already had.

The woman I traded homes with mentioned that many of my neighbors greeted her and that people were friendly on her daily dog walks in Noe Valley. I wasn't surprised that she felt this way. After all, the community in my neighborhood is one of my favorite things about San Francisco.

Spending time away gave me clarity on what I value in the home I already have, and some perspective on what I want in my next home.

A month in Seattle made it clear that the city is not my place. It also confirmed that I wanted some things that are out of reach for me in San Francisco because of the cost of housing, like a house with a yard.

Ideally, I'd like to find a place that combines the best parts of both cities: affordability, a walkable neighborhood with a sense of community, and natural beauty. I also realized that avoiding heavy traffic and crowds may mean looking beyond major cities.

Thankfully, trading homes was a relatively low-cost, low-risk way to test a major life decision like moving. Before making an expensive move, I was able to refine my list of what I want in my next home, and what I don't.

For now, I'm still searching for my new city, but my vision of what the next chapter will look like is much clearer.

• I've worked as a wedding photographer for years, and I've seen couples make the same mistakes.
• Too many people schedule the day to the minute and don't get the chance to enjoy their wedding.
• Not budgeting for the right photographer and videographer can lead to disappointing results.

I've been photographing weddings for over a decade, so I've witnessed countless ceremonies and receptions — some disastrous, others impeccable.

Throughout the years, I've also watched couples make the same mistakes over and over. Here are a few I wish they'd avoid.

Filling the day-of schedule with way too much

Couples have to find time for the ceremony, photos, eating and drinking, dancing, talking to the people they invited, and connecting with each other.

When you try to fit too many things into the day, no one — especially the married couple — has time to breathe and relish the moments. The day can feel rushed and more focused on activities than the celebration of love.

A packed schedule often leaves couples stressed, with no time to eat because they've been pushed from one 15-minute window to the next.

However, your wedding day shouldn't be a blur. You should have time to soak in every moment. When you map out your day, prioritize traditions you love and estimate how long each will take … then add buffers.

I also recommend working with a wedding planner or coordinator to plan your timeline, or consulting with your photographer and other vendors when arranging your schedule. They've experienced countless weddings and know firsthand how much time each activity usually takes.

Letting small mishaps and issues ruin the whole day

One of the things I always tell my couples right before their wedding day is that something will go wrong.

I don't say this to scare them or make them worry, but mostly to adjust their expectations. No matter how much planning you do, people are imperfect, the weather can be unpredictable, and life happens.

By the time the day comes, couples have done all they can to make sure it's how they pictured it. All that matters after that is that they enjoy their wedding.

Missing flowers or a cake that's the wrong flavor can throw off your day — but these unexpected mishaps shouldn't be so consuming that they're all you remember from your wedding.

I don't want to witness any more miserable couples desperately trying to fix details that will never be exactly right. Please try to roll with the punches on your wedding day.

Hiring the wrong photographer or videographer

I may be a bit biased, but I strongly believe having important memories properly documented in photo and video form is priceless.

I've also heard from countless married couples who regret booking a subpar photographer or skipping a videographer.

When hiring any vendors — especially these — choose carefully. You're paying someone to use their physical and creative energy to tell the story of your wedding.

Ask a ton of questions and make sure you love their style by viewing their portfolios and websites. It can also help to hop on a phone call or video meeting — couples should esnsure they vibe with their photo and video team on a personal level because they'll be spending a lot of time with them on the big day.

Planning the wedding they think they should have instead of the one they actually want

Weddings are for the couple, so they should do what they want.

I see so many of them spend thousands of dollars and devote countless hours to planning, only to celebrate their love the way they think they're supposed to — not how they'd actually like.

Your wedding should be unique to you, and it doesn't need to look like everyone else's. If you wish to elope in the forest or plan a ball inspired by "Bridgerton" in a mansion, go for it.

The couple is at the core of the celebration, so why shouldn't everything be based on who they are and what matters most to them? 

Consider this my official public service announcement: Your wedding can — and should — be fun, unique, and meaningful to you. 

This story was originally published in June 2021 and most recently updated on October 23, 2026.

• I spent my 20s climbing the career ladder and building the life of my dreams in Scotland.
• Then, after losing my dad, I decided to make a big change: I moved abroad and went back to school.
• I've been struggling financially, but I know that I made the right choice.

For most of my 20s, I wanted to climb the career ladder — and hoped that as soon as I reached the top, everything would become clear and I would live happily ever after.

My life felt like it was headed in the right direction. I was on a steady, exciting career trajectory in the climate policy field. I even bought my first flat in an up-and-coming area of Edinburgh.

Then, my dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer in late 2022. The next few years were spent grappling with his illness and, eventually, his death.

I quickly felt the whole ecosystem of my life fall apart. I was struggling at work, and I didn't know how to ask for help. I tried my best to carry on as normal and try to convince myself that the work I was doing — and, by extension, myself — was important.

As I edged toward my 30th birthday in early 2025, against a backdrop of grief and burnout, the need for change felt urgent and existential.

I made a drastic change

It was shortly after this, in the spring, that I decided a move abroad was exactly what I needed.

I quit my job and spent the next few months sending applications to schools across Europe, hoping to pursue a master's degree in my field and embark on a fresh start.

When an offer came from a university in Budapest, I knew that was where I would be going. I had visited for the first time about a decade prior, and fallen in love. I remember thinking, "I could see myself living here one day," not thinking that that "one day" would ever actually come.

In September, I packed up my life, started renting out my Edinburgh flat, and made the move.

The first few months brought a mix of excitement, fear, and disbelief. There was a lot of bureaucracy to navigate — forms to fill out, applications to be processed — and I couldn't relax until everything was completed.

I was also pretty lonely in the beginning. When I first moved, I didn't know a single person in Budapest and had to build a completely new social circle from scratch.

I also sometimes felt like an imposter: I was a lot older than the fresh-faced students in their early 20s who made up the bulk of my classmates. It felt like I was in a completely different life stage, and I was worried I didn't fit in.

Financially, the move has been difficult

Once I got settled, many of my anxieties subsided. I loved my new flat and enjoyed going back to school and learning new things.

Unfortunately, the hardest part — finding work — is ongoing. I figured I'd be able to get a part-time office job while I completed my degree, but it's been difficult. I've had to rely on my savings much more than I expected.

I've done what I can to get by. This summer, I worked long hours at a temp job; I've also worked as a teaching assistant at my university and done some voiceover work. However, none of this compares to what I used to earn as a full-time employee with a senior title.

And although the rent in Budapest is generally a lot lower than in Edinburgh, my general cost of living still feels pretty high, particularly when it comes to groceries and daily expenses.

This sense of financial precarity is difficult, and it's definitely not sustainable long-term. I'm lucky to have some income from my renter in Edinburgh and savings from my years working full-time — but there are still moments when I feel very acutely aware of the security I left behind.

I'm making less money now, but I'm happier than ever

Despite the erratic, unsteady, and low-paid nature of all these jobs — or maybe even because of it — my attitude toward work has changed.

For so many years, my job was all I talked and worried about. I felt like what I did defined me as a person.

My jobs now might not be as "stable" or consistent, but I no longer view my career as my identity. Instead, I think of my jobs as a series of experiences — some good, some bad — that have made my world bigger and my life richer (unfortunately, not literally).

My attitude toward spending has changed, too. In the past, I would spend money on clothes, nights out, expensive nail salons, and vacations without really thinking. Now I'm much more frugal and intentional about my money, which I think is a good thing.

Most of all, though, my move forced me out of a comfort zone that was becoming increasingly less comfortable. Starting fresh somewhere new — and making my life here work, even amid the challenges — has shown me that I'm more resilient than I ever thought I could be.

I know now that no matter what gets thrown at me, I will deal with it somehow.

At times, I wonder how much easier my life would be if I had stayed where I was — and if I'm being honest, the answer is probably "a lot." But I am so glad I didn't choose the easy option.

I'm on track to graduate next June, and I am excited about what lies ahead. I'm not sure yet whether I'll explore opportunities elsewhere in Europe or perhaps move back to the UK — but I hope that no matter where I end up, I will return more confident and self-assured than when I left.

• Moving to Barcelona from Los Angeles six years ago has come with a few culture shocks.
• At first, I struggled with businesses taking midday breaks and most shops being closed on Sundays.
• Eventually, I adapted. I now appreciate breaks and feel less pressure to optimize all my time.

I had 30 minutes left on my lunch break — just enough time to squeeze in a new errand before I had to get back to work. I had only recently moved to Barcelona, and I really needed to get an extra key made for my new roommate.

I typed "locksmith" into Google Maps and rushed out the door. I zigzagged through the narrow streets of my neighborhood trying to find the place. I checked my watch and saw I only had 20 minutes.

I picked up my pace and finally arrived at the small shop. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and reached for the door, but it wouldn't budge.

I peeked in through the window and saw no one. I knocked several times, and with each knock, I was becoming more frustrated, knowing I was losing precious time.

I opened Google Maps again to look up the store's phone number and saw its hours. I was dumbfounded; the store was open from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. and then again from 5 to 8 p.m.

I was so angry — I had wasted my lunch break and didn't even accomplish what I set out to do.

At first, I thought Spain was making me less productive

Growing up in Los Angeles, I was used to being able to get pretty much anything done at almost any time of day. Between 24-hour supermarkets and medical offices with evening and weekend hours, everything there seemed built around convenience.

In Barcelona, though, rest seems to take priority. Many stores close during midday for a "siesta" or "nap" break, and a lot of businesses are not open on Sundays.

This new way of life meant I had to plan a lot more before trying to complete my to-do list. I couldn't simply squeeze in errands when they were convenient for me; I had to work around the schedules of those around me.

While living in LA, my favorite time to do grocery shopping was on Sunday. I could fill up my fridge and prepare for the week ahead, but that was no longer possible in Barcelona, as many big supermarkets are closed on Sundays.

During my first year in Spain, I'd often wake up lazily on Sunday mornings and wander over to the supermarket, only to see the doors closed, and I'd be hit with a reality check time and time again.

I wasn't living in the United States anymore, but I couldn't seem to shake off the faster pace of living I was accustomed to back in LA. I was finding it difficult to adapt and was worried that I would become less productive because I couldn't get things done on my time.

Soon, I realized that if I couldn't change the schedule, I had to start adjusting to it. I started splitting errands throughout the week when I knew places would be open, instead of trying to get them done all at once.

Giving myself space between these tasks actually helped me to be less forgetful and more efficient. I had to focus on one thing at a time, which helped me be more present.

In time, I realized it was doing the opposite

Now that I've been in Spain for about six years, I've gotten used to my new routines. And, in time, I found myself feeling less annoyed by the limited hours — I've actually begun to enjoy them.

For one, I felt less pressure to optimize all of my free time.

My lunch breaks became about savoring my meal and actually taking a break, sometimes reading a few chapters in a book or taking a walk in the park. Sundays became about sleeping in, enjoying time with my family, taking a long walk with my dog, and preparing for the week ahead simply by just having a relaxing afternoon.

Even though it wasn't necessarily my choice to stop doing errands whenever I pleased, it forced me to slow down. I started feeling calmer and less stressed, and surprisingly, even more productive.

I became more mindful of how I spent my time and allowed myself moments to truly rest, which gave me more energy to get things done. I still get everything on my to-do list completed; it just might take a little longer.

And before I leave my apartment, I always make sure to check the store hours just in case.