My wife & I sold our short-term rentals yesterday.

It was a very hands-on business, and one that has undergone significant changes since I first got involved in 2014, when Airbnb was still a budding platform primarily built around renting out single bedrooms.

There have been whispers of cooler weather lately. 

A couple of consecutive mornings, I slid open the patio door to feel something strange: a chill. 

Thoughts of greener lawns with less watering flood my mind.

All of my focus this week has been on wrapping up the above-mentioned program. Cannot wait to get it out. It's been a huge endeavour to make this a reality, and I sincerely hope it will make a difference in the lives of many folks.

I’ve been working at Switchyards this week, trying to be out of the house and away from its many distractions, just trying to finish the things I said I was going to finish. It's where I am writing this newsletter.

This week's sponsor is McMillan Floors. Whether you need LVP, Laminate, or Engineered Hardwood, they have beautiful colors, a high wear rating, and are built for busy homes.

We returned from California, and I was hit with a deluge of reality. A heatwave (98), selling a property, scorched and overgrown landscaping, helping clients, no more angelic grandparents to pass off the kids to, and a house that was used as a brand video set right before we left.

It has been such a great summer in California, and in a few days, we'll be heading back home. It's always a joy to come out here and experience all that the West Coast has to offer in design inspiration. Yesterday I tried to get in a few more that I hadn't already seen.

This newsletter is sponsored by West Elm, where you can find beautiful pieces for inside and outside your home.

Before we get into it, I just want to shout out Matt Ragland, who believed strongly in me and was very helpful in getting me set up and getting the newsletter off the ground.

Last summer, after being away for months, my wife and I walked back into our house and immediately said to each other: "What a beautiful home this is." We saw it with completely fresh eyes. Details we'd stopped noticing suddenly felt intentional again.

On Thursday, we drove along a gorgeous tree-lined street all the way up to the top of a hill in La Canada Flintridge to attend a party hosted by LUMENS & Architectural Digest at a 1973 Ray Kappe house.

We finally wrapped up our life for the spring and headed out to the West Coast for the summer. It’s become a cherished ritual, and it’s not lost on me how fortunate we are to do this.

This week, Todd Snyder opened a new store in Nashville. It's a brand I've always been drawn to. The store is a beautiful space. Concrete floors meet warm wood-paneled walls. Roman and Williams fixtures hang from the ceiling. It feels refined, but not precious—cool, but not try-hard.

Christopher Alexander wasn’t a starchitect. He cared about how places made people feel — and he spent his life trying to articulate why some spaces feel good, and others don’t.

This past week was nonstop.

Client deadlines. Brand shoots. Endless decisions that couldn’t be handed off — too many of them required judgment, taste, and a dozen micro-choices you just can’t outsource.

The most critical tool in design—and in any creative work—is taste.

Not in the precious, elite sense of the word. I mean your personal preferences. Your eye. Your gut reaction. What you think is beautiful, interesting, ugly, or off.

In a world of copycat content and algorithm-shaped aesthetics, taste is what sets you apart.

It’s also what people hire you for if you are a designer.

As a designer, few things are more exciting than a box full of potential—swatches, tiles, slabs, and hardware, all waiting to spark an idea. Recently, I had the chance to try out DesignShop, an online sample marketplace that makes it easy to order materials from top brands—all in one place.

I was thinking this week about what I’d do if I were a new designer starting from scratch. No clients, no portfolio, just passion and a desire to make beautiful spaces. It’s daunting. But here’s the thing: the best way to start is to start. Get your hands dirty, make something, and tell the world about it.

It’s surprising what you can accomplish in a single day—if no one interrupts you. But those kinds of days are usually rare.

Our houses often reflect what we believe about ourselves.

If you're reading this newsletter, I'd bet you're the type of person who doesn't just want a "nice" home - you want something that speaks to who you are and says something.