Victoria Maw

Oct 21, 2024 | thetimes.com | Victoria Maw

There was a time when you might have found a clock in most rooms of a house; a tall grandfather clock keeping watch over an entrance hall, a simple bedside alarm clock ticking reassuringly through the night or a kitchen wall clock, deliberately set five minutes fast in an attempt to avoid tardiness. Travel even further back in history and the daily or weekly winding of a clock (a particularly unique and pleasing sound) would have been part of the rhythm of many homes.

Jul 29, 2024 | thetimes.com | Victoria Maw

When Kate Moss launched her wellbeing brand, Cosmoss, at Liberty, alongside face creams and fragrances there was a surprising product: her Sacred Mist incense sticks, raising the profile of an item once associated with yoga classes and student flatshares. Incense is back in the world of home fragrance with some exciting options to choose from.

Jul 27, 2024 | thetimes.com | Victoria Maw

By this point in the summer, dedicated gardeners are beginning to wilt and droop. It’s a busy time of year and there are always more jobs to be done; keeping on top of weeds, deadheading the roses, endless mowing — the list goes on. In the words of Rudyard Kipling: “Gardens are not made by singing ‘Oh, how beautiful!’ and sitting in the shade.” And while this is true, let’s not pretend there is not an awful lot of happiness to be gained from doing exactly that.

Jul 13, 2024 | thetimes.com | Victoria Maw

My ten-year-old is growing up and nowhere is this more apparent than in her room. Baskets of toys have been replaced with complex craft projects, a guitar and stacks of murder mysteries. Her clothes are spilling out of the chest of drawers and her bookshelves are groaning. She’s a tween and it’s time for a sort-out and a decorative update. As we scroll Pinterest together, looking for ideas on how to tweak her room, I wonder whether this is the last time that she really values my decorative insight.

Jul 4, 2024 | thetimes.com | Victoria Maw

I dream about my perfect laundry room. It smells like lavender, cypress and moonlit breezes. My children’s clean clothes hang from a tasteful wooden rack — not a lonely sock in sight — and a pile of fluffy towels sits smugly in a raffia basket. The washing machine hums softly, its gentle vibrations stirring my heart and confirming that the laundry situation is totally in control. Reality, as always, is different. Our utility room floor is scattered with random boots and trainers.