Exploring the quirk and character of Stephanie Zubiri’s home

In the bedroom, considered choices reflect both sensuality and comfort. “I’ve actually set it up like a hotel suite,” she admits. “It sounds counterintuitive because I love personality in a home, but I do like the function and feeling of a well-designed hotel.” Here, TV isn’t allowed in bed. Instead, there’s a dedicated sofa for winding down with wine, ginger 39 tea or movie nights with the family.

Lighting is soft and purposeful; bright overheads are replaced by the glow of lamps and candles, casting a rosy hue after 6pm. “It’s about creating a boundary,” she explains. “When we shut off the TV and leave the sofa, the bed becomes a space for sleep, intimacy and conversation.”

Her walls are painted Marsala, a rich, warm tone advised by feng shui master Marites Allen to balance her water-heavy astrological chart. “It changed how I feel. It’s an unusual colour for a bedroom, but it’s cosy and sexy—a little boudoir.”

Even the smallest rituals—ginger tea in crystal teacups, evening showers with oil and lotion, fresh orchids from her floral subscription— are ways of signalling to the body and soul: here, you are safe. As a Reiki practitioner, Zubiri is acutely sensitive to energy. “If something feels off, I get rid of it. Objects carry energy that sometimes isn’t even your own.”

These elements are what contribute to the feeling of peacefulness in her home. Everything from incense and crystal clusters to the morning light serves the flow of qi, encouraging openness, lightness and grounding. No corner is wasted or merely decorative.

Every space is lived and loved in. It does not come as a surprise that her children have caught on as they turned their bedroom into a miniature museum. Their room is filled with fossils, rocks and relics from around the world. “They have prayer flags from Bhutan, lanterns from Vietnam, little sculptures from Mongolia. It’s my favourite room. It feels like an adventurer’s bedroom.”

Zubiri’s approach to interiors is deeply intuitive. Once a devotee of mood boards and pegs, she’s moved away from “overly thought-out aesthetics”. Instead, she embraces slow layering and organic curation. “Now, it’s really about what feels right. And leaving room for change.”

She sees designing the home as an evolving project and feels sadness when a room feels done. She does, however, also like moving on, refreshing, seeing where she’s at in life through the space. Her breakfast nook is next on the list. She plans to slowly build on it, and cites that they can now have more refined things and more colour there as the kids are getting older and more appreciative of it.

When asked for advice on building a soulful home, her response is simple: “Don’t overthink. Fill your home with things you love. That’s what makes it come alive.” Every item in her home has its own story: a handwoven silk carpet from Turkey gifted by her mother; an odd, geometric coffee table designed by Vianca Favila, painted in bold black and white; a sofa reupholstered by hand and spraypainted in DIY gold. And of course, there are the books—unread ones in the bedroom, read ones moved to the library.

But beyond the objects, what you feel is care. “When people come to my house, I don’t want them to be impressed by its beauty. I want them to feel like they belong. That they’re loved. That’s why they’re here.” And perhaps that’s the heart of it: not beauty for its own sake, but beauty in service of belonging. A home that holds you, heals you and grows with you. A home filled with the most intangible, and yet profound element: soul.

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