Edges I recognise
There is a console in the corner of a showroom — fossilised clam stone, raw-edged, imperfect. I’ve walked past it a dozen times, and yet something about it keeps asking me to stay. Not to admire it. To meet it.
At first glance, it’s beautiful in a way that is difficult to name. Not ornate. Not soft. But elemental. Like it’s always existed. Its texture is jagged — not refined or polished smooth - well maybe its top just like any face - but honest. You can see where the ocean has worn it down and where time decided to leave its mark. And in that, I saw myself.
We don’t often talk about furniture this way. We speak of silhouettes, scale, materials, trends. But some pieces carry more than form — they carry memory, mood, emotion. Some pieces remind you of something in yourself you forgot how to name.
This one? It didn’t hold me.
It saw me.
PALECEK | CAMILLA FOSSILIZED CLAM CONSOLE TABLE
I’ve spent years softening myself for rooms I didn’t fit in. Years smoothing the edges, lowering the volume, curating the version of me that wouldn’t take up too much space. But this console didn’t apologise for its texture. It stood there — firm, quiet, grounded. A monument to what it had survived.
Touching it wasn’t just tactile, it was intimate. The surface wasn’t just cool — it was knowing. It reminded me of the version of myself that isn’t always beautiful but is always real. It reminded me that sometimes, the most sacred things in our homes — and our hearts — aren’t the soft ones. They’re the ones with ridges. With stories. With edges.
This is what I love most about design.
Not what it looks like — but what it says back to you.
How a piece can reflect a version of yourself you didn’t know you needed to honour.
We talk about investment pieces.
This one reminded me the best ones are the pieces that invest in you.
That hold your contradictions — strong and soft, warm and cold, beautiful and broken — and say,
I see all of it. And I’m still here.
