The Woman in the Chair: Susan Ferrier’s Elemental Voice

Why do some spaces feel like memory, even when you’ve never stood in them before?

Perhaps it’s because they aren’t just decorated — they’re imbued. With stillness. With story. With something elemental. And this is where Susan Ferrier lives, designs, and dreams.

Her work doesn’t seek applause. It seeks atmosphere.

You don’t just see her interiors. You feel them — slow, shadowed, grounded. And now, in her debut collection for Baker | McGuire, that unmistakable mood becomes tactile.

Why furniture should feel personal

“Furniture touches the body,” Susan told me. “It grounds you. It should feel like a conversation — intimate, generous, completely yours.”

There was no script in her voice — just warmth. This isn’t a designer chasing spectacle. It’s a woman who listens deeply to space, silence, and self.

Each piece in the 72-piece collection carries her fingerprint, inspired by volcanic rock, ancient forms, and landscapes etched by time. Names like Fira, Akrotiri, Teide. These are not trends. They’re touchstones.

Why does scale matter?

Because we live emotionally, not mathematically. The Lull Sofa, one of the collection’s centrepieces, isn’t oversized — it’s inviting. A tufted bench cushion, leather-strapped bolsters — it offers pause. Not as performance, but as permission.

“A room shouldn’t be filled with things,” she says. “It should be filled with feeling.”

And that’s what scale is in Susan’s hands — a form of emotional spaciousness.

Why contrast is a love language

Soft against structured. Bronze next to linen. Marble beside matte.

Her designs don’t argue — they converse. She draws from the tension of volcanic forces, brutalist jewellery, and ancestral materials to create balance, not drama.

The Caldera Swivel Chair. The Fosser Bed. The Pele Console — each one tells a story not just of beauty, but of weight, silence, and restraint.

Why silence speaks in design

Susan lives in dualities — radiant and reserved, precise and poetic. She doesn’t shout in her work. She listens.

Design, for her, is emotional architecture. It’s how we process mood, memory, even grief. Her retreat in Ojai reflects that ethos. Her palette. Her poise. Her use of light. Nothing clamours. Everything calms.

When she speaks of inspiration, she speaks of time, geology, stillness — and how we carry those elements into the everyday.

And the fifth why?

Because we are all looking for spaces that hold us. Not dazzle us. Not rush us. Just hold.

Susan’s collection does that. It invites you to remember who you are beneath the noise. It reminds you that form can be generous. That quiet can be sensual. That furniture, at its best, doesn’t just fill a room — it centres it.

She told me, "This collection is my heart. My travels. My silences. My wonder. I want people to feel that."

We do.

This isn’t furniture for display. It’s furniture that remembers. That listens. That whispers back.