Nearly a year ago, I packed up my tiny 350-square-foot studio and moved into what felt like the next big step: a one-bedroom apartment in a converted 1920s hotel. On paper, it was a dream—historic charm, crown molding, soaring ceilings, and windows that glowed with golden afternoon light. In reality, it came with quirks: creaky hardwood floors, a bathroom that had seen better days, an oversized refrigerator, a dishwasher that barely worked, and kitchen cabinets that leaned ever so slightly to the left.
Still, it was a step forward. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
The truth? As soon as I sat down after a long day of hauling boxes, tears came rushing in. My “upgrade” still didn’t have a decent closet, and I felt suffocated by the same frustration: not enough space. “Did I make the right decision?” I whispered to my fiancé through tears.
Then, the spark hit.
If there’s one lesson life (and blogging) has taught me, it’s this: resourcefulness can change everything. Growing up in a middle-class family, I learned early how to stretch what I had. When I started my blog, I had little more than determination and a laptop. So, I asked myself: why not apply that same scrappy creativity to my apartment?
That’s how the bedroom became my walk-in closet. I moved my bed into the living room and suddenly, I had a space that worked for me—unconventional, yes, but incredibly practical. A few months later, with the help of Urban Simplicity, I had the closet of my dreams.
But life has a way of moving fast. Around that time, I also added a new team member, which meant my home needed to function as an office, too. I searched endlessly for the perfect workspace and even toyed with the idea of buying a petite bungalow in West Palm Beach as both a creative hub and long-term investment. My fiancé and I love the idea of real estate as a stepping stone for our future, so it made sense in theory. But nothing clicked. The houses we found weren’t right, the timing felt off, and every apartment we viewed elsewhere was either overpriced or uninspiring.
Then came a moment of clarity. One evening, after another round of fruitless searching, my fiancé suggested: “Why don’t you just re-decorate your apartment?”
At first, I laughed. “It’s too rough. I’d need an interior designer.”
Little did he know, that’s exactly what would happen.
Not long after, I crossed paths with Danielle Rollins, an incredibly talented designer who agreed to take on my project without hesitation. It felt like fate. For months we had been forcing puzzle pieces into place—apartments, houses, offices—but nothing fit. The answer had been here all along: my little one-bedroom.
Here’s the truth I learned in the process: a rental doesn’t have to feel temporary. Just because you don’t own it doesn’t mean it can’t feel like home. Investing in renter-friendly upgrades and thoughtful furniture shifted everything for me. Now, my apartment functions as my workspace, my creative haven, and my retreat. Plus, all the pieces we’ve added can come with me wherever life takes us next.
This choice has given us freedom, too. With two apartments between Miami and West Palm Beach, my fiancé and I have flexibility to split our time depending on our schedules. It’s not the conventional path most couples take, but it works for us—and surprisingly, it’s saving us money for now.
The best part? My once “rough around the edges” apartment is now a warm, welcoming space where I look forward to hosting holiday cocktail parties. What started as frustration has transformed into joy, all thanks to a little creativity, patience, and timing.
Over the next few months, I’ll be sharing room-by-room transformations with Danielle’s expertise guiding the way. It’s not every day you get an interior designer known for million-dollar homes to reimagine a humble rental, so I’m thrilled to show you what we’ve created together.
Life may not look the way I once pictured it—no perfect bungalow, no sprawling office, not even a “traditional” layout in my apartment. But it works. And right now, in this season of uncertainty, that feels pretty wonderful.
Because sometimes, “not enough” turns into just what you need.
