In one of my recurring fantasies, I am a retired adventuress living in a colorful gypsy caravan deep in the English countryside.
I wear Liberty floral skirts and colorful woolen jumpers and live in a pair of green wellies. I grow climbing roses and clematis, voraciously read cookbooks and take long walks across sheep-laden pastures at dusk. I am never without a slice of ginger parkin in my pocket and a tube of Nars Jungle Red lipstick. It's all very Pippi Longstocking meets Tamasin Day-Lewis meets Diana Vreeland.
In reality, I reside two miles from the epicenter of Hollywood and have a tiny space (10' by 10') in the corner of my pool area that I've been obsessing about building something upon.
It's a shady nook with a lovely roof of bougainvillea over it, courtesy of our neighbors' rampant specimen. We've laid small gravelly pebbles on the ground while we go back and forth about what kind of a teeny shelter we should erect there.
My first choice would be a small caravan like the ones above, but I've researched them and the old ones cost a fortune and the new ones lack distinction.
But I do love the idea of building something like this.
I don't know if it's a garden shed or a hobbit house, all I know is I love it. It would have to be tiny -- eight feet by eight feet, maximum. Just one little room with a casement window and a dutch door. It could function as playdate headquarters for Luca, a refuge from familial chaos for The Divine Italian and a reading snuggery for me. I would cover it in ivy and climbing vines and paint the trim a lovely color (like above).
Inside, I'd put a lovely chair, perhaps like this one from Nathan Turner...
...wallpaper the walls in something fabulous...
...throw some rush matting on the floor...
...toss in a couple of pillows with some far-flung history......and slowly transform it into a sacred space.
(Piero Castellini Baldissera's cabinet from Decorating with Antiques)