About
If I were asked to say what is at once the most important production of Art and the thing most to be longed for, I should answer, A beautiful house; and if I were further asked to name the production next in importance and the thing next to be longed for, I should answer, A beautiful book.
William Morris
Hello, I’m Charly.
I’m a wife, a mother of three and a Military spouse, which means I’ve set up and left more homes than I care to count. And we did all of it alongside Maggie, our senior tuxedo cat, who rules the household with authority, a love of laser pens, and an unwavering devotion to little chicken biscuits. Now we are back in our own home, a 1950’s semi in South Yorkshire with the Hope Valley and Peak District as a heavenly neighbour.
Our family has taught me, sometimes the hard way, that a home must work for every person living in it. Two of my children experience the world very intensely through their senses, and I feel it too. Noise, texture, light and clutter have never been small things in our house, they have been the large things, the things that create tension and friction in ways that no stunningly staged interiors photo or influencer post can explain.
For years I searched for ways to make our home feel calmer and our rhythm smoother. In 2023 I retrained and gained a Diploma in Professional Interior Design. Whilst I learned a lot about colour, scale and materials, the greatest lessons came from day to day living in a house full of different people: calm is not a style, nor is it found in three young children. It comes from a home that is kept with care and meets the sensory needs of the people within it.
Wax & Wane has grown into something that I think is honest and hopeful: a journal, a gallery and a small collection of digital guides for people who want a home that gives them rest. Alongside these is a dedicated page to a growing number of Artisans and Artists who share a vision and passion for a calm and beautiful home. I write about slow living, the seasons, calm interiors and the independent artisans and artists who make things worth keeping.
I also write about the complexity of living in a home that contains wildly different nervous systems. When Neurodiversity means home is an oxymoron of the phrase safe space how do we create homes that work for everyone?
My faith means I believe in the old, steady ways of looking after a home. We tend it. We keep rhythms of work and rest. We gather around a table and welcome people in. We buy fewer things and choose with intention so that they last. I don’t think of a home as a performance. It is something we steward, and it should serve the people inside it.
And, after three children, I believe that a home does not need to be pristine to be beautiful. Ours is full of real life - the pen marks, the Paw Patrol stickers, the spills that didn't quite come out. The value of a home is not what it cost. It is what it holds. The way it grows and shifts alongside the people living in it, accumulating all that quiet emotional weight that no price tag could ever measure.
That is what good design protects.
Whether you’ve come for a seasonal idea, a guide for a family who feels everything deeply, or simply a quiet place to sit for a few minutes, you’re welcome here.