For me, travel isn’t escape- it’s research. Hotels and restaurants are beautifully controlled fantasies, and I experience them through a designer’s eye: the lighting, the proportions, the service, the tempo. I enjoy the indulgence, the details, the precision – then I take notes.
Travel doesn’t reveal what home is lacking. It reveals where refinement is calling for attention. Home is where life actually happens; travel simply sharpens my eye for how to make it better- quietly, deliberately, down to the smallest things:
-How something feels when it’s well done
-Which luxuries actually matter
-Which are just noise
Details matter, because home should be the real destination. Travel is the inspiration.
One of the clearest examples of this came during a recent trip to London, at a place that understands fantasy as a disciplined design choice.
A Case Study in Controlled Fantasy: Bacchanalia, Mayfair
Experiences like this are thrilling precisely because they are contained. They work because they are temporary. And that’s what makes them useful.
One such example is Bacchanalia in the Mayfair area of London – a space where atmosphere, mythology, and excess are deployed with absolute intention. It’s worth examining through a design lens.
At Bacchanalia, the visual spectacle rivals the food. Housed in a former Porsche showroom, the dining room is presided over by large scale Damien Hirst sculptures of modernized deities. Hand painted ceiling murals, classical statuary, marble floors, and a saturated palette of burgundy and gold reference Greco-Roman feasting scenes. Ancient Greek and Roman artifacts- some thousands of years old- sit confidently alongside contemporary works, collapsing time without irony.
The result feels less like décor and more like ritual. The food is equal parts beautiful and delicious, and the drink list plays directly into the sensuality of the deities. It’s worth seeing in person.
What Comes Home With Me
How I Leave Home — and Why
Which brings me back home.
I have a rule with myself: I leave my home clean and calm, as if I were leaving it for a guest. I never want travel to feel better than home. When people dread returning to their own homes, I tend to think something more fundamental is off.
Home should be the ultimate destination. It’s where we spend the majority of our lives, and it deserves proportionate care. I don’t return to chaos or emotional debt. I return to something prepared for me.
This isn’t aesthetic fussiness. It’s something I learned the hard way.
Part of this comes from an experience I’ve never forgotten. Years ago, I worked with a client- newly divorced, thoughtful, and genuinely kind- who hired me to fully furnish his home in Preston Hollow. The project was a success. He worked in finance and traveled frequently to New York. One morning, while there, he left his hotel for a run in Central Park and never returned.
Since then, I move through my own space differently. When I leave, I consider not only how it will feel when I return, but how it would feel if someone else had to walk into it instead- a family member, a friend, a stranger handling logistics.
Order becomes a form of care.
Intention becomes a form of respect.
Home is where life actually happens. Travel simply reminds me how to honor it better.
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For those curious, I’ve shared more from Bacchanalia on Instagram: @thecourtneyprice
