“What time is turn-down service?” It’s the running joke almost every visitor makes when they step into my home for the first time. These days, I live a pretty minimalist lifestyle, and my slow home is a reflection of that. It’s clean, calm, and deeply intentional. Think cream and black tones, gold accents, and natural textures like wood, stone, and soft rayon and cotton woven throughout. I live in a studio apartment in Miami Beach, and when I moved in a little over a year ago, I had a choice between a one-bedroom and this open-layout studio. I chose the studio for its expansive windows, smart square footage, and the balcony view that looks straight into the palm trees I’ve lovingly named Fred and Mabel.
My countertops stay mostly clear, aside from a candle or stick of incense and a few beauty essentials like skincare and perfume. A friend once told me it felt like a day spa, and honestly, that’s the goal. I love walking into a serene, uncluttered space that reflects the life I want to live: peaceful, simple, and drama-free (plus, it’s blissfully easy to clean).
When I left my marriage and the home I once shared with my ex-husband, I was intentional about what I brought with me—two suitcases of clothes, my books (I’m an avid reader), my mason jars, and my Christmas tree (I love the holidays!). I knew I wanted to rebuild from the ground up, and creating a home sanctuary that would nourish my soul was one of the first steps.
So yes, when friends joke about turn-down service, I smile. Because I’ve created something sacred. A home that feels like a retreat. A place where I come home to myself physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
What Is a Slow Home?
A slow home is one where everything in the space feels meaningful, functional, and calm. It’s a soft place to land. It’s filled with all the most beautiful things you love, but that also have a purpose, even if that purpose is simply to bring you joy.
A slow home isn’t defined by minimalism or aesthetics. It’s a reflection of how you want to feel in your space and your life. It’s a way of living. Rooted in the slow living movement, a slow home is designed to support intentionality, peace, and presence. It’s about creating an environment that nourishes your soul, not one that leaves you feeling overstimulated or overwhelmed.
Years ago, I would walk into my apartment and feel immediately stressed. There was a pushbike sitting in the corner of the living room, framed photos cluttering the counters, unopened mail spread across the kitchen tops. My cupboards were full of things I hadn’t touched in years. Home, which was meant to be a refuge from the outside world, just felt like another place where I was out of control and out of order. But as I began to embrace slow living at home as a path to reclaiming my life, everything started to shift. I realized I didn’t need to accumulate more stuff. I didn’t want my home to be a storage unit or a status symbol. I wanted it to be a soulful sanctuary.
A slow home is about alignment. It’s about building a space that reflects who you are now and holds space for who you’re becoming. A place that invites you to slow down, exhale, and remember that peace begins right where you are. Creating a slow home hasn’t meant creating a space that feels cold or sterile to me. It’s been about creating an intentional space that is filled with things I love and actually use. Items that tell my story. Pieces that bring me ease. A space where I can actually breathe, rest, and create. A space where I can simply be.
Is a Slow Home the Same as a Minimalist Home?
Not necessarily. While a slow home can be minimalist, it doesn’t have to be. Mine certainly leans minimalist. Open space, clean lines, only the essentials. But a slow home is ultimately defined by intention, not by how much (or how little) is inside it.
Take my friend Sofia, for example. Her living room is bursting with personality. Plants climb up two entire walls, softening the room into a quiet indoor jungle. Photos of her and her friends’ contortionist poses cover her fridge and kitchen walls. She’s an artist, and her paintings of the female form fill another wall. Candles glow from jars she’s hand-dripped with wax. There are woven baskets, books from her travels, and string lights in shifting shades of red and blue. There’s no desk, no TV. Just space to roll, stretch, dance, create, and live freely.
Her space couldn’t look more different from mine, but it’s still a slow home. Why? Because everything in it was chosen with care. Every detail speaks to who she is and how she wants to feel when she walks through the door. That’s the essence of slow living at home—not the absence of things, but the presence of meaning.
A minimalist home focuses on simplicity and reduction: less stuff, more space. A slow home focuses on alignment and presence: what brings you joy, what supports your lifestyle, and what helps you feel grounded. It can be sparse or vibrant, neutral or colorful, so long as it’s curated with intention and serves your version of peace and purpose.
What I Love About My Slow Home
One of the greatest things I’ve learned is that my external environment is always reflecting something about my internal world. And vice versa. When my space is peaceful, uncluttered, and thoughtfully curated, I feel more grounded. More myself. A slow home helps me live with intention, not just in how I decorate, but in how I move through the day. It reminds me to pause, to breathe, to savor. It gives me space to notice the beauty of a morning light on the wall or the way a cup of tea feels in my hands. It anchors me in the present. And when life inevitably gets busy or messy or hard, coming home to a space that feels calm and aligned is like exhaling after holding my breath.
A slow home isn’t just a physical environment. It’s an energetic one. It supports my nervous system, my joy, my creativity. It tells me, every day, that I don’t have to rush. That I get to choose what I welcome in. And maybe most importantly, after all I’ve been through, it reminds me that I am allowed to feel safe. To feel held. To feel at home not just in my space, but in my body, in my life, and in the rituals that shape my days.
How to Create a Slow Home
Creating a slow home that fills your soul is not a one-size-fits-all process. We’re all at different points in our journey, and what felt like the right starting place for me may not be what you need right now. These are simply the things I did to shape a slow home for myself, little by little. For you, it might begin with clearing a single drawer, or just being more mindful about who you invite into your space.
As with anything in a slow life, start where you are. Let it be simple. Let it feel good. Slow living at home begins with intention. In choosing to shape your environment in a way that supports your peace, your joy, and your becoming. Trust your rhythm. Trust your intuition. Your home will follow.
1. Create a Slow Home, Slowly
Creating a slow home begins with the pace you choose to build it. When I moved into my new space, I had nothing but a bed for the first month. I took coaching calls seated on the floor in front of the window, the blurred background doing its best to hide the bareness behind me. But I wasn’t in a rush. I chose to take my time, focusing on one item at a time, searching for pieces that were not only comfortable and cozy, but also beautiful in their simplicity and reflective of my personal style. Each addition needed to feel right. To match the mood and aesthetic of the whole. As bigger pieces arrived, like my couch or outdoor dining set, I slowly moved onto the next: a floor rug, throw pillows, blankets. There was joy in the process. I lived into my home, one piece at a time, and let it come together with care rather than speed. That’s the beauty of slow living—it doesn’t need to happen all at once.
If you’re creating a slow home of your own, start with what you already have and love. Don’t rush to fill empty corners just because they feel bare. Let the space breathe. Ask yourself what you truly need right now, not what you should have. Maybe it’s a soft reading chair, or just a small table for tea in the morning light. Let function and feeling guide you. Before purchasing something new, pause and imagine how it will feel to live with it. How it will change the energy of the room. Will it add warmth? Invite stillness? Make you smile when you see it? And if you’re unsure, wait. The right piece will come. Your home is a living, evolving expression of you. It deserves patience, attention, and love.
2. Clear the Clutter (Not Just Physically, But Emotionally, too)
A slow home breathes. It invites you to exhale. And in order to do that, clutter must go not only from your countertops and cupboards, but also from your emotional landscape. In my old apartment, my pantry was filled with forgotten packets of food stuffed into the back, many of which had expired, buried so deep I didn’t even know they were there. It was a symptom of the mental chaos I was carrying. Too much, too fast, too scattered. When I moved, I had the gift of a clean slate. I didn’t bring the clutter with me. Instead, I selected only the items I truly loved or found useful.
For you, the process may look more like peeling back layers. Slowly removing objects that no longer serve a purpose or carry meaning. You don’t need to toss everything in a day. But allow yourself to let go. Feel the liberation in clearing space, both physically and emotionally. Start small. One drawer. One shelf. One forgotten corner. Pick up each item and ask yourself honestly: Do I use this? Do I love this? If the answer is no, thank it for its time and let it go. Create a ritual out of it. Play music, light a candle, make it sacred. Remember, you’re not just decluttering; you’re making space for what matters.
A slow home invites intentionality, not perfection. You’re curating peace, not curating a magazine spread (although let’s be honest—that’s sexy too). The point is to create a space that feels good to you, not one that’s just aesthetically impressive. And each time you release what no longer belongs, you make a little more room for beauty, clarity, and calm. A slow home doesn’t just hold less; it feels lighter.
3. Ensure Every Object Has a Purpose or Brings Joy
The essence of a slow home is this: if it doesn’t serve a function or spark joy, it doesn’t belong. I’ll be honest, my home leans minimalist. A neighbor once visited and said, “But where’s all your STUFF?” He looked around bewildered, as though something was missing. But nothing was. I just don’t collect “stuff” anymore.
I keep a minimal closet filled with timeless, high-quality pieces I love and wear often. My luggage, holiday items, old journals all fit neatly under my storage-lift bed. My books and a handful of board games are tucked into a cabinet. I have just enough dishes and cutlery to entertain a few friends. I use what I have, replace what wears out, and gift or donate what I no longer need. This way of living didn’t happen overnight. It came from asking different questions and redefining what enough feels like for me.
So, the invitation is to pause and ask yourself: Does this item serve a purpose or bring me joy? If not, it may be time to let it go. Slow homes are curated with care, not cluttered with things you can’t be bothered getting rid of. And you don’t need to become a minimalist to embrace this mindset. Start by being honest about what you actually use and enjoy. Do you really need five sets of dinner plates, or are two enough? Do you wear all those clothes, or just the same few pieces over and over again? Let your belongings reflect your values, not your fears of scarcity or your past self’s preferences. Keep the things that serve your current life and let go of the rest. A slow home is not about restriction. It’s about alignment. When your space reflects who you are and who you want to become, that’s when it truly becomes a sanctuary.
4. Let the Layout Breathe
A slow home is designed to flow with the rhythms of your day. When I moved into my studio, I initially envisioned my couch facing the largest wall, which meant blocking the windows and centering the TV. But thankfully, my friends Sofia and Luisa intervened. They reminded me that the view was the jewel of my apartment… the floor-to-ceiling windows opening into light and sky.
We rearranged everything. My TV moved to a smaller wall, the couch shifted to the side, and suddenly the space breathed. Now, when I wake and walk to the kitchen for my first glass of water, there’s nothing in the way. My meditation pillow sits directly in front of the morning light. It’s an open, effortless space that supports the slowness I crave.
Your layout should do the same. A slow home isn’t just about what’s in it, it’s about how it flows. Maybe it’s moving a chair, clearing a cluttered corner, or carving out a cozy nook where you can sip your morning coffee or read before bed. Let your space support your rituals, your rest, your rhythm. If something feels off, try shifting things around. Create open paths for movement and energy. Place beauty where your eyes naturally land. Make room for silence. Your home should feel like a soft exhale. A place where your body can settle and your soul can breathe.
5. Bring Nature Inside
Nature belongs in a slow home. It soothes, grounds, and reminds us to breathe. My studio is blessed with expansive windows that frame the palm trees outside and flood the room with light. But even if you don’t have a view, you can bring the outside in. Use natural materials like wood, clay, cotton, linen, marble, or stone. Open a window every morning, even if just for a moment. Let plants live in your corners.
If you struggle with keeping plants alive, know that I did too. But something shifted when I embraced slow living. I started to feel more attuned. I knew when to water, when to turn my rubber tree toward the sun. It became a relationship, a metaphor for life. As Naomi Long Madgett wrote in her poem Woman with Flower, “Much growth is stunted by too careful prodding… The things we love we have to learn to leave alone.” Plants remind me to trust the process. To soften. To grow without urgency.
If you want to start slow living at home, start by inviting in more nature. Even a single leafy plant on the windowsill or a linen throw draped across a chair can shift the energy. Choose materials that feel good to the touch and easy to look at. Let your space whisper, not shout. Let it remind you, like the plants do, that growth doesn’t have to be forced. Sometimes, simply being is enough.
6. Maintain Your Slow Home
Over time, even the slowest spaces can become cluttered. We gather more things we “love,” accept gifts we don’t actually need, and gradually feel the peace begin to slip. That’s why maintenance matters. A slow home isn’t just created, it’s tended to. This means regularly pausing to ask: Is this item still serving me? Does it still bring joy?
For me, my closet is the thing I revisit every few months. Not because I’ve accumulated a ton, but because I notice the subtle shifts. Something no longer fits quite right, a favorite piece is getting worn, or it’s time to store my winter sweaters under the bed to make room for lighter, summer layers. I do the same with my bathroom cabinets, clearing out products I’m no longer using to avoid silent buildup. These little rituals help keep my home feeling fresh and aligned.
It’s okay to release things, even if they once meant something. Be mindful of what you welcome in. Stay intentional about what remains. Just like a garden, your home needs ongoing care. The goal isn’t perfection. It’s presence. Let your space reflect your current season, not your past clutter or future fears.
7. Be Mindful of Who You Invite In
This one is a quiet but powerful truth: not everyone deserves access to your sanctuary. As you begin to cultivate peace and joy, you become magnetic. People are drawn to the softness you carry. That’s beautiful. But a slow home thrives on energetic integrity. Protect it.
It’s okay to meet friends at a coffee shop instead of inviting them over. It’s okay to say no to guests who bring chaos, drama, or drain your energy. Welcome those who honor your space, who uplift your spirit, who feel like an extension of peace. Your home is more than a physical place. It’s a reflection of your healing, your boundaries, your becoming. Let it be sacred.
The Gift of Slow Living At Home
I had to take an abrupt trip back to Australia recently for a family emergency. It was a trip filled with sad, prolonged moments and tough decisions. I flew a total of 60 hours in just 11 days, and when I finally walked back into my home after the ordeal, I let out a deep sigh of relief. Not because I wasn’t grateful for the ability to be with my family at a moment’s notice, because I was. But because I have a home that’s a soft place to land. A place that holds me gently when life feels heavy. Where I can find my footing again, nourish my soul, and tend to my body with care. From my warm candles, to my soft bed, my slow kitchen, and my deep, relaxing bathtub where I let it all go, I’m so deeply grateful for the sanctuary I’ve created.
That’s the gift of slow living at home. It doesn’t just soothe the senses, it restores the spirit. It’s not about a perfectly curated space, but an intentional one. A space that mirrors your values and holds your real life… the messy, meaningful, ever-evolving one. It asks you to be present, not perfect. To choose peace over productivity. To live into your home rather than fill it in a hurry.
Whether you’re just beginning or already deep in the process, remember that a slow home unfolds gently, just like we do. Let it be a reflection of who you are, and who you’re becoming. That’s the beauty and the invitation of slow living at home.
What does a slow home mean to you? I’d love to hear how you’re creating spaces that feel grounding, nourishing, or simply more you. Share in the comments below! Your story might inspire someone else on their slow living journey.
Ps. Want to kickstart your journey to a slower, more joyful way of living? Sign up for the free 5 Days of Slow audio course here.
