See more of Marte Marie’s beautiful home after the jump . . .
Image above: This is my kitchen workspace. The cupboards are filled to the brim with props. It’s an Ikea kitchen and Ikea lightning on the ceiling .
Image above: A collection of my wooden backgrounds for styling, arranged on a beam from the very first apartment I bought in St Haugen in Oslo built in 1889. Branches were collected on the beach, and my favorite china pot in pale pink is from France, which I found in my parents’ basement.
Image above: More props arranged in a Billy book case from Ikea. Antique kitchen weight from my grandmother, Cathrineholm treasures from when my father worked as a designer there and my collection of old rolling-pins.
Image above: Some of my Hunter boots ready for rain in my little hallway with an antique bench borrowed from my brother Michael’s garden.
Image above: Bench and antique white table with drawer in the hallway. It holds a treasured 100-year-old antique mirror originally from Algeria, bought at a market in Norway from a retired sailor after one of his trips to Africa.
Image above: Details from the white bench draped in black sheep skin where my scarves are stored. Reading corner by the window with a comfy chair from Ikea, shoes from Mango.
Image above: A charcoal drawing from when my beloved mother was 15 by my father when they met, and vintage hats on a black clothing rack from Ikea.
Image above: Bedroom corner with an old mint green night stand made by my grandfather, lamp from Ikea, little travel memories from Laduree, my grandmother’s cabin hanger (also in mint), and fresh spring flowers from the garden.
Image above: Vignette from my work desk with a vintage lamp and treasured family photos. The book is The Man with the Dancing Eyes by Roald Dahl’s granddaughter, the ever-charming Sophie Dahl.
Image above: Working station on the second floor, with the classic white Bertoia side chair by Knoll from 1952.
Image above: Vignettes from outside my little studio arranged by my beloved mother. My parents have their home just a stone’s throw away. The red clogs are mine from when I was a little girl.