From the Agent: "Set along the Nestucca River in Pacific City, this remodeled waterfront home was reimagined by architectural and interior design firm Workaday Design, led by Jason Stamp. Recent improvements include new roofing, windows, insulation, electrical work, and a complete interior remodel with an emphasis on clean lines, natural light, and high-quality materials. The result is a home that feels calm, refined, and designed around its connection to the landscape. Inside, wide-plank engineered oak floors, smooth-finish plaster walls, custom handmade cabinetry, quartz surfaces, and carefully curated lighting create a cohesive aesthetic. The open-concept living, dining, and kitchen spaces are designed for function and visual simplicity, with a European Rais stove anchoring the living area. In the kitchen, integrated Fisher & Paykel refrigeration, Electrolux induction cooking, Franke fixtures, soft-close custom cabinetry, and under-shelf lighting keep the design streamlined and quietly sophisticated. Natural light was a major focus of the remodel. Added windows, expansive skylights, and reworked living spaces bring sunlight deep into the home while framing views of the river and opening the home up to the shifting coastal light. Integrated smart home features include programmable heated floors, automated skylights with rain sensors, adjustable lighting tones, and an EV/Tesla charging station. Both bathrooms have spa-inspired upgrades like heated slate floors, handmade Moroccan tile, quartz counters, premium fixtures, custom glass, and a steam shower. The primary bath also has a cast-iron soaking tub. The detached garage has been converted into a yoga and wellness studio, with added windows and flexible space for fitness, work, art, or boat storage. Outside, the dock and ramp were completely rebuilt, creating direct access to the Nestucca River for world-class salmon and steelhead fishing, kayaking, paddleboarding, and year-round time on the water."
Existing windows and sliding doors on the north side of the house frame views of the Nestucca River. "The living room became a sanctuary where one can watch nature pass by," says architect Jason Stamp of Workaday Design.
Photo by Cody Cha
Photo by Cody Cha
"The Oregon coast has plenty of overcast, stormy days and we wanted to ensure the house felt warm and cozy," says Stamp. "The wood floors and kitchen cabinets offer visual warmth, while the Rais fireplace provides physical warmth."
They form a jigsaw along a second-level terrace, with glass corners drawing in sunlight and opening onto a pebble path planted with succulents.
There is a view of Andrea Guerra’s São Paulo house that leaves you awestruck when you notice it, because you feel as if you suddenly understand its depth. From the pool on the ground floor is an upward, lateral view of the second level, where prismlike boxes form a row of small rooms. The vantage reveals the geometry of house, its height and horizontality, and, when the doors at the corners of the rooms are open, the intrinsic connections between inside and out. "It’s a view that still stuns me," says Andrea, two years after moving in.
Through the front door of Andrea Guerra’s São Paulo home, designed by architecture studio Pascali Semerdjian, are rhythmic ceiling beams mirrored by steps with a water feature.
This epiphany is part of the experience of Prisma House (Casa Prisma, in Portuguese), designed by Pascali Semerdjian Arquitetos as an exercise of the unexpected. Andrea and her husband, Luis Guerra, wanted patios, a sense of openness, and an element of surprise. So the studio’s founders, Brazilian architects Domingos Pascali and Sarkis Semerdjian, came up with a prism concept, a series of openings throughout the 7,800-square-foot plan that bring in light and the outdoors. These elements were never thought of as ornamentation or mere solutions to specific spaces, but as a design language in search of a unique geometry and a constant connection between the interior and the exterior. "We have light coming from many different openings and situations," explains Semerdjian. "We have all these small ‘happenings,’ as we call them, that are oriented towards the sun."
Andrea, an art promoter, and Luis, who works in finance, initially weren’t going to build a house from the ground up for themselves and their two kids, ages 16 and 20. "We were living in the neighborhood of Jardim Paulistano, in a 1950s house that we had remodeled. We were looking to move within the same neighborhood and the original idea was to find something ready or that would need a minimal intervention," recalls Andrea. But after a year of searching, they decided to pivot and bought a "worn-down house" on an 11,300-square-foot site and demolished it to start fresh. "We knew it was going to be more work and effort, but if we were going to do it, we wanted to do it right," Andrea says.
Up the stairs and through another door is a corridor that doubles as a gallery space. An opening in the ceiling "in the form of an inverted volcano" brings in light. The door at the far end is a bathroom, and around the front door is Andrea’s office, placed there in the floor plan so visitors wouldn’t have to come through the house for meetings.
Designers and makers share why they’re turning to the age-old craft at a time when we're all looking for an antidote to life online.
From major media headlines to conversations in bars, at the beginning of 2026 we all agreed that this year would be the year of analog. We had had it with prioritizing our screens. We would put ’em away and bring out our knitting needles, or gardening gloves, or meditation pillows. Seven months later, whether or not we’ve all successfully ditched our phones, the desire to live a little less intimately with our devices has remained. Part of what we’re running from when we turn our phones on airplane mode, or lock them away in a nightstand drawer, is the homogenous—and frankly boring—quality of content online nowadays. This broader trend is showing up in our interiors in obvious ways, like the return of the landline, and in less obvious ways, too. Some are finding their escape by turning to something the algo could never produce: the craft of patchwork which, with its randomness and sense of texture, is very much a product of human creativity.
"A patchwork curtain can become a strong statement in a room, but it can also feel very soft and natural," says Munich designer and artist Lea Sigg. "For me, it is less about a specific interior style and more about the atmosphere you want to create."
Courtesy of Lea Sigg
Many of the patchwork textiles I see on Instagram are curtains specifically, in photos where light filters through each uniquely colored square. They’re mostly by independent makers selling one-of-one creations directly to followers. Munich designer and artist Lea Sigg became hooked on patchwork after first making a set of curtains for her friend upon request. "It almost felt like the curtain had two lives: one as a textile object and one as a kind of painting made of light," she says. "There is something very magical about that and I still cannot fully explain it. Maybe that’s why I like it." As a broader cultural trend, Sigg thinks the desire for something that you can visibly tell was made by hand draws people to patchwork. "There is a certain care in it. We are surrounded by so many things that are Al-generated, mass-produced, perfect and replaceable," Sigg explains.
"Even without knowing where each fabric comes from, people instinctively sense that it has been assembled by hand, piece by piece," French designer Coralie Halbout says. "In a world of mass production, there’s something comforting about objects that celebrate craftsmanship and imperfection."
Courtesy of Polka Atelier
Coralie Halbout of Polka Atelier, in La Rochelle, France, similarly fell into making patchwork curtains after making a backdrop for a photoshoot from her fabric scraps, then realizing how the method can be both practical and aesthetically distinct. "Patchwork is naturally a resourceful technique. It allows me to work with remnants, vintage fabrics, or small quantities of exceptional textiles that would otherwise be impossible to use for full-length curtains," Halbout says. "But sustainability isn’t only about reducing waste. It’s also about creating objects that people want to keep for a very long time."
The new Alex Mill x Quiet Town collaboration includes two different colorways of the Work Jacket and Saturday Shorts, in addition to an overnight bag.
The scalloped pattern was a starting point for several features across the 646-square-foot apartment, which now has an open floor plan.
Houses We Love: Every day we feature a remarkable space submitted by our community of architects, designers, builders, and homeowners. Have one to share? Post it here.
From the Architect: "Bardo’s first project in Barcelona begins with a deep structural intervention: the removal of several load-bearing walls in a 19th-century building. This operation allowed the floor plan to be opened up and entirely rethought, while preserving the visibility of the original constructive essence. The most recognizable element of this architecture—the Catalan vaulted ceiling with its ceramic joists, known as revoltó—became the true starting point of the design. It is neither concealed nor neutralized; its rhythm and texture set the tone for the entire project. As a Madrid-based studio, this was not a system we were used to working with, yet it immediately caught our attention. This led to two key decisions: translating its cadence and geometry into curved forms—most notably in the large wardrobe/bed unit in the dressing area—and adopting a neutral palette throughout the house, reserving color exclusively for the ceiling beams and vaults, allowing them to stand out within the overall space.
"As a result, the only other color appears in the bathroom, the sole space free from this architectural element. From this cadence, the house develops a language based on curves. The dressing room becomes the most evident gesture: its curved facade echoes the rhythm of the joists and translates it into the vertical plane, transforming a functional element into an interior facade that organizes the space and guides movement. The overall palette is composed of warm, neutral tones—creams, wood finishes, and soft textures—providing continuity and calm. In contrast, the beams are highlighted with color, reinforcing their presence as key elements within the composition. The house is no longer understood as a series of enclosed rooms, but as a fluid sequence. Mirrors are used as spatial tools: they amplify natural light, visually connect different areas, and create depth without reintroducing partitions.
"In the bedroom, a curved glass enclosure filters the relationship with the living area. More than a door, it becomes a piece that softens the boundary and turns the transition into a continuous gesture, maintaining visual connection while introducing privacy. The kitchen acts as the domestic core, with fluted wooden fronts that contrast with the neutral palette, and a large smoked mirror that enhances the sense of openness in the living area. In the main bathroom, yellow ceramic tiles wrap walls and ceiling, creating a more intense and sensory atmosphere. The result is a home that emerges from its own structure. A house that respects the original architecture and transforms it into the driving force of a new spatial identity, where every gesture responds to a shared logic and the whole is experienced as a continuous journey."
On a trip to Roswell, a city known for UFOs and military secrets, my girlfriend and I stayed in an appropriately off-center spot: a former missile base made into a subterranean rental.
Welcome to One Night In, a series about staying in the most unparalleled places available to rest your head.
During the Cold War, when humanity seemed hellbent on annihilation, underground Atlas missile bases made of steel and concrete were built across the United States to ward off World War III.
Newer missile technology quickly replaced those Atlas bases, and the sites were all decommissioned and closed by the mid-1960s. Today, though, you can sleep in one below the plains of southeastern New Mexico, if you’re not claustrophobic. Gary "Siloman" Baker bought the decommissioned complex in Roswell—minus the missile—30 years ago and transformed its launch center into an overnight stay that he operates as an Airbnb.
Baker is one of a number of people around the country and as far away as Cornwall, England, and Australia who have turned subterranean bunkers into short–term rentals and even residences. In Arkansas, the Titan II Nuclear Missile Complex prioritizes the party over missile history; the former missile complex made into an underground rental includes a small nightclub. (Owner GT Hill says he’s hosted families from Taiwan, a slew of social media influencers including YouTube celebrity Mr. Beast, and, possibly, a swingers group.) A decommissioned Atlas base in Kansas has "survival condos" where owners, and pets of a certain size, can ride out apocalyptic events for up to five years for $1.3 million (there’s also an Atlas missile base Airbnb listing in Kansas), and a Texas company called Atlas Survival Shelters offers everything from bomb and tornado shelters to "billionaire bunkers" that, according to its website, can house up to 15 people in the event of "pandemic outbreak, civil unrest, malicious mobs," and other events.
Baker’s place in Roswell—listed as one of Airbnb’s top-rated OMG! homes—seemed like it’d actually be a pretty ideal overnight stay while my girlfriend, Jen, and I explored the alien kitsch of the desert city, where a UFO may or may not have been discovered in 1947. The decommissioned base sits just 20 miles from the area’s UFO-shaped McDonald’s and the giant alien outside the Dunkin’ Donuts downtown. And staying there—on Jen’s birthday—would be fittingly "out there."
Gary "Siloman" Baker turned the decommissioned Atlas missile base in Roswell, New Mexico, into an Airbnb that’s one of the platform’s top-rated OMG! vacation rentals. The silo extends 180 feet underground.
"The land beneath it is silent—but listening," read a confounding review by a former guest from Sedona that Jen found on the Airbnb listing. "The container was never meant for humans. And yet, we entered anyway."
Jen and I have slept in some fancy New York hotels, and we’d recently spent a week in dreamy beachfront casitas in Oaxaca. I’ve also spent a lot of nights sleeping in tents, the bed of my truck, or in glorified sheds for reporting trips, and Jen had slept in an underground structure before. The silo felt somewhere down the middle. She was intrigued, so I reached out to Baker about his silo, and he offered us a media discount to stay there in early April.
"When do we leave?" Jen said.
Saturday
3 p.m.: An underground missile complex doesn’t stand out in the landscape, so we have to pay attention to the mile markers as we drive through sagebrush and yucca outside of Roswell. We flew from Philly to El Paso yesterday, and slept hard at a classic motor inn about 90 minutes away in Alamogordo. In the morning, we walked in the dunes at White Sands National Park for Jen’s birthday. Roswell is about a 120-mile drive from here.
Baker’s directions take you to a cattle gate and up a dirt road to a small, fenced-in area with a large concrete and steel pad. It looks like a public works yard in Anytown, USA. During the Cold War, though, that concrete pad could have opened up like some hellmouth, and an 82-foot missile could have rocketed toward Moscow to wreak havoc.
An employee of Baker’s named Manny meets us topside and leads us to a single, nondescript bulkhead door to the silo’s stairwell. Inside, it’s crammed with black-and-white Atlas photos from the 1960s down every step. That history-heavy theme plays everywhere down there, even into the bathrooms.
The guest apartment, which according to the Airbnb listing has "about 1,250 square feet of space," is in the upper level of the former launch control center. The complex also includes a part-time apartment for Baker.
Manny takes us to the apartment where Baker spends time when he’s not traveling with his wife. Baker, who was born in Alaska, is a warm and talkative historian who can wax about missiles and the Cold War for hours. He says he fell in love with missile silos when he attended Roswell’s New Mexico Military Institute decades ago. During the Cold War, more than 100 Atlas sites were built across the U.S. before they were decommissioned. Decades later, the Atlas sites that were left behind in Roswell became playgrounds for him.
"I bought two together thirty years ago for $55,000 a site," Baker tells us in his apartment, which sits below the guest quarters. "For me, this was just fun, something I always wanted to do."
Since then, he’s invested about $500,000 to make this place habitable for guests—it’s spotless and as well-lit as a big hole in the ground can be—and he charges close to $850 a night for overnight stays. He also hosts private tours between checkout and check-in. "If you’re looking just for a night’s stay, this is not it," he says.
5 p.m.: Manny takes us to the Airbnb unit, a former launch control room that sits beyond massive blast doors above Baker’s apartment. The launch controls are gone and the simple guest unit is circular, like Baker’s unit, with a laundry room, bathroom, and kitchenette that was, oddly, stocked with lots of food. The lighting isn’t great, but it’s not dark. There’s a couch and small table to eat meals, and more missile memorabilia, including magazines, coffee mugs, miniatures, pillows, and hard hats. A New Mexico vanity license plate affixed to the wall catches my eye; it says "Siloman."
The small bedroom, for some reason, has two twin beds (air mattresses are available for additional guests). "I guess we’re cuddling," I say to Jen.
This isn’t my first experience writing about underground living. In 2006, I visited a home/office built in New Jersey by Malcolm Wells, the late architect who pioneered underground buildings. I’ve also written about earthships, which are often quasi-underground. In 2024, I also profiled Rod Rylander and the off-grid, affordable home he was building halfway in the ground in southwestern New Mexico for Dwell.
Jen, as I mentioned, has actually slept beneath the earth though. During an Australian road trip, she stayed in a subsurface motel in Coober Pedy, a mining town where half the population lives underground because of extreme heat and flies. She visited a church there, shopped for opals, and had drinks with Greek miners, all underground. (There are plenty of "cave" and "earthen" Airbnb listings in Coober Pedy, too.) "The town resembles the surface of the moon and is just as quiet," she tells me on the drive to Roswell.
The guest unit is decorated with on-theme books, photos, drawings, and memorabilia.
Kawayan Collective referenced a centuries-old housing style to make prefabs that are easy to build and resilient in tropical weather.
Rosanne Ceriales knew it was time for her family to find a new home. A public school teacher, she had started a new job in her hometown of Santa Catalina, on the Philippine island of Negros, and wanted to build a home that felt different than the urban concrete housing she had lived in with her husband and 11-year-old son. Concrete homes become stiflingly hot and humid during the country’s torrid summers. "Ventilation and being environmentally friendly were my main concerns," she says, wanting something that leaves a smaller carbon footprint.
So, after some research, she turned to a material her grandparents had used: bamboo. Still, she didn’t come across bamboo until seeing homes built with a technique called composite bamboo shear walls, where structural bamboo panels are held together with mesh and enveloped with cement, significantly reducing the use of concrete. Some of the homes, built in the northern Philippines, had withstood strong typhoons. "I thought, Oh, it’s also possible that these houses will be storm resistant and not easily moved by earthquakes," Ceriales says.
Bamboo has been used as a building material for centuries in Southeast Asia and South America, both of which boast dozens of native species. In the Philippines, it has traditionally been used to build small rural cottages called bahay kubo, which are breathable in humid climates and raised on stilts to avoid flooding and pests. These homes, like that of Ceriales’s grandparents, are an icon of rural areas, but they are generally bespoke. But a cooperative she found is working on a way to turn the archetype into a mass housing solution. Kawayan Collective manufactures prefabricated bamboo frames at a facility just two hours away, outside the scuba diving destination of Dauin. It was founded in 2019 by Filipino-American architect Ray Villanueva and his wife, Amy Villanueva, who left the U.S. and started building bamboo structures in the Philippines using composite bamboo shear wall technology developed by Base Bahay, a nonprofit based in Manila.
Kawayan Collective, a cooperative in Dauin in the Philippines, produces panelized bamboo walls to build tiny homes that start at $15 a square foot.
Courtesy of Kawayan Collective
Workers load bamboo panels onto a truck at Kawayan Collective’s facility.
Courtesy of Kawayan Collective
Homes can be finished with plaster to create an additional moisture barrier.
Tucked away on a five-acre wooded cul de sac backing up to Big Bear Creek, this reimagined Colleyville estate offers a rare, multigenerational layout centered on indoor/outdoor connectivity. Through a recent comprehensive renovation, the property trades typical suburban sprawl for a cohesive compound design, linking a 5,978-square-foot main residence to a 903-square-foot independent guest house via an intimate central courtyard.
The design bridges clean contemporary updates with rugged natural surroundings, prioritizing sight lines through extensive glazing. In the main house, a game and entertaining wing opens to the outdoors with panoramic full-slider glass doors. An adjacent lounge offers quartzite surfaces, commercial-style glass entry doors, and dedicated AV-home automation infrastructure.
The culinary core is anchored by a massive 15-by-6-foot central island wrapped in book matched Panda Marble, pairing high-contrast stone with premium integrated Thermador and Wolf appliances, dual farmhouse sinks, and discrete custom cabinetry.
Across the shared courtyard, the steel-framed guest house functions as a flexible, self-contained pavilion. Punctuated by six sets of updated steel doors and minimalist Juliet balconies, it serves as an airy, light-filled volume for extended stays or remote work.
In the terraced backyard, over 2,000 square feet of low-profile patios and updated timber decking step down toward a bridge-approach pool and spa, a stone fireplace, and a built-in outdoor kitchen. Framed by a dense greenbelt, the design creates a highly private, resort-scale footprint that defers entirely to the landscape.
Listing Details
Bedrooms: 5
Baths: 4 full, 2 partial
Year Built: 1982
Square Feet: 5,978
Plot Size: 5.16 acres
Courtesy of Briggs Freeman Sotheby’s International Realty
Courtesy of Briggs Freeman Sotheby’s International Realty
Courtesy of Briggs Freeman Sotheby’s International Realty
