Toute Bagai - A deep dive into the design
Building Toute Bagai
I feel incredibly grateful that we were able to purchase land here in Barbados. It wasn’t something we had planned when we first moved…truthfully, we barely even planned the move at all!
With the help of our amazing agent, Kylee Lee Lum, who somehow knew what we needed before we did; we found the perfect little lot. She made the process feel easy, even when it shouldn’t have been. It was a beautiful beginning to this new chapter. A clean slate. A blank canvas to design a home of our own.
That said, designing your own home as a designer is… complicated. I quickly realized I was my own worst client. I went back and forth: bold or minimal? Expressive or timeless? Part of me saw this as a once-in-a-lifetime chance to showcase my aesthetic unapologetically. But I had to keep reminding myself: this isn’t just a portfolio piece. This is the home I’ll raise my family in. It needs to feel like us, not just me.
Add to that the budget realities and you’ll understand why this home has taken time, iterations, and deep creative reflection to get just right. My goal has always been to dream big while still being deeply realistic, and ultimately to create a home that feels warm, welcoming, and full of joy.
And that brings me here… writing about my own home. I’m sharing this not just because it’s personal, but because, for once, I got full permission from my clients (ahem, me and Alex) to go deep. To show you a portion of what the design process really looks like: the thoughts, doubts, iterations, and decisions that shape a home. This is the process of some behind-the-scenes - something I rarely get to do with client projects. So let’s dive in.
The Briefing Stage – Dreaming in Square Footage
This is where any home design should begin. Not with the perfect finishes or dreamy inspo pics, but with function. With how a space needs to work day-to-day. The briefing stage is all about mapping out real needs: how people live, what they prioritize, how they move through their space, and what small moments would make life a little easier. It’s not about style just yet, it’s about clarity.
The target square footage was 2,000. Mostly driven by budget, partly by choice. There’s something about designing within limits that pushes creativity in the right direction. It meant being intentional about every room and every transition.
The essential spaces included:
Three bedrooms: One primary with an ensuite, two for kid(s)/guests with a shared bath
A generous but efficient open kitchen, living, and dining area
A small powder room
A foyer with storage to catch the clutter and offer a moment of arrival
A compact office space with its own full bathroom and access from both inside and out - designed to flex as needed over time
One of the most important parts of this stage is thinking about flow. How does someone enter the house? How do you want to feel when entering the house? What’s the first thing they see? Where does the light fall? Where’s the breeze coming from? For a smaller home, flow becomes even more critical. There’s no space for awkwardness or uncertainty.
The entry was designed to create a small pause. Somewhere to drop keys, take a breath, (fix yourself in the mirror) without having to walk directly into the kitchen or living space upon entry.
A pantry, although small, felt essential too- at least for me. Not just for storage, but for creating a bit of breathing room in the kitchen.
At this stage, nothing is fixed. It’s a puzzle. Room sizes shift, adjacencies move, and ideas evolve with each iteration. What helps ground the process is returning to the heart of the home’s purpose: comfort, functionality, and ease.
I can’t forget to mention another crucial part of this stage: gathering our palette boards. Think of it as the appetizer. A little taste of what’s to come.
This is where you start pulling images that simply resonate. It doesn’t have to be interiors or architecture. It could be fashion, a piece of jewelry, a texture, a material. Anything that speaks to you in some way. Sometimes it’s just one small detail in an image that sparks something, and that’s more than enough. At this point, meaning matters more than logic.
The goal here is to make sure the home reflects the people who will live in it - not just how it will look, but more importantly how it will feel.
The Schematic Stage – Taking Shape
Once the briefing stage is solid, the schematic stage is where things start to come to life. All the puzzle pieces: rooms sizes, flow, adjacencies, sight-lines begin to settle into place. It’s when a home moves from abstract blocks and sketches into something more ‘carved out.’
Slowly but surely, the layout began to evolve. We started transforming the conceptual blocks into actual floor plans: laying out walls, shaping flow, adjusting relationships between spaces. My first draft landed somewhere around 2,600 square feet. We worked together to bring it back down to 2,000; tightening the design without compromising what mattered most.
Throughout this process, I kept coming back to vernacular Caribbean architecture. It’s always been a favorite of mine, but living in Barbados has deepened that appreciation so much. This style is rooted in climate, culture, and craft. It’s open; and built to breathe. It celebrates local materials and techniques - fretwork, louvers, timber joinery. You can see it everywhere here, especially along the coastline: beautifully weathered chattel houses that hold so much soul. Every time I pass one, I feel inspired.
During early schematic design, I often found myself taking random drives and pulling over to snap photos - details I loved, silhouettes that caught my eye, little moments that felt honest and true to the island. Those images became quiet reference points. I wasn’t looking to replicate anything, but I wanted to carry that feeling into the home - something welcoming and grounded. We envisioned a space that invited togetherness. Something simple, but not sterile. Quiet, but not cold.
I knew early on that the exterior would lean toward a more colonial Caribbean aesthetic - open, airy, and rooted in local vernacular. But on the inside, I wanted to introduce a quiet mid-century modern influence. I love when a house surprises you - when the exterior hints at one story, and the interior unfolds something unexpected. That contrast felt exciting but still cohesive. It allowed me to honour the architectural language of the island while still expressing something a little more personal, layered, and still timeless inside.
At this point, I knew I needed to bring in someone I trusted deeply. I reached out to Laura Narayansingh - a close friend and an incredibly talented architect. Simply put, Laura and I share an easy design language. One of those rare collaborative dynamics where nothing needs to be over-explained.
I wanted her help translating the vision into a cohesive architectural language for the exterior. She sat with the massing model and the brief I’d been working through, and took my desire to blend colonial Caribbean and mid-century modern influences, carving it into a façade that felt both grounded and intentional. She gave the home its first real breath. And even then, she gracefully left space for me to return, refine, and infuse more of my own voice. That kind of collaboration is rare, and I’m so grateful for it.
The Kitchen – At the Heart of It All
If there’s one space that feels like the heart of a home for us at least; it’s the kitchen. It’s where we lime, where we cook, where we catch up, and where we seem to spend most of our time - often without even realizing it. So naturally, it became one of the most important spaces to get just right.
At first, I found it oddly intimidating to move into the interior design portion. Maybe because there are so many ways to approach it. I’ve never believed you need to stick to one rigid style throughout a home, but it still felt like a balancing act. Its probably harder in hindsight trying to mix two styles together while maintaining a sort of rhythm throughout. But I love a challenge.
That being said, I knew I wanted to carry the warmth of the colonial Caribbean aesthetic indoors, while also introducing subtle nods to mid-century modern design - that clean-lined, thoughtful simplicity I’ve always loved.
In the kitchen, that mix really came to life.
I always thought I’d lean toward light wood and soft whites, but I surprised myself by being completely drawn to dark wood cabinetry paired with a light terrazzo-look slab. There’s a richness and quiet boldness to it, and it still manages to feel grounded and natural. I also knew I wanted to emphasize symmetry and asymmetry; A kind of visual tension that makes a space feel designed, not just assembled.
For example, the main kitchen wall with the stove is perfectly symmetrical, simple and clean. But the island, in contrast, is totally off-center. The pendant lights are centered on the island, but not on the kitchen wall behind it. One side of the island even has a chunkier, more detailed leg than the other. These little mismatches are intentional; adding personality, texture, and rhythm to the space.
The pantry was another moment I didn’t want to overcomplicate. It’s open - and almost acts like an extension of the kitchen or a sort of ‘appliance garage’.
Another decision that made a big impact for flow: we recessed the entire wall that holds the stove and range hood, so that nothing sticks out unnecessarily. Clean lines, less visual clutter. It’s the kind of detail you might not notice right away, or even at all until its mentioned. This way the interior feels seamless - and at the same time, the opposite niche on the exterior now allows for a great built in planter along the exterior pathway. This is just one small instance where the interior and exterior inform each other.
Some people might call these things niche design obsessions. Maybe they are. I just like things to have their place; their purpose. (Even if my current reality with a two-year-old might suggest otherwise.)
We maintained the fretwork throughout the interior which acts as a continuous storyline throughout the house. Not just as a decorative accent, but as a quiet nod to tradition and a way to carry that vernacular charm indoors in a more modern, transitional way.
The Name – Toute Bagai
One of the things I absolutely adore about Barbados is that everywhere, every house has a name. There’s something so playful and poetic about it, and honestly, it’s right up my alley. So naturally, I knew our home needed a name too. Something that truly captured its spirit.
We went through a few ideas at first - some playful takes on bougainvillea, since it’s become such a signature part of the façade and landscape. But nothing felt quite right. I kept coming back to the idea that this house wasn’t just about where we are, it’s also about where we come from.
That’s when the name “Toute Bagai” came to us.
It’s a Trini creole expression that simply put means “anything and everything.” And it felt like the perfect fit. It honors our Trinidadian roots while still celebrating the warmth and welcome we’ve found in Barbados.
It speaks to the spirit of the house itself.
A place that brings together tradition and modernity, quiet moments and loud laughter, intentional design and lived-in messiness. It’s about the mix, the layers, the little things.
And yes, it may seem overthought - but sometimes its fun to romanticize the small things!
And now…it’s time to build.
The construction drawings are complete, details are underway, and we’ll be breaking ground by next year. I’ll be sure to take you along for the ride - sharing more of the technical side, the process, the inevitable hiccups, and eventually, the joy of seeing this little vision of our “anything and everything” come to life.
