Materials I Love: From Marble to Abaca

I am a lover of furniture and decor — not as a hobby, as a language. I speak marble. I speak travertine. I speak wood that has been dried properly and abaca that breathes in humid air. I speak the quiet dialect of objects that age with fingerprints and sunlight and the small accidents of family life.

Marble

Marble is my first love — the material Athina taught me. Cool at breakfast. Warm under evening plates. Veining that catches Gulf light like a private landscape. I choose marble for presence: dining tables that record meals, sconces that graze plaster, sculptural forms that hold a room without explaining themselves. Marble demands intention. You do not impulse-buy a marble console; you commit.

In the Meli edit you will find rainforest brown that looks like hills under glass, grey-white honed for consoles, terracotta vein that holds amber light after sunset, Bulgari red that rhymes across trays and vessels. Each slab is different. Quarries do not repeat. Your piece will not match a photograph exactly — and that is heritage, not flaw.

Travertine

Travertine is marble’s quieter sibling — porous, warm, honest about its pits. I love travertine for touch: lamp bases that hold shadow, vanity sets that quiet a bathroom, arches that feel like pocket temples on a shelf. Travertine forgives life. It records years without looking worn-out. In UAE homes, honed travertine stays perceptibly cooler than synthetic alternatives — a small daily comfort that compounds.

Wood

Stone without wood can feel like a museum. I love wood that refuses to look like technology — the NOR wood dome lamp, timber handles, oak consoles that warm a room full of marble. Wood carries fingerprints. It expands and contracts with seasons. It teaches children that materials are alive. When I design pieces with suppliers, I always ask: what wood will survive Dubai humidity and still feel human?

Abaca, linen, brass

Fiber matters as much as stone. Abaca for texture that breathes — baskets, shades, accents that stop a room from feeling cold. Linen for bedding and upholstery that softens with washing — because comfort is family infrastructure, not luxury. Brass for warmth at entryways and baths — metal that develops patina instead of pretending to stay new forever.

Choosing materials as a family

When we choose materials for our home, I involve my kids more than people expect. One of them touches every lamp shade and says whether the light feels harsh. Another runs his hand along stone and tells me if a surface feels too precious — kids are hard on objects, and I trust them. We teach them that materials are decisions, not defaults.

Meli is how I share that teaching with your family. Every material on this site passed through the same question: will this help a household live more beautifully, more together, more honestly? If yes, it earns its place. If no — no matter how trendy — it stays out of the edit.