01. Where My Eye Was Formed

I grew up watching my father, Bernard Portet, move through the world with a quiet kind of mastery.

My design eye was shaped long before I understood what “design” was. My grandfather, André Portet, tended the vineyards at Château Lafite-Rothschild with patience, precision, and an almost reverent respect for craft. He never sought attention; humility was simply his way. My father carried that same devotion into his own work as a winemaker — and yet I would have never known the magnitude of his accomplishments.

He never boasted.

He never announced what he knew.

He never needed to.

His work — the vineyards he shaped, the wines he crafted, the teams he guided — spoke withthe same modesty he lived by. I didn’t understand it fully as a child, but now I see how deeply that quiet excellence shaped me.

While my friends spent summers at camps or malls, my parents made sure I stayed connected to the values and traditions of their homelands. We lived in the US during the school year, but my vacations unfolded between France and Chile — places where beauty is inherited rather than curated. In France, everything is built to endure, shaped by time instead of trend. In Chile, life is soulful and grounded, enriched by artisans, landscape, and tradition.

I didn’t know it then, but those worlds became my design education.

I watched my father trust process, respect place, and let the land lead rather than forcing an idea upon it. There is no ego in that. Only presence. Only listening. And today, that is the root of my work.

I design the way he made wine: with restraint, with sensitivity to the environment, and with the belief that the best things are never rushed — and never loud. This philosophy guides everything I touch, whether I’m designing homes, staging spaces, or shaping landscapes.

Homes, like vineyards, reveal their beauty slowly. They require care, intention, and a respect for the story of the people who live there and the land that surrounds them. My father taught me that — without ever saying a word.

This blog — Pastiche — is where I’ll share the details behind that philosophy: the places that formed me, the textures that inspire me, the quiet beauty I search for everywhere,and the belief that design should feel lived-in, grounded, and deeply human.

It’s not a place for perfection. It’s a place for truth — for process, for the imperfect magic of alife spent between France, Chile, and the quiet corners of California. It’s about honoring the creative language of my clients and elevating their spaces in a way that actually supports their lives, not replaces them.

Thank you for being here.There’s so much more to share.

Paula