Knock Knock With Textile Designer Cathy Nordström
Before you read our most recent Knock Knock, I must warn you it will make you want to go and live in Sweden. I wanted to fling the 'Closed' sign on Tat and boat over to Sweden, where I would claim my summer house (sommarstuga). It doesn't take much to make me want to bolt, but I believe textile designer Cathy Nordström's glorious description of her life on Torekov will give a whiff of this feeling to even the firmest of stickers. I was delighted to have Cathy's charming, colourful take its space on the Tat website; it is a haven of second-hand pieces and gleaming patterns, which is no surprise when considering who the owner is.
I never thought I would end up with my on house in Torekov. In fact I was opposed to the idea for many years. My father had spent his childhood summers here with siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles eventually buying a home for his own family.
A lifetime of holidays here and a somewhat childish stand on not doing things as “everyone else” had me rebel against going down the same route. But then I got my own family, and this is such a wonderful spot for kids. They jump on their bikes in the morning, and there is so much to do. We’ll take the boat out to the small island off the coast, they’ll play football and padel or spend hours on the trampoline at the local campsite. Some days I don’t see them all day, other days our house is filled with seven hungry teenage boys rummaging our fridge for lunch. Torekov is a very social destination, we have lots of close friends who have ended up buying houses here too and it’s just a great and very relaxed summer hangout. So, we ended up buying our own. When it becomes too crowded in mid-July, we usually go away for 7-10 days, just the five of us. Our favourite trips to this date were Bordeaux, Il de Ré and Cap Ferret. Mu husband is super social and rarely gets tired, I’m quite the opposite. I need alone time. So it’s not unusual for him to jump on his bike and go to dinner parties without me.
In Sweden, many families own their own summer cabin, called sommarstuga, regardless of their social and economic background. Some share with their extended family, and some end up buying their own or buying out siblings and cousins. It’s a sacred thing here. Most Swedes will have childhood memories of some red sommarstuga somewhere.
We bought our house six months before the pandemic hit, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Thanks to that timing, we had somewhere to escape during the summer when no one could travel. When I first saw the house, I was a bit sceptical of its location at the end of a cul-de-sac and its date of construction in 1978, but my father – who had known previous owners – persuaded me to take a look anyway. I’m very much a gut person, so I was really pleased my first feeling when entering the house was that the house had good karma. It was a kind house. Our house differs slightly from the other houses on our street, which were built simultaneously. I think, back in the day, someone wanted to make this feel like a French country house because you walk into a little courtyard full of lavender, and it’s really secluded. We have a white stone wall surrounding the whole house; no one can peek in. It was a family home, so we took the plunge.
Thankfully, we didn’t have to renovate too much. A new bathroom for me and Erik, painting the walls, fixing the heating (insanely located in the ceilings since the 1980s), and replacing the cold tile floor of the main living room with a warmer wood flooring. I had this idea when decorating the house; I wanted as much as possible to be vintage or second-hand. I spent our first summer driving around the peninsula, buying so much stuff at the local flea markets – sofas, books, armchairs, artwork, cutlery and utensils for the kitchen and textiles. So much is second-hand – basically, only the beds are new. I had all the chairs, sofas, headboards, and other pieces reupholstered in new materials, including my own fabrics. What I love most about a summer house or a second home is that nothing is too precious, everything goes and thanks to the fact that I am vivid flea market visitor our home is constantly evolving. Nothing big, just the small things. A wall plate here and there, a new painting or new candle sticks. All I know is that I love everything in our home. For now at least.
We spend so much time in this house, and the whole family loves it so much. Our heart rate drops when we enter. Every house has its own scent, and the kids always say they love this one. For us it’s not just a summer house, it’s an escape. My parents have their house here and we spend a lot of time with them here. Biking to their house for dinner with our dog running next to us without a leash, looking out at the sea is the best feeling. We’re here every school holiday, with Christmas and Easter being my favourites. The living room chimney, which opens up on both sides, is probably one of the best things about the house, and it keeps us warm after long and windy walks on the moor. There’s nothing that beats the smell and sound of an open fire.
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