Up Close & Personal: An Interview with the Founder
by azulomo | 3 min read
Not your typical founder chat…
Beyond the Linen and Limestone: A Real Talk with the Founder of azulomo
Hosting with soul might look serene, but behind the scenes, there’s usually a half-drunk coffee, a cushion moved four times, and a slightly obsessive love for limestone. And behind azulomo, the calm brand helping hosts rethink how they welcome, style, and earn, is a real human who also forgets her keys, rearranges furniture for fun, and once spent 20 minutes choosing between two nearly identical shades of white.
She has a thing for neutral palettes, is emotionally invested in wall texture, and believes choosing a sofa is a personality test. She’s the kind of person who says “just one final tweak” right before re-styling the entire shelf. She’s the first to light a candle before guests arrive, and the last to remember where she put her phone.
This isn’t your typical founder interview. We skipped the spreadsheets and went straight to the good stuff — like why texture matters more than Wi-Fi and how a donkey changed her view on guest experience. We asked about memory, materials, childhood habits, and the strangely satisfying joy of tumbleweed. We talked about burnout, barefoot mornings, and what colour feels like a soul.
Whether you’re a host, a creative, or someone who just loves a good behind-the-scenes moment, this is for you. Honest, gently curious, and full of feeling — the kind you don’t need to decorate.
Behind every calm space is a story, a memory, and a quiet decision to host with heart. That’s where soulful hosting begins. - azulomo
This isn’t an interview—it’s a conversation shaped like a story, led by curiosity and the soul of the brand, so let’s get started.
What were you like as a child, and how much of that child still lives in your work today?
“I was definitely more on the quiet side. Introverted, thoughtful, curious about small things. I studied hard, loved books, and spent a lot of time making little corners feel like mine: tiny arrangements of objects on shelves, collections of feathers, stones, postcards. I think I was always trying to create a world within a world.
And yet (you won’t believe it…) I was terribly messy. Not the artistic kind of messy. Just… wildly disorganised. My mum once lost all patience and tipped every drawer I owned into the middle of my bedroom floor. “Now,” she said, “you can tidy your little sanctuary of chaos.” I remember looking at that pile and thinking, yes, but every single thing in there is important.
That part of me still lives in my work today. I still love to create spaces that feel layered and personal, but now, I’ve learned how to let things breathe. I think azulomo is, in some ways, my grown-up version of that child’s room: soulful, expressive, slightly imperfect — but much better edited.”
What’s your favourite material, and what emotion does it evoke for you?
I’d have to say three—because I just can’t choose between the softness, the strength, and the warmth.
For softness, it’s always linen. There’s something honest about it. The texture, the way it creases without apology, the way it feels cool at first then warm against the skin. Linen makes a space feel lived in, calm, and human. It somehow holds quiet.
And then there’s travertine. I’ve loved it for years. It’s tactile without being loud, natural without being rustic, and grounded without being heavy. It holds stillness in such a beautiful way. There’s a quiet pattern in it without design, like nature had a little moment, did something beautiful, and left it there for us to find.
And sandstone, how could I leave that out…? It’s sun-warmed, earthy, and full of soft strength. It feels grounded and ancient, but also incredibly welcoming. Like it’s been through a lot… and just wants to sit still with you.
So yes, linen, travertine, and sandstone. Softness, stone, and warmth. I think they balance each other—and I guess that balance is where calm lives.
If you could bottle the ‘feeling’ of an azulomo stay, what would it smell like?
It’s that instant ahhhh when you walk in and everything feels… easy. The world gets quieter. Your brain actually unclenches. No schedule. No performance. No one to impress. Nothing to live up to. Just space to breathe and feel like yourself again.
There’s a subtle scent in the air, fig, but the good kind. Not fake-sweet, just sun-warmed and honest. (And yes, I know it sounds cheesy, but if you’ve ever actually smelled a fig tree on a hot afternoon, you get it.) I guess it’s just the right kind of calm that doesn’t need to be explained. You just feel it. And suddenly, you're not trying to be anything. You just are.
What does home mean to you?
Well, I’m a bit of a home bot. Always have been. For me, home isn’t just a place — it’s your personality, your pace, and your priorities made visible. It’s where your lifestyle and your wellbeing shake hands. It should put a smile on your face before you even realise why.
A house is structure; a home has soul. It’s not about matching cushions (and I love cushions…) it’s about memory, connection, and how a space makes you feel when no one’s watching. My own home is relaxed, perfectly imperfect, lived-in, and I’d describe it as ‘intentionally layered’. I call it approachable elegance: a calming mix of warm minimalism, coastal texture, and a few collected pieces that quietly say, “this is me.”
It’s not about perfection. It’s about presence.
What guest experience quietly changed how you see hosting?
It was at an Airbnb on a cork farm just outside Comporta, Portugal. The place was effortlessly beautiful; warm wood, soft air, everything intentional but relaxed. But the thing that really stayed with me? The donkey.
Every guest was invited to feed him a carrot in the morning. No fuss, no signage — just a quiet ritual passed on with a smile. It felt like being let in on a local secret, and there was something grounding about it. The simplicity. The stillness. The sense that you were part of the rhythm of the place, not just passing through.
And Maria, the host, she was wonderful. So kind, so thoughtful. Maria, you know who you are ;)
It was the kind of stay that reminded me soulful hosting isn’t about big gestures. It’s the little ones, done with care, that make people feel like they belong. Even if it’s just them, a carrot, and a donkey.
Have you ever stayed somewhere that made you feel completely different? Not just impressed, but quietly changed.
Yes, actually, a boutique stay in Mykonos. I remember walking in and instantly feeling lighter. The space had this calm, effortless elegance—arched doorways, textured white walls, linen drapes moving with the breeze, and just enough modern detail to make it feel quietly luxurious without trying too hard.
It was the perfect mix of island heritage and modern ease. You could feel the history in the bones of the building, but the experience itself was so laid-back and fluid. No fuss. Just intentional touches and a really smart use of space and light.
That stay completely shaped my aesthetic. It was the first time I realised how interiors could feel both refined and relaxed. Airy, textural, soulful. That modern Mediterranean calm became my north star, and still guides how I design and host today.
Any advice for the host who’s tired and unsure it’s worth it?
I’d say: you’re not alone, and it’s okay to feel that way. Hosting can be deeply rewarding, but it can also be exhausting when everything starts to feel like too much. The expectations. The decisions. The constant doing.
But here’s the thing: it doesn’t have to stay like this. You don’t need to hustle harder, you need to reconnect. With why you started. With what feels good. With the kind of hosting that actually suits you.
That’s exactly why I created the Slow Living Hosting Masterclass™. It’s designed for hosts who want to do things differently—calmly, intentionally, and in a way that supports their life, not drains it. You deserve a business that feels like home. One that works with your energy, not against it. So if you’re tired? That’s not a failure. That’s your cue to pause, realign, and come back stronger — with more clarity, more calm, and more joy in what you’re building.
How do you personally define success now, and how has that changed over time?
Gosh, this has changed a lot over the years. There was a time when I thought success had to mean status, financial milestones, ticking all the boxes. Now? None of that really moves me.
To me, success is freedom. The freedom to live where I want, how I want, and to build a life that feels well, kind of aligned, not just productive. It’s being able to do meaningful work without burning out. It’s walking through my front door and feeling proud, calm, and myself.
Success is being present for the good bits. Not chasing. Not proving. Just living well, designing with soul, and waking up excited for the day ahead, and yes, even if it’s slow.
What memory lives in your hands?
Oh my goodness, errrm, potato picking with my dad, one quiet evening as dusk settled in. The light was soft, low, the kind that makes you slow down without realising. We had old wire baskets that dug little marks into our palm.
There was something really grounding about it. No rush, just rhythm. Dig, reach, find. The quiet satisfaction of pulling something from the ground that had patiently grown while no one was looking. The smell of soil. The silence between us. It wasn’t about the task; it was about being there, together, doing something simple and real.
That memory lives in my hands. Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to texture in everything I do. Whether it’s linen, clay, or wood, if it doesn’t have a feeling to it, it doesn’t stay. My hands still reach for what feels honest.
What’s the strangest or most curious object you own?
It’s a ball of tumbleweed. I don’t even know the proper word for it, but it sits proudly on a plinth in my home, like a wild little sculpture that wandered in from nowhere and decided to stay (well, maybe not ‘wandered in’, but that’s another story…).
There’s something about it I just love: the rhythm, the movement, the way all those brittle, spiky branches come together to form something unexpectedly beautiful; blonde, sun-bleached, totally my vibe. A sort of wild togetherness. It’s fragile and bold. Light but architectural. It’s not polished, not “designed”, but it’s more honest than most things you can buy. And in a strange way, it reminds me that beauty doesn’t have to be planned. Sometimes it just… happens. And you honour it by making space for it.
What colour—or set of hues—feels like your soul?
Neutrals, hands down. Whites, off-whites, warm taupes (Yes… I said the taupe word!), soft sands, every subtle shade that most people overlook, I obsess over. (And yes, I once spent 20 minutes choosing between two nearly identical whites for my plaster wall. It was a big decision!)
There’s something endlessly comforting and quietly confident about neutrals. And no, they’re not boring, they’re beautiful in a whisper-not-a-shout kind of way. They hold that calm, timeless luxury that doesn’t need to prove itself.
They make room to breathe. They let texture, light, and natural materials take the lead. And they create a feeling of effortless ease that, to me, is everything. Neutrals are my personality: laid-back, intentional, and not here for visual chaos. Just soft, grounded harmony with space to exhale. And if you looked at my wardrobe, you’d get it: linen, oat, stone, repeat.
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The Soul Behind the Style
azulomo isn’t just about how a space looks, it’s about how it makes you feel. Calm. Clear. Comfortable in your own rhythm.
This conversation has wandered through fig-scented moments, donkey rituals, wild tumbleweeds, and plaster decisions that—yes—really mattered. But beneath all of it is something simple: hosting is emotional. Home is personal. And great design doesn’t need to shout to be unforgettable.
If you’re ready to host in a way that feels more aligned, more spacious, and more like you, the Slow Living Hosting Masterclass™ was made for that. It’s where soulful strategy meets calm design—so you can build a hosting business that works beautifully and feels good to run.
Because hosting should feel like coming home. For your guests, and for you.
The azulomo Masterclass ~ Hosting With Soul
Our Hosting Masterclass guides you through every layer of soulful hosting—from emotional design to quiet luxury, from guest psychology to micro-moment rituals—and shows you how those intentional choices translate into more meaningful stays and consistent revenue.
Because hosting should feel like coming home. For your guests, and for you.
“This founder interview is less about hustle and more about heart. It’s a behind-the-scenes peek into the stories, textures, and quiet obsessions that shaped azulomo, and a reminder that soulful hosting isn’t about doing more, it’s about doing it meaningfully. With linen, travertine, and just the right amount of taupe...;)”
