The pandemic reshaped how we live, work, and think about home—and no one understands this better than architect Aida Bratovic. Forced to adapt her west London house into a multifunctional space during lockdown, she faced the same challenge millions did: how to balance family life, work, and privacy in a single open-plan area. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t easy. But here’s where it gets interesting—instead of settling, Aida turned this struggle into a creative catalyst, purchasing a neglected 1905 terraced house nearby and transforming it into a post-Covid sanctuary. This isn’t just a renovation story; it’s a manifesto for modern living. And this is the part most people miss: Aida’s design isn’t just about aesthetics—it’s about solving real-world problems with ingenuity and heart.
The house, once a post office and printing works, had been derelict for years, its commercial past marked by a shopfront window. Aida saw potential where others saw challenges. With a mix of cash and vision, she doubled the space from 1,000 to 1,900 square feet, creating a home that seamlessly blends work and family life. Her ‘non-corporate’ office greets you at the entrance, featuring a Robert Heritage table and an antique cabinet from The Old Cinema. Downstairs, a new kitchen with a glazed roof floods the space with light, opening onto a courtyard garden. But here’s where it gets controversial: instead of knocking down walls for an open-plan layout, Aida retained divisions, carving out intimate spaces like a snug sitting room and a study-turned-guest room. Is this a step backward in modern design, or a genius move to reclaim privacy? Let’s discuss.
Aida’s decorating choices are equally bold. The house’s quirky angles—not a single right angle in sight—demanded resourceful solutions. In her son’s room, a futon-style bed nestles under sloping walls, accented in deep blue. Her daughter’s north-facing bedroom gets a sunny makeover with an earthy yellow ceiling and a papier mâché pendant light. Even the bathrooms are a masterclass in high-low design: a tiny brass towel rail, trapezoid countertop, and a parchment-pale shower curtain against lagoon-blue tiles—inspired by artist Cecilia Reeve. But is this eclectic mix too much, or just right? You decide.
Aida’s personal history adds depth to her work. Born in Sarajevo, she fled war in 1992, leaving behind everything but cherished heirlooms—ceramics, prints, and paintings her mother risked her life to retrieve. This experience shaped her view on possessions: ‘Material things matter; they’re memories,’ she says. Her sitting room reflects this, featuring a carved artwork titled Dom (‘home’ in Slavic languages) by Bosnian design practice Zanat, alongside 20th-century collector’s pieces like the Eileen Gray sofa. But Aida isn’t just about owning beautiful things—she’s about the stories they tell. Take the Utrecht armchair, designed in 1935: ‘It’s the smallest but most comfortable chair I’ve ever sat on,’ she says. Even her 6’3” husband agrees. Is this the ultimate test of good design?
Aida’s recent trip to Sarajevo brought another personal touch: a family portrait by artist Hanna Dujmovic, capturing each member in their element—Aida reading, her husband savoring wine, her son rehearsing lines, and her daughter chatting on the phone. It’s a snapshot of 21st-century family life, both connected and independent. But here’s the question: as we redesign our homes for a post-pandemic world, are we prioritizing functionality over soul? Aida’s house suggests we don’t have to choose. What do you think? Share your thoughts below—let’s keep the conversation going.
