Date: 1 June 2026
Participant: Mariana Ferreira, 33, Almada, Portugal
Occupation: Part-time administrative assistant
Household: Lives with husband Ricardo and two children (Tomas, 5; Beatriz, 3) in a 70m2 apartment
Income: Approximately EUR 900/month (her share); husband's income fluctuates seasonally
Interview format: One-on-one qualitative interview (synthetic persona)
Concept evaluated: Everyday Living Interiors — v2 website
Duration: Approximately 23 minutes
Introduction
Interviewer: Thank you for taking the time to speak with me today. I'm conducting research on behalf of an interior design service, and I'd love to get your honest perspective. There are no right or wrong answers here — I'm genuinely interested in your reactions, even if they're negative or uncertain. Critical feedback is just as valuable as positive feedback. I'll start by asking you a few questions about your current living situation and how you think about your home. Then I'll walk you through this service's website and ask for your reactions. The whole conversation should take about twenty to twenty-five minutes. Does that sound all right?
Mariana: Yes, that's fine. I should say — I don't know anything about interior design. I mean, I look at things on Instagram sometimes, but I'm probably not the right person to ask about this.
Interviewer: You're exactly the right person. And really, the most helpful thing you can do is be completely honest — I'm not the person who created this, so you won't hurt anyone's feelings.
Mariana: Okay. [laughs softly] I can do honest.
Section 1: Context Setting
Interviewer: So, tell me a bit about your current living situation — your home, who you live with, and how you generally feel about the space you're in.
Mariana: I live in Almada with my husband Ricardo and our two kids — Tomas is five and Beatriz is three. We have a T2, seventy square metres. It's in one of those buildings from the nineties, you know, nothing special. Tiled floors everywhere. Small rooms. We've been there six years now. When we moved in I was actually quite proud of it. It was ours, you know? But now... I don't know. It doesn't feel like ours anymore. It feels like it just happened to us. The furniture is all from other people — his mother's sofa, my parents' dining table, a bookshelf from my old bedroom. Nothing goes together. And with two small children, there are toys everywhere. I spend half my evenings just picking things up off the floor and putting them in boxes that don't really fit anywhere.
Interviewer: When you walk through your front door at the end of the day, what's the first thing you notice?
Mariana: [pauses] Shoes. There's always a pile of shoes by the door because we don't have a proper place for them. And the hallway cupboard is so full of things that I'm afraid to open it sometimes. [laughs] It sounds ridiculous, but it's true. After the shoes, I see the living room, and it's... it's always a mess. Even when it's tidy, it doesn't look right. Everything is dark. The sofa is this brown colour that I never chose. The table is dark wood. And then there are pink plastic toys everywhere. It's like — the room has no personality. Or it has too many personalities, none of them mine.
Interviewer: You said "none of them mine." Can you say more about that?
Mariana: [quieter] When we moved in, I thought — we'll make it ours, we'll buy things slowly, make it nice. But there was never money for that. And then Ricardo's mother gave us the sofa, and his parents gave us the dining table when they renovated, and my mother brought the bookshelf when she was clearing out. And you can't say no, can you? They're being generous. But now I live in a house that looks like... like a storage room for other people's things. I have a picture on the fridge from a magazine — a bright, simple living room — and it's been there for years. It's curling at the edges. That's as close as I've got to decorating.
Interviewer: How much time and energy do you typically spend thinking about how your home looks or feels?
Mariana: More than I'd like to admit. At night, when the kids are asleep, I scroll Instagram and I see these beautiful apartments and I think — how? How do people do that? And then I feel bad because I can't. And then I feel silly for caring, because it's just a flat, the kids are healthy, we have a roof. But it sits with me. It really does. I spend more time thinking about it than doing anything about it, because I don't know what to do and I don't have money to do it anyway.
Interviewer: Have you ever considered getting help with your home — from a designer, a service, a friend with good taste, even an app?
Mariana: [laughs] No. I mean — an interior designer? That's for people who live in nice apartments in Lisbon or Amsterdam. Not for people in Almada with a second-hand sofa and a salary of nine hundred euros. I've never even looked. When I see those things on Instagram, I don't even click. I just scroll past because I know — that's not my world. I once asked a friend who has better taste than me, and she said "just go to IKEA," which I know, but IKEA costs money too, and I always end up buying things that don't go with what I already have. So then I have more mismatched things, which is worse.
Interviewer: When you hear the words "interior designer," what comes to mind?
Mariana: Someone expensive. Someone who works in big houses with white walls and expensive furniture. Someone who would walk into my flat and... not know what to do. Or worse — someone who would judge it. Judge me. I know that's probably not fair, but that's what I think. My mother would say "interior designers are for rich people" and honestly, I agree with her.
Interviewer: Do you feel that interior design services are something that's available to people in your situation?
Mariana: No. Not at all. It's like asking if a personal chef is available to me. Technically yes, but practically? No. It's a different world.
Section 2: Concept Presentation
Interviewer: I'd like to tell you about a service called Everyday Living Interiors. It's run by a woman named Sara de Abreu, based in Diemen, near Amsterdam. Let me walk you through what you'd see if you visited her website.
The first thing you see is a photo of a real, lived-in kitchen — wooden cabinets, a table with a half-drunk coffee and children's schoolwork, and in the background a living room where someone has clearly put thought into how things are arranged, but it's not staged or perfect. It looks like a real home.
Over this image, a large heading reads: "Your home should support your life, not compete with it." Below that: "Practical, affordable interior design for real homes and real budgets. Based in Diemen. Serving Amsterdam and beyond."
There are two buttons: "See services and pricing" and "Not sure where to start?"
Scrolling down, you come to a short section on a warm grey background. The heading says: "Wherever you're starting from, that's okay." And below it, a paragraph that reads: "Some people come to me because they're excited about a new home. Others come because they're stuck — because their space feels wrong and they don't know why, because they've just been through a big life change, because they're embarrassed about how their home looks, or because they and their partner can't agree on anything. None of that is unusual, and none of it is a problem. I've helped people start from all of those places. Yours is valid too."
Next comes a section called "What I can help you with," showing four services with prices clearly listed:
The Room Reset — eighty euros. A virtual consultation where you send photos of your room beforehand, meet online for sixty to ninety minutes, and receive a written follow-up with layout suggestions, colour guidance, and product recommendations.
The Thoughtful Edit — one hundred and fifty euros per room. Sara comes to your home and transforms your space using only what you already own. You receive before-and-after photos and a written guide explaining what was changed and why. Amsterdam area only.
The Design Roadmap — from two hundred and fifty euros. A complete written plan including a moodboard, colour palette, floor plan, lighting recommendations, and a shopping list with links and price ranges at different budget levels.
The Living Space Plan — from five hundred and forty euros per room. Full interior design from concept to completion, including 3D visualisations, sourcing, and styling support.
Below the services it says: "Extra time if needed: forty euros per hour. All prices include VAT."
Then there's a section specifically for couples. The heading reads: "Do you and your partner have different styles?" It says: "You're not the first couple to disagree about the coffee table. Or the curtains. Or everything. Design disagreements are one of the most common reasons people reach out to me — and they're one of my favourite projects. I help couples find a shared language for their home, where both people see themselves reflected. No compromises that make everyone equally unhappy. Real solutions that honour both of you."
Below that is a "Not sure which service is right for you?" section with three simple paths: "I just need a push" leads to The Room Reset at eighty euros. "I want to use what I already have" leads to The Thoughtful Edit at one hundred and fifty euros per room. "I want a full plan" leads to The Design Roadmap from two hundred and fifty euros. And: "Still not sure? Send me a photo of your space and I'll tell you where I'd start. No obligation."
The portfolio shows before-and-after transformations of real homes with visible budgets — for example, "Family living room, budget under two hundred euros" or "Studio apartment, existing furniture only, zero euros spent" or "A couple who loved minimalism and maximalism equally." You can see the messy, cluttered "before" next to the transformed "after."
In the About section, Sara shares that she's always made beautiful spaces, even when she had no money. She says: "I know what it's like to start over in a new country, to furnish a flat on a budget, to make a rental feel like home. I know what it's like to look at a room and feel overwhelmed, or stuck, or secretly embarrassed. And I know that sometimes the hardest thing about your home isn't how it looks — it's what it represents."
She also explains her approach: she starts with how you live, not a style. She works with what you have. She explains every decision — she never says "trust the process." And she specifically mentions working with couples with different tastes as one of her favourite challenges.
The contact page has a form, email, and WhatsApp options, plus a "Just want a quick opinion?" option where you can send a photo of your space and get Sara's honest first impression for free.
At the very bottom of every page: "Whether you're starting from scratch or building on what you've already created — you belong here."
That's the full website. Take a moment to let that settle.
[Long pause — approximately twelve seconds]
Mariana: [quietly] She's Portuguese?
Section 3: Initial Reactions and Belonging
Interviewer: She is, yes. But before I answer questions — what's your first, honest reaction to what I just described?
Mariana: [pause] I don't know where to start. I — that bit about being embarrassed about how your home looks. That hit me. Nobody talks about that. I mean, I've never said it to anyone — that I feel embarrassed about my flat. But I do. And the fact that she just says it, right there on the website, like it's normal... [trails off]
Interviewer: Take your time.
Mariana: And she's Portuguese. She moved to another country. She knows what it's like to have no money. That's — that's not what I expected. When you said "interior design service," I was already thinking "this isn't for me." And then you started describing the website and — the first photo, with the children's schoolwork and the half-drunk coffee? That's my kitchen. Not literally, but — you know what I mean. It doesn't look like a magazine. It looks real.
Interviewer: What stood out to you most — positively or negatively?
Mariana: Positively — the prices being right there. Because usually I would never even look. I would see "interior design" and close the page. But eighty euros. I mean, I can't just spend eighty euros without thinking about it — that's a lot for us. But it's not a thousand. It's not five hundred. It's something I could save for. And the one where she comes to your home and uses what you already have — that's one hundred and fifty. That's... I need to think about it, but it's not impossible.
Negatively — I don't know if there's a negative exactly. I just wonder — is it really for someone like me? Someone in Almada, not in Amsterdam? Someone with furniture that nobody chose, just inherited?
Interviewer: Based on what you've heard, who do you think this service is designed for? Describe that person.
Mariana: [thinks] Someone who cares about their home but feels stuck. Someone who maybe has a nice apartment but doesn't know what to do with it. Someone in the Netherlands, probably. Someone with a bit more money than me — even eighty euros, I mean, that's the children's shoes for a month. But someone who's not rich either. Not the people with the white apartments on Instagram. More like — normal people who want things to be better but don't know how.
Interviewer: Do you see yourself as that person?
Mariana: [long pause] Part of me does. The part that tears magazine pages and sticks them on the fridge. The part that lies awake thinking about why the living room makes me sad. But the other part — the practical part — says, Mariana, you're in Almada, she's in Amsterdam, you earn nine hundred euros a month, stop dreaming. So — yes and no. I see myself in the feelings, but not in the situation. Does that make sense?
Interviewer: It makes perfect sense. What specifically makes you feel included or excluded?
Mariana: Included — the language. That paragraph about being stuck, embarrassed, going through a life change. The "yours is valid too." That made me feel — seen. Even the "wherever you're starting from, that's okay." Because my starting point is very low. Very low. And she's saying that's okay.
Excluded — it's the Amsterdam thing. It's in the Netherlands. The one where she comes to your house — that's Amsterdam only. And the virtual one — eighty euros is a lot for me. If it were forty or fifty, I might seriously think about it. At eighty, I'd have to convince Ricardo, and he would say, "Eighty euros for someone to tell you to move the sofa?" And I don't know how I'd argue with that.
Interviewer: The tagline is "Your home should support your life, not compete with it." What does that mean to you? Does it resonate?
Mariana: [immediately] Yes. Because my home is constantly competing with my life. Every morning I'm fighting the flat — where are the shoes, where are the backpacks, why is there no room for anything, why does the living room look like a bomb went off. The flat should help me, right? It should make the mornings easier. It should make the evenings calmer. But instead it adds stress. I spend so much energy just managing the mess that there's nothing left for actually living. So yes — support, not compete. That's exactly what I need. I just never had those words for it.
Interviewer: Can you think of a specific moment when your home felt like it was competing with your life rather than supporting it?
Mariana: Last week. Beatriz was sick, Tomas had homework, I was trying to cook dinner, and I couldn't find a single clear surface in the kitchen because there were toys on the counter, Ricardo's tools on the table, and the laundry basket was in front of the stove because there was nowhere else to put it. I just stood there and wanted to cry. Not because of the children or the dinner. Because of the flat. Because it felt like the flat was fighting me. And I know that sounds dramatic, but when everything around you is chaos, your head becomes chaos too. The flat doesn't just look wrong — it makes me feel wrong.
Section 4: Value, Clarity, and Pricing
Interviewer: Looking at the four services — The Room Reset, The Thoughtful Edit, The Design Roadmap, and The Living Space Plan — can you tell me in your own words what each one involves?
Mariana: Okay. The Room Reset — that's like a video call where she looks at your room and tells you what to change. You send photos first, and then she gives you a written plan. Eighty euros. The Thoughtful Edit — she actually comes to your house and moves things around with what you have, no buying new things. One hundred and fifty. The Design Roadmap — that's a whole plan, like a document with colours and a shopping list and a floor layout, from two hundred and fifty. And the big one — the Living Space Plan — that's full design, where she does everything. Five hundred and forty per room.
Interviewer: That's very clear. Which of these would be most relevant to your situation right now?
Mariana: [without hesitation] The Thoughtful Edit. Because I have furniture — I just don't know what to do with it. And the idea that someone could walk in and make it better without spending anything — I mean, if that's really possible, that's exactly what I need. But she'd have to come to Almada, and it says Amsterdam only. So that one's out for me.
If not that — The Room Reset. Eighty euros, online, she tells me what to change. That's more realistic for my situation. I could do it from here. But I'd need to believe that she could actually help from a screen, looking at photos of my flat. I'm not sure about that.
Interviewer: Is there anything about these names or descriptions that confuses you?
Mariana: The names are nice. "Thoughtful Edit" — I like that. It makes it sound like my flat is worth editing, not tearing down. "Room Reset" — okay, like restarting. I understand that. "Design Roadmap" feels more professional, like for bigger projects. The names are clear, I think. What I like is that she says what you get. A PDF, a shopping list, before-and-after photos. That makes a difference. If she just said "consultation" or "design session," I wouldn't know what I was paying for. But a written plan I can keep? That feels like something real.
Interviewer: The prices are visible on the website — eighty euros for The Room Reset, one hundred and fifty per room for The Thoughtful Edit, from two hundred and fifty for The Design Roadmap. What's your reaction to those prices?
Mariana: Honestly? Much lower than I expected. If you had asked me before — "how much does an interior designer cost?" — I would have said a thousand euros minimum. Maybe two thousand. Something completely out of reach. So eighty euros — that's surprising. It's still money, for me. I'm not going to pretend eighty euros is nothing. We think twice about spending twenty euros on something that isn't necessary. But eighty is — I could imagine it. If I saved a bit. If the Christmas money from my mother came. If I skipped a few things for a month. It's in a different universe from what I imagined.
Interviewer: Before I walked you through this website, if someone had said "interior designer," what price range would you have assumed?
Mariana: A thousand euros at minimum. Probably more. I've never looked, because there was no point looking. It's like looking at the price of a car when you ride the bus. You just don't.
Interviewer: Do these prices make the service feel more accessible? Or do they raise any concerns — for example, about quality?
Mariana: More accessible, definitely. But — and I feel bad saying this — a small part of me wonders if eighty euros can really buy something good. Because everything in life is "you get what you pay for," right? My mother would say that. But then I look at the rest of what you described — the before-and-afters, the fact that she explains her reasoning, the written plan you get — and it doesn't feel cheap. It feels like she's chosen to make it affordable. There's a difference between cheap and affordable. Cheap is when the quality is low. Affordable is when someone decided that normal people should be able to have this too.
Interviewer: Does having prices visible on the website affect your trust in the service?
Mariana: Yes. One hundred percent. If I went to a website and it said "contact for pricing," I would close the tab immediately. Because that means it's too expensive and they don't want to scare you away. Or it means they'll charge based on how much they think you can pay. Seeing the price right there — eighty euros, one hundred and fifty euros — that's honest. That says, this is what it costs, decide for yourself. I trust that much more.
Interviewer: The Thoughtful Edit says Sara transforms your space using only what you already own — no purchases required. How does that land with you?
Mariana: [pause] That's the one that makes me emotional, honestly. Because I always thought — to make my flat better, I need to buy new things. New sofa, new shelves, new everything. And I can't. So I do nothing. But the idea that what I have could be enough — that someone could take my mother-in-law's sofa and my parents' table and the bookshelf from my childhood and make it look like a home — I want to believe that. I really do.
Interviewer: Do you believe it's possible?
Mariana: [slowly] I believe she believes it. I've seen some things on Instagram — those videos where someone just moves furniture around and it looks completely different. And I always think, is that real? So I'm hopeful but sceptical. I think I would need to see it — see a before-and-after of a flat like mine. Not a nice flat that got nicer. A flat with mismatched furniture and tiled floors and no money. Show me that can change, and I'll believe it.
Interviewer: Does "no extra spending" make you trust it more or question the quality?
Mariana: Trust it more. Because it means she's confident she can work with what's there. She's not selling me things. She's selling her eye. Her skill. And that feels — honest. Like she really does see something in my flat that I can't see. That's what I need. Someone to see what I can't.
Section 5: Emotional Resonance and Personal Connection
Interviewer: The website has a section near the top that says "Wherever you're starting from, that's okay" — and mentions people coming from shame, life changes, embarrassment, or disagreements with a partner. How do you respond to that?
Mariana: [voice tightens slightly] I almost cried when you read that part. I know that sounds silly — it's a website. But nobody has ever said to me, "Being embarrassed about your home is okay." Not my mother, not my friends, not Ricardo. Because we don't talk about it. In Portugal — in my world — you keep the house clean and you don't complain. You're supposed to be grateful for what you have. And I am grateful. But I'm also ashamed. And those two things live right next to each other, and nobody acknowledges it.
So when she says "wherever you're starting from, that's okay" — that's not just marketing to me. That's someone saying: I know you feel this way, and it's not a problem. It's like — permission. Permission to want something better without feeling guilty.
Interviewer: Does that feel genuine or performative?
Mariana: Genuine. Because of what comes after — she talks about herself. She's Portuguese. She moved countries. She had no money. She knows what it's like to feel stuck. If it was just the one paragraph and then beautiful photos of expensive apartments, I'd say it was performative. But the whole thing — the real photos, the prices, the before-and-afters with zero euros spent — it all holds together. She means it.
Interviewer: Is there anything in your own situation that that section speaks to?
Mariana: The embarrassment. Definitely the embarrassment. I've never had someone over who isn't family. My colleagues from work — I would never invite them. Because I don't want them to see my flat. I make excuses. I say the kids are sick or we're renovating. We're not renovating. I just don't want anyone to see the dark sofa and the mismatched furniture and the toys everywhere. That's — that's a kind of loneliness, actually. Your home is supposed to be where you welcome people, and I can't even do that.
Interviewer: Sara shares that she knows what it's like to feel overwhelmed, stuck, or secretly embarrassed about her home — and that "sometimes the hardest thing about your home isn't how it looks, it's what it represents." How does that land?
Mariana: [long pause] That's the line. That's the one. Because my home — it represents the gap between what I wanted and what I have. I wanted a home that felt like mine, that was bright and simple and had space to breathe. And what I have is other people's furniture in a small flat that I can't change. It represents — a life where you don't get to choose. Where things just happen to you. And I know that's bigger than furniture. But the furniture is where I feel it every day.
So when she says the hardest thing isn't how it looks but what it represents — she understands something that most people don't. That it's not about the sofa being ugly. It's about the sofa being someone else's choice in my life.
Interviewer: Does knowing this about her make you more or less likely to trust her?
Mariana: Much more. Because she's not just a designer who's learned to say the right things. She's lived it. She was the person with no money in a new country. She was me — or some version of me. And if she came out of that knowing how to make beautiful spaces, then maybe — maybe she can see something in my space too.
Interviewer: The website also shows design reasoning in its portfolio case studies — explaining why a shelf was moved, why certain colours work together, what spatial principle was applied. Does that affect how you perceive Sara's expertise?
Mariana: Yes. Because I'm always suspicious of people who say "trust me" without explaining why. At work, if my boss tells me to do something differently, I want to know why. Same with my flat. If someone says "move the bookshelf to that wall," I want to know why that wall. And if she explains — because the light comes in from here, and the dark wood blocks it, and moving it opens the sightline — then I understand. And then I can do it myself next time. She's not just fixing my room; she's teaching me to see it differently. That's worth much more than eighty euros.
Interviewer: Is that combination of warmth and demonstrated expertise — does it feel natural? Or does one undermine the other?
Mariana: It feels natural. Because in my life, the best people are like that — warm and competent. My children's doctor is like that. She's kind, she listens, and she knows what she's doing. You don't have to choose. So when Sara is warm about my embarrassment and also explains why the shelf should move — that's not a contradiction. That's a real person. That's someone I would trust with my home.
Section 6: Barriers and Action
Interviewer: Imagine you've just finished browsing this website on your phone. It's eleven o'clock at night, the kids are asleep. What would you do next — and be honest. Would you book a service, send a photo for a quick opinion, save the website for later, or close the tab?
Mariana: [honest pause] I would save it. I would screenshot the prices and the bit about The Room Reset. I would maybe send it to myself on WhatsApp so I could find it again. But I wouldn't book anything that night. Because I'd need to talk to Ricardo. And I'd need to sit with it for a while — to make sure it's not just an impulse from a tired evening.
Interviewer: What's the single biggest thing holding you back?
Mariana: Money. It's always money. Eighty euros is a week of groceries for us. I know she's made it affordable, and I appreciate that. But "affordable" is relative. For someone earning two thousand euros, eighty is easy. For me, it's a real sacrifice. I'd be spending money that could go to the children. And I'd need to explain that to Ricardo — not because he's controlling, but because we make these decisions together. And I can already hear him saying, "Eighty euros for someone to tell you to move the sofa?"
Interviewer: Is there anything the website could add or change that would move you from "maybe" to "yes"?
Mariana: [thinks hard] If she had something even smaller. Like — thirty euros for a photo review. Where I send her five photos and she sends me back a written list of things to change. Not a video call, just the advice. Because honestly, the conversation part scares me a little too. My English is okay but not great, and I'm shy. A written thing would be easier. And cheaper.
Or — and this might sound strange — a payment plan. Like, ten euros a month for eight months. I know that's unusual. But for people like me, that's how we buy everything. The washing machine was a payment plan. Even the IKEA trip was spread across two months of budget.
Interviewer: Would you share this website with someone else? Who, and why?
Mariana: Yes, actually. My friend Catia — she has a flat similar to mine, also in Almada, also full of hand-me-down furniture. She complains about it all the time. I would send her this and say, "Look at this — they start at eighty euros and there's a woman who can redo your room with what you already have." Even if I can't afford it right now, I'd want her to know about it. Because we always say to each other, "I wish I could make my flat nicer," and now there's actually something that looks possible. Not easy, but possible.
Interviewer: The website has a low-barrier option: "Send me a photo of your space and I'll tell you where I'd start — free, no obligation." Does that change anything for you?
Mariana: [sits up] Wait — free? She'll look at a photo for free?
Interviewer: That's what the website says.
Mariana: That changes everything. Because that I would do. Tonight. I would take a photo of my living room right now — messy as it is — and send it. If it's free, there's no risk. I don't have to convince Ricardo. I don't have to feel guilty about spending money. I just send a photo and see what she says. And if she looks at my living room and says "here's where I'd start" — even if it's one small thing — that's more than anyone has ever offered me. That's the door I would walk through.
Interviewer: Would you actually use that option? What would stop you?
Mariana: I would. The only thing that might stop me is — and this is stupid — embarrassment. Sending a photo of my messy flat to a professional. I'd need to take the photo when it was at least somewhat tidy. And even then, I'd feel like I was apologising. "Sorry, I know it's bad, but..." But if the website already says "wherever you're starting from, that's okay" — then maybe I don't need to apologise. Maybe she's already said it's fine.
Interviewer: Is there anything about your home, your life, or your relationship with design that this website still does not acknowledge — something that, if it did, would make you feel more seen?
Mariana: [thinks for a while] The Portuguese thing. She's Portuguese — but the website is in English, right? And it's in Amsterdam. For someone like me, in Portugal, there's still a gap. I'd love to see — even one line — that she works with people in Portugal too. Or that the virtual services work across countries. Because right now I'm not sure if I'm allowed to contact her. It feels like it's for people in the Netherlands.
Also — the inherited furniture thing. She mentions working with what you have, which is great. But there's a specific thing about furniture that was given to you by family — furniture you didn't choose and can't get rid of. That's very Portuguese, very common. If she acknowledged that specifically — "I work with furniture you inherited from family, furniture that wasn't your choice" — I would feel like she's talking directly to me.
Interviewer: If Sara could add one more thing to this website that would make the difference for you, what would it be?
Mariana: A before-and-after of a flat like mine. Seventy square metres. Hand-me-down furniture. Small budget — or no budget. Two kids. Tiled floors. Show me that flat, looking exactly as bad as mine, and then show me what she did with it. If I could see that transformation — not in a nice Amsterdam apartment, but in a flat like the one I'm sitting in right now — I would send that photo tonight.
Closing
Interviewer: If a friend asked you, "What is Everyday Living Interiors?", how would you describe it in one or two sentences?
Mariana: It's a Portuguese woman in Amsterdam who helps normal people make their homes better — even if you have no money and ugly furniture. She doesn't judge you. She works with what you have and she shows you the prices before you have to ask.
Interviewer: On a scale of one to ten, how likely would you be to recommend this website to someone you know who's struggling with their home?
Mariana: Eight. Maybe nine. Because it's the first time I've seen anything like this that feels real — for real people with real problems. I'd send it to Catia, I'd send it to my cousin. The only reason it's not a ten is the Amsterdam thing — if I'm sending it to someone in Portugal, they might think it's not for them.
Interviewer: What would move that number up?
Mariana: If the website was clearer about working with people anywhere in the world through the virtual services. And if there was at least one example — one before-and-after — of a flat that looks like ours. A Portuguese flat, or a small European flat with mismatched furniture. Not a Dutch newbuild.
Interviewer: And for yourself — on a scale of one to ten, how likely are you to actually take action after seeing this website?
Mariana: [honest pause] For the free photo opinion? Eight. I'd do it. For paying eighty euros for The Room Reset? Five. Because I want to, but the money is real and I'd need to plan for it. For The Thoughtful Edit? Three — because it's Amsterdam only and one hundred and fifty euros is genuinely a lot for us.
Interviewer: What would move that number?
Mariana: If I sent the free photo and she replied with something that made me think "Oh — she sees my flat differently than I do." If she saw possibility where I see failure. That would move me from five to seven, maybe eight. Because then I'd know the eighty euros would be worth it. The free photo is the test. If she passes the test — if she makes me feel like my flat is worth working on — I'll find the eighty euros somehow.
Interviewer: Is there anything we haven't talked about that you'd like to add?
Mariana: Just — [pauses] — that this is the first time anyone has described an interior design service and I didn't immediately feel excluded. That matters. More than the prices, more than the services. The feeling of "this might actually be for me." I've never had that before. Even if I never book anything, just knowing that someone made this — someone who understands what it's like to feel ashamed of your home and to want something better and to not have the money — that means something. It means someone thought of me. And nobody in this industry has ever thought of me before.
Interviewer: Thank you so much for your time and your honesty. Your feedback is genuinely valuable and will help shape how this service evolves. I really appreciate you sharing your perspective.
Mariana: Thank you. I hope Sara reads this. And I hope she keeps the prices on the website. [laughs softly] That's the most important thing. Keep the prices.
Post-Interview Notes
The belonging verdict: Mariana felt significantly more included by this website than she would by any typical interior design service. The emotional acknowledgement section, the visible pricing, and Sara's personal story as a Portuguese immigrant all contributed to a shift from her default "this is not for me" to "this might actually be for me." However, geographic distance (Almada vs. Amsterdam) and the price point relative to her income remain real barriers.
The pricing reaction: Mariana assumed interior design costs a minimum of EUR 1,000. Visible pricing at EUR 80 was genuinely surprising and shifted her perception from "impossible" to "difficult but imaginable." She distinguished clearly between "cheap" and "affordable" — the quality signals on the site prevented the lower price from triggering quality concerns. The EUR 80 price is still a significant stretch for her household budget. She suggested a EUR 30 photo-review option and instalment payments as additions that would close the gap further.
The emotional section: "Wherever you're starting from, that's okay" was the single most impactful element of the website for Mariana. She described it as "permission" — permission to want something better without guilt. The acknowledgement of embarrassment and shame was deeply personal for her. She found it genuine rather than performative, supported by the consistency of the rest of the site.
The couples section: Registered but not personally relevant. Did not discuss at length.
The deliverable clarity: Knowing exactly what she would receive (a PDF, specific recommendations, before-and-after photos) made a significant difference. She explicitly said that "consultation" alone would not justify the cost, but a written plan she could keep and follow felt tangible and real.
The authority balance: The combination of warmth and demonstrated expertise felt natural to Mariana. She compared it to her children's doctor — kind and competent. The design reasoning in case studies would increase her trust and make her feel she was also being taught, not just served.
The portfolio: Before-and-after content with visible budgets is critical for Mariana. She needs to see a flat that mirrors her own situation — small, cluttered, inherited furniture, near-zero budget. A transformation of a "nice apartment that got nicer" would not convince her. She specifically requested a Portuguese-style or small European flat as a case study.
The action barrier: Money remains the primary barrier. EUR 80 is significant relative to a EUR 900 monthly income. However, the free photo-opinion option is a genuine breakthrough — she described it as "the door I would walk through." Her action sequence would be: send free photo, evaluate the response, then decide whether EUR 80 is worth it. Ricardo's approval is a secondary barrier, framed as joint financial decision-making rather than permission-seeking.
The referral test: High willingness to refer (8-9 out of 10). She would send the website to friends in similar situations, even if she herself could not immediately afford the service. The referral value of Mariana's social network — young mothers in similar financial situations — is significant.
Remaining gaps:
1. Geographic clarity — the virtual services should be more explicitly positioned as worldwide/available in Portugal
2. Inherited furniture as a specific acknowledged category (very Portuguese/Southern European phenomenon)
3. A lower price tier (EUR 30-40 written photo review) or instalment payment option
4. Portfolio case studies featuring flats that mirror her reality — Southern European apartments, tiled floors, mismatched inherited furniture, minimal or zero budgets
5. Language — she would be more comfortable in Portuguese; a multilingual option or at least a Portuguese greeting would reduce barriers
6. The emotional barrier of sending photos of a "messy" home — the site's reassurance helps, but more explicit normalisation of messy starting points in the photo-submission process would help further