Everyday Living Interiors

Charlotte Moreau

Round 3 interview · Live website evaluation
June 2026

Persona: Charlotte Moreau, 45, French teacher, recently divorced, Antwerp
Interview date: 12 June 2026
Interviewer: Research facilitator
Format: Synthetic persona interview (one-on-one)
Artefact evaluated: Live website at everydaylivinginteriors.com
Duration: Approximately 28 minutes
Note: Section 8 (couples-specific) skipped — not applicable to this persona.

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 — a real site that's live right now — and ask for your reactions. The whole conversation should take about 25 to 30 minutes. Does that sound all right?
Charlotte Yes, that's fine. I'll do my best.

Section 1: Context setting

Interviewer 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.
Charlotte I moved into a rented apartment in Zurenborg about two months ago. It's a two-bedroom in one of those old Antwerp buildings — lovely bones, high ceilings, original tile floors. I chose it because it had light. That felt important at the time. I'm recently divorced, so this is... my first place on my own in a very long time. My children — Lea, who is fourteen, and Hugo, eleven — they're with me every other week. When they're here it feels like a home, or at least it tries to. When they're not, it feels like a waiting room.
Interviewer When you walk through your front door at the end of the day, what's the first thing you notice?
Charlotte The hallway. There are still boxes there. Two months in and there are still boxes I haven't unpacked. I walk past them every day and I feel this... mixture of guilt and exhaustion. I chose this apartment because of the light and the ceilings and the tiles, and then I filled it with half a marriage's worth of furniture that I kept not because I loved it but because it was mine to take. The sofa is beige. It was a compromise sofa — we bought it together because we couldn't agree on anything bolder. I look at it now and I think, this is a sofa that represents twelve years of settling for something neither person really wanted.
Interviewer Is there anything about your home that you wish were different?
Charlotte Everything and nothing. The apartment itself is fine — it's more than fine, actually. The bones are lovely. But it doesn't feel like mine yet. It feels like a place where I'm storing things from a life that ended. The children's rooms are set up — I made sure of that. Hugo has his books, Lea has her space. But my bedroom has a bed I bought new — that was the one thing I insisted on, a new bed — and almost nothing else. The walls are bare. I have art I love but I haven't hung any of it because that feels like a commitment, like saying this is real, this is where I live now. Which it is. But saying it with a nail in the wall somehow makes it permanent in a way that still frightens me.
Interviewer Have you ever considered getting help with your home — from a designer, or any kind of service?
Charlotte I've thought about it. Late at night, on my phone, saving pictures on Instagram of rooms that look warm and personal and layered — the kind of rooms where you can tell someone actually lives there and loves living there. I've looked at a few Belgian designers' websites. They were either very expensive or very... I don't know. Commercial. Glossy. I closed the tabs. The honest truth is that I feel guilty about spending money on myself right now. The divorce wasn't bitter but it was financially brutal. Two households where there used to be one. Every time I think about spending fifty euros on something that isn't for the children, I hear this voice — my mother's voice, actually, or maybe my own — saying that it's indulgent. That I should be practical.
Interviewer When you hear the words 'interior designer,' what comes to mind?
Charlotte Someone who works with people who have their lives sorted. Who have budgets and floor plans and opinions about pendant lighting. Not someone standing in a hallway with unpacked boxes, wondering if she's allowed to buy herself a cushion she actually likes.

Section 2: Website presentation

Interviewer I'd like to show you a website for a service called Everyday Living Interiors. It's run by a woman named Sara de Abreu — she's originally from Lisbon, now based in Diemen, near Amsterdam. The website is live right now. Let me walk you through what you'd see.

The first thing that hits you is the typography. The logo — 'Everyday Living Interiors' — is set in a large, bold serif font, stacked across three lines like a magazine masthead. Below it, in small sans-serif: 'by Sara de Abreu.' The overall feel is confident — editorial, almost. Black and white, clean, minimal.

Below the logo, a warm photograph fills the screen — a real living room with natural textures, warm tones, and lived-in quality. Not a showroom. Over or near this image, a large serif heading reads: 'Your Home Should Support Your Life, Not Compete With It.'

Below that, Sara describes her belief that everyone deserves a home that feels like theirs, that interior design should be accessible and practical.

Scrolling down, you see a curated grid of interior photographs — real spaces with warm tones, natural materials, textiles, close-ups of styling details. Hands arranging objects. A stack of cushions in earthy tones. It feels like a lifestyle magazine, but these are real homes.

Then a transitional section appears: 'Whenever You're Ready, Styling Starts Right Here, Where You Are.'

This is a general invitation — welcoming, warm, saying wherever you're at is a fine place to begin.

Next comes the services and pricing section. Three service tiers, each with its name and price clearly visible:

The Room Reset at eighty euros. A virtual consultation where you send photos, meet online for sixty to ninety minutes, and receive a written follow-up with layout suggestions, colour guidance, and product recommendations.

The Design Roadmap from two hundred and fifty euros. A complete written plan: moodboard, colour palette, floor plan, lighting recommendations, and a shopping list with links and price ranges.

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.

Each service has its own detailed page with a clear structure: what it is, how it works, what you receive, and who it's for. The deliverables are specific — PDFs, shopping lists, follow-up emails, 3D renders.

Below the services, a section headed 'Real People, Real Results' shows portfolio previews — thumbnail images of completed projects. Then a section asks: 'Can't Find What Suits Your Situation?' It invites you to get in touch and says Sara will help you choose what works for you.

The footer appears on every page against a warm blush-beige background. It shows: 'From Lisbon / Based in Amsterdam — Diemen Zuid,' her email address, phone number, Instagram and Pinterest links, and a newsletter signup.

That's the main website. Take a moment to let that settle.

Charlotte [Pause — several seconds]

'Your home should support your life, not compete with it.' That hit me. That sentence. Because that's exactly what my old home was — a competition. A competition between two people's ideas of what a home should look like, and nobody won. And now I have this apartment that could be anything, and I'm too scared to make it anything at all. So yes. That line landed.

Section 3: First impressions and visual identity

Interviewer What's your first, honest reaction to what I just described?
Charlotte It's beautiful. The design sounds beautiful. And that's... complicated for me. Because when something looks that polished — the magazine typography, the editorial feel — part of me is drawn in, and part of me steps back. It's the same feeling I get walking past an expensive shop on the Kloosterstraat. I want to go in, but I'm not sure I'm the right person to be in there.
Interviewer What stood out to you most — positively or negatively?
Charlotte The photography. Real rooms, warm tones, lived-in quality — that's what I want. Not the white minimalism you see everywhere. The fact that the homes look like actual homes, with texture and personality — that draws me in much more than the typography does. The typography is impressive, but the photographs are what make me stay.
Interviewer The website has a bold, editorial look — large serif typography like a magazine masthead, black and white design, warm photography. How does that visual style make you feel about the service?
Charlotte Honestly? My first instinct was that this would be expensive. The design itself signals a certain... level. It looks premium. Sophisticated. And then you told me the prices, and there's a disconnect. Not a bad one — a surprising one. Eighty euros? For that? I would have guessed three or four hundred minimum just from the look of the website. So the design raises expectations, and then the price undercuts them — in a good way, I think. But it does create a moment of doubt. A tiny voice saying, can something this beautiful really cost eighty euros? Is there a catch?
Interviewer Based on what you've heard, who do you think this service is designed for? Describe that person.
Charlotte Someone like me, I think. Or someone I would like to be. A woman — and I know that's a bias, but the warmth, the textiles, the editorial quality — it reads as feminine to me, in the best sense. Someone who cares about her home, who has some taste or at least a desire for something better, but who doesn't have an enormous budget or the confidence to do it alone. Someone who needs a gentle push. Someone who is maybe... in the middle of something. A change. A new chapter. But I'm reading my own story into it, I know. The website doesn't exactly say that. It implies it. The tagline implies it. But it doesn't say it directly.
Interviewer Do you see yourself as that person?
Charlotte I see myself in the cracks. In the spaces between the lines. But I would love to see myself named. To read something that says: if your home feels like it belongs to someone you used to be, we can help. That would stop me in my tracks.

Section 4: Pricing and services

Interviewer The three services are The Room Reset at eighty euros, The Design Roadmap from two hundred and fifty euros, and The Living Space Plan from five hundred and forty euros per room. Can you tell me in your own words what each one involves?
Charlotte The Room Reset is a conversation. You show her your room, she looks at it with you for an hour, tells you what's working and what isn't, and then sends you a document with specific suggestions and product links. That's eighty euros. The Design Roadmap is more thorough — she creates an actual plan. A moodboard, colours, a floor plan, a shopping list. You can follow it at your own pace. That starts at two hundred and fifty. And the Living Space Plan is the full thing — she handles everything, start to finish, including 3D visualisations and sourcing. From five hundred and forty per room.
Interviewer Which of these would be most relevant to your situation right now?
Charlotte The Room Reset. Without question. It's eighty euros. That's... I can do that. I can justify that. It's less than a dinner out, and I haven't even been going to dinners. What I need right now isn't a moodboard or a 3D rendering — I need someone to look at my living room and say, here is what you can do with what you have. Keep the beige sofa, move it here, add this, take that away. Give me three things to do this weekend. That's what I need. Specific permission to act.
Interviewer What's your reaction to those prices?
Charlotte Relief. Genuine relief. Before you described this website, I would have assumed an interior designer starts at five hundred euros minimum. Maybe a thousand. That's the anchor in my head. So eighty euros feels almost transgressive — like I'm getting away with something. It makes me want to book before anyone corrects the mistake. But there's also a tiny worry: is eighty euros enough for her to actually help me? Sixty to ninety minutes is substantial, and a written follow-up with product links — that's real work. I'd want to trust that she's not rushing through it.
Interviewer Does having prices visible on the website — right in the heading of each service page — affect your trust?
Charlotte Enormously. If I had to email to ask the price, I never would have. Not because I'm lazy — because asking the price is exposing yourself. It's saying I might not be able to afford this, and I'd rather not know than find out I can't. Showing the prices is an act of respect. It says: we know this matters, here it is, you decide.
Interviewer There's a gap between eighty euros for a virtual consultation and two hundred and fifty euros for a full design plan. Is there anything you'd want in between?
Charlotte Yes, actually. If I did the Room Reset and liked it — if I felt seen, if the advice was good — I'd want to go further. But two hundred and fifty is a jump. If there were something around a hundred and fifty euros where she could come to my apartment and restyle a room using what I already have... just move things around, rearrange, show me what's possible without buying anything new — I would love that. Because my problem isn't that I need new things. My problem is that the things I have carry the wrong memories. If someone could rearrange them — literally change their position, their context — it might change what they mean. That sounds absurd. But it's what I feel.
Interviewer That doesn't sound absurd at all. If Sara offered exactly that — an in-person restyling using your existing furniture, around a hundred and fifty euros — would you consider it?
Charlotte I would consider it seriously. The Room Reset to start, and then that as a second step. It would feel like a journey rather than a single moment.

Section 5: Emotional resonance and personal connection

Interviewer The homepage has a section that says 'Whenever you're ready, styling starts right here, where you are.' How do you respond to that?
Charlotte It's nice. It's warm. It's welcoming. But it's... general. It could be on any website. It doesn't see me. It doesn't see the boxes in the hallway or the beige sofa or the fact that I haven't hung anything on the walls because putting a nail in the wall means admitting this is my life now. 'Whenever you're ready' is kind, but it doesn't name the reason I'm not ready. And the reason is grief. Not dramatic grief — quiet grief. The grief of a life rearranged. If the website said something about that — about homes that are in transition, about spaces that feel temporary even when they're not — I would feel like someone understood.
Interviewer What if it said something more specific — like naming people who feel stuck, or who are starting over, or whose homes carry the weight of a life change?
Charlotte That would change everything. If I read 'starting over after a change you didn't choose' or 'making a home that's yours for the first time in years' — I would sit down and read every word on that website. Because that's what I'm doing. And nobody talks about it. The design world talks about inspiration and transformation and fresh starts, but nobody says: some of us are here because something ended, and we need help making something new from the pieces that are left.
Interviewer There's an About page where Sara introduces herself. She shares that she came from corporate marketing, that she's always been passionate about design, and that she started by helping friends and friends of friends before launching the business officially. She says she believes homes don't need to look like a magazine — they need to work for you. How does that land?
Charlotte I like her. The organic story — friends, then friends of friends — that feels real. It doesn't feel like a corporate launch. And the corporate background, honestly, that's reassuring. It means she understands structure. Process. Communication. Those are skills that matter when you're working with someone who is emotionally fragile about their space. I'd want to know more, though. I'd want to know if she's ever worked with someone in transition. Someone who came to her not with a Pinterest board but with a box of books and a question mark. That's the information that would tip me from curious to committed.
Interviewer Now, the website also has a blog with two posts. Let me tell you about one in particular. It's called 'I Don't Design For Magazines.' In it, Sara writes about how social media and design blogs create unrealistic expectations — how every home makeover makes it look so easy, but real homes have real constraints. She says things like: 'Give me a cluttered pantry that nobody can find anything in, and I'll give you back your Tuesday mornings.' And: 'Give me your grandfather's antique old cabinet and your partner's IKEA shelf and I'll make them get along.' She says she's not trying to create aspirational spaces — she wants to help people with their actual daily lives. She describes her service as being about helping people love their home today, not redesigning it from scratch. How does that land?
Charlotte [Long pause]

That's the voice I was looking for. That's her. The woman who wrote those lines — she's the person I would hire. Not the woman on the homepage with the editorial typography and the magazine layout. This woman. The one who says give me your mess and I'll work with it. Give me your grandfather's cabinet and your partner's IKEA shelf — I literally have that. I have an old sideboard from my grandmother and a Billy bookshelf that came with me from the old house. They sit in the same room and they look like strangers at a party. And she says she'll make them get along. That's... I'm sorry. That got to me.
Interviewer Take your time.
Charlotte The pantry line is clever, and it's good, but the cabinet line — that's the one. Because she's talking about objects that carry history. She understands that furniture isn't just furniture. That some of us have homes full of things that mean something, and we can't just throw them away and start over with a clean, curated aesthetic. We need someone who sees the meaning and works with it. That's what I need.
Interviewer Hearing that blog post — does it change how you feel about the service compared to what you saw on the main website?
Charlotte It changes everything. The main website made me interested. The blog post makes me trust her. They're not the same thing. Interest is: this looks nice, the price is right, maybe I'll come back. Trust is: this person understands something real about what it means to have a home you don't feel at home in. If I had only seen the homepage, I'd save the website and probably never return. After hearing that blog post, I want to write to her tonight.
Interviewer If that blog content were on the homepage instead of in a blog post, would it change your experience of the site?
Charlotte Yes. Absolutely. If those lines — 'give me your grandfather's cabinet' — were on the homepage, somewhere between the beautiful photography and the pricing, I wouldn't need the blog post to convince me. The homepage would do it alone. The blog is where you put articles. The homepage is where you put your promise. And those lines are her promise. They should be the first thing I see, not the last thing I find.
Interviewer Would you have found this blog post naturally while browsing the site?
Charlotte Honestly? Probably not. I might have looked at the services and the About page. I might have looked at the portfolio. But a blog? I don't read blogs on service websites. If I'd been browsing on my phone at ten o'clock at night, I would have looked at the homepage, checked the prices, maybe clicked one service page, and either booked or left. The blog would have been invisible to me. And that means the strongest thing about this website would have been invisible to me.

Section 6: Portfolio and proof

Interviewer The website shows four real projects. One — a beach house in Portugal — shows clear before-and-after photos: tired, dated rooms transformed into warm, characterful spaces. The others show beautiful finished rooms but no 'before' images. How do you respond to that?
Charlotte The before-and-after matters enormously to me. Because I need to see that she can take something that looks hopeless and make it lovely. My apartment isn't hopeless, but it feels hopeless. Seeing the transformation — seeing the 'before' and knowing it became the 'after' — that's the proof I need. The finished rooms on their own are beautiful, but they could be anyone's work. The before-and-after is the story. And I respond to stories.
Interviewer None of the case studies show budgets — you can't see how much was spent. Does that matter to you?
Charlotte It does. Because I look at a beautifully styled room and I think: how much did that cost? If it cost five thousand euros, it's irrelevant to me. If it cost three hundred, it's a miracle and I want to know how. Without the budget, I'm guessing, and my guesses tend to be pessimistic. A number — even a range — would tell me whether that transformation is in my universe.
Interviewer One smaller project — a living room refresh in Ghent — describes working on a budget: 'a simple room refresh without spending much money or getting rid of the big pieces.' The client received advice over a thirty-five minute call and a shopping list within their budget. Does that specific example change how you perceive the service?
Charlotte That's the one I needed. That's my situation. Someone who didn't want to throw everything away. Someone who wanted to keep the big pieces — the sofa, the bookshelf — and just make them work better. And she did it in thirty-five minutes on a call. That makes the eighty-euro Room Reset feel real and achievable. If every project had a line like that — 'budget: under two hundred euros' or 'kept all existing furniture' — I would trust this service completely.

Section 7: Barriers and action

Interviewer Imagine you've just finished browsing this website on your phone. What would you do next — and be honest. Would you book a service, fill in the contact form, save the website for later, or close the tab?
Charlotte I'd save it. I'd send the link to myself. And then I'd think about it for three days, maybe a week. And then, probably during one of those quiet evenings when the children are with their father and the apartment feels particularly empty, I'd come back to it. Whether I'd actually fill in the form that evening... I don't know. It depends on how brave I feel.
Interviewer What's the single biggest thing holding you back?
Charlotte Guilt. The money, yes — eighty euros is manageable, but it's still eighty euros spent on me, on my comfort, on something that isn't strictly necessary. And there's a deeper guilt too: the feeling that making this apartment beautiful is somehow accepting the divorce. Moving on. And part of me isn't ready to move on. Part of me is still grieving the house in Berchem, the garden, the kitchen where I taught Lea to make crepes. Making this new apartment mine means letting that old home go, and I haven't fully done that yet.
Interviewer Is there anything the website could add or change that would move you from 'maybe' to 'yes'?
Charlotte If somewhere on the website — the homepage, the About page, anywhere visible — Sara said something about working with people in transition. People who are starting over. People who need their home to feel like a new beginning rather than an ending. That would give me permission. It would say: you're allowed to be here. Your situation is one I understand. That's the nudge I need. Not another photograph of a beautiful room. A sentence that says I see you.
Interviewer The contact page has a standard form — name, email, subject, message. There's no option to send a photo, no WhatsApp, no way to just ask a quick question without committing to a full enquiry. Does that affect your likelihood of reaching out?
Charlotte A form feels formal. Official. Like I'm applying for something. If I could send a WhatsApp message — just a photo of my living room and a question mark — I'd do it tonight. A form requires me to articulate what I want, and I don't entirely know what I want yet. I know something is wrong. I know I need help. But putting that into a 'subject' field and a 'message' box feels like a threshold I'm not sure I can cross. A photo is easier than words. If she could see my room, she'd understand in thirty seconds what would take me three paragraphs to explain badly.
Interviewer If you could send a photo of your room and get a quick, free first impression — no obligation — would that change anything?
Charlotte That would change everything. A free first impression based on a photo? No commitment, no form, no exposing myself before I'm ready? I would do that immediately. Because what I really want is for someone to see my space and say: I can work with this. You're not a hopeless case. Your apartment has potential. That reassurance is what would unlock the booking.
Interviewer The site doesn't have a FAQ section. If you had questions like 'Is it okay if my home is a mess?' or 'I don't have much budget — is this still for me?' — where would you look for answers?
Charlotte I probably wouldn't look. I'd assume the answers were no. That's my default. Unless someone explicitly says yes, your mess is fine, yes, your small budget works here — I assume I'm not the right client. A FAQ with those exact questions would feel like an invitation. 'Is it okay if my home is a mess?' — just seeing that question on the website would tell me this person has worked with people like me before. That the mess is expected. That it's the starting point, not an obstacle.
Interviewer Would you share this website with someone else? Who, and why?
Charlotte Yes. I have a colleague — also recently separated — who's been living in a studio that she describes as depressing. I would send it to her. And I'd send it with the blog post. I'd say: read this first. Because the blog post is where Sara's heart is, and that's what my colleague would need to see.

Closing

Interviewer If a friend asked you 'What is Everyday Living Interiors?', how would you describe it in one or two sentences?
Charlotte It's an interior design service for real people. A woman from Lisbon, based near Amsterdam, who helps you make your home work for your actual life — starting from eighty euros, starting from wherever you are, starting from whatever mess you're in.
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?
Charlotte Eight. The prices are right, the philosophy is right, the photography is beautiful. What's missing for a nine or a ten is the emotional specificity — the website doesn't quite name the difficult starting points that would make people like me feel truly seen. The blog does, but most people won't find it.
Interviewer And for yourself — on a scale of one to ten, how likely are you to actually take action after seeing this website?
Charlotte Six. And I say that with frustration, because I want it to be higher. The service is exactly what I need. The price is right. The designer sounds like someone I would trust. But I'm fighting myself. The guilt, the grief, the feeling that spending on my own comfort is premature. If the blog content were on the homepage — if she named my situation — it would be an eight. If there were a way to send a photo without a formal enquiry, it would be a nine. The barriers are mostly mine, but the website could do more to lower them.
Interviewer What would move that number up?
Charlotte Three things. One: emotional naming on the homepage — something that acknowledges life transitions, starting over, homes that feel temporary. Two: a low-barrier way to make contact — send a photo, get a first impression, no commitment. Three: seeing a portfolio case study of someone like me — not a beach house renovation, but a recently separated woman in a half-furnished apartment who needed help making it feel like hers. If I saw my story reflected back to me on that website, I would book within the hour.
Interviewer Is there anything we haven't talked about that you'd like to add?
Charlotte The tagline. 'Your home should support your life, not compete with it.' That's extraordinary. It should be everywhere. On the website, on her Instagram, on business cards if she has them. That sentence does more emotional work than any photograph could. And the blog post title — 'I Don't Design For Magazines' — that's equally powerful. Those two lines together tell me who she is. The website needs to trust those words more and let them lead, rather than burying them under beautiful design.
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.
Charlotte Thank you. I hope she reads this. And I hope she knows that the woman who wrote 'give me your grandfather's cabinet and I'll make it get along' is the woman people like me are looking for. She just needs to let us find her sooner.

Post-interview notes

Key findings:

Everyday Living Interiors · Round 3 Interview · June 2026