A More Welcoming Home

One former magazine editor rethinks her definition of an inviting space

- FRANCES MACDOUGALL

THE CONCEPT of hospitality thrives in the South. It's an inherent part of our identities. We fill our dining T tables with heirlooms and place flowers around our houses to help everyone relax and enjoy. For 20 years, I believed I had this notion well in hand. I worked at a design magazine called Southern Accents, editing stories about decorating, antiques, art, travel, and entertaining. What I didn't know then was that my education in gracious living hadn't really begun.

For most of my career, I had lived in a circa-1900s Arts and Crafts house that was perched on a hill and featured an imposing set of front steps. It was big, and my family used all three floors thoroughly. I loved my large dining room where we gathered for nightly meals and hosted lots of impromptu get-togethers. The interiors showcased pieces we had brought back from our travels plus fabrics and colors that reflected what some might consider a wandering eye-but I called wanderlust. During that time, I learned I had multiple sclerosis. Those words were devastating, but the impact in the first few decades following my diagnosis was minor. When work sent me to a city full of uneven and narrow walkways or a gallery or house above a shop, all the better.

These days, I study cobblestone streets and deliberate about whether the potentially harrowing experience will be worth the reward. Forget grand staircases; I look for easy side entrances. I plot out visits to botanical gardens and friends' homes ahead of time. These obstacles have not stopped me, particularly in our post-quarantine world where I feel more liberated as severe cases of COVID continue to decline. But that has made me think: How can I live my best life when I'm challenged simply by getting into the most desirable destinations? How can anyone?