Holly Hay

Holly Hay is the photography director of Wallpaper* magazine. Having studied fashion communication in London, she ended up pursuing photography, working behind her own lens prior to moving into commissioning. An art buyer, lecturer and image consultant in her spare time, she currently lives in Camberwell, in South East London, with her husband, George, and son, Mungo.

Photo by Baud Postma

The sun gets me going in the morning. There is no better feeling than waking up naturally and knowing that the sun is shining. Everyday, my two-year-old son runs down the corridor saying, ‘Mama, it’s the sun!’ He gets out of bed when the little sun pops up on his clock, then he climbs into our bed and we talk about what we dreamt about, and what we’re going to have for breakfast. I always wake up hungry. 

I like to savour breakfast; my weekend breakfast is me-time. Every Saturday, I go out for breakfast on my own or with a friend while Mungo is at football with my husband. I have a group of friends in Camberwell and together we are doing important work, seeking out the best cinnamon buns in the area. I take nothing but my phone and my keys — a two-year-old comes with a lot of luggage. 

I always get clothes ready the night before. Rushing is a horrible way to start any day. My favourite piece of clothing is a pair of vintage Helmut Lang jeans that my friend, the stylist Ianthe Wright, found in a charity shop. She never asked my size, but they fit me better than any jeans I have ever bought. 

I have never had a cup of coffee in my life. I would need 3,000 sugars in it if I did. I drink tea, and take it as a child would — milky with one and a half sugars. But only from someone’s house; takeaway tea is not my thing. When I’m out, I’ll have oat milk hot chocolate, usually shared with Mungo. We make a lot at home too. My most-used piece of kitchenware is my non-stick milk pan. 

Since having Mungo, preparing meals has become one of the most relaxing parts of my day. He loves to help; it does mean he’s often a little late to nursery, but it’s a morning ritual for us. Usually, we have either boiled eggs and soldiers, homemade apple, carrot and raisin muffins, or banana pancakes — with mixed spice, which is my go-to seasoning for pancakes, porridge and biscuits. 

Mungo’s room is my favourite room in our apartment. When you walk in the front door, it’s the room right in front of you, and the door is always open. That, to me, feels like home. It has such a lovely feeling about it. It used to be the guest room, and it’s the smallest room in the flat, but it gets the most natural light throughout the day. 

Our street, where we currently live in Camberwell, hasn’t quite hit the up and coming bit yet, but it feels like real London, and I wouldn't change it for anything. We came from a studio flat on the Old Street roundabout, so it feels like a palace to have two bedrooms and an office. And during the pandemic, we got to know all our neighbours. It’s a real community. 

My favourite piece of homeware is a Charlotte Perriand chair I got for my 21st birthday — it’s leather with chrome legs. My dad and I chose it together; I wanted something I would have for life. My first flat on my own was a studio in the ex-local authority above a Post Office. The chair was my dining chair, work chair, my sofa, my ladder… 

Our interior aesthetic is minimalist, but with stuff. It took us a while to get our heads around the idea of cosy, but we added linen cushions, warm tones on the walls — the best paint we found is from Atelier Ellis — and lots of photography. Most of the personality is in our varied artwork — a Ron Gallela of Mick Jagger and Jerry Hall is the first thing you see as you walk through the door. Plus, we have a Celia Hampton print of a bum in the little loo.  

I collect photography. My home gives me the opportunity to work with photographers in a different way than I do for work. My husband is a photographer, too, so knows all about lighting. When he gets home before me, he gets that side lamp to candle ratio just right. 

The last 30 minutes of my day is dedicated to a candlelit bath. There’s a prerequisite to not disturb someone in the bath. The house is quiet and it feels like a manageable point of entry for self care. I always have a freezing cold shower before I get in; then I use bubbles and lavender bath salts, and I burn Verden’s Abborealist candle. It smells exactly what a dream bathroom should smell like. 

Clean sheets, clean pyjamas and Susanne Kaufmann’s pillow spray help me to switch off. I struggle to sleep; my brain is very busy. Often, I do a body scan meditation by my friend Lily Silvertonon on the Insight Timer app, which I find relaxing. 

We listen a lot to Max Richter, on Spotify via Sonos; we put his Sleep album on every evening after giving Mungo a bath — and have done since he was a tiny baby. And I walked down the aisle to his Infra 4 composition. His music has become a soundtrack to our lives.