The Designer’s Journal: Crafting Story-Driven Spaces with Jill Arden

For designer and vintage curator Jill Arden, every space tells a story. Guided by an ethos she calls “contextual storytelling,” her work is all about creating rooms that feel personal, layered, and joyfully unexpected.

“Each home, café, or project has its own narrative—it’s what makes design meaningful,” she explains. Drawing inspiration from history, architecture, and the treasures she discovers through her vintage interiors business, The Mariner & the Muse, Jill’s process is rooted in curiosity, playfulness, and a willingness to break the so-called “rules” of design.

From a sunporch turned whimsical “zoo” to a boldly pink powder room, Jill isn’t afraid to let personality lead the way. We caught up with her to chat about her design philosophy, the statement-making details she loves most, and the Schoolhouse pieces that help bring her stories to life.

What is your design ethos?

“Contextual storytelling”: Every space should tell a story (of its house, its history, its setting, and the people who live there). No two projects should ever feel the same. The home I designed for myself bears no resemblance to the café I created, Arden’s Rowayton, because each had a different story to tell.

What are you working on right now?

My full-time focus is running my café, Arden’s Rowayton, which keeps me busy, especially this summer as we designed and opened our new patio. I also recently launched a vintage and antique interiors business, The Mariner & the Muse, which has been such an unexpected joy. I love sourcing treasures for fellow collectors and growing that platform. Looking ahead, my hope is to expand into historic interior design and eventually open another hospitality concept.

What’s your favorite way to create a statement-making moment in a room?

For me, it’s about letting each space tell its own story. I love giving rooms a theme, like our sunporch, which became a little “zoo.” I wanted it to feel like the outdoors brought in—I even dreamed of keeping birds there—but between my rescue-cat habit and my schedule, real ones weren’t exactly practical. So instead, I leaned into the idea with a birdcage light fixture and antique wooden parrots.

Our downstairs powder room, affectionately dubbed the “ladies’ room,” takes a different approach. As the only adult in the house post-divorce, it felt like the perfect opportunity to go unapologetically pink. Bold, feminine statement pieces fill the space, including a portrait of Dolly Parton hanging proudly over the toilet (right beneath the disco ball!).

What design “rule” do you always follow, and which was made to be broken?

I can’t think of a single design rule I’ve ever truly followed. I’m sure a properly trained designer could walk through my house and cringe at the “broken” rules on display. But in my view, that’s half the fun as rules are suggestions at best, and breaking them is often where the real magic happens!

What’s your favorite Schoolhouse product?

Far and away, it’s the Plaid Wool Rug I used as our stair runner. I had searched high and low for something to suit our cheerful yellow stairway, but nothing felt quite right. Then I saw this rug and instantly knew it was the one. Now, every time I walk up the stairs, it feels like a little dose of daily sunshine: bright, cheerful, and cozy underfoot. I love how it strikes just the right balance—playful yet contextual—fitting seamlessly into the spirit of our home.

Can you give us some background on your home?

Our home is a small beach cottage, built in 1925 in Westport, Connecticut. I’ve always believed houses carry a certain energy, and the moment I stepped inside, I felt it. The walls were welcoming, warm, and full of history. Owned by the same family for more than thirty years, that loving spirit lingered in the creak of the floors, the tilt of the door frames, the overgrown hydrangeas, and the retro turquoise tile I knew I had to keep. Every corner told a story.

How would you describe your home?

I’d call it charmingly imperfect…the kind of place where sand sneaks into the sheets and you can’t help but linger a little longer. My five-year-old once declared it “the best house in the world,” and we’ve since made it official with a hand-lettered quarterboard in the living room. For me, that says everything about how we feel about this quirky little cottage!

What inspired your interior design choices?

I recently launched a vintage interiors business, The Mariner & The Muse, born from an obsession with “just looking” at antiques and somehow bringing them home. So much of the house is furnished with pieces gathered along the way. This was my first time designing a space entirely on my own, which felt equal parts exciting and terrifying. I’ve always wrestled with a bit of imposter syndrome, so I treated it as a dare to myself: make every decision, own the missteps, and see where it landed

I ignored some of the traditional design “rules” about color matching or sticking to one style, and simply filled each room with random things I love. Somehow, the mix— a little mismatched, a little chaotic— came together. Every room sings its own slightly off-key tune (much like my singing voice), a layering of stories, textures, and just enough disorder to keep things interesting!

How have Schoolhouse designs helped bring those ideas to life?

I wanted the design to feel deeply contextual, rooted in the house’s history. When the perfect antique proved elusive, Schoolhouse had a way of filling the gaps. Whether it was a warm wool runner on the stairs, simple ceramic ceiling lights that draw the eye to the kitchen’s exposed beams, sweet shower curtains softening the old tubs, or charming quilts echoing the character of the antique iron beds, each piece added a layer of timeless warmth. In the end, Schoolhouse helped tie the whole story together.