Welcome back to Be Our Guest, our series celebrating the people who set the tone and always get invited back.
This edition, we welcome Filipa de Abreu, a Portuguese arbiter of taste whose eye extends from interiors and collectible objects to fashion, fragrance, and jewelry. She loves too many candles, summers in Greece, a little gossip, and a tequila sour with questionable intentions. Her world is colorful, collected, deeply personal, and never too precious.
But as we discovered, there's considerably more to Filipa than meets the eye. Some of it we can even print.
The best song to seduce your crush.
I don’t know, but I have a whole playlist of music that I can be seduced to.
What's in your bedside drawer?
About 8 half read books, hand cream I keep forgetting to use, and at least one earring waiting for its pair. (I think I threw it away by accident)
A word you overuse.
Fuck. In all its glory!
The drink responsible for your best bad decisions.
Tequila sour. It has never once given me good advice and I’m so thankful.
Something in your home no one is allowed to touch.
Nothing. Everything is meant to be touched, loved, lived and broken.
The best present you've ever received from a lover.
His departure.
A phrase you wish would disappear.
“In my opinion—” I never asked your opinion.
The thing you'd steal from a friend's house, given permission.
Her linen closet. All of it. No questions. Ivana Ma, lock your closet.
A table is never complete without...
Too many candles and one guest who says something slightly scandalous.
The painting you'd steal from a museum.
Cy Twombly…. And the bigger the better. Cy, Cy, Sighhhhhh….
A compliment you'll never tire of hearing.
“Your children are wonderful humans. Congratulations!”
The person whose wardrobe you'd raid.
Anyone with a truly excellent coat collection and my shoe size.
A lie you tell all the time.
“I'm five minutes away.” I am not.
The thing you'd never admit what you paid for.
A pair of shoes I still, technically, have not worn.
A pattern you never tire of.
Stripes. Always.
The song that belongs in the back of a taxi at 2am.
Phil Collins, Against all odds.
A bad habit you have no intention of breaking.
Buying candles faster than I could ever burn them. Smoking. what can I say, I like fire.
The fictional character you'd have an affair with.
Edmond Dantes after the period in jail.
The best thing you've ever brought home in a suitcase.
My absolute love for traveling and discovering the world. The knowledge that I am nothing and no one and that there is still so much I have to learn.
The most inappropriate thing you've ever put on a dinner table.
Gossip.
A material that only gets better with age.
Leather, the more scuffed, the better the story.
The bottle you hide from everyone else.
My perfume.
The excuse you use most often.
“It's for work.” It is, usually, at least partly true.
The food that tastes better after midnight.
Buttered toast. No explanation needed.
Something you're always late for.
Flights.
Something you're never late for.
Bedtime.
The shoes that have seen the most mischief.
Barefoot is the ultimate luxury and the most fun.
A place that permanently changed your eye.
Greece. I know why the Gods call it home.
The most beautiful thing you've ever broken.
Someone’s heart. I’m sorry, truly.
The thing you hope your children never throw away.
Me.
A trend you hope quietly disappears.
Fake ass friends.
The worst thing a guest can do in your house.
Stay. I love guests but like fish they tend to smell when left out too long.
The smell that can get you into trouble.
I can’t say in case my children read this.
The thing you own that would surprise us most.
Common sense, albeit rarely used.
One decorating rule you've happily ignored.
Every single one.
The best excuse for opening the good bottle.
I'm too old for excuses, I kind of do what I want now. No permission requested.
Candles or flowers, if you had to choose?
Impossible to answer.
The last thing you Googled.
How to make money on OnlyFans incognito.
The thing worth staying up too late for.
A conversation that's actually going somewhere.
The decade you'd misbehave best in.
The 1990s — and trust me, I did!
The artist you'd commission to paint your portrait.
Botero.
The famous house you'd most like the keys to.
Villa Necchi Campiglio in Milan. I'd never leave the garden.
The historical figure you'd most like to get drunk with.
Jesus. Wouldn’t that be a story!
The luxury you'll always defend.
Loyalty and summers in Greece. I can’t think of anything more beautiful.
And neither can we.