Interior designer Alicia Storie focuses on sustainable, climate-conscious interiors that blend practicality with a deep connection to nature. Her design studio AdesignStorie, based in Glasgow specialises in biophilic design, creating interiors that seamlessly integrate natural materials, textures, and repurposed furnishings, resulting in spaces that are timeless, functional, and environmentally responsible. Her specialty is sustainable home design including tiny house and cabin design.
Contemporary sustainable design does not focus only on what, how and where you build. It also highlights what happens at the end of the house’s life – how you plan to disassemble, take down and lay materials back to nature. “It’s about designing not just for the moment, but for the entire life cycle of a space” Alicia shares. What matters in sustainable design today? Have a read and discover among others, what “future-proofing” a home might look like.
When you started out with interior design in 2014, was sustainability already your motivation?
I explored sustainability in my thesis at university, where I designed a sustainable supermarket. After that, I worked at an interior design studio that had some focus on sustainability, but I wanted to go deeper. I did a lot of my own research to bring sustainability to the core of the design process, rather than treating it as an add-on. That eventually led me to natural building methods and sustainable design practices, which ultimately inspired me to start my own studio.
Did the sustainability focus arise from your own values, or was it something you discovered was missing in the industry?
It definitely came from my values, but also from my experience in the interior design and construction industries. I saw firsthand the sheer amount of waste being produced and how short-lived many projects were. Reuse processes weren’t in place — and still aren’t, fully. Spending time in nature and seeing how the landscape is changing also created a sense of urgency for me. I didn’t want sustainability to stay only in my personal life — I wanted to integrate it into my work and share it through designing spaces.
Have you seen any changes in how people think about sustainability over the course of your career?
Massively. I started the studio nearly five years ago, and at the beginning, a huge part of my job felt like activism. I had to explain what sustainable interior design meant because people saw it as something very niche. But for me, I couldn’t understand how interior design could not be sustainable. Now, when I tell people what I do, they often say, “Well yeah, of course — that makes sense.” So there’s been a real shift in awareness. It’s deeply sad that the climate crisis has reached this point, but the growing awareness around sustainability is crucial. It has to be an essential part of how we create the built environment — everything around us is designed, so therefore it all needs to be designed sustainably.
How does the interior design field compare with other fields like industrial design? For example, household objects like kettles or toasters — is ecological sustainability becoming more of a focus there, too?
Yes, definitely. There are some fascinating design practices and innovations happening in industrial design. For instance, the Design for Planet festival brings together a curated group of people working in sustainable design — their resources are a great example. Nowadays, when a new product is launched, if sustainability hasn’t been considered in its design, people notice. There is more awareness from consumers. Even in my own work, when sourcing materials, I ask questions like: Where did this material come from? What happens to it at the end of its life?
On the product side, customer demand is focused on sustainability and pushing design to evolve. There’s still a long way to go, but there are beautiful examples across the industry showing what’s possible.
This reminds me of how “organic” products started out — expensive, niche, and seen as optional. Over time, demand grew, and now prices have come down. Conscious consumer choices created a shift. But beyond consumerism, what else can people do to improve the situation?
That’s a great question, and it ties into both my practice and the residency I’m part of. There’s a lot we can’t control, but also a lot we can. One example is our home — a place where we can have a real impact. I design a lot of tiny homes, which use fewer materials and less energy, and also promote a more minimalist lifestyle. That encourages intentionality — you’re not constantly upgrading to the latest thing, but going back to basics. Living small is humbling and brings you back to the essential things.
When I lived in one of the tiny houses we designed, there was a vegetable garden outside. We could compost our food waste and feed it back into the land. We had cookbooks featuring seasonal produce to encourage that mindset, and the small size of the home meant more time spent outside, immersed in nature. I had my morning coffee outside and went on lots of walks. That lifestyle really reconnected me to the fact that we’re part of nature — and that experience made sustainability feel deeply personal and grounding.
Cities are growing and rural areas are getting emptier. People are living in denser areas. That creates a challenge — it is harder to make ecological choices in a dense urban environment. The choices within sustainability are limited to choosing what you buy, how you recycle, and whether you use public transportation. Do you ever feel a kind of “Weltschmerz” — a sorrow for the world — knowing you’re doing your part, but still seeing growing polarization around these issues?
I try not to fall into the doom-and-gloom mindset. If we let that overwhelm us, we become paralysed — and then what? We all feel climate anxiety, but I believe there are still many actions we can take. Even things like where you bank — how your money is being invested — can be a form of activism. Engaging with your local MP, voicing your concerns, pushing for change — that matters.
No matter what your job is, you can bring a climate focus to it. You don’t have to work directly in the field of climate to make a difference. You can bring in layers of sustainability. I really believe in highlighting and celebrating positive examples, no matter how small. When it comes to business, a lot more can be done.
Let’s talk about concrete specifics of sustainable interior design. You mentioned the importance of house size. What other sustainable choices can you make in the design process? Is it simply about working with sustainable materials, or are we talking layout — like where the couch goes?
User experience is key in designing a sustainable entity for people. When designing a tiny house, I start by thinking about the user experience — who will use the space, whether it’s a short-term let or a permanent home — and how to make sustainability part of everyday life.
Even simple decisions matter, like placing the food waste bin in the most convenient spot, and putting general waste a little further away. That encourages better habits. Where the sofa goes also plays a role — especially in older Scottish buildings, where radiators are often under windows and heat escapes. So we consider the heat source and the best furniture placement for efficiency.
Interior design is everything within the shell of a building — I work with an architect to shape the structure. Then I move my focus on finishes, layouts, furniture placement, materials, and the overall feel and story of the space. A big part of my work is biophilic design — drawing inspiration from the local landscape to inform colour, texture, and material choices. This approach doesn’t go out of style like trend-based design — it stays rooted and blends in the place.
In terms of materials, I’m really interested in innovation. For example, I’ve been working with seaweed light fittings — they’re beautiful and tactile in their design. I also recently completed an installation at the V&A Dundee featuring a wide range of biomaterials from my studio.The exhibition included bioplastics dyed with onion skins or avocado pits, textiles dyed with blueberries or beetroot, oyster shell ceramics, kombucha leather — so much amazing material innovation is happening right now.
These materials can go beyond “sustainable” and into “regenerative” — some are compostable and can return nutrients to the earth. It’s about designing not just for the moment, but for the entire life cycle of a space. What happens to a space at the end of its life? How can we keep materials at their highest value for as long as possible?
All the aforementioned combined with thoughtful architecture helps reduce the overall impact of the house on the environment — like designing for adaptability. Concrete, for instance, is a massive global polluter — more so than air travel. But if a building can be reused or adapted instead of torn down, its carbon cost is spread over a longer life. Does that factor into your work?
Definitely. Multifunctional design is key. It seems strange to give everyone the same concrete box when people have such different needs. Spaces should be able to evolve. Maybe someone starts a family — the space should adapt. Designing with future uses in mind is crucial. “Future-proofing” a house and thinking about its different uses is key.
We also think about designing for disassembly. How are materials fixed in place? Can they be removed and reused in their original state, instead of being downcycled into chipboard or burned? The goal is to preserve materials at the highest level for as long as possible. Multifunctional design and disassembly are essential for extending the life of everything we build.
How do you see refurbishing? You sometimes find secondhand objects or reupholster a couch—do you find that to be a key ingredient in what you do? Is it more of a nice bonus knowing there is a backstory?
I’m a huge fan of secondhand. I designed a bed and breakfast where absolutely everything down to the can opener and the door handle was secondhand. There is so much stuff in the world already, so making the most of what exists is always a priority for me.
I think it’s beautiful to layer in innovation—like different biomaterials—so there is a combination. It’s a good way to keep costs down and drastically cut carbon by using local secondhand elements. I like to work with upcyclers and refurbishers to enhance things.
There’s so much beauty in the story of these objects too. I love finding a worn-down coffee table—you can see the story behind it. You can’t beat that by buying something new. Secondhand is essential, and it brings so much character to a space.
This makes me wonder: are we, in a way, pining for pre-industrial life?
There is something so beautiful about living simply, within the landscape. I have lived both in cities and in rural places. When I’m in a rural setting with just the essentials, I feel full. I feel fulfilled. There’s definitely a movement in that direction in society—tiny homes, van life, simplifying. Coming back to basics feels like a kind thing to do. I still see the value of both—the city and the rural—but particularly in Scotland, there’s so much unused land. A lot of space to roam, to be immersed in the landscape. We’ll see how that evolves.
In your work as a sustainable interior designer you involve the clients but also a community of other specialists, workers and locals in the process of designing and building – your way of working is not isolated, but integrated in communities. You also share what you are learning about sustainable design through lectures and workshops. Could you give us a glimpse into what a workshop with you looks like?
In one of the workshops I will go with a group to forage. We collect lots of beautiful natural objects, analyse them and wonder why we are drawn specifically to them. For example, I have a stone, I will look at it in detail and ask the participants what resonates with them. We look at the textures of the selected item, the subtleties of the colour, the form, shapes and patterns. We then find a way to bring that into the interior. How does the object translate into a space? How are the colours applied to the wall? How could the layout of the space mirror the shape? Could the table be slightly organic? This creates a way to design a space which is deeply personal and links back to the landscape.
Building up a design concept very much based on the local landscape is a really nice approach because it feels peaceful, meditative and connected. It is very different from an overwhelming stressful process of looking at different magazines, social media and all these masses of inspiration. It is such a beautiful conscious way to design. When someone finally comes into that tiny house there is a reason why everything is there and it all links back to the local landscape.
Your desire to work with an activism mindset and for the good of a wider community comes across also in your work with the professional communities. You are currently sitting in two professional committees.
I am working with the World Design Organisation and their Young Designer Circle where there’s around 30 designers. In the Young Designer Circle we are all collectively looking into creating and researching but also at creating a designer’s oath. How to define what good and ethical design is? The idea is almost like the medics’ oath which outlines their values and guidelines. We wish to create a similar one for the sustainable design world. The British Design Council has their Design for Planet mission, which I am helping to put into action.
I was working for almost five years for a climate group whose mission was to help empower designers to take climate action. I did this at the same time when I started my business. For me working in these committees, it’s like coming back to the activism side of things. It is not just me designing for my client base, but also looking at how that translates into the wider landscape of sustainable design. I am kind of wearing two hats: the design studio hat and then the activism hat.
Alicia was talking online with Pasi Pirttiaho. The interview has been edited by Silja Tuovinen. All photography by Megan Redden.