A tiny detail that made a difference

Stephen

During a residential reclad and deck replacement project, there was a particular detail that stood out—one that, in its simplicity, made a lasting impact. The existing pond was a stunning feature, well-established with lush greenery that had become a focal point of the property.

The challenge was integrating a new deck without disturbing this natural beauty. The solution was simple: we designed the deck to meet the water’s edge, keeping the deck at the same level as the pond’s surface. This subtle detail has created a seamless, uninterrupted connection between the natural and built environments.

The beauty of this decision wasn’t about changing anything—it was about maintaining what was already there, preserving the harmony of the space. The new deck is a lovely addition, with a refined edge that tied everything together, but it feels like it had always been there, as if the pond and deck were one continuous experience.

It was a small gesture that made a big difference, and I was pleased with how it turned out.

Daniel

I was working on a holiday home where security was a big concern. Holiday homes sit empty for weeks at a time, making them easy targets. The owners wanted protection, but I didn’t want to ruin the design with clunky security solutions.

The plan was aluminium sliding security screens over the openings —practical, effective. But the front door was different. It sat in a wall clad in Omaru stone, and covering that up would kill the impact.

So I came up with a simple fix: Run the sliding security screen behind the stone cladding, in an alcove formed by a double wall. This meant the stone stayed on full display, and the screen did its job without ruining the look.

It was a tiny detail, but it changed everything. The home stayed secure, without looking like a jail.

Stephanie

In my early 20s, I moved to London for my OE and worked on some incredible buildings, both new and historic. A detail that has stuck with me from those days wasn’t part of a grand design statement—it was something small but brilliant.

On a high-end residential project, we worked with a flooring fabricator who took their craft seriously. The floors were thick end-grain oak, meticulously laid parquet. One day we visited their factory, and they showed us a floor box they had designed themselves. It was a near-invisible cover for electrical outlets—no hinges, barely a millimeter of a gap, completely flush with the surface. It opened with a magnet: place it, twist, and lift.

I remember being thrilled. Not because it solved a problem—there wasn’t one—but because it was a detail done purely for the sake of doing something better. The fabricators didn’t want clunky, standard floor boxes disrupting their work. So they created their own.

That kind of thinking—taking something ordinary and refining it to the highest level—has stayed with me ever since. Sometimes, the smallest details leave the biggest impact.