In this month’s YKRA Faces, we had the pleasure of talking with historian-turned-interior-designer Kati Vörös. Kati brings an inspiring blend of cultural curiosity, artistic sensibility, and worldly perspective to her life and creative work — shaped in part by her studies and travels. She offers us a fascinating insight not only into her path to becoming a designer, but also into what she keeps in her YKRA gear. Keep reading to find out more.

Hi Kati, we’re eager to get to know you better! You have quite an unusual career trajectory. Can you tell us more about your background?

The older I get, the more I see how much our early experiences define us. I spent the formative period of my childhood in Balatonfüred [ a small, but well-known charming town by Lake Balaton’s northern shore (- Ed.) ] during the last decade of state socialism, when Hungary’s largest lake was both a more democratic and a more international holiday destination than today. For us local kids, it meant that summers were especially exciting: we had interactions with people from other parts of Europe, were exposed to foreign languages and customs and — more superficially but not at all insignificantly — to Western cars, fashion, magazines, sweets and other consumer products. Another defining aspect of my early life is the fact that my parents are natural scientists, who spoke languages, often travelled abroad for work, and hosted their colleagues from countries like Cuba, Armenia, Egypt, and America. So I grew up in a small town in provincial Hungary with a keen awareness of the existence of a wider and diverse world.

One of my greatest wishes as a teenager was to travel and experience that world — most of all, Western Europe. In the spring of 1988, at the age of seventeen, I got to travel to Munich by train to visit a relative, which had a deeply profound effect on me. I will never forget the humiliating ordeal of queuing for visas outside embassies in the cold, the scary passport checks by inquisitorial armed soldiers at every border and the overwhelming shock of the apparent freedom and abundance in West Germany. I felt small, poor and very “Eastern European.” I burst out crying when I got off the train at the Keleti station in Budapest, as the border between Austria and Hungary seemed to separate two fundamentally different worlds. Providentially, the Iron Curtain fell the next year, just as I graduated from high school. I went on to study English and History at university.

While the 1990s were an improbable period of optimism and hope for my generation, I grew both increasingly concerned and intellectually intrigued by the reemergence of exclusionary nationalism, xenophobia and — specifically — antisemitism, not only as a side effect of the ongoing transformation in the region but as an integral part of influential political ideologies and cultural traditions. That’s why I focussed on Jewish history, antisemitism, and nationalism as I embarked on my graduate studies at the Central European University in Budapest.

To cut — my already lengthy — “prehistory” short, I ended up at The University of Chicago pursuing a PhD. It was during my years in Chicago that I discovered modernist architecture, not least through the many seminal buildings of Mies van der Rohe and Frank Lloyd Wright scattered throughout the city. It’s a distant memory now, almost like a dream, that I walked by Lloyd’s Robie House on my way to the library every single day.

Academia and the general opening up of the world for citizens of the former Soviet bloc did help to fulfil my teenage wish to travel and experience other cultures, after all. I participated in conferences and workshops and met wonderful people in places like New York, Jerusalem, Manchester, Toronto, San Diego, Berlin, Paris, London and Kraków and spent longer periods in Sheffield (Sheffield University), New Brunswick (Rutgers University), Leipzig (Simon Dubnow Institute) and at the Leibniz Institute for European History in Mainz.

It was, in fact, in Mainz where I met my husband, who happens to come from Munich — of all places. But, and a big but, the actual purpose of my time in Mainz was to finish writing up my dissertation, which kept dragging on and dragging me down while we first moved to Gotha in (former East-)Germany, then to Chichester in England to finally settle down in Vienna with a second home in Budapest.

What was your path to becoming an interior designer?

I truly loved — and still love — reading, research, the thrill of discovery and intellectual debate, but I didn’t particularly enjoy playing the role of university professor and I hated writing. After a painful, drawn-out process I abandoned my dissertation without any plan for the future. I gradually slipped into the profession of interior design twelve or so years ago, not because I knew exactly what I wanted to do, but because I had realized what I no longer wanted to do. I craved something that still offered a creative outlet but in a fundamentally different way. Most importantly, without the all-consuming process of writing and with physical, tangible results.

I’m what you might call an accidental interior designer — shaped and still greatly informed by my academic background as a historian. I realized that I had a knack for and really enjoyed conceiving and creating living spaces while decorating my own homes. The process is, in many respects, similar to a scholarly project: you have to thoroughly conceptualize it, read and synthesize the secondary literature (collect inspiration and all the relevant information about the clients and history of their home), do your field research (study the current state of the apartment, pick materials and source furniture and objects), amalgamate it all and create an end product, which — instead of a text — is a physical space that, in fact, also tells a story.

To be frank, I never pursued a formal education in interior design. I learned the tricks of the trade by doing, reading and seeing. I relied on international magazines, books and — especially American — blogs. I also started collecting and reading vintage books and magazines to widen my horizons. I often emphasize that there is nothing new under the sun: I am convinced that we are better off flicking through older publications for inspiration than getting caught up in the rapidly changing and homogenizing trends engendered by social media. Nevertheless, Instagram has played a pivotal role in the growth of my profile, allowing me to connect with clients, businesses, designers and other creatives. I can say that my practice has grown organically and has got to the point where I can be selective and I also have to turn down more requests than I’d like to.

What kind of projects have you worked on?

Apart from some offices, I have focused on residential projects — from tiny studios to grand-bourgeois apartments or even a 700 m2 house, the sheer scale of which posed an unprecedented challenge. I am a very hands-on designer, I visit the renovation site often, so I rarely work outside of Budapest and Vienna with the exception of the odd holiday home at lake Balaton or a recent project in Szeged in south-eastern Hungary, which confirmed just how hard and exhausting it is to be properly present in a different city. Occasionally, however, I do long-distance work for old clients or long-time Instagram followers, like consulting on an upholstery project in Australia and a town-house renovation in the States. I even designed a kitchen for a family in Switzerland based on floor plans, photographs, and extensive video calls.

Ironically, even my great nemesis: writing, crept back into my life in the form of a monthly column on design history in an interiors magazine that I faithfully stuck with for four and a half years; I also wrote a chapter on interior design in state socialist Hungary for an edited volume as well as various other texts. People seem to enjoy my writing and want to hear what I have to say about my projects and design in general, so I have to figure out a sustainable way to incorporate it into my work.

How would you define your design philosophy and method of working?

If Western consumer culture enthralled me as a teenager, I now strive to be environmentally conscious in my work and preserve as much of the original features and materials found in an apartment as possible. Furthermore, keeping physical layers of history adds authenticity, soul and character to a space, as — hopefully — demonstrated by the accompanying snapshots of my own apartment in Budapest. I also always incorporate fabrics, antique or vintage furniture, and original art in the interiors I design to add texture and dimension — even in a new build.

Due to my personal partiality for modernism, mid-century modern furniture and the use of color, people tend to associate me with a specific style, which I think, is sort of missing the point. I never impose my “style” on an interior, I respect the original architectural characteristics of a space and the taste and expectations of my clients. However, what really defines and sets me apart in the Hungarian context is the way I think about spaces: how I organize, divide and furnish a room or a set of rooms, in which scale plays a central role. Scale is, in fact, a chronically overlooked aspect in Hungarian interior design.

It’s this particular point of view concerning space and scale that brought me together with Péter Laza, the best designer, interior and set stylist I know. We’re not only a great team but support each other even when working on individual projects. We have designed several apartments together and have styled countless interiors for magazines and promotional publications, designed exhibition booths, and furnished and styled events like summer and Christmas parties for the Swedish Embassy in Budapest.

Do you consider Vienna or Budapest to be your home base? 

For the last few years, my life has been defined by the fact that I commute between Vienna and Budapest. As most of my projects are in Hungary at the moment, my week is divided into working days in Hungary and — mostly — leisure time with my husband in Vienna.

I still find it not short of poignant that the train journey [ from Budapest to Vienna (- Ed.) ] that required months of planning, tons of paperwork and was prohibitively expensive when I first embarked on it more than thirty-five years ago has become my weekly routine. I am, nevertheless, acutely aware of the fact that the idea — and reality — of a Europe without borders has been under increasing threat.

Our Budapest apartment serves as a design laboratory, curated prop closet, library and studio of sorts: “a room of her own.” It’s in the centrally located Jewish district with everything on our doorstep, including my gym, bookstores, cafés, restaurants, design stores, and theaters. The latter is especially important, as I am an avid theater goer. It might sound strange, but I always go alone, sometimes several times a week.

Could you walk us through a typical day in your life?

I always start my day with a French press coffee — made with Casino Mocca beans I buy at Dorado, a neighborhood coffee shop, — while reading the international and Hungarian news and, of course, scrolling Instagram. The other constant in my daily routine is the gym. Monday evenings are for my cardio-box class, where I can forget about everything and totally let myself go. Otherwise, I usually do personal strength training in the morning, and I’ll go back in the evening if there’s a yoga class, which is a wonderful way to end a busy day.

My job is so varied that none of my days are the same. I might spend the whole day at home researching, working on floor plans and color schemes, only to wake up at the crack of dawn the next day to take the 5:50 am train to Szeged for a site visit and meetings. On other days, I whizz around the city — always by public transport — to Ikea, vintage stores and showrooms to select tiles, check out wood flooring finishes or browse fabric samples. The rhythm of my day is also totally different when we have a photo shoot and I have five Ikea bags full of props to transport across town. No doubt, my favorite days are the ones when I meet Peti (Laza) to discuss and work on common projects.

My leisurely Vienna days are a bit different. We live in Ottakring, a lively and mixed traditional working class neighborhood. We love spending time at home with my husband, where our lingua franca is a rather funny blend of German and Hungarian. We often cook together, listen to records bought in charity shops, and hang out on the terrace as soon as the weather is warm enough. Going to the Brunnenmarkt, one of Vienna’s many open-air markets, to buy vegetables and flowers and to eat Za’atar bread at our favorite Syrian stall has become a Saturday ritual. We often cycle around the city checking out architecturally and historically interesting buildings and neighbourhoods, visit museums with our annual pass — MUMOK is our favorite — and eat out — typically in one of our go-to Japanese restaurants. 

Our special passtime is going to the movies. Vienna is unparalleled in the number of impressively preserved old-school movie theaters with fascinating, lived-in interiors and excellent programming. The historic Metro Kinokulturhaus of the Austrian Film Archives is especially close to our hearts, where we seek out obscure films and documentaries from decades past. We attend the Viennale (Vienna International Film Festival) every year and watch as many films as possible darting between cinemas on our bikes. The festival is a truly exceptional experience, which also provides a unique, vibrant yet intimate perspective on the city in all its autumnal glory — I really recommend it.

What’s in your YKRA BEACH BAG bag?

I’m a proud “bag lady” known to regularly haul two or even three fully stuffed tote bags. I’ve had this bag for three years now. It’s the perfect size and a true chameleon: it’s functioned as a travel bag, work bag, shopping bag, gym bag, and of course I’ve used it as a literal beach bag too. 

I use it to carry my essentials between Budapest and Vienna, I take it to renovation sites filled with fan decks and samples, or use it as my weekend shopping bag at the farmers market. It’s also travelled with us to the Mediterranean Sea in Sorrento, the cypresses of Tuscany, and the mountains of South Tyrol.

Sunglasses - I have sensitive eyes, so sunglasses are a must. I left them at home once on a bright day and bought this Kate Spade pair in a discount store in Vienna as an emergency measure. It quickly became my favorite.

Modern Home Book from 1960 - Vintage interior design magazines and books are my favorite sources of inspiration. I keep an eye out for them in second-hand bookstores and charity shops both in Vienna and in Budapest.

Color Fan Deck - Fan decks are a designer’s bread and butter. This is a small one with radiator colors but I often have three or more huge decks in my bag with wall paint colors from different brands.

Pencils - I mostly use my phone or iPad for taking notes and drawing, but I do love nice pencils. I carry them with me for one specific purpose: marking the placement of pictures, shelves and the like on walls. The one with the flowers is Marimekko, and was a gift, it’s my favorite brand. The red and blue one is a cherished souvenir from the Maison La Minervetta hotel in Sorrento.

Tape Measure - I have five or six tape measures as I keep misplacing them. This is a vintage one I found many years ago in an apartment.

Paint Can Opener - I struggled for years opening paint cans until an attendant at my local paint store on Klauzál Square gifted me this magic tool. It’s always in my bag, as I often have to open paint cans when trying out paint samples.

Screwdriver - You never know when a screwdriver might come in handy, so I usually have one on me. I was really happy when I found this cute little one with the bits hidden in the handle in my favorite neighborhood hardware store called Idea.

Snap-off knife - Another essential item bought in the same hardware store, which I actually keep in a practical YKRA PENCILCASE with all my other little tools and pencils.

Perfume - I searched for the perfect scent for decades until I found Rose Silence by Miller Harris on a trip to London a few years ago. It’s a fresh, light, citrusy, powdery rose scent that really works well on my skin. It has become part of my identity, so to say.

Scrunchie - I wear my hair up in the gym or when I have to roll up my sleeves on installation day or during a photo shoot, so I always have a scrunchie in my bag. I especially like this one with the fun Tomcsányi pattern.

YKRA DOPP BAG - This orange toiletry bag, which I’ve had for over three years, is one of my all-time favorite accessories. It has accompanied me on all our holidays and I transport my perfume, face creams and makeup in it between Vienna and Budapest every week.