The Emotional Architecture of Home: An Interview with Purva Agrawal of Attirail

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Bengaluru: Purva Agrawal, Founder and Creative Director of the Mumbai-based interior design practice Attirail, doesn’t just design houses—she designs sanctuaries. Rooted in a philosophy she calls “emotional interiors,” her work centers on revelation, not reinvention, transforming spaces into deep reflections of the people who inhabit them.

A former film set designer, Purva’s unique approach was forged through personal experience: moving homes nine times in fifteen years. This constant search for “Grounding & Belonging” taught her that home is built in layers—through the objects we carry, the rituals we create, and the quiet, lived-in details that hold our memories.

We sat down with Purva to discuss the profound connection between our physical spaces and our internal well-being, her practice of “silent storytelling,” and why a chipped mug is far more valuable than a perfect, sterile backdrop.

You moved home nine times in fifteen years. How did that constant personal search for “grounding and belonging” in new places sow the seeds for what would eventually become Attirail?

Every time I moved—from hostel rooms to my first Mumbai apartment—I was quietly trying to build a sense of belonging from scratch. I would bring a colour from home, an object that carried memory, something that reflected who I was becoming. Over the years I realised this wasn’t just decorating; it was survival.

And when I started speaking to people, I understood this longing wasn’t mine alone. Anyone who moves, whether for work, marriage, or a new life chapter, is trying to hold on to their roots while stepping into a new version of themselves. Attirail was born from that lived experience: the understanding that home is emotional architecture. It’s how we root ourselves when everything else is shifting.

You began your career as a set designer in film. How does creating a “silent narrative” for a fictional character differ from, or perhaps inform, how you uncover the real-life story of a client’s home?

In film, I learned to build worlds through details. Even when something wasn’t written in the script, I would imagine the character’s backstory, where they were from, what they carried with them, why a certain object lived in their home. Every element existed to communicate something silently.

That instinct stayed with me. At Attirail, I use a deep-dive questionnaire for the same reason: to understand who people are underneath what they show. Their colours, memories, rituals, fears, and comforts tell me far more than the style references they send. Design, for me, is still about silent storytelling, only now the story is real, and deeply personal.

Attirail is described as an “emotional interiors” practice. What does that mean to you, and how do you begin to map out a client’s “emotional landscape” when you first start a project?

Emotional interiors simply mean spaces that make people feel something – safe, understood, joyful, grounded. When a home is created with intention, the energy of the person living there becomes visible and palpable. That’s why people often tell us, “Our home feels positive,” because it’s their own essence reflected back.

To map someone’s emotional landscape, I listen to their colour memories, their inherited objects, the places and textures that have shaped them. Every person has sensory anchors – a sari their grandmother wore, the brick walls of a childhood street – and when we translate those into design, the home becomes emotionally coherent.

Your philosophy centers on “revelation, not reinvention.” Can you walk us through how you help clients rediscover the beauty in what they already have, rather than starting from a blank slate?

Most people already carry the pieces of their story; they just don’t know how to see them. A saree tucked away in a cupboard, a painting they’ve kept for sentimental reasons, a chipped object they can’t discard. These things aren’t clutter; they’re clues.

Our work begins by uncovering what they’ve loved, collected, or held on to over the years. We build the design narrative around those pieces rather than erasing them for trends. When clients see how their own things can be reinterpreted into something beautiful, the process becomes self-discovery rather than reinvention.

The name Attirail itself celebrates “paraphernalia or personal belongings.” In a world often focused on minimalism and decluttering, why is it so important for you to champion the objects, even the “chipped mug,” that hold our memories?

Because the things we choose to keep say more about us than the things we choose to buy.

A chipped mug, a vase from a trip, a handmade object from someone you love – these often carry private stories that don’t need to be displayed loudly, but they anchor you quietly. They remind you of your strength, your experiences, and where you belong. Attirail protects and celebrates that emotional archaeology.

Your aesthetic is a fascinating blend of “Indian tactility and European romanticism.” What does this fusion look like in practice, and what personal connection draws you to these two seemingly different sensibilities?

I grew up in Jaipur, surrounded by colour, print, and rich textile culture – block prints, bandhani, terracotta, maximalism. That tactility is part of my instinct. Later, Mumbai exposed me to Art Deco and Gothic architecture, and travel introduced me to the softer, soothing palettes of Europe. I found myself drawn to both worlds: the richness of my roots and the elegance of European restraint.

So my work naturally blends the two – a Jaipur-inspired motif on a wallpaper or a lampshade instead of a bedsheet, European tones paired with Indian heritage. It’s my personal story translated into an aesthetic language.

You have a deep empathy for “renters and root-seekers.” What is your most essential piece of advice for someone living in a temporary space who aches for a sense of permanence and sanctuary?

Don’t wait for a “forever home” to feel at home. Even a year is long enough to deserve belonging. Paint one wall. Put up your art. Add plants. Surround yourself with things that feel like you. A temporary space can still hold permanence if it supports your energy, routine, and identity.

Creating that sense of self at home changes everything – your mood, your productivity, your internal stability. I’ve lived that many times, and that’s why rental makeovers are so close to my heart.

You’ve said that when you design around small rituals, like a morning chai, people “begin to care for themselves a little more.” Why do you think transforming our physical space has such a profound impact on our internal well-being?

Our external environment constantly communicates with our internal one.

If your space isn’t functional, soothing, or reflective of you, it creates micro-conflicts inside you every day. But when your home is designed around your rhythms—your morning chai spot, your wind-down corner, the places where you pause or breathe—it creates ease. And ease creates gratitude. That gratitude shifts your inner state. It’s not about décor; it’s about emotional alignment.

Your design services are poetically named “The Soul Affair,” “The Identity Affair,” and “The Mood Affair.” What was the intention behind creating these distinct pathways, particularly “The Identity Affair” which avoids structural change altogether?

The names reflect the emotional purpose behind each type of home.

The Soul Affair is for ground-up homes—first homes, ancestral rebuilds, bare-shell apartments. These projects hold memory and meaning at a foundational level, so we design them from the “soul” outward.
The Identity Affair is for rented or existing homes where people feel a mismatch between who they are and the space they live in. No structural change – just helping them reclaim their identity. I relate to this deeply because I spent years moving homes and constantly renegotiating my own sense of self through space.
The Mood Affair is for quick styling refreshes—when someone wants to shift the energy and enhance the immediate experience of their home.

You start projects by asking, “What makes you feel like you belong?” What is the most surprising or insightful answer a client has given you, and how did it shape the final design?

One of the most insightful answers came during my very first project. When I asked the clients what made them feel like they belonged, they spoke about their favourite holidays—Bali, Greece, the mountains, places where they felt calm and connected.

It made me realise that belonging doesn’t always come from childhood memories; sometimes it comes from the experiences where you feel most yourself. So we designed their home to hold that same balance of serenity, nature, culture and warmth. It taught me that belonging can come from a feeling, not just a place and design can recreate that feeling.

Ultimately, your goal is to help people “fall in love with where they live.” What does it look like when a client has that moment of recognition, seeing their own essence reflected back at them in their space for the first time?

It usually happens when clients see their space and say, “It feels like we made this — but you somehow did it for us.”

That moment means we’ve held up a mirror to their identity. Throughout the process, we make them choose, reflect, and articulate who they are and what they love. By the end, the home feels familiar and new at the same time—theirs in every sense.

When they feel seen and understood by their own space, that’s when they fall in love with it.

The Art of Belonging

Purva Agrawal and Attirail are redefining interior design by placing personal story and emotional truth at the center of the creative process. In a world chasing aesthetic perfection, Attirail reminds us that the true work of design is to create spaces that feel lived in, deeply personal, and always evolving—a silent, comforting reminder that we belong, right here, in our own little world.