People might think there was a master plan.
That I always knew I wanted to become an interior designer.
That I studied for it, worked my way up through a firm, built a portfolio, and eventually opened my own studio.
None of that is true.
If you had asked me in my twenties what I would become, “interior designer” would probably never have crossed my mind.
I studied engineering and later worked in finance. I enjoyed solving problems, but whenever I had free time, my attention drifted somewhere else entirely.
Art.
Materials.
Furniture.
Architecture.
The way a room could change the way you felt.
Long before I imagined making a career out of design, I was constantly redesigning my own spaces. Rearranging furniture. Mixing materials. Searching for pieces that felt unexpected together. I wasn’t following trends or trying to imitate anyone. I was simply trying to create homes that felt deeply personal.
Friends started noticing.
Whenever someone bought a new apartment or moved into a new house, I somehow found myself talking about layouts, lighting, finishes, and furniture.
I loved those conversations.
Not because I was trying to become a designer.
Because I genuinely couldn’t help seeing possibilities.
Around that same time, life was changing in other ways.
I was on maternity leave after having my first son. My husband had just left his corporate job to start his own company, and instead of returning to mine, he asked me to join him.
I did.
But somewhere in the background, another idea kept quietly insisting on itself.
I knew I wanted to do something related to design.
I just didn’t know what.
I remember traveling to New York with a close friend to visit a design fair.
I wasn’t there looking for suppliers.
I wasn’t researching a business.
I wasn’t even sure what I was searching for.
I simply walked through the fair with my eyes wide open.
Absorbing everything.
Materials.
Furniture.
Lighting.
Conversations.
Ideas.
At the same time, I was building my first house after years of living in apartments. I poured myself into every decision, spending countless evenings gathering references, studying materials, and imagining spaces that felt different from anything I had seen around me.
Looking back, I realize I was educating myself without knowing it.
Then one phone call changed everything.
The friend who had traveled with me to New York called.
She had another friend who had just purchased a large apartment.
Actually, two apartments that had been combined into one.
The space was enormous and full of potential, but also incredibly challenging. The layout hadn’t been thoughtfully planned, and the owners had no idea where to begin.
She asked me a simple question.
“Would you do it?”
I said yes.
I had never designed a home for anyone else.
I didn’t know how to use CAD.
I couldn’t produce professional drawings.
I had never charged a design fee.
I didn’t even know what that fee should be.
I had no team.
No office.
No portfolio.
No credentials.
Just an instinct that I could see what the apartment wanted to become.
Looking back, saying yes was probably irrational.
But it was also one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
I remember walking through the apartment for the first time and immediately seeing possibilities.
Walls that should come down.
Rooms that needed to breathe.
Materials that could completely transform the atmosphere.
I wasn’t intimidated.
I was excited.
Every bold idea came with a promise.
Whenever I suggested something custom or unconventional, I would tell my clients, “If you don’t love it, I’ll buy it myself.”
I meant it.
At the time, that would have been a significant financial risk.
But I believed in every decision enough to stand behind it.
Perhaps that confidence came from not knowing enough to be afraid.
Or perhaps it came from years of quietly training my eye without realizing it.
I taught myself how to create renders because I needed a way to communicate what I was imagining.
Today, those first renders make me smile.
They were simple.
Sometimes clumsy.
But they allowed other people to see what I could already picture.
I worked with contractors I had met while building my own home.
I traveled frequently to visit the site, which was outside my city.
At night, I searched endlessly for references, materials, and ideas that might make the project stronger.
I was completely immersed.
And I loved every minute of it.
That apartment taught me things no school could have.
It taught me how to trust my instincts.
How to solve problems creatively.
How to communicate an idea.
How to take responsibility when every decision carries weight.
Most importantly, it taught me that design isn’t about knowing everything before you begin.
It’s about caring enough to keep finding the answer.
People sometimes ask me when I became a designer.
I don’t think it happened the day I finished that apartment.
I think it happened much earlier.
As a little girl noticing the Cesca chairs in my grandmother’s pantry.
Watching my mother design furniture and collaborate with artisans.
Collecting images long before I collected clients.
That first project didn’t create my eye.
It simply gave it somewhere to belong.
Looking back, I realize I wasn’t brave because I knew I would succeed.
I was brave because I couldn’t imagine saying no to something that felt so deeply like myself.
Sometimes the most important qualification isn’t experience.
Sometimes it’s recognizing the thing you’ve been quietly preparing for your entire life.
And having the courage to say yes before you know exactly how.
Marcela
About Marcela Cure
Marcela Cure is an AD100 interior designer, contemporary artist, and collectible designer based in Colombia. As the founder of Marcela Cure Design Studio, she creates luxury residential interiors, collectible furniture, sculptural mirrors, lighting, and decorative objects that explore materiality, craftsmanship, and the relationship between art and function.
Working across interior design, collectible design, and contemporary art, Marcela is recognized for her sculptural approach to space and her use of natural materials including stone, marble, brass, wood, concrete, and resin. Her work has been exhibited internationally and featured in leading design publications, with collectors and clients across North America, Latin America, Europe, and the Middle East.
Marcela is a member of the Architectural Digest PRO Directory (AD PRO) and has been recognized as an AD100 designer, establishing her as one of the leading voices in contemporary design from Latin America.
Through her Virtual Design Studio, Marcela offers online interior design consultations and comprehensive design services for clients worldwide, bringing luxury interior design beyond geographical boundaries. Her digital approach reflects a new era of design, combining personalized guidance with the flexibility of remote collaboration.
Her journal explores interior design, collectible design, architecture, craftsmanship, materials, contemporary art, travel, and the creative process, offering a behind-the-scenes perspective on designing meaningful spaces and collectible objects.