Wanderlust: I’m drawn to objects that carry stories—the history major in me—pieces that have lived before and continue their journey in a new space. My style leans bohemian and maximalist, with carefully curated vignettes throughout. Think laid-back West Coast ease and Southwest desert warmth, layered with the richness, vibrancy, and old-world charm of far-flung places like Morocco and Paris, anchored by greenery that blurs the line between indoors and out. Family and friends have described it as warm and welcoming, a compliment that means everything—knowing they feel at home here.

The Country Mouse: My house dates back to 1904 and is in Plat 1 of Roland Park. Having grown up on a farm, I was drawn to a part of the city that still feels green and semi-rural. My childhood home was a historic farmhouse, so I’ve always loved houses with history—the details, the craftsmanship, and the character. I’ve embraced the historic bones of the house—original woodwork, moldings, and built-ins—while layering in objects, textiles, and furniture collected from travels and vintage finds.

Free Range: Growing up, we spent as much time outside as possible. My father always planted a large vegetable garden, and my mother’s flower beds sparked constant wonder. It’s no surprise where my love of plants comes from—or that green is my favorite color. That early connection to nature has shaped the way I approach my home. Plants are woven into my story just as much as vintage pieces, found objects, and collected treasures.

Green Thumb: I love the juxtaposition of city living layered with lush, intentional greenery, where natural elements coexist with pieces that carry history and meaning. Every plant has its own personality, which inspires me to create spaces with distinct moods and rhythms—much like curating a room with art and textiles. When I design spaces in my home, I think about composition and storytelling—how plants interact with light, color, texture, and patina, and how they can shift the feeling of a room.

Travels by Design: Some of my favorite pieces in my home are the ones that feel deeply personal, objects collected over time that carry memory, meaning, and a sense of place. I have held onto the vintage, mismatched china, glassware, and serving pieces that once belonged to my mom. I love using them for dinner parties, mixing  and matching depending on the mood and aesthetic I want to create. One piece I always reach for is the silver Champagne bucket my parents received as a wedding gift in 1968.

Eat, Pray, Love: My home reflects my interests in art, music, fashion, architecture, history, travel, and the natural world. Those influences show up in the layers of books, plants, art, and collected objects throughout the house. I love mixing contemporary and vintage pieces, found objects, and meaningful heirlooms, allowing a space to evolve naturally rather than feel overly designed or static.

Remarkable Rugs: Textiles and rugs from my travels are layered throughout the house, especially pieces from Morocco. I traveled along the coast, through the Atlas Mountains, into the Sahara Desert. The medinas and souks of Fes and Marrakesh were unforgettable—full of color, energy, and craftsmanship. I even brought an extra suitcase just for one-of-a-kind finds.

Art is Art: I’m fortunate to have incredible paintings from local artist friends. In the dining room, I feature “The New World” by Drury Bynum from his Arcana Obscura exhibition. Also in the dining room is a salvaged screen print from Housewerks—a man in a gas mask that makes a powerful statement about freedom of expression and free speech—that I’ve had for years. In the primary bedroom, there is a painting of bees by Julia Niederman, whose work has a dreamlike, narrative quality. Also, an organic wall piece by Kat Jacobs of Feathers and Fibers called “Kota.” One of my most sentimental pieces is a Victor Vasarely print I discovered years ago in a local antique shop. He was a Hungarian French artist and pioneer of the Op Art movement.

Sacred Space: For me, a home with personality feels soulful and welcoming. It invites curiosity, sparks conversation, and reflects a life well-lived. It’s not about perfection, but about intention—creating a space that feels deeply personal, layered with memory and meaning, and connected to the wider world and the quiet moments of everyday life.

More is More: My home that I share with my husband, Brian Rohloff, is alternative and eclectic, incorporating both modern and vintage décor. We tend to favor maximalism, and love to surround ourselves with unique pieces that showcase our personality and love for punk music, antiques and oddities, street art, and tattoos.

House Rules: Our home is about 110 years old, having been built around 1915. It is a classic Canton rowhome, featuring a red brick exterior, marble front steps, and a stained-glass window. The window inspired much of our décor. The glass features rich jewel tones in emerald green, sapphire blue, and gold, which we repeated throughout the main floor of our home.

Inspired Workspace: Our favorite room in the house is probably the office. When we first moved in, this room was a plain white box, so it was also one of our biggest transformations. We knew we wanted custom floor-to-ceiling bookcases, which became the focal point. The vision for the design of the room was to lean into Regency-era décor, with lots of velvet and opulent gold accents, such as the antique chandelier.

Where We Live: The main floor of our home is our favorite place to be. Our home is open concept, with the living room, dining room, and kitchen all connecting. It’s a great place to entertain or relax, and it also houses one of our most prized possessions—our vinyl record collection. Music plays a large part in our life, and we have a collection of almost 1,000 vinyl records. Finding adequate storage for this collection in a skinny rowhome with limited space was a challenge, but we found beautiful handcrafted vinyl storage cabinets from a woodworker on Etsy that solved the problem.

Personal Style: I love to dress in bold and bright colors, much like the décor in our home. You can often find me sporting bright pink hair and vintage-inspired glasses. I’m a maximalist, both within my style of décor and dress. Brian is a local tattoo artist, and we find that there are many similarities between the desire to decorate your home and the desire to decorate your skin. Much of his work incorporates bold colors and traditional designs, which you can also find within our home.

Right at Home: We have always liked our spaces to reflect our interests and who we are as people. We are both creative people in general, and we see our home as being another blank canvas where we can showcase our range of creative personalities. Each room within our home tells its own story, with some being more edgy and dark, and others lighter and more feminine.

Home Sweet Home: Our home is a mix of traditional and more contemporary styles. We are drawn more to the design and color of pieces than to particular styles or periods. Each piece we have speaks to us in some way. Our goal is to mix a lot of interesting furniture pieces and art, so it looks like the rooms have evolved over a period of time. We’re also very practical—there’s always a light next to a chair and a small table to rest your glass.

A History Lesson: Our three-story Federal townhouse is one of six brick townhouses built in the Federal style in 1816 by Robert Carey Long Sr. He was the first native-born Baltimore architect who designed several notable buildings, including Davidge Hall at the University of Maryland Medical School and The Peale museum.

Several of the houses were expanded and changed architecturally many years ago, but ours and two others retain their initial footprint and many of the original architectural details. The molding details and stair handrail are very similar to those in The Peale.

Counter Space: It’s always the same in every house we’ve lived in: We hang out in the kitchen. It’s certainly the most transformed room in the house. What we’ve created feels appropriate and respectful of the house and works well for 21st-century living.

The Papered Wall: Powder rooms are follies, and we were searching for a Baltimore toile, something similar to the Harlem toile Sheila Bridges designed for the one off our kitchen. We wanted a very old and traditional form reinterpreted in a thoroughly modern way.

We didn’t discover a toile, but we did discover Elizabeth Graeber’s charming and whimsical wallpaper love letter to Baltimore. It’s very fun and everyone comments on it, whether they’re a local or a transplant.

Sentimental Value: We always seem to be at the head of the line when a family member asks: “Would anyone like this?” We never say no to anything. But, in all seriousness, the stories behind these pieces, and the continuity of a storyline are important to us. The connection and the backstory are often more interesting than the pieces themselves. How do we know where we’re going without knowing where we’ve been?

The Stewards: We bought our home from a man who lived there for over 40 years with his partner. It was important to him that the next owners remain sensitive to the house’s history and architectural integrity. We are trying to live up to these expectations.

WHAT YOU SEE: A lot of my furniture is from the ’50s and ’60s, or recreated in that style, and I collect random relics from that time period. I’m a nature girl, so lots of fresh flowers and plants spread around the house, mixed with botanical-themed fabrics and art.

HOUSE-TORY: It was built in 1929, and one of the previous owners was a bit of a carpenter and created the built-in shelves and island. A friend of a friend bought it in 2016, and she now lives on the West Coast, so I’ve been delighted to call this home for the past four years. I love sitting in the living room on a sunny afternoon. The west-facing windows let in beautiful light through the dining room and make the plant collection shine. And my couch is exactly the right size for my pit bull, Betty Mae, and me to curl up on and relax.

MAXIMILLION: I’m definitely not a minimalist. I like things neat and orderly, but with color and kitsch. I’ve collected things that reflect my interests over the years, like retro beauty magazines and pinups, weird taxidermies, posters from shows my friends have performed in, and local art from folks in Baltimore.

THESE ARE A FEW OF MY FAVORITE THINGS: My “Duckvine” taxidermy, a duckling modeled after Divine in Pink Flamingos. I’m a vegetarian, so I don’t even eat animals, but this was a gift and is one of my favorite things. My “Queen of Eggs” sash and tiara; I won the infamous Deviled Egg Pageant in 2022 and it’s basically the pinnacle of success to me. I’ve been riding that high ever since. My “Baltimore Burlesque” collection, including autographed Blaze Starr photos, and entry tickets to the Two O’Clock Club she once owned. And my collection of over 70 plants. They are a labor of time and love and money, but I’m extremely proud of them.

IN THE ART STUDIO: I’ve been making all different kinds of art my entire life, and right now I’m in a dried florals phase. This was originally born out of my inability to waste literally anything, even dead flowers. I like to pick up odd nature bits while walking the dog, too, like dried seed pods or anything that catches my interest. Having this room to rearrange and suit my artistic whims is such a blessing.

GREEN HOUSE: I’ve always been barefoot outside playing with nature; it’s how I was raised. Both my parents are gardeners, and that appreciation of plants never left me. The life and vibrancy they add, their various shapes, colors, really transform a room, making it feel more serene to me. And the act of caring for them is scientifically proven to benefit your brain.

HOME SWEET HOMES: I grew up in Kingsville. My mom had six boys before having me. Our house was small, but we had a nice, big backyard, perfect for wiffle ball. I still remember having purple feet from the mulberry bushes. My family didn’t have a lot, but our house was happy. I lived in a rowhouse in Hampden for 20 years until I decided to downsize and moved less than a mile away to Whitehall Mill. It’s a converted 18th-century mill that sits along the Jones Falls.

BE GONE CLUTTER: My home style is warm minimalism. I like to be comfortable, and I also don’t want a lot of stuff around. Most of my belongings carry some story of meaning with them. I like that. Nothing fancy, just things I’ve collected along the way.

A COLLECTION IS BORN: When I moved into my new place, I wondered how I would ever address the huge walls in the main living area. It seemed like trying to fill them would be ridiculous, so I decided to leave it alone for a while. Eventually, I reached out to my friend Bree Rock, the former visual designer at Trohv. We chatted and texted, sharing photos and inspiration ideas. Bree suggested that we start from where the two walls meet and go out and up from there. It was the most amazing thing watching it come together. I still marvel at the process and how free it was. Every single piece means something to me—past lives, travel, family, food, and more.

GREEN THUMB: I always struggled with plants in my old house. I am pretty sure I killed them with kindness—overwatering. When I moved into Whitehall Mill, the tall windows with deep sills were just begging to be filled. I started out with about six plants and now I have somewhere around 50.

AN AFFECTION CONNECTION: My dining room table was made by two childhood friends and the wood is from old, fallen trees near where I grew up. It’s uneven and imperfect and I love that. My bedroom furniture was my grandmother’s. I feel so lucky to have it. I never met any of my grandparents, so it’s nice to have reminders of them around.

Carmen Brock and her house felt like strangers in the summer of 2020. Brock, the beloved owner of home goods shop Trohv, had spend the past 14 years living and breathing her store on the Avenue, which often meant ignoring her Victorian-style rowhome on Guilford Avenue, in the heart of Charles Village. It was merely a place to rest her weary head.

When, due to the weight of the pandemic, Trohv closed for good in August 2020, suddenly Brock, who was a Baltimore City middle school teacher before opening Trohv, found herself only being at home. And a reintroduction began.

“It really was a refuge—with the shop and even when I was teaching, I just wasn’t here that much,” she says.

But when Brock found herself unmoored, it was her home that she craved.

“I’m truly head over heels for the comfort that your own space can bring you,” she says. “It’s not just comfort, it’s also a place where I was experiencing loneliness and heartbreak. A safe, tender place where I could mourn Trohv. It felt like it held me.”

When Brock and her ex-husband bought the house in 2002, the housing market was “bananas,” she says. It was the fourth house they put a bid on. “I was so happy that I got it. The community here really takes notice and care of each other.”

The house, built in 1914, had good bones. “I was so drawn to the skeleton of this place, and I love sharing walls,” says Brock, who grew up on a cattle and tobacco farm in Kentucky. “I know that can be annoying when it comes to gatherings or parties, but I actually really love it. I had never been exposed to rowhomes before.”

The home was in incredible shape when she first moved in, and the original wood floors are still a gorgeous honey color with an impressive inlay border throughout her family and dining room. Tucked in the middle of the block, the 2,000-square-foot home also gets bathed in natural light thanks to three skylights scattered throughout.

While Brock’s house is not a Trohv showroom, “there is definitely a relationship there.” She describes it “almost like a sibling relationship in a way. If I was picking or buying or searching or rummaging for the shop and I found something that felt really special and I just absolutely fell in love with it, I would keep it.”

One of the best things about Brock’s home is its deliberateness. Every piece has a personal connection to Brock, and her design philosophy seems to be “worth the wait.” She got her very first coffee table 10 years after she moved into her house. She buys things piece by piece over months, years, even decades, as opposed to trying to outfit a room all at once, which she knows is not the norm.

“It’s not necessarily the approach people want to take,” she admits. “But that’s how I’ve put my house together. I just didn’t have a coffee table until I found the one that I wanted.”

Brock and her coffee table met at the Brimfield Antique Flea Market in Massachusetts, an annual show that spills out over acres of land. The table, one of 15, looked like a gallon drum and a barrel had a baby. In fact, it wasn’t a table at all. It had giant arms on it and had been used for preserving cans in a big factory. Brock went ahead and bought all 15, then loaded them onto a huge truck, drove them back to Baltimore, rolled them into Trohv, removed the arms—“I took a welding class in high school”—and sold 14 of them. The fifteenth went into her house. It now sits in her front room, nestled between her couches. It’s so heavy she often jokes it conveys with the house. “I don’t expect to move it—but it’s fine.”

Brock’s house was also completely rugless until a trip to Morocco in 2019, where she bought six rugs. “Half went to the shop and the other half stayed here.”

All of Brock’s stories are like this—an adventurous tale that ends with a special purchase, all told in her soothing drawl.

“My friend and I were staying at this ashram thing and there was a rug in our room, and I just asked the guy if he’d be willing to let me pay for it. And was he was like, ‘Yes, it’s disgusting. It’s been here for like 20 years.’” In the end she shoved three rugs into a suitcase and took the other three in her carry-on. “Isn’t it ridiculous,” she chuckles. But the thing about Brock is you don’t feel like it is. It feels like it’s always worth it for the right piece.

There’s the coat rack in the front entrance of her home with “New York School of Art & Design” messily written on a piece of green tape that’s still stuck on the side. “It’s definitely one of my favorite things,” she says. “I think that if it could talk, just the minds and ideas that have brushed past this, even by osmosis, I want to learn from that.”

Brock loves the idea of owning things that have existed in a previous life. “It’s had a life longer than me.”

As she stands in her bedroom, Brock points out that the positioning of her home—the top of a hill facing west—means this room gets pretty good sunsets. “It took me several years to notice it,” she says.

“It took me several years to notice a lot of things in this house.” The summer that Trohv was closing, “I must have watched 60—no kidding—sunsets that summer. I don’t know if it was the wonder of it, the silence of it. It was part of getting me through.”

Brock, who is working at the soon-to-open Church Bar in Old Goucher and just started offering “home consultations by Trohv,” is getting steady on her feet again.

“I feel like I’m in a better place,” she says. “I don’t know if I’m in a good place, but better—which I’ll take.”

Her house has helped get her to that better place. She says everyone assumed that, as the owner of a home goods store, she enjoyed her own house, “but I enjoy it now more than I ever have. And that is a surprise to me.”

One of the things that brings Brock the most joy is the artwork scattered throughout the house—on the walls, the stairwell, hidden in the bathrooms. All are deeply meaningful and connect her to a specific moment in time. There’s a piece by Katie Pumphrey, called “Fever Dream,” that hangs in Brock’s office. She bought it in 2017 when her dad died, and she was feeling adrift. There was something about the piece that “fit” her grieving.

“I love it and I love thinking about my dad. It doesn’t bring me sadness at this point, it brings me such joy to think about him.”

A charcoal and graphite piece by Lee Nowell Wilson, showing a woman trying to fold herself into a cardboard box, heaving at the sides, represents the loss of Trohv. And the giant 4-by-5-foot painting that hangs in her dining room instantly took Brock back to her childhood of chasing bumblebees around the farm. It was done by Jordan Kasey, a MICA grad who now lives in New York.

“This is from 2007—she graduated in 2008. This is one of my favorites.” The piece—the thing she would grab if her house caught fire—is of a young girl doing a handstand. Her cheeks pink, her mouth slightly agape. “It feels soft and approachable and tender and playful,” she says.

But Brock loves asking her guests their interpretation of each piece of art, too. “I dated this guy once and he came in and was like, ‘Carmen, your house is like a museum.’ And I think he meant it as a compliment, but I also feared there was maybe this non-cozy quality to that. And I hung my hat on that probably a little too long. I do think he meant it in a nice way. But I want people to come in and throw their shit around—I do.”

It’s taken 20 years, but for now Brock’s house finally feels like home—her home. Each time she departs, she steps onto the porch, doorknob in hand, and stops for a second.

“When I leave the house—this is literally what I say—‘Thank you. I love you. Please be safe when I’m gone. And thank you for your hospitality and love.’”