Why I Love Historical Home Remodels: Remodeling Vintage Homes By Honoring History While Designing for Today

Over the years, I've had the opportunity — and the genuine honor — of working on vintage homes. I'm talking about the charming 1930s and 1940s Spanish Mediterranean residences that still grace neighborhoods across Miami and Miami Beach. Some are expansive waterfront estates. Others are intimate 2- and 3-bedroom bungalows tucked along tree-lined streets. Every single one has been a privilege to work on.

As of late, I've also started working on a (pinch-me) glorious 1830s Georgian mansion in Bristol, England.  Its truly a wonderful project that commands a considerable about of attention to detail, research and passion. More to come on that in the coming months!  

I use the word "honor" deliberately. Today, the prevailing trend is to demolish and start fresh. Developers and homeowners alike recite a well-worn list of reasons why the existing structure can't be salvaged — and in its place rises a white minimalist box, clad in slatted wood panels and floor-to-ceiling glass. And yes — I'll be the first to say I appreciate a well-executed modern home. The clean lines, the disciplined restraint, the precision. But what I almost always see in these new Miami builds is a derivative design, stripped of the kind of personalization that says something meaningful about the homeowner, the architect, or the place itself.

This post isn't a critique of modern Miami residential architecture. It's something more personal and more practical: a detailed look at how my team and I approach the remodeling of historic homes — specifically the Spanish Mediterranean and Mediterranean Revival properties built between 1920 and 1950 that define so much of Miami's architectural identity.

When we take on a vintage home renovation, our goal is never to freeze a property in time like a museum exhibit. We're not chasing a perfect restoration of original finishes or obsessing over period-correct fixtures for their own sake.

What we are doing is something more nuanced: reinterpreting a timeless piece of architecture for its new owners — people who are, in their own right, custodians of a piece of history.

The result is a home that feels rooted and authentic, that carries the warmth and character these structures were designed to convey, while functioning beautifully as a full-time modern residence.

Our approach to remodeling Spanish Mediterranean homes centers on three principles:

1. Understanding the flow — how the home was designed to be lived in, and how that needs to evolve
2. Preserving timeless details that add charm — the architectural features that give these homes their soul
3. Updating with care — introducing contemporary elements in a way that feels intentional, not jarring

Spanish Mediterranean homes from the 1930s and 1940s were designed for a very different era of living. Family compositions were different. Many of Miami's original Mediterranean estates were winter residences — seasonal retreats for Northern families who came south from November through April. The floor plans reflect that: formal entertaining spaces were prioritized, service quarters were tucked away, and the concept of a casual, open-plan family kitchen simply didn't exist.

When today's homeowners use these properties as full-time primary residences, the spatial logic often needs to change. That's not a compromise of the home's integrity — it's a recognition of how life has evolved.

Before we touch a single wall, we spend significant time speaking with our clients about how they actually live. How do they move through the house in the morning? Where do the kids land when they come home from school? Do they entertain formally, casually, or both? Is the home a gathering hub or a private retreat?

The answers to these questions shape every layout decision we make — from whether to open a wall between a kitchen and dining room, to how to reimagine a formal parlor that hasn't been used as such in decades. The goal is always to respect the original architectural intention while making space for the way real people live today.

This is, candidly, my favorite part of working on a historic home remodel. These properties are filled with architectural details that simply don't exist in new construction — and that are extraordinarily difficult and expensive to replicate authentically if they've been removed.

Some of the details we work hardest to preserve include:

Curved archways. The soft, rounded archways that connect rooms in a Spanish Mediterranean home are one of their most defining features. They create a sense of flow and a visual rhythm that immediately distinguishes these properties from their modern counterparts. We never remove an original arch if we can avoid it — and when an arch has been filled in or altered by a previous renovation, we often restore it.

Layered ceiling moulding. The coffered and molded ceilings in 1930s and 1940s Miami homes are a masterclass in proportion and detail. Even in more modest bungalows, you'll often find beautifully scaled crown moulding and ceiling medallions that add extraordinary richness to a room. We preserve these wherever possible, and when damaged sections require repair or replacement, we work with artisans who can match the original profiles precisely.

Intricate tile work. Perhaps no detail is more emblematic of the Spanish Mediterranean aesthetic than decorative tile — Saltillo floors, hand-painted Talavera accents, geometric cement tile borders. These elements are irreplaceable in the truest sense. We document every original tile surface early in the process, source matching tile for repairs when needed, and design around them rather than over them.

Original hardware and millwork. Original wrought-iron hardware, hand-carved wooden doors, decorative grilles, and custom millwork are details that deserve to be celebrated, not painted over or replaced with modern substitutes.

Preservation and livability are not in conflict — but navigating the balance between them requires a disciplined editorial eye.

When we introduce new elements into a vintage home renovation, we apply a consistent test: does this addition feel like it belongs here, or does it feel like it was dropped in from somewhere else? Contemporary updates that work best in these homes tend to share certain qualities — they complement rather than compete, they honor the material palette of the era, and they reflect the personality of the homeowners without overwhelming the character of the architecture.

In practice, this might mean:

• Updating a kitchen with custom cabinetry in an aged, warm finish rather than high-gloss white
• Choosing unlacquered brass or oil-rubbed bronze fixtures over polished chrome or matte black
• Installing new bathroom tile in classic geometric or encaustic patterns rather than large-format modern stone slabs
• Selecting furniture that layers collected, antique, and vintage pieces alongside quality contemporary pieces
• Using warm, layered lighting rather than recessed LED grids that flatten the beautiful ceiling detail above

The right renovation doesn't make a 1930s Miami home look new. It makes it look its best — alive, inhabited, and entirely itself.

I never anticipated that historic homes, Spanish Mediterranean or Art Deco Miami homes would become such a defining part of my practice. But looking back, it makes complete sense. There's an old-soul quality to these properties that resonates with how I approach design — with layering, with ornamentation, with respect for material and craft, with an appreciation for the stories embedded in a space.

From striking Miami Beach waterfront Mediterraneans to the most understated coral-rock bungalows in Coconut Grove or Coral Gables, each one arrives with its own history, its own challenges, and its own remarkable character. And each one rewards the kind of attention that so much of contemporary design doesn't ask for anymore.

If you're the owner of a vintage home — or if you're considering purchasing one — I'd encourage you to resist the demolition reflex. With the right team and the right approach, what you have is not a problem to be solved. It's a rare opportunity.