

Walking into my 14-year-old daughter's bathroom feels like stepping into an escape room. At first, I'm cautious — tiptoeing across the cool tiles, trying not to touch anything. I scan the room, noting what's where and what looks completely out of place.
Then curiosity takes over. I start picking things up — tubes, packets, tubs, mysterious potions — and before I know it, I've touched everything, completely ruining the scene and any hope of returning it to how it was.
This bathroom is her sanctuary. It's where she feels free to stash whatever she wants — on her three-tier spinning organiser, in her (usually unplugged) beauty fridge or buried deep in the clear storage bins I bought during my Home Edit phase.