Gina Jeffries

This list is for the home that feels like a cabin, a cottage, or a place you’d disappear to when life gets loud. Think layered bedding, soft-but-structured pillows, glassware that looks better by candlelight, and decor that feels collected over time—not bought all at once. Cozy, a little moody, and meant to be lived in.

I live in Ferndale, Michigan. Detroit is about a 20 minute drive for me and you better believe I'm in the city eating all my favorite food as often as I can! From Italian to Caribbean, we have it all!

This is a growing list of cabins I’ve either stayed in or am quietly plotting to stay in. Some are proven favorites, others are saved screenshots and tabs I refuse to close. Lakes, woods, mountains — if it looks like a place where time slows down a little, it probably belongs here. I’m drawn to cabins that feel intentional and tell a story. Woodsy hideaways, lakefront spots meant for early mornings, mountain cabins that make you want to stare out a window and rethink your life choices (gently). They don’t need to be perfect — they just need good light, cozy corners, and the kind of atmosphere that makes doing nothing feel important. This list isn’t a ranking and it’s not a promise — it’s a mood board for future versions of myself. Places to unplug, romanticize solitude, or bring the right people and disappear for a few days. If you’re also collecting cabins like little escape plans, you’re in the right place.

This is a running list of clothes I either already live in or mentally live in. Some of these pieces are hanging in my closet, others exist in the “someday soon” corner of my brain where outfits are planned but no one has anywhere to go. It’s less about trends and more about what feels right when you want to disappear into yourself a little. My style leans cabincore, but not in a costume way. Think soft layers, worn-in textures, neutral colors, and silhouettes that look good next to a cup of coffee or a stack of unread books. I love basics because they’re reliable, quiet, and a little emotional if you think about it too hard. There’s a hint of unhinged energy here — in the sense that I want to look like I could chop wood, cry in the woods, or romanticize a grocery run. Comfort matters, but so does feeling like the main character of a very slow, moody montage. This list isn’t curated to perfection and it’s not meant to be. It’s just pieces I keep coming back to, saving, wearing on repeat, or thinking about at inconvenient times. If you like clothes that feel lived-in, slightly feral, and easy to build a life around, you’ll probably get it.