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Luxury Interior Design in Israel: How My Jaffa Roots Shape Homes for Expats and Olim

  • Writer: Mary Amor
    Mary Amor
  • Mar 24
  • 4 min read

Updated: Aug 27



Where My Story Begins

I was born in Israel, the daughter of immigrant parents — my mother from the Philippines and my father from Thailand — and raised in Jaffa, one of the most culturally layered cities in the world.

Jaffa is a true melting pot: Jews, Muslims, Christians, Armenians, and internationals all live side by side. You hear the mosque call at dawn, church bells on Sunday, Hebrew songs on Friday evenings. The stones carry thousands of years of history, while the streets carry today’s headlines. It is both ancient and alive, sacred and ordinary.

Israel itself is a country of contradictions, home to the world’s major religions, countless immigrant stories, and one of the most talked-about conflicts in the Middle East. Growing up here, especially as the daughter of immigrant parents, meant navigating many layers of identity. And that shaped everything about who I am today as a designer.



A Small Apartment Full of Worlds

Our family lived in a modest 2.5-room apartment in Jaffa. The kind where the bedroom and living room were divided by a wardrobe, and a single balcony connected everything. It wasn’t large, but it was alive with meaning.

My mother loved flea markets. Every Friday, she would bring home treasures: mirrors decorated with Chinese emblems, paintings of Jerusalem gates, small Christian altars, and other eclectic finds that somehow fit together.

My father, a Thai chef, carried scents and flavors into the apartment, sizzling noodles, the comfort of chicken broth, spices that clung to the walls.

And beyond our own home, there was the contrast of the houses where my mother worked: luxury villas in north Tel Aviv, homes where design was pristine. As a child, I noticed the difference. But I also noticed this: wealth didn’t always equal “home.”


The House That Changed Me

One home in particular marked me forever:

the house of actress Gila Almagor and her husband Yankale Agmon.

My mother worked there for years, but to me they became family.

Gila treated me like a granddaughter.

Their home was full of books, theater posters, art, and conversation.

That house taught me something vital: a home isn’t only for living. It can tell a story.

The walls, the objects, the atmosphere, they all carried memory.

Between my parents’ immigrant apartment, the pristine villas my mother cleaned, and the Agmon-Almagor home full of culture, I understood this: a home is never neutral.

It is always storytelling.



Growing Up Between Identities

As the daughter of immigrants, I lived between worlds. At school in Jaffa, I sat beside Arab kids — Muslims and Christians — Jewish kids and immigrant children from Christian families. We all studied, played, and grew up together. Diversity wasn’t something I saw occasionally. it was woven into my everyday reality.

This constant mix taught me something I carry into my design work:

identity is never one-dimensional. And when you design a home, you are not just choosing furniture. You are shaping how culture, memory and personality coexist inside four walls.




My Design Philosophy: Storytelling First

This is why I design differently.

For me, every project starts with listening — not imposing a style.

When I meet clients, I don’t only ask about colors or layouts.

I ask:

  • Where did you grow up?

  • What spaces made you feel safe?

  • What memories do you want to carry into your new home?

  • What does “luxury” mean to you?


The answers tell me more than any picture from Pinterest ever could. They are the story I need to translate into design.



Why This Matters for Olim & Expats

This approach is especially powerful with olim and expats. I understand their journey because I grew up in an immigrant home myself. I know what it means to crave familiarity while building a new life.

For families relocating to Israel, the house is more than real estate. It’s the anchor.

It’s the place that says: you belong here now.

So when I design for expats, I blend worlds. Design becomes the bridge between their past and their future.



What Luxury Really Means

And needless to say, most of my clients often tell me they want a “luxurious feel” in their home.

But the truth is, luxury means something different for everyone.

Luxury isn’t just marble countertops or imported furniture. For me, luxury is emotional.

It’s the feeling of walking through your front door and instantly exhaling.

It’s your children running into their rooms with joy. It’s hosting friends in a living room that feels both sophisticated and welcoming. It’s sinking into a hot bubble bath infused with essential oils, the scent wrapping around you like a hug.

Real luxury isn’t about perfection. It’s about belonging.


Privacy and Trust Above All

I don’t publish every project I design. Some of my clients prefer to keep their homes private, and I always respect that.

Discretion is part of working in the luxury market. For me, respecting those boundaries is just as important as creating a beautiful home. You may not see every project on my website or Instagram,but behind the scenes, each one is crafted with the same care, attention to detail and storytelling.



From Jaffa to You

My story — born in Israel, raised in Jaffa, daughter of immigrant parents in a city of cultures and contradictions, this is the foundation of my work.

When I design your home, I don’t impose a “Mary style" home. I listen, I translate, I tell your story.

Because at the end of the day, design isn’t about applause or Instagram likes.

It’s about the quiet moment when you step inside, close the door, and say:

This is me. This is us. This is home.

Let’s translate your story into a space you’ll love for years to come.










 
 
 

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