What I choose to bring back from my travels

The best souvenirs I own didn't come from fancy shops, and they most certainly weren't purchased at an airport. Most of them were discovered after rummaging in little shops in back alleys and crafts markets in old world cities where handmade pieces are still a living practice.

Take the weavers in Tangier, for example. I was there for my fortieth birthday, a couple of years ago — a trip with close family and a few good friends, organised with the help of Pin of the Tangier Bureau. I'd already been selling Pin's pieces for a few years by then, but going out and actually meeting the people making them changed something. I came home with linen I'd chosen standing in the room where it was made, with a new appreciation for the pieces I was holding. Made in Tangier means something different to me now.

Malta doesn't even really count, I suppose, since it's where I'm from. Villa Bologna's pottery is less a find and more just bringing home a piece of where I grew up. But it's the same feeling, honestly — holding something and knowing exactly whose hands made it.

Same with Daniel and Luciano's studio in Seville, the duo behind The Exvotos. Seeing the two artists at work and talking to them about their inspiration and process — with a lot of help from Google Translate — makes every piece feel like it means that much more.

The horn spoons came home from Sri Lanka in a suitcase, the engraved cups from Turkey the same way. Beautiful, handmade objects that I couldn't leave behind.

It's funny, because every airport sells the same three items that could be from literally anywhere: a snow globe, a fridge magnet and a keychain. Swap the labels around and nothing about the object would need to change.

It's not what I choose to bring home. Not because I'm precious about it, but because these objects don't hold the same meaning. I heard the designer Nate Berkus say something on a podcast recently that stuck with me: "I hate things that were designed to be a souvenir." That's exactly the point.

I don't really have a rule for this, other than the obvious one. If it could have come from anywhere in the world, do I really want it? No. I want objects that tell the story of where they came from and give me a sense of nostalgia once they've settled in my home.