The romance of this room is what makes it special – and it’s not only me who feels it. Everyone who comes in feels chilled and happy here. I think that’s because it’s very light, airy and feminine. Everything about it is beautiful: the feel of the floor, which is a waxed rubber and like velvet to step on; the smells (either lemon grass oil burning in summer or frankincense in winter); the light, which pours in through the attic windows and is filtered by Indian screens; and the bed, which is enormous. Because I’ve got a ceiling fan and huge palm trees, it feels like an exotic island hideaway. Like the Maldives, but better.

A boudoir is special to a woman, because it’s the one place she can be herself and be really feminine. You can’t put your handbags, shoes and lingerie in the living room because it only looks affected. But you can display yourself in a boudoir in a way you can’t anywhere else. It’s also the sexiest room, because this is where you bring your man, where you play, where you can embrace your femininity.

I suppose it’s like a grown-up playroom for me. I’ve got a pole and learnt to dance, which was fun. My boyfriend, John, is a musician, so we have a chaise longue that he can lie on and play his guitar. The bathroom’s part of my bedroom, so I can lounge in my Jacuzzi bath and dream or look at the art I’ve hung in here: Emma Summerton polaroids, rock’n’roll black-and-whites by Gerald Jenkins and a Biba print by James Wedge. They remind me of David Hamilton films or early Pirelli calendars: I love that sexy, soft-focus feel.

Everything in here is about sensuality. Around my bed I’ve hung muslin, like a sexy negligée, and placed antique mirrors half-covered with palm leaves and hung with Fifties’ corsets, so there are reflections everywhere. The lamps are my own design, covered in lace and lined with amber fabric to complement the complexion.

The most important thing for me is for it to be a space that reflects how I am feeling and who I am. Next month it might be bright pink and covered in saris. It will never be uptight, though. Homes are meant to make people feel good about themselves, to have fun in. Which is why my homes are a bit tongue in cheek. Who wants to worry about spilling something? Life’s for living.

www.seraoflondon.com

Alvise Orsini, interior designer

I love period houses. I think it’s because I studied architecture and I’m from Venice, so historical architecture is very important to me. When I bought this Robert Adam house in Montagu Square, London, my ambition was to make it as true to the period as possible. I’ve scoured the world to find the right kind of fittings and decor –whether it’s doors or wallpaper – from antique shops, Lassco and brocantes in Paris, even Syria. Everything is either 18th-century English or in the style of that period.

My boudoir is at the centre of my home; the real heart of the house. Because the decor of that time was so refined, I’ve made an effort to ensure that everything is right, to create a place where you awaken your eyes, your senses and your sense of beauty. I think you feel most you, most relaxed, when everything around you is just as you like it. And in here, it is. The walls are either a wonderful, rich burgundy or a lovely, rich yellow silk from the 18th century – which is a tiny bit stained, but in almost perfect condition, and such a lovely gold. They’re mostly lined with a gallery of inspirational historical depictions: emperors with golden crowns, scenes done on the Grand Tour or Neo-Classical interiors.

Because it is strictly my room, no one else goes in there. It’s my retreat, the place in which I can relax and think and live in my dream world. That’s the 18th century, before the stuffy Victorian era, when everything was heavy; it was when things were very refined and proper. While women like their boudoirs to be feminine and soft, men, I think, prefer environments to be formal and clean. I don’t like clutter: around the basin there is a single glass for drinking and my shaving equipment – that’s it. The bath’s copper and deep: it’s the most wonderful place to lie, which I do every evening, to relax and think about my day. It gives off a lovely glow, as do the original brass taps and the shower head. I don’t like hard or cold metals in here;

I prefer things that are warm. I suppose I treat the room more like a fumoir than a bathroom. I’ll often spend a few hours here in the evening, reading in the bath, or relaxing in the armchair beside it, listening to classical music, which is piped through speakers hidden in the ceiling. Or I might steam in the steam room fragranced with a pure essential oil. On the weekends, when I have time, I might take out my mahogany shaving stand, and take time to shave properly from my chair, enjoying the view of the square. Usually when I’m in here, I’ll wear a wonderful 19th-century red, green and gold-striped Syrian silk gown. That is the finishing touch. That and a glass of port, which I’ll occasionally indulge in. And sink into a dream world. Which is what? The late 18th century, of course.

www.orsinidesign.com

Times recommends

• Second homes: credit crunch casualty or money-spinner?
• How I built my own sliding house
• Top 10 incentives for house buyers