Step into a world where the raw bones of industry are softened by leaves, light, and life. In this curated collection of 15 transformative interiors, the forgotten factories, warehouses, and workspaces of the past are reborn as breathtaking botanical sanctuaries. Each space is a story of contrast—where rivets and rust harmonize with moss and morning light, and where architectural grit becomes the perfect backdrop for intentional design and organic growth. Whether it's a moss-lined stairwell, a conservatory bath suite, or a breakfast nook bathed in green, these rooms blur the line between the built and the blooming. They’re not just beautiful—they’re alive.

The Factory Garden Bathhouse

This showstopping industrial-botanical bathroom is built into the shell of a former 1920s paper mill, where original architectural bones remain intact but softened by carefully curated design choices. The walls are exposed charcoal brick, sealed with a matte clear coat to enhance their texture while protecting them from moisture. Decades of wear are still visible—patched mortar, slight charring from a long-ago fire—but rather than being covered up, these details are embraced and elevated by the space’s lush greenery and spa-like ambiance.

Dominating the room is a freestanding black concrete soaking tub with a soft eggshell finish. Its silhouette is modern and minimal, but the depth and sheer size give it a bold, sculptural presence. Behind it, a custom vertical garden rises to meet the ceiling—constructed from reclaimed wood slats and outfitted with integrated irrigation and grow lights. The plants are a mix of dramatic ferns, trailing philodendron, and pockets of moss nestled between textured planters. A soft trickle of water from a small wall-mounted spout adds a tranquil soundscape.

The window wall—towering and steel-framed—pours in diffused daylight through antique factory glass, slightly rippled from age. Hanging from a steel beam are three oversized pendants with warm, low-lumen Edison bulbs encased in smoked glass globes. They hang at staggered lengths between thick rope-mounted staghorn ferns and air plants, creating a moody glow that feels equal parts industrial and greenhouse.

To one side, a floating vanity made of matte walnut and blackened steel supports twin vessel sinks with brushed brass wall-mounted faucets. Above them, a tall, antiqued mirror is inset into a chunky steel frame that’s bolted directly into the brick. Below, concealed LED strips highlight floating plants and cast a soft ambient glow onto the floor.

The flooring is charcoal slate laid in a herringbone pattern, warmed by radiant heat beneath and softened visually by layered natural fiber rugs. On the shelves: rolled linen towels, matte black ceramics, eucalyptus bundles, and stone containers holding bath salts and essential oils. The scent is crisp and botanical—mint, cedar, and wet stone.

Every element is grounded in real, tactile materials. Nothing is too precious or glossy. This is industrial-botanical design in its most refined form—raw, lush, and unapologetically indulgent.

This striking kitchen feels like it was carved out of an abandoned foundry and transformed into a chef’s botanical hideaway. Exposed steel beams frame the space, powder-coated in matte black to preserve their integrity while nodding to the building’s industrial roots. The walls are clad in a combination of weathered brick and poured concrete, their cool tones offset by the lush greenery that overflows from nearly every surface.

At the heart of the space is a 12-foot-long kitchen island crafted from thick reclaimed oak slabs with live edges, sealed in a natural finish that lets the wood grain pop. The base is wrapped in matte olive-green cabinetry with burnished brass hardware, all sitting atop a custom steel support frame. A dramatic countertop of honed black soapstone runs the length of the island, its cloudy veining echoing the soft gray tones of the concrete walls. Overhead, two industrial-style pulley lights—fitted with warm filament bulbs—hang from iron pipes, casting golden light over the prep area.

Behind the island, a full wall of vertical garden installation is built into modular concrete planters stacked from counter height to ceiling. Herbs like rosemary, Thai basil, and mint mingle with trailing pothos, baby ferns, and clusters of microgreens under integrated grow lights that glow a soft daylight white. The entire green wall is self-irrigating and equipped with hidden ventilation to manage humidity, making it both functional and visually stunning.

Open shelving made of reclaimed railroad ties is mounted against a raw brick backsplash and supported by forged iron brackets. On them: handmade ceramic dishware, vintage copper pots, matte black spice jars, and cascading string-of-pearls. A mix of closed cabinets below adds utility without sacrificing the curated feel.

The floor is laid with oversized slate tiles in an irregular pattern, slightly textured and sealed for a low sheen. A run of warm vintage runner rugs softens the path from the island to the oversized cast iron sink, which sits below a massive steel-framed window wall. The window opens via an accordion mechanism, letting in breeze and sound from the enclosed garden patio outside—essentially turning the kitchen into a greenhouse when fully opened.

This space isn’t just about form—it’s designed for living. It’s moody, tactile, and layered. A space where you could chop heirloom tomatoes under dappled light while brushing basil leaves from your elbow. Industrial grit softened by green life, with a chef’s soul at its core.

The Greenhouse Lounge Loft

Nestled inside the upper floor of a converted textile warehouse, this open-concept lounge space merges loft-style living with the rhythm of a botanical greenhouse. The original structure's steel trusses, exposed ductwork, and vaulted ceilings are all proudly on display, but softened by a meticulous layering of greenery, texture, and warm natural materials.

The room is anchored by an expansive modular sofa in a deep forest green velvet, low to the ground with clean lines and plush, overstuffed cushions. Aged leather sling chairs with blackened steel frames flank the seating area, set around a custom live-edge coffee table crafted from a single slab of salvaged walnut. The table’s raw edges are left untouched, its surface polished just enough to showcase the grain’s depth and tone. Resting atop it: stacks of oversized art books, a few antique apothecary bottles, and a sprawling tillandsia nestled in a carved stone bowl.

Behind the seating zone, a full-height living wall makes a bold, unapologetic statement. It’s planted with a mix of hardy tropicals and moss varieties—an undulating patchwork of textures in every shade of green, climbing up the concrete back wall and partially wrapping around an embedded steel-framed staircase. Integrated spot lighting tucks beneath the metal treads, casting long shadows across the foliage and illuminating the plant wall like a piece of living art.

A massive grid of industrial windows lines the exterior wall, many of the original panes preserved, complete with their small imperfections and iron muntins. Above them, operable transom windows allow for airflow, creating a subtle cross breeze that ripples through the hanging planters suspended from steel rods crisscrossing the ceiling. The air feels fresh, alive, even indoors.

The lounge's lighting is layered and intimate—track lighting with directional brass sconces, a statement chandelier made from welded iron and recycled glass fragments, and soft up-lighting hidden behind a bank of low-slung bookcases filled with design books, sculptural objects, and potted greenery.

The flooring is wide-plank oak, lightly wire-brushed and stained a muted ash brown that gives it a lived-in feel. A handwoven wool rug in warm, organic tones anchors the seating area. Against one wall, a custom console table made from a vintage lathe machine is topped with trailing ivy, a bonsai tree in a patinated brass pot, and a curated vinyl collection beside a turntable setup with matte-black components.

This space isn’t trying to be trendy—it’s a masterclass in layered living: modern yet soulful, grounded yet airy, where steel and soil meet in perfect equilibrium.

The Atrium Reading Atrium

This bright yet intimate reading room is tucked inside a converted boiler house, repurposed with precision into a soaring, plant-filled sanctuary. At the heart of the design is a double-height atrium that stretches up through the building’s original industrial core. Overhead, steel I-beams and original pipework are left exposed but painted in a soft graphite finish to complement the textures below. The ceiling is fully glazed—frameless glass panels that let daylight flood in like a greenhouse, giving the space a radiant glow from dawn to dusk.

Beneath the glass ceiling, a custom-built wall of steel-framed windows separates the room from the rest of the building, like an old-school factory manager’s office—but now filled with foliage and mid-century modern comfort. The main feature wall is clad in raw concrete panels, but softened with a full-height built-in bookshelf crafted from rich walnut and matte black steel. The shelves are carefully styled—not overfilled, but with a balance of aged hardbacks, trailing philodendrons in clay pots, wooden sculptural objects, and a few weathered botanical prints framed in thin bronze.

The seating arrangement is simple but striking: two low-slung lounge chairs in saddle leather with blackened wood arms, angled inward toward a brass pedestal table with a heavily patinated surface. The rug beneath is a Moroccan-style flatweave in cream and olive tones, grounding the space without overpowering the raw materials. A third chair—an olive green mohair club chair—sits tucked into a window nook filled with natural light and overhanging foliage. A chunky knit throw and a small side table complete the vignette.

Planters are integrated throughout the floor layout—both free-standing and wall-mounted. A row of matte black vertical planters lines one edge of the room, each filled with a different species of fern or upright tropical like alocasia and rubber tree. On the opposite wall, a custom pegboard planter system holds climbing ivy and air plants, which slowly wind their way through the peg rails. Hidden irrigation lines make the maintenance almost invisible.

Lighting is deliberately soft and sculptural. A central floor lamp with three matte brass domes casts pools of warm light across the concrete floor. Hidden LED uplighting in the bookshelf subtly highlights the texture of the concrete and the wood grain of the shelves. On cloudy days or after sunset, the space becomes moody and atmospheric, like a secret botanical club tucked into the bones of an industrial past.

It’s a place to exhale. Read. Sip something herbal. Or just watch the leaves move against the light.

The Steel & Stone Garden Shower Room

This unforgettable shower space is carved into the back corner of a reimagined textile factory, where industrial durability meets a modern rainforest escape. The footprint is generous—larger than many primary bedrooms—with deliberate open-air spaciousness and carefully zoned design. The entire room is wrapped in smooth poured microcement walls in a cool, slate gray tone, textured subtly to resemble river stone. The floor continues the theme with large-format basalt tiles underfoot, lightly textured for slip resistance and a tactile, spa-like experience.

The ceiling exposes the original steel rafters, now painted a deep espresso black, and spaced with custom-cut clear acrylic skylight panels that pour in natural light. Hanging from the rafters are chain-suspended planters, each holding mature pothos, sword ferns, and philodendrons that trail and twist toward the floor. The humidity from the open shower system keeps them thriving. A concealed ventilation system hidden behind wood slats near the ceiling prevents excess condensation while preserving the lush greenhouse microclimate.

The centerpiece is a dual rainfall shower setup mounted onto a concrete column that divides the room. Each oversized showerhead is a custom brass fixture with a raw, unlacquered finish, giving it a natural patina that evolves over time. Integrated into the column are recessed niches lined with honed soapstone, stocked with earthy apothecary-style bottles in dark glass and ceramic. Between the two showers is a teak wood bench that spans the room’s width, floating slightly off the ground with hidden LED underlighting to provide a soft, ambient glow.

Behind the shower zone, a live plant wall spans the full width of the room, made from modular stone pockets embedded directly into the rear wall. Lush ferns, prayer plants, and creeping fig grow in dense clusters, irrigated through a quiet drip system. Along the side wall, industrial pipework has been repurposed as towel warmers, set vertically and painted matte black with copper valves.

Natural materials complete the look: a carved stone vessel sink sits atop a raw edge walnut console near the entrance, paired with a wall-mounted brass faucet. Above it, an asymmetrical round mirror framed in hammered steel adds just a touch of reflective drama. The lighting is subtle and layered: soft recessed LEDs in the floor grout lines, and moisture-safe sconces with frosted glass domes provide a gentle glow after sunset.

This is not just a bathroom—it’s a sanctuary of water, texture, and green life. Built like a bunker, felt like a forest.

The Iron Terrace Dining Room

Perched on the top floor of a former ironworks factory, this indoor-outdoor dining space marries structural grit with verdant warmth in an unforgettable setting designed for gathering, feasting, and lingering. The room opens up onto a retractable glass wall that seamlessly connects it to a terrace framed by steel columns and rusted Corten panels. Indoors and out feel like a single continuous environment—defined not by boundaries but by flow, materiality, and plant life.

The main interior space features a monumental dining table crafted from thick reclaimed railroad timbers, sanded smooth but left raw at the edges. It seats twelve comfortably, flanked by a mix of sculptural chairs: some vintage steel Tolix models with aged patina, others modern bentwood with soft boucle seat cushions in a mossy green tone. Overhead, a linear chandelier hangs from heavy-gauge chains, its structure a hand-welded frame holding smoked glass cylinders with warm Edison bulbs—casting dappled, intimate lighting across the table’s surface.

The flooring is polished concrete with slight imperfections—patches of original texture left in place as an homage to the building’s past. Large botanical rugs in deep ochre and earthy greens break up the hardness underfoot, echoing the surrounding foliage. Along the perimeter walls, floating steel shelving holds both practical serving pieces and sprawling greenery: terracotta pots filled with rosemary, lemongrass, and nasturtiums; tall glass jars of dried citrus and herbs; and small air plant arrangements in matte ceramic bowls.

One wall features a vertical garden integrated into custom steel mesh panels, with vines climbing in and around the grid. Up above, structural beams support a mix of pendant plants—string of bananas, trailing philodendrons, and spider plants—each hanging from aged leather straps and pulley hooks. The retractable wall opens fully onto the terrace, where a fire pit crackles in the center and an outdoor bar, faced in matte black brick, anchors the edge of the space.

Even in the evening, the room breathes. Soft uplighting concealed within planters throws shadows of leaves onto the ceiling, while a discreet sound system fills the air with ambient jazz or the rustling of garden windchimes when the music quiets. The scent of basil and charred wood lingers after dinner, carried on the breeze through the open windows.

This space isn’t just designed for meals—it’s meant for storytelling, slow rituals, late-night laughter, and green things growing while the city pulses just beyond the glass.

The Glasshouse Bedroom Loft

Set within the upper level of a renovated train depot, this breathtaking bedroom blends greenhouse serenity with loft-style minimalism. The structure’s original bones remain proudly visible—steel I-beams stretch across the ceiling, joined by blackened ductwork and riveted braces. The west-facing wall is entirely glazed, using reclaimed steel-framed windows fitted with modern thermal glass that fills the room with golden afternoon light and silhouettes the abundant greenery placed throughout.

The bed is the room’s soft anchor: a low platform frame made of matte black steel with integrated walnut shelving flanking both sides. The mattress is dressed in muted, earth-toned linens—sage green, rust, and charcoal—layered with linen throws, woven alpaca blankets, and oversized pillows in raw silk and wool. A sheer cotton canopy is suspended above the bed from the ceiling’s exposed crossbeams, gathered loosely in corners like mist caught in a frame.

Across from the bed, a full-height wall has been clad in weathered vertical timber slats, behind which lies a hidden walk-in closet and dressing area. The wood is untreated, naturally silvered by time, and broken up with inset blackened steel shelves holding a curated mix of books, sculptural ceramics, and cascading ivy. Brass sconces with frosted globes are mounted directly to the slats, casting a soft, warm wash of light across the grain.

Plants are not an accent—they're integral to the room’s structure. A set of floating planters runs along the transom windows, overrun with pothos, creeping fig, and flowering jasmine that wraps gently around the interior frame. Near the corner, a large indoor fiddle leaf fig tree is positioned under a dedicated skylight, its pot a raw concrete drum nestled into a patch of river stones embedded directly into the floor. Hidden grow lights mimic daylight rhythms, allowing the room to remain green and thriving even on overcast days.

The floor is reclaimed wide-plank oak, finished in a light oil that brings out the natural grain. A worn Persian rug in rich emerald and sand tones anchors the bed and seating area—a pair of black leather sling chairs beside a small side table made from an upcycled machine gear base and glass top.

The space whispers. It doesn’t shout. It balances the steel and the softness, the industrial with the organic, creating a bedroom that’s not just a place to sleep—but a place to dream, to grow, and to exhale.

The Concrete Garden Vanity Suite

This private vanity and grooming space is carved into the back corner of a converted grain warehouse, where concrete, glass, and greenery intersect to create an intimate retreat that feels like both a sculptor’s studio and a botanical atelier. It’s a space that elevates the mundane rituals of washing, grooming, and quiet reflection into a sensory-rich experience.

The walls and floor are constructed entirely of micro-topped concrete in a soft ash tone, polished to a suede-like matte that glows gently under the layered lighting. Thin copper pipes run along the wall in view, not hidden but celebrated—part of the visual rhythm. They supply twin blackened brass wall-mounted faucets, which arc gracefully over two sculptural basin sinks carved from rough travertine, set on a long, floating walnut vanity with deep grain and waterfall sides.

Above the vanity, a pair of oversized mirrors with burnished bronze frames are suspended from the ceiling by steel rods rather than mounted to the wall. The mirrors are flanked by pendant lights encased in frosted glass tubes, suspended low from blackened chain links. The lighting is warm and directional, designed to flatter skin tones and highlight textures.

To the left, a vertical indoor planter built into a concrete niche stretches from floor to ceiling, overgrown with a dense tapestry of low-light plants—fiddle leaf ferns, ivy, moss, and miniature orchids. A hidden irrigation system mists the wall at regular intervals, releasing bursts of cool vapor that catch the light like a rainforest at sunrise.

On the right side of the room, a wide industrial window with steel mullions opens partially to a private walled garden, bringing in fresh air and diffused light through linen sheers. A narrow bench below the window doubles as a surface for potted plants: peace lilies, zz plants, and antique-glazed bonsai pots with creeping jade. A nearby corner holds a rotating wardrobe rail suspended from the ceiling—a minimalist display of robes, shawls, and carefully chosen loungewear, all in neutral tones.

The space is sound-insulated, naturally quiet, and aromatically layered: sandalwood, damp stone, crushed leaves. Everything is tactile—linen hand towels, brushed brass trays, raw silk robe ties. It’s not flashy, but everything in the room is intentional, rooted in authenticity, age, and materiality.

A space like this doesn’t scream “luxury”—it whispers it, in textures and stillness and green things growing where you’d least expect them.

The Botanical Writing Atrium

Designed inside a former printing press facility, this airy writing atrium has been transformed into a serene, plant-filled chamber where steel infrastructure meets analog creativity. It’s a space built for slow mornings, handwritten thoughts, and the soft rustling of leaves—equal parts studio, solarium, and personal sanctuary.

The room is centered around an antique oak writing desk, its surface worn smooth from decades of use. The legs are iron castings salvaged from a vintage typesetting machine, still bearing remnants of their original serial markings. A leather writing blotter and aged brass desk lamp rest atop the surface, joined by neatly stacked sketchbooks, a fountain pen collection in a wood tray, and a small carved planter holding a spiky echeveria succulent. Tucked just behind the desk is a tall bookshelf—custom-built from reclaimed scaffolding planks and powder-coated black pipe fittings—loaded with botanical texts, linen-bound journals, and hand-thrown pottery nestled between the books.

The back wall of the atrium is made entirely of glass—floor-to-ceiling steel-framed panels that look out into a shared greenhouse courtyard. Custom blackout curtains in a deep green linen are drawn back with aged leather straps, allowing filtered sunlight to bathe the room in shifting patterns throughout the day. Vines have naturally crept around the edges of the window from outside, framing the view with an accidental symmetry that enhances the space’s quietude.

Suspended from the ceiling beams above are three glass terrariums, each one a miniature jungle of moss, ferns, and fittonia. They catch the light like orbs of living art. Between them, a cluster of matte brass pendant lights with white enamel interiors hangs at varied heights, giving off a warm, focused glow that pools gently over the desk and seating areas.

The seating itself is a vintage club chair in saddle leather, positioned next to a small end table made from reclaimed wood and a section of an old boiler valve. A lightweight throw in an olive-toned linen rests across the arm, ready for cool mornings. Across from it, a long planter box is recessed directly into the concrete floor and filled with an organized mix of river rocks, low ferns, and air plants.

The scent in the space is faintly herbal—dried lavender from a bundle hanging near the window, mixed with cedar from a nearby diffuser. There's no tech clutter, only a minimalist speaker system and a brass wall clock ticking gently above the bookshelves.

This room is about slowing down. Listening. Letting the space—and the green—do most of the talking.

The Garden Workshop Studio

Tucked into what was once the back half of a metalworking warehouse, this workshop studio reimagines utilitarian space through a lush, plant-forward lens. It’s where hard materials and handcraft meet thriving greenery—equal parts maker’s studio and greenhouse retreat.

The walls are left raw—aged concrete with stains, paint remnants, and welding marks from the building’s former life. Along one entire side, a long clerestory window set high into the cinderblock wall lets in slanted natural light, which changes character throughout the day. In contrast, the opposite wall is a custom-built shelving system crafted from industrial pipe and salvaged oak planks. It stretches floor-to-ceiling and houses a carefully edited mix of tools, handmade pottery, old books on design and craftsmanship, and rows of small planters—each one a different species of succulent or trailing greenery.

The workbench is the centerpiece of the room: a massive slab of live-edge elm mounted on a matte-black steel frame, complete with oversized drawers built from old filing cabinets. Above it, a rolling gantry arm once used for lifting machinery has been converted into a suspended lighting fixture—now holding four dome-shaped pendant lights with cage-encased Edison bulbs. The lighting is directional but warm, casting soft amber tones on the work surface below.

Planters are cleverly integrated into every zone. One corner features a concrete basin turned into a water garden, filled with lily pads and a small bubbling filter. Tall snake plants stand like green sculpture in matte black containers beside vintage drafting stools. Hanging planters drop down from a beam-mounted rod overhead, their macramé holders contrasting with the surrounding steel structure. In a rear alcove near a utility sink, a wall of black tile serves as the backdrop to a lush vertical herb garden, fully irrigated and lit by slim LED strips that run along the ceiling joint.

The floor is sealed concrete with a natural crackle pattern, covered in parts by jute runners and vintage workshop mats. The scent is one of damp soil, clay, and cedar—a mix that reinforces the room’s purpose: a space for making, growing, tinkering.

Even the air feels curated. A gentle oscillating fan in matte brass keeps circulation steady, while soft instrumental music plays from a minimalist black speaker tucked into the corner. Every element balances functionality with atmosphere.

It’s a studio that encourages creative flow, where the lines between human-made and nature-made are not just blurred—they're working in tandem.

The Verdant Entry Atrium

This dramatic entry space is a statement from the moment you cross the threshold—an industrial atrium reimagined as a lush, botanical vestibule that sets the tone for the rest of the home. It’s housed in what used to be a loading dock for a brick factory, now converted into a soaring glass-enclosed foyer that bridges exterior grit with interior warmth.

The structure retains its original steel skeleton—massive I-beams stretch across the ceiling, powder-coated in a satin black that absorbs light and emphasizes scale. The side walls are a combination of glazed brick and exposed structural concrete, with years of wear left visible under a breathable sealant. A black steel-framed pivot door stands as the main entry, flanked by full-height windows and transoms above that pour natural light into the space, especially at golden hour when the sun angles just right.

At the center, a linear stone pathway made of honed bluestone slabs floats over a bed of river pebbles and micro-moss, creating a grounded yet elevated circulation route. On either side, large planters—some freestanding, others built into recessed stone niches—hold a dramatic mix of oversized foliage. Banana plants, monstera, and bird of paradise reach toward the light above, while ferns and calathea curl softly at foot level. Ambient mist from hidden humidifiers gives the air a fresh, dewy feel.

Lighting is layered and architectural. Uplights are embedded within the stone pathway, subtly illuminating the undersides of the larger leaves. Overhead, a series of matte brass pendant lights with prismatic glass shades hang at different lengths, casting a warm glow that dances off the reflective surfaces of the plants and floor.

On one wall, an antique wooden bench—its surface worn smooth from decades of use—offers a quiet pause point. Above it hangs a modern art piece in black, olive, and rust tones, framed in reclaimed steel. To the side, a minimalist console table in dark oak holds a sculptural ceramic bowl filled with dried moss, keys, and a spritz of eucalyptus branches for scent.

Even the sound is considered. A small in-wall speaker plays ambient soundscapes: chirping birds, soft wind, the occasional faint trickle of water—blurring the line between interior and nature.

It’s more than an entrance—it’s a transition zone between city grit and private calm, between steel and soil, making it feel as though you’ve just stepped into a greenhouse built by an architect with a poet’s soul.

The Concrete & Canopy Breakfast Nook

Nestled in the corner of a converted textile warehouse, this intimate breakfast nook transforms a utilitarian alcove into a light-drenched, foliage-wrapped corner for slow starts and meaningful pauses. The space is defined by a massive warehouse window—12 panes wide, framed in oxidized steel—that stretches from waist to ceiling and floods the room with soft morning light. Outside, mature ivy clings to the building’s brick facade, giving the illusion of being immersed in greenery even before a single planter is added inside.

The built-in banquette runs along the window wall, constructed from poured concrete and softened by a thick bench cushion upholstered in olive-toned linen. A mix of throw pillows in muted earth tones—sage, charcoal, clay—adds warmth and variety without clutter. The banquette faces a custom table made of salvaged steel legs and a round reclaimed teak tabletop, aged to a soft matte finish that wears its imperfections proudly. Three café chairs with woven cane backs and blackened iron frames complete the setting, offering a perfect mix of texture and contrast.

Above the table, a large vintage-style pendant with a ribbed glass dome hangs from a long black chain, casting a warm cone of diffused light. Nestled into the corner near the window is a tall fiddle-leaf fig, reaching toward the sun. Its planter is a deep concrete drum set atop a wheeled dolly—both for mobility and to keep the industrial aesthetic grounded. Around the nook, smaller planters in brushed metal and glazed earthenware hold herbs like mint and thyme, along with cascading pothos and tiny trailing ferns that spill gently over their edges.

The back wall of the nook is clad in narrow oak slats, stained in a warm walnut tone that contrasts beautifully with the cool concrete and steel elements. Small brass hooks are discreetly embedded along the wood slats, holding lightweight woven baskets for napkins, menus, or seasonal flowers. At one end, a floating shelf displays an assortment of hand-thrown mugs, stacked plates, and vintage glassware—ready for use but arranged with visual balance in mind.

The ambiance is hushed, warm, and textural. The sound of rustling leaves from the fig tree pairs with the distant hum of the city just beyond the window. It’s a space that doesn’t just invite morning rituals—it makes them feel sacred. A modern greenhouse café corner, designed for connection and quiet luxury.

The Steel Atrium Bath Suite

Built within the skeleton of a century-old shipping depot, this open-concept bath suite is a symphony of steel, stone, and lush greenery—designed to feel like bathing in the heart of a private conservatory. The space occupies what used to be a high-clearance loading bay, now enclosed with a soaring glass ceiling and blackened steel trusses left raw to showcase their riveted history. Every line, surface, and junction feels deliberate: industrial in form, botanical in soul.

The focal point is a freestanding oval tub sculpted from honed travertine, its soft ivory surface veined with subtle gold and silver streaks. It sits on a raised platform of matte black terrazzo speckled with fragments of white quartz and charcoal aggregate, which glimmer softly under carefully placed uplighting embedded into the platform’s edge. Water flows into the tub from a single suspended pipe finished in unlacquered brass, mounted to an overhead beam and delivering a steady, waterfall-style cascade.

Behind the tub, a custom plant wall rises floor-to-ceiling along one full side of the room. Constructed from modular concrete planters integrated into a steel grid, it’s home to a curated mix of ferns, monsteras, orchids, and elephant ear plants, layered in a choreographed blend of height, leaf size, and color. Built-in irrigation and hidden grow lights keep the foliage healthy and thriving, no matter the season.

To the left of the bathing platform, an open rain shower is built into a seamless niche of matte basalt tile. The industrial brass fixtures are minimal—tactile knobs, an overhead rain spout, and a separate handheld wand—all set against a backdrop of dark stone and aged steel. The drainage is linear and hidden, letting the floor remain uninterrupted.

The flooring throughout is polished concrete, sealed for a soft sheen and warmth underfoot thanks to radiant heat. A minimalist wood bench in teak sits beside the tub, holding thick linen towels, bath salts in black ceramic jars, and a flickering beeswax candle in a shallow cast iron bowl.

Natural light floods the space during the day through the steel-framed glass ceiling, diffused by sheer linen drapes that soften the edges of the industrial lines. At night, the room transforms: moody pendant lights in hand-blown smoked glass descend from long cords, casting overlapping shadows through leaves and structural beams.

This suite feels elemental—rooted in architecture and softened by life. It’s a space where water, stone, and light meet under a canopy of leaves, and the act of bathing becomes a daily ritual of immersion in nature and structure alike.

The Moss-Lined Stairwell Studio

This dramatic transitional space is more than just a stairwell—it’s a living, breathing botanical corridor that bridges two floors of an urban loft, wrapped in raw materials and softened by greenery that climbs, spills, and thrives at every level. Originally part of a fire escape access in a converted steel fabrication plant, the space has been completely reimagined into an immersive vertical garden experience with architectural precision and plant-forward design.

The stair itself is a custom floating system of open steel treads with a dark gunmetal finish. Each tread is thick, solid, and slightly distressed—left deliberately uncoated to age over time. The stringers are recessed into the side walls, allowing the entire stair to hover visually in the space, almost like sculpture. Clear tempered glass panels act as railings, fastened with matte brass anchors, offering safety without interrupting the line of sight—or the greenery.

Running parallel to the stairs is a double-height living plant wall, integrated directly into the structural brick. A custom frame system holds rows of asymmetrical planters made of oxidized zinc and concrete. Some hold feathery asparagus ferns and trailing philodendrons that spill downward with each level; others cradle tight pockets of moss and moisture-loving fittonia, creating a living texture that changes slightly with the light and seasons.

Hidden misting nozzles tucked behind the planter frame release a gentle vapor three times a day, keeping the microclimate just humid enough to nourish the wall. A faint scent of green—earthy, damp, fresh—lingers as you ascend or descend. The air feels alive.

At the mid-landing, a steel-framed picture window opens outward like an old warehouse bay, letting in sunlight and breeze. A built-in concrete bench, cantilevered from the brick, offers a resting spot among the leaves. A single vintage wall sconce in patinated brass glows warmly nearby, its reflection softly bouncing against the glass railing.

Underneath the stairs, a shadowed alcove doubles as a gallery wall. A mix of framed botanical illustrations, pressed leaves in floating glass, and sculptural ceramics sit on a low ledge, grounded by a handwoven rug in mossy greens and sand tones.

This stairwell doesn’t just connect spaces—it becomes a passageway of transformation. Industrial to organic. Floor to floor. Moment to moment.

The Botanical Wine Cellar & Tasting Vault

Hidden beneath the main floor of a restored 19th-century shipping warehouse, this wine cellar feels like entering a secret greenhouse bunker—part speakeasy, part terrarium, and entirely unforgettable. Once used as a coal storage vault, the space has been transformed into a refined subterranean lounge with a heavy dose of plant life, warmth, and moody industrial elegance.

The arched ceiling is original poured concrete, rough and imperfect, supported by steel beams that show decades of oxidation. Rather than concealing the patina, the renovation celebrated it—adding only low-sheen sealant to bring out the depth of texture. Lighting plays a critical role here: a series of recessed linear uplights trace along the base of the vaulted ceiling, grazing the curves and casting golden shadows that dance across the raw surfaces. Paired with clusters of antique pendant lights with tinted glass domes, the ambiance feels both intimate and mysterious.

Along one entire wall, a built-in wine rack constructed from blackened steel and reclaimed oak holds over 500 bottles, backlit softly by dimmable LED strips. The opposing wall features a lush vertical garden composed of low-light ferns, moss, creeping fig, and small philodendron varieties. Despite the underground location, the plant wall thrives—thanks to a fully integrated LED grow light system tucked into the upper curve of the arch, simulating filtered daylight and programmed to follow circadian rhythms.

At the center of the room sits a monolithic tasting table carved from a single slab of matte soapstone. It’s flanked by modern industrial stools with tan leather seats and dark brass frames. The table holds a rotating collection of stemware, artisanal cheese boards, and botanical centerpieces: sculptural arrangements of dried herbs, olive branches, and seasonal flowers set in concrete vessels.

The floor is polished basalt with embedded brass inlays forming a subtle grid—guiding the layout of rugs, furniture, and movement. A cozy seating nook near the back features a curved built-in banquette in tobacco leather with linen pillows, positioned beside a steel-framed cabinet housing decanters, corkscrews, and a curated selection of aged liquors.

A discrete ventilation and climate control system maintains the perfect cellar environment without disturbing the tranquility. The scent of the space is unforgettable—oak, stone, greenery, and the faintest trace of aged wine barrels.

This cellar isn’t just for storage. It’s for ritual, indulgence, and conversation. A space where industrial remnants and lush growth live in harmony, and every bottle opened feels like it deserves to be savored with both palate and eyes.

These 15 spaces offer more than inspiration—they offer a new language of design. One where structure and softness, steel and stem, can coexist in poetic balance. They invite us to think differently about what it means to live well—to dwell in spaces that breathe, evolve, and connect us to something quieter and deeper. Whether you’re renovating, daydreaming, or simply in need of visual nourishment, may this journey through Industrial Eden leave you grounded, uplifted, and full of ideas for your own green sanctuary.