Visit the richly hued, history-brushed home of North Carolina designer Grey Joyner — a long-imagined dream she shares with her family.
Story by Cara Clark, Photos by Brenda Ramirez
I never really set out to be a designer. It wasn’t something I chased after or dreamed about in those clear, ‘this is my future’ moments. But somehow, it always found me — like a whisper that grew louder over time until I couldn’t ignore it. It’s like a language I speak without words; a way to tell stories about the people who live here without saying a thing. This work — it’s not about trends or perfect rooms. It’s about capturing the heartbeat of a family, the soul of a house, and translating that into something that feels alive and welcoming. I truly believe this is what I was born to do.”
And walking into designer Grey Joyner's home — a century-old house set back behind a sweep of lawn and a soft rustle of trees — you can feel exactly what she means. Rooms here don’t simply exist; they hum with a particular energy, layered with color, sentiment, and a kind of cheerful elegance that feels as lived-in as it is meticulously curated. Each space carries the warmth of a family in motion.
“I think so much of what we do as designers is about echoing the people who live in the space. When I say, ‘Your personality should shine through, not someone else’s,’ I mean it deeply. If a home looks like a magazine spread but doesn’t reflect who you are, then what’s the point? I want people to walk in and feel like, ‘This is me. This is my family. This is our story.’ It’s not just decoration — it’s identity.”
Grey and her family live on five acres in Wilson, North Carolina, in a house she first fell for as a child. The creak of the floors, the sway of the banister, the peculiar way sunlight slices through the transoms in the late afternoon — it all feels like part of the story she’s still writing. Her husband, Worth, and their boys, David Worth and Batten, fill the days with clattering cleats, laughter, and dogs chasing each other down the hallway. Through it all, the house shifts and settles as if listening.
“This house is a living thing. I say it half-jokingly, but really, it breathes with us. Some days, the walls feel like they’re holding their breath, quiet and watchful; other days, it's as if they're dancing with the chaos of children, dogs, and everyday life. Nothing stays perfectly in place for long — the paintings tilt, the rugs shift, the memories layer themselves thick and deep. That’s the beauty. This isn’t a museum. It’s a home, and it’s alive.”
The House That Called Her Home
Grey still remembers the exact moment she saw her dream home appear on Zillow.
“It was such a strange feeling, almost like the house called to me. I wasn’t even looking to move, but the minute I saw it online, something in my chest clenched. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, picturing the way the light would fall through those tall windows, the sounds of the porch in summer. Worth thought I was crazy at first — he said, ‘Grey, this isn’t the time.’ But the pull was undeniable. We had to see it. That first visit wasn’t just walking through rooms; it felt like coming home to a place I’d always known but never seen.”
Transitioning into ownership of a home this storied required more than a closing date. The sellers, devoted to its history, invited Grey and Worth inside for a kind of ceremonial handoff.
“They were so protective of the house — rightfully so. We had to show them that we’d honor everything it stood for, not just change it on a whim. There was this moment where they handed over the keys with such trust — and a little hesitation — and I felt the weight of that responsibility. They even left behind their collections, the Harvard Classics and other treasures, like a baton passed to us. I wanted to make those things shine in ways that respected their history but also felt new, alive, and ours. That’s how the painted bookcase was born. It was an act of love, really — a way to breathe new life into something that had been cherished for so long.”
Breathing in Color
To understand Grey’s design philosophy, you really only need to stand inside her breakfast room. Sunlight bounces from a lacquered bar to the glint of cut glass and the saturated swirl of teal — “Deep Sea Dive,” as she’s careful to specify. Scalamandré zebras dance along the walls while Manuel Canovas prints pull the eye into little pockets of joy.
“Color, to me, is like oxygen. It’s not just about making a space ‘pretty’ or ‘trendy’ — it’s about giving a room life, personality, and mood. I love mixing old and new, heirlooms and the unexpected; I want the spaces I design to feel like living, breathing stories. The breakfast room is one of those places where I let my joy take the lead — teals, greens, golds, and the rich patterning all work together to create this energy you can almost feel pulsing through the walls. It’s like the room is awake, ready for the laughter, the meals, the moments shared there.”
Her collections — Fenton glass, Moretti pieces, Wedgwood, Anthropologie chargers — catch the light in shifting shades throughout the day, each one part of a quiet performance.
“I have a deep love for glass — Fenton, especially. There’s something magical about the way it catches sunlight and refracts it into a thousand tiny rainbows. It’s delicate but strong, old but timeless. Each piece tells a story, and when I arrange them together, it feels like a symphony of light.”
Everything feels intentional, but nothing feels stiff. And as the seasons shift, so does the house, until December arrives — and the whole place tilts into another dimension entirely.
