Emily may be in Paris, but Lily Collins is in the east side of Los Angeles. She lives in a mid-century house surrounded by sycamore trees in a part of town so quiet that a friend calls her in the middle of her Vogue photoshoot, alarmed at the number of cars parked outside. (“I was like, ‘Oh yeah, it’s a planned thing,’” she tells me, laughing, after she hangs up.) On Sundays, she and her husband, Charlie McDowell, like to go on long walks with their dog, Redford. Then, they’ll get some breakfast at one of their favorite spots, like Kumquat Coffee or Amara Kitchen. Charlie orders a breakfast burrito, Lily an avocado toast: “With some chili flakes? Call it a day!” she says. Afterwards, if they feel like it, they’ll browse a local flea market. Other times they just want to spend the whole day at home. “It is this safe, secluded oasis,” she says.

Lily and Charlie always knew this wasn’t just any house. The National Register of Historic Places plaque outside the door made sure of that: They live at a Case Study House, one of a handful of homes built as a rare residential experiment in the postwar era, where the top architects of the era were asked to build inexpensive model homes for the millions of soldiers returning from the front. (The most famous examples? The Stahl House in West Hollywood, as well as several properties by Ray and Charles Eames.) Yet, on a rainy day in 2021, when the newly engaged couple walked in the door for the first time and saw a roaring fireplace, they knew it was their house. “We looked at each other, and it was just this overwhelming emotional experience where we didn’t need to say more,” she says. They immediately put in an offer.

Together with interior designer Emily Farnham, they respectfully renovated the historic house while also making it their own. Lily hung a vintage 20th Century Fox sign from the old studio lot, which was a gift from her mother. Charlie hung a vintage clock, a gift from his mother’s best friend. Lily stacked their shelves with vintage children’s books, first-edition Steinbeck novels, and fashion monographs—“I’m a fashion-obsessed woman,” Lily says—while Charlie filled their living room with chairs. (The Collins-McDowell household, I must say, has a very strong chair game, from Hans Wegners to Finn Juhls. “Oh god, he’s going to love you for saying that,” Lily laughs.)

Both of them also embraced Scandinavian-inspired accents, whether the not one, but two Noma cookbooks that sit in the kitchen or the Marta Maas-Fjetterstrom mid-century rugs. According to Lily, the one thing that Charlie loves more than chairs is rugs—he’ll spend countless hours sorting through them on Instagram or auction house websites—and every time he does, she falls in love with him a little bit more. “A guy that loves to show me rug!” she says, putting her hand on her chest.

Lily describes the interior style as “mid-century California meets Scandinavian,” a philosophy that extends to the house’s surroundings, too: Outside you’ll find a garden inspired by Piet Oudolf, the designer who did the famed grounds at Noma. Eventually, the couple found themselves so fascinated with Nordic culture that they bought property in Copenhagen. “We designed this house before we really started putting roots down in Scandinavia,” she says. “It was almost ahead of our time, because we didn’t realize we’d actually be immersed in it years later.” As for that California vibe Lily mentioned? The couple re-installed concrete floors in the house, the choice of the original architect, and embraced warm earth tones. Outside their front entrance is a perfectly sculpted bonsai tree.

The house may be designed in the best of taste, but every detail is meaningful: Walking around with Lily, every piece I ask about has a story. There are dozens of earth-tone mugs, yet her favorite is a forest green Yeti rambler from her wedding. (It took place at Dunton Hot Springs in Colorado a few months after they moved in, and afterwards, they decided all they wanted to do was head straight back home. “Right after our wedding, we came back to this house and we got to come back to a place that felt like us as a couple already,” she says. “It was really, really special.”) Pointing to a plate on a wall, I learn it used to belong to Ingmar Bergman. A Winnie the Pooh book is not only a signed first edition, but a Christmas gift from Lily to Charlie. Then there are two funny old Danish figurines propped up in the corner, who, it turns out, have names: Postman Pat and Ronnie Wood. “They look like British old musicians,” Lily says, laughing. (She’s not wrong. One does remarkably look like Ronnie Wood.)

In December, Lily and Charlie decided to throw a holiday party. They decorated the house and played Christmas music, then laid out wine and cheese and all the festive snacks one could possibly imagine. And finally, for the first time, they lit a fire. Now, everyone could open the door and fall in love with the place the same way they did.