A nostalgic Finnish Christmas at Villa Tilda: Ulla restored her family’s 1930s house as a second home

For about twenty years now, our place to spend Christmas has been our second home, a 1930s house called Villa Tilda. We’ve always had a traditional Christmas, most often in the past at my grandparents’ house nearby. Of course, over the years traditions have evolved, but the nostalgic atmosphere has stayed.

It has been my dream since my teens to restore an old family house in my mother’s home region of Pälkäne, where I’ve spent every summer from childhood to today, most weekends, and nearly every Christmas.

We settled into this house for our free time with my mother and my now late father in the early 2000s. The house was originally built for my grandfather’s sister Matilda, known as Tilda, in 1936. My mother later got the house from Matilda’s daughter.

When ownership passed to me in 2021, I’d already decided this was where I would make my dream come true. I named the place Villa Tilda.

As a teenager, I bought the latest issue of House & Garden every month and always loved old settings. I’ve been collecting ideas and inspiration for a long time for a style that breathes a bygone world. So I had a clear vision for every room at Villa Tilda.

We wanted more space and functionality, as the house is used year-round. The extensions and repairs were designed by our neighbor, architect Salla Paakkunainen, who specializes in traditional construction.

We wanted the renovation to honor and preserve the old. The most important change was building a two-story addition so we could have a sauna connected to the house. At the same time, we gained space for two WCs, a bathroom, utility rooms, and an extra bedroom upstairs.

We decided to enlarge the old glazed porch and insulate it into a warm glass veranda, where we placed the dining area. We opened up two lantern rooflights upstairs. All the old interior doors and windows were restored. The new windows and glass doors were made of machine-drawn glass with a wavy exterior surface reminiscent of old glass.

We nurture the old-time atmosphere not only by restoring but also in the way we plan the interior.

We ordered the hand-finished kitchen in the classic Newport line from Lidhults. For other storage, we chose Juvi’s vintage-style sideboards and cabinets. They suit an old house better than fixed built-ins. Cabinetmaker Eetu Tingander built the staircase and sauna, which we tailored to match the house’s style.

Many of the wallpapers we chose are heritage patterns from Morris & Co, and we picked historical paint colors from Farrow & Ball. From Domus Classica and Sekelskifte we found plenty of traditional-style plumbing fixtures, a new traditional tile stove, and lighting, among other things.

Most of the furniture was already at Villa Tilda or came from my grandparents or other relatives. It was a given that we would use them.

We had sofas, armchairs, and dining chairs upholstered in fabrics that suit each room’s palette. With expert help from Lauritzon’s, we found not only upholstery fabrics but also curtain fabrics in keeping with the old style.

The Boknäs sofa downstairs was originally meant for the landing room, but the staircase was too narrow; we managed to carry up only its matching armchair for the reading nook. The raspberry-red 1930s sofa destined for the red salon did, however, fit through the stairwell and ended up upstairs.

When I lived in Paris, I fell for Kartell’s clear Ghost chairs and bought some for my home. Their curvy lines suit an old house, too.

Villa Tilda’s style is a mix of a bygone world and layers—things I’ve always enjoyed in my childhood home, on the pages of interior magazines, in house museums, and during my time in France.

Only after I met Kalle and we moved in together did modern design become the common thread in my homes in Helsinki. But at Villa Tilda, we both unwind in a timeworn setting that suits the house’s style.

In the renovation we achieved exactly the mood I had in mind. I wouldn’t have guessed at the start that the bright glass veranda would become the whole family’s favorite spot from Midsummer to Christmas.

If I were to do something differently now, in a few places I would have put practicality before beauty. Especially with an energetic golden retriever, the English-style, cream-colored, matte-glazed porcelain tiles in the entry and kitchen collect beloved—and a bit too visible—paw prints whenever it’s muddy.

In our city homes, we don’t decorate much for Christmas. At Villa Tilda we do Christmas without sparing time or effort.

We have a generous collection of decorations: porcelain angels and elves from the early 1900s left by former residents, my own childhood memories, and carefully chosen ornaments acquired since.

We don’t really need any new ornaments, but we’ve formed a habit of getting a small new keepsake to remember each Christmas by. A newer tradition is to pick a fitting ornament for everyone and hang them on the tree on Christmas Eve—quietly making a wish at the same time.

For wrapping, we reuse festive silk and velvet ribbons, some of which have been used for more than ten Christmases—carefully rolled up again to await the next year. We also tie some of the ribbons as little decorations—for example around lamp bases or cloth napkins.

In addition to decorations, we have certain tablecloths and special sheets that we use only at Christmas. We always order a floral arrangement for the Christmas table and make more ourselves for side tables—arranged in old dishes or baskets.

We also set out fruit and classic holiday treats in vintage serving pieces to create atmosphere. Each year we buy a beautiful box of chocolates—either from a Finnish artisan chocolatier or from our English favorite, Charbonnel et Walker.

Villa Tilda’s Christmas atmosphere is like an old house dressed in holiday attire. Wreaths and bows are in place, flowers and fir boughs scent the air, candles glow here and there, and vintage jazz versions of carols play in the background.

Christmas Eve begins around six in the evening, when everything is ready and, after the sauna, we’re dressed up for dinner. That’s when Kalle, my mother, and I raise wide crystal coupes of champagne in honor of Christmas.

Another highlight arrives at six on Christmas Day. We bundle up, take three candle lanterns from the garden, and walk with Voitto to nearby Pälkäne’s ruin church for a candlelit devotion, where dogs are welcome too. The beautiful church is visible from the end window of our hall, across the open fields.

When we sing hymns there, it always feels as if yes—the world and Christmas truly are beautiful.