Our Question of The Week is: Where do you feel most at home? 

As always, comment below and let us know your answers and what you think of ours.

Home is where the heart is! I am most at home when I am doing the things I love, with the people I love. For me, it doesn’t matter in what city or country I am in, whether it’s hot or cold, inside or outside, summer or winter; I’m at home when my heart is happy. I feel at home when I am making dinner with my mom, doing yoga with my friends, going on a hike with my dad, snowboarding with my brothers, etc., etc... There’s truly no better feeling than being surrounded by love and having love coming out you :)
— Steph Sidwell
Most at home. I’ve lived in A LOT of places in the last 5 years. DC>Auburn, Alabama>NYC>DC>LA.... I think home for me is LA. When i lived in NYC and Auburn, i would say home and refer to where my family was... in LA I say home, and mean my house in Venice, CA. Where I have established a life, friends, etc that I want permanently. I love it here, I feel at home here, I feel like i’ve known these people all my life, and I feel sad everytime i leave, even if i’m going back to my east coast roots. I get excited everytime I come back— I consider home a place you miss when your gone, and look forward to going back to. A place where you love and feel loved. That’s home. <3
— Michelle Zauzig
I feel most at home in New York City but specifically, the Lower East Side. It is sort of where I made my home as a fresh-off-the-boat adult. It’s filled with amazing art galleries, bars, and restaurants. It’s where I first got and had to learn how to train a puppy. It’s where I made my first home. It is filled with this old school tenement character and honestly, so much love. The employees at the places surrounding my old apartments (which were a block from each other) remembered my face and knew my name especially at Babycake (Vegan & GFree Bakery) and Dudley’s (Aussie Aussie...). There was even a neighborhood discount for people who lived around. To this day, 8 months after leaving, I get messages from my favorite lads at Dudley’s about the new drink menus and telling me to come around from my favorite plate of fish and cocktail. There was a night where there was a gas leak in my building and the people at Dudley’s housed me for hours keeping me cozy with what I call whiskey surprise (because it’s whatever the bartender wants to invent). Babycakes would gift me free surprise treats even when I would just come in for a coffee. The Japanese restaurant down the street would always just bring the spicy mayo on the side knowing I’d want it and the French place knew it was always red wine with a French Onion soup, no bread. And God help everyone if I went down to the Vietnamese place because that meant it was late and it was time to turn the music the fuck down. I could go on forever about the museum down the block or The Meatball Shop or the time I stole a Margarita from a Thai place? or Il Labortorio de Gelato but you get the point. That is my home.
— Rachael Forster