When architectural photographer Camila Cossio and her husband, architect Luis Carbonell, ended up in Valle de Bravo during the pandemic in 2020, they didn’t know the idyllic region surrounding the town—a lakefront retreat two and a half hours west of Mexico City—would become their year-round home. At the time the couple, who were living in the capital and had both done graduate work in New York, were consummate city dwellers. “We loved socializing with friends and were always out and about,” says Camila. Their apartment in Mexico City’s Condesa neighborhood suited their lifestyle. But the arrival of their first child, Juliana, in July 2019, drastically changed things. “Becoming a parent was hard for me. It meant getting away from my friends and the life I knew,” recalls Luis, whose jovial manner makes it easy to imagine him in a hip Condesa bar.

Further disrupting the family’s rhythm was the extended Covid standstill. At first, Valle—as everyone calls the town, and where Camila’s parents own a weekend home—was a temporary refuge where they could wait for the world to go back to normal. But soon it became clear that lockdown had upended norms permanently. “No one used to live here. It was a weekend destination,” says the soft-spoken Camila. “That shifted, and more people were leaving the city to move here full-time.” A big incentive to settle in Valle was a renowned Waldorf school in the area. “We were drawn by this idea to dedicate ourselves to a life centered around parenting. Finding a friendly, family-oriented community and a great school convinced us to stay,” says Luis. He and Camila looked for land, finding their dream site in the suburb of Acatitlán in 2022.

There are bigger plots in Valle—historically a getaway of the capital’s elite—than the 12,900-square-foot parcel Luis and Camila picked, but not many are nestled next to Monte Alto, a towering-oak-filled state park, or have views of the Nevado de Toluca, one of Mexico’s highest volcanic peaks. Similarly, more extravagant houses exist than the one they started building for themselves in early 2023, but few as tailored to a particular family and their idea of kid-focused domesticity. (The couple’s second daughter, Josefa, was born in October of the same year, just months before they moved into the new home.)

Past the property’s gate, the house appears as three structures of varying heights crowded lengthwise toward the plot’s left back end, giving the rest over to lush greenery. Inside the first, a sequence of spaces for sitting and gathering brings the outdoors in through wide floor-to-ceiling windows, some of which slide open. Next is a dining room followed by the kitchen and, facing the rear of the house, an alfresco breakfast terrace. Parallel to this core, separated by a long skylit axis and rammed earth walls, the family’s sleeping quarters form a one-story compound split into two equal-size rooms—one for the parents and one for the children—each with its own bathroom and closet. Luis used aerated concrete blocks rendered with a lime paste for this cluster, which makes it feel more contained than the house’s permeable common areas.

On the opposite side, a taller volume contains service areas and, up a flight of stairs, a guest room and a study. Up here, smaller windows frame perfect vistas of distant mountain ranges. As in the rest of the house, the decor is unassuming, made up mostly of pieces by artist friends and items collected on travels. The simplicity balances the abundant textures Luis incorporated into his design, from pinewood, concrete, and tumbled travertine to bricks, steel, and pajarcilla, a vernacular composite of soil, hay, dung, and cactus gel. “All the combinations almost gave Camila a heart attack,” says Luis. “I had to make it work.” To his wife’s relief, the patchwork of techniques manages to cohere into a soothing whole. In spite of the house’s fragmented layout, the complementary tones of the different, thoughtfully deployed materials make its varied nooks and corners blend seamlessly.

“Everything is very consciously designed, but at the same time, there’s a looseness, and I allow for things to change.”
—Luis Carbonell, architect and resident

On a recent visit, the house smelled of timber, feeling both fresh and cozy, resonant with the successive sounds of birds, thunder, and crickets as the hours progressed. In a region where months of heavy rainfall are followed by a scorching-hot dry season, the interior is at once sheltered from the elements and open to them. The bedrooms’ thick, cooling walls provide respite, as do the breeze-swept living areas. Schedules are dictated by the climate outside and by the girls’ routines: After waking early, Camila and Luis take turns looking after their two young daughters. “The whole day is a relay,” says Camila, who in the mornings collects ingredients for lunch from nearby vendors or fellow parents. “A mom will have too many avocados from her garden and organize an impromptu garage swap,” she says. By necessity, the couple have become experts at squeezing in short work stints during naps or schooltime.

The house is above all the domain of the girls, who relish growing up in daily contact with butterflies, spiders, fireflies, and the occasional water snake. As Camila says, “Juliana likes to create distinct little worlds to lose herself in.” The house her parents have designed is perfect for such reverie—allowing her to be collecting leaves one minute and climbing up the jungle-gym-like bed Luis designed for her or a tall loquat tree the next. Even Camila, who initially resisted Valle’s crunchier leanings—ecstatic dance sessions and cacao ceremonies are not unusual—has settled into her new habitat. The couple don’t host as many dinner parties as they used to but have made local friends. “There’s an interesting community of creatives—musicians, chefs, designers, printmakers,” says Luis. Camila, who admits sometimes missing city life, often drives into the capital for photo shoots, while Luis escapes to Oaxaca every couple of months to check in with the bed-and-breakfast he runs there with his brother. But he insists the plan is to stay put. “For this new life to work, you have to be committed. We made that commitment when we began looking for land, decided to devote ourselves to raising Juliana and Josefa, and created our little paradise.”

Project Credits:

Architect of Record: Luis Carbonell / @luiscarbonell

Civil Engineering: Kova Innovación

Landscape Design: Cosecha de Agua

Cabinetry: Fusta

—

Head back to the September/October 2025 issue homepage

Also Appears In

Rammed Earth and Cactus Gel Make a Haven for a Family Outside Mexico City