Samantha Cameron is an unrepentant multi-tasker, and over the course of her long career in design, beginning at Smythson, she has remained loyal to the concept of versatility. With her label, Cefinn, she specializes in all-day dressing, comprising reliable basics that become the foundation of a woman’s wardrobe. (The name “Cefinn” is based on a loose acronym of “Cameron” and the first initials of the children—Elwen, Florence, Ivan, and Nancy—she has had with David Cameron, the former U.K. prime minister.) Londoners are getting their fix at Cefinn’s pop-up, on King’s Road in Chelsea, although the rest of us will have to be satisfied with e-commerce for now. As Cameron prepares for the holiday-shopping season, she shares her key components to the good life. —Ashley Baker
AGENDA: Smythson’s Soho diary.
Airport: London City Airport or Islay, off the west coast of Scotland.
Bag: Smythson black Panama crossbody bag and Panama tote.
Beach: Benirrás Beach, in Ibiza.
Bedtime: 10:15 p.m.
Bike: I need a new one. Everyone in my family seems to cycle much faster than me!
Birthday: I don’t like receiving presents or celebrating my birthday in any way, but love everyone else’s, especially if they have a party and there’s a decent D.J.
Breakfast, weekday: PG Tips English breakfast tea with milk, and butter and Marmite on spelt sourdough.
Breakfast, weekend: Huevos rancheros.
Car: An electric pickup.
Child: Lyra from Northern Lights, by Philip Pullman.
Cocktail: Negroni or a white lady.
Cocktail appetizer: None. It ruins the cocktail and the meal after.
Date: James Corden.
DINNER DATE: My best friend, Hugo, as I haven’t seen him for two years due to COVID—he’s been stuck in New York, and me in London.
Dinner, weekday: My son’s fish tacos.
Dinner, weekend: My husband’s fish curry.
Disguise: A face mask, bangs, and sunglasses.
Dress: A red satin Vivienne Westwood dress, my party favorite for the last 15 years.
Drive: From Denver to Missouri in a Chevy Suburban, while my husband and I indoctrinate all of our children to Led Zeppelin.
Enemy: Anyone with a dog who might kill my chickens.
Escape: Running cross-country on my own with no headphones.
“Sorry, I’m not very good at WhatsApp.” Which is true.
Expression: “Don’t come the raw prawn with me.” (That was first said by my husband’s father.) And “Talk to me, Goose,” from Top Gun.
Family: Mine. It’s huge, as I’m the eldest of seven siblings. It’s amazing, but rare now that we all get together with all our children.
Flaw: Tidying up all the time.
Foil: Extra-long aluminum foil.
Hotel: Alila Jabal Akhdar, in the mountains in Oman.
Insult: Anything by Malcolm Tucker in The Thick of It.
Jacket: Alexander McQueen.
Last Meal: Caviar and oysters, followed by truffle tagliatelle, with rice pudding to finish.
Lunch, weekday: I make myself a feta-cheese omelet with tomato-cucumber-and-avocado salad in the kitchen in our office.
Lunch, weekend: My husband’s lamb shawarma.
Mentor: My mum.
Movies: Fantastic Mr. Fox; Dude, Where’s My Car?; and Monty Python’s Life of Brian.
Nonfiction book: David Sylvester’s Interviews with Francis Bacon.
Novels: Bring Up the Bodies, by Hilary Mantel, and Lonesome Dove, by Larry McMurtry.
Pet: Our six purebred bantam chickens that we bought a day old on the first day of lockdown last March. They are very eccentric, with strong personalities, and we are all obsessed with them.
RACE: The 2021 Scottish Grand National, won by Rachael Blackmore. My great-grandmother Enid Bagnold wrote National Velvet.
Restaurant: Restaurante Paraíso above the surf beach Praia da Amoreira, in Portugal. The fried baby squid are delicious.
Ride: Galloping with thousands of animals across the Masai Mara, in Kenya.
Saying: “Seriously, dude. Where’s my car?”
Singer: The Cure’s Robert Smith.
Spouse: My husband.
Television series: The Bureau.
Time of day: The half hour in the morning when I lie in the bath listening to the radio before anyone else in the family gets up.
Timepiece: None. I start timing everything if I wear a watch. I use my phone when necessary.
Vacation: Traveling up the Karakoram Highway through the Himalayas north of Gilgit, in Pakistan, the nearest I’ve got to somewhere so beautiful you could be between heaven and earth.
View: Arriving by boat to see Glenabatrick, my parents’ house on the Isle of Jura, on the west coast of Scotland. The house sits on a white beach with the glen and the Paps rising up behind it, three and a half miles from the nearest road.
Wake-up time: At 5:45 a.m., listening to Farming Today and the news on BBC Radio 4 before getting up, just after 6:00.
Weekend bag: A dark-gray Longchamp Le Pliage bag.
Work of art: Painting, Smoking, Eating, by Philip Guston.