The 1960s two-storey brick house looks as free-spirited as the woman herself – front door and windows wide open, letting the breeze run havoc throughout the treasures that live inside.

As I approach her front door I think that if her house were anything like her shop April's Caravan, I will die and go to heaven.

One step inside and it has exceeded all my expectations. "Hello?" I call, pretending not to snoop.

My eyes light up at the sight of the dining area, lived-in yet full of colour and character, but before I can get a closer look footsteps echo from upstairs.

"Excuse my stuff, I've got a lot of shit," a voice says.

Dressed in a gorgeous buttoned calico and lace dress, Vonthethoff peers down at me from the top of her timber staircase.

"Everything that you see I've bought because I'm in love with it. It's either because there's something utterly ridiculous about it or it's something so cute, and I put so much work into restoring it back," she says.

"I've got suitcases filled with old fabrics, rolls of old wallpaper, so many pieces of furniture, tables, lounges and chairs."

Vonthethoff lives here, on the cusp of the Canberra city, with her three children and says it's the perfect location.

"Canberra is changing and there's some good things happening here, the last few years you can really feel that transformation and see it slowly evolving," she says.

When Vonthethoff spotted the house for rent almost four years ago it was love at first sight.

"I saw two photos of the interior that just made me weak at the knees – the bar and the stairs," she says.

"When I came to look at it there were so many people that you couldn't get a park, and there was a queue to get into the house. I saw this place and my jaw just dropped.

The tour starts in the kitchen, a cosy yet well-appointed space that looks like it's been pulled straight from a 1950s family home.

"I've been accumulating for a long time, I started collecting at the age of 14," Vonthethoff says.

It is clear that for Vonthethoff this aesthetic is much more than just a fad – it's all that she's ever known.

"It's something that I've lived and breathed, it's not a trend for me, it's my life," she says.

"This is my world. We don't have CD players, the only thing in the house that is modern is the coffee maker and washing machine, that's it.

"I don't read today's newspapers, I don't watch TV. We've got a TV but it doesn't work, it's just a prop. When I was younger it was only old movies. When you look through my house I've got boxes of old magazines, old newspapers – I read this stuff."

From the corner of my eye I spot a collection of pastel-coloured canisters lined up above a display cabinet.

"I could sell them but they aren't worth much. In fact a lot of the stuff in my house that I keep, some of it is pretty amazing and interesting but a lot of it is all cracked, chipped or broken," she explains.

"But that's what makes them even better for me. They have a story. It shows that they've been loved."

Upstairs, past a delightful study nook with a typewriter, I discover the vinyl record player I could hear from the street in one of three lounge areas. A vibrant red lounge set with timber accents sits under a hanging shag rug that you just want to run your fingers through.

"I like to create places where I feel really safe, where there's colour, happiness, the fun or the bizarre – nothing else exits," she says.

Vonthethoff's bedroom is every young girl's dream, with racks, hooks, draws and table tops full of dresses, accessories, hats, stockings, gloves, toys and props.

"It's all childhood memories, for me everything is memories," Vonthethoff says.

We finally settle down in the outdoor room on the balcony lined with artificial turf. Looking through palm trees over her front garden and at the quaint street frontier, I get to know Vonthethoff as she opens up about her inspiration, lifestyle and passions.

Vonthethoff starts by explaining that she never knew what she wanted to be growing up.

"I think I only grew up a couple of days ago when I turned 40," she laughs.

"I have worked so hard. I'm looking after three children as a single mum, I'm not a business woman but at the same time I'm doing it. Every time I've said 'I can't keep going' I can't not.

"I love it, this is who I am, every bit of what you see – it's the only thing that makes me happy."

Every inch of her home is littered with a knick-knack of some sort that holds a story of those who owned them before and how they came to find her.

"This stuff is art to me. It's like they are these time capsules that hold memories and for me they trigger memories. I see the impact they bring to other people, and that's the magic of this," she says.

"It's a collective of stories and history in my very own home."

Fascinated by her philosophy, I ask what pieces she is thinking of.

"A lady that use to come in to April's with her elderly mother, I think she was in her 90s, would sit in my shop and have a cup of tea every Sunday. Her mum just loved it so much," Vonthethoff says.

"Although her English wasn't very good, we would always have chats and she would just smile at me. About six months after I last saw her, her daughter told me she had passed away, and that she had put some of her things aside that she wanted me to have.

"One of those things is a picture displayed in the shop. I am asked all the time if I would sell that picture but the answer will always be no. I don't care what I'm offered, it was especially put aside for me, and that's pretty special."

Vonthethoff says that sometimes it "hurts my heart" to see people willing to sell their cherished pieces for just a few dollars, and often leaves her number with them just in case they want it back.

"I explain to people all the time that 'This holds memories for you', 'This is a special thing to you', and 'I can't give you what it's worth'. You hold on to stuff like that because every time you pull it out that memory comes back," Vonthethoff says.

She pours me another drink before saying she hopes there may be people out there that will recognise some of their things in this story.

"There are a lot of people in my house, and a lot of history, and we all live here together," she says.