Living in one of the densest cities in the world, a high proportion of Hongkongers live in apartments that are no larger than 600 square feet. Despite their sizes, formal functions/ programs are nevertheless assigned to spaces within these apartments as if they were single family houses. In other words, it is not uncommon that name tags such as ‘living rooms’, ‘dining rooms’ and even ‘studies’ are assigned to a central living space that is no larger than 300 square feet in an apartment, even thoughthese names are referring to essentially the same space.In reality however, these names mean very little due to limited space – School children do their homework at the dining table rather than in the ‘study’ (to get a better view of the television, which is often only a few feet away); mahjong games are held in bedrooms – ‘master’ bedrooms no less - while the ‘hot pot’ (fondue in broth) is boiling away in the living room. The discrepancies between the presumed use of spaces and their actual functions have led to inefficiencies. For example, one assumes that a ‘dining room’ is meant to be for dining only – which calls for a dining table that dominates every inch of the room. However, if the dining room turns out to be more appropriate as a space for work, other furniture that supports a proper work space can no longer fit.In Apartment 26A, the centre piece of the project is a piece of custom-made furniture that combines the function of a desk, a dining table, shelving units, a niche for the piano, a pin-up board and even a window within itself. It occupies a space that used to be called ‘dining room’ by the previous owner.Contrary to the belief that open space and flexibility would lead to a one-size-fits-all solution, Specificity to personal need is often proved more relevant in Hong Kong when it comes to maximising spatial efficiency.