I used to find myself envious of those perfectly staged homes featured in design magazines. I longed for that minimalist aesthetic—clean lines, neutral palettes, and a complete absence of clutter. Those immaculate spaces seemed to radiate a kind of peace that I felt was missing from my own life.
For a time, I lived in a sleek, modern house decorated in shades of gray and white, with expansive windows and an abundance of open space. The great room had a sound quality reminiscent of a cavern. I worked hard to fit into that environment, adhering to strict rules about keeping surfaces clear of any items, no matter how often they were utilized. My linens were all white, mimicking a hotel vibe. I aimed for my home to resemble a showroom, devoid of any signs of life.
In retrospect, my desire for an uninhabited home was a reflection of an inner turmoil that would eventually demand my attention. Deep down, I sensed that I was absent from my own life.
Nowadays, when I come across pristine images of professionally designed interiors, I feel a wave of discomfort. When I see a “complete” project on a home makeover show, I don’t perceive beauty—just a rigidly curated façade of perfection. I notice objects arranged at excruciatingly precise angles and furniture too small to serve any real purpose. Shelves display books chosen solely for their color coordination, devoid of any genuine connection to the occupants. I often find myself irritated by the bland titles that feel entirely unread.
When I spot a perfectly styled kitchen, I can’t help but question the absence of everyday items like a coffee maker or a mail organizer. A lovely bowl of lemons will spoil if not used, and once they’re gone, the bowl becomes empty. That pristine white couch? I wouldn’t dare sit on it, let alone let my kids or dog near it. The hard floors feel unwelcoming, with only a few light-colored rugs scattered about. It’s all an illusion.
I no longer desire that kind of artificial perfection. I want the real deal—cozy, lived-in spaces that tell a story. Give me mismatched blankets draped casually over the couch, and whimsical pillows that my kids can toss around. I want secondhand towels from thrift stores, a riot of plants that require careful attention, and books sorted by author so I can find what I want to read. I crave bold accent walls and sturdy furniture that bears the marks of past love. I want art that doesn’t conform to my surroundings.
My shift in design philosophy mirrors changes in my life; how we decorate our homes is more than superficial—it reflects who we are and who we aspire to be. During the years I grappled with my sexuality, I aimed to craft an environment that screamed order and control. I thought that by tidying my space, I could tame my internal chaos.
I used to binge-watch home renovation shows for inspiration on achieving that idealized look. Now, I prefer programs that celebrate real families and their genuine lives. But can a show truly capture the essence of everyday living in just 50 minutes? A friend recently introduced me to a Facebook group of decorators and homeowners who appreciate a more authentic aesthetic, known as “Boho”—short for “Bohemian.” This term emphasizes individuality and nonconformity. Members share their evolving spaces, room by room, object by object, recognizing that perfection is an ongoing journey.
So, keep your perfect home. I once craved it to mask the chaos within me, but coming out is inherently messy. There’s no way to control it or hide it behind a pristine façade. It’s real, and since embracing my truth, I’ve yearned for a home that reflects that beautiful, messy authenticity. I still appreciate tidiness, but I prefer a life rich in color, warmth, and a bit of disarray.
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Summary:
The author reflects on their past obsession with creating a pristine, perfect home and how that desire stemmed from internal chaos. They now embrace a more authentic, lived-in aesthetic, valuing comfort and individuality over sterile perfection. This transformation aligns with their journey of self-acceptance and authenticity, leading them to prefer spaces that tell stories rather than conform to idealized standards.