We all have those moments of looking back at old photographs and experiencing a potent mix of nostalgia, amusement, and sometimes, a healthy dose of cringe. Recently, while flipping through dusty albums with an old friend – cue the college reminiscing and endless laughter – I stumbled upon photographic evidence of my past home decor choices. What I found was, to put it mildly, seriously shocking and undeniably gross. From my 8th-grade sanctuary to my freshman dorm room and that liberating first solo apartment, my taste in interior design (not to mention clothing) was a wild ride. And I’m quite confident these glimpses into my past will have you reeling, especially since many people assume I’m the hyper-organized, “folds-my-underwear-neatly” type. (Spoiler alert: I ball ’em up like everyone else.)
Before we embark on this visual journey, let me preface it by saying that every design decision, no matter how questionable now, was a genuine expression of self at the time. These rooms tell a story of evolving tastes, budding creativity, and an unwavering desire to personalize my space, often with little to no budget. So, are you ready to witness the unfiltered progression of my home decor? Let’s dive into my 8th-grade bedroom:
Admittedly, to fully appreciate the room, you might first need to divert your gaze past my high-waisted, airbrushed winking jeans (yes, the other cheek prominently featured an open eye), my vibrant tie-dyed shirt, and the quintessential scrunchie. I genuinely have no defense for this ensemble, save for the fact that I was born and raised in New Jersey, and those custom-made jeans, acquired “down the shore,” felt incredibly artsy and cool to my 13-year-old self. Yes, I might live to severely regret posting this photographic proof on the internet, but let’s try to stop hysterically laughing for a moment and focus on the background – the actual decor of my bedroom.
Growing up, I harbored a deep-seated ambition to become an artist. This aspiration, I now realize, profoundly influenced my early decor choices. It’s perhaps no surprise then that I took it upon myself to paint whimsical clouds directly onto my closet doors, rejecting the conventional crisp white trim in favor of something far more unexpected and expressive. This wasn’t just a whim; it was a conscious decision to transform a standard space into something uniquely mine, reflecting my burgeoning creative spirit. These DIY projects were often executed stealthily when my mom was working late. She’d come home to discover my latest “masterpieces,” and I’d give her a C+ for her efforts in feigning pride instead of outright horror. Her polite nods of approval, however, inadvertently fueled my passion for paint and personalized touches. Looking back, these early experiments with painted trim and unique closet doors clearly foreshadowed my enduring love affair with color and transforming spaces, a checkmark proudly earned on my lifelong design journey.
Beyond the painted elements, the room held other curious objects. There was a bright beanbag nestled in the corner, offering a low-slung, informal seating option that screamed teenage comfort. Nearby, a stuffed animal hammock sagged under the weight of countless plush companions. Could there be a correlation between these elements and my current home? Perhaps. Our sunroom now boasts an array of comfortable floor pillows, inviting lounging and relaxation, while a generously sized hammock sways gently in the woods behind our house, a perfect escape. Maybe there’s a subtle, subconscious thread connecting these comfort-focused elements across the decades. And let’s not even delve into the mysterious baby seal poster adorning my wall. Not the iconic singer Seal, mind you, but an actual, adorable baby seal. Could this inexplicable childhood fascination have evolved into my adult affinity for white ceramic animals? It’s a whimsical thought, a testament to how even the most obscure childhood fixations can subtly shape our aesthetic preferences years later. This early room, despite its adolescent quirks, was a true crucible of self-expression, laying the groundwork for a lifelong pursuit of unique and personalized interior design.
Fast forward a few years, and I found myself in the bustling metropolis of New York City, embarking on my freshman year at FIT (Fashion Institute of Technology). While I remain incredibly proud of my New York art school resume, a glance at my dorm room from that era doesn’t quite evoke the same sentiment. Sheesh, what a transformation (or lack thereof) from my childhood haven!
Once again, you’ll have to look past certain… prominent features. The ubiquitous Slim Shady poster, for instance – a common fixture in many dorms of the era – for which, regrettably, I still have no real defense. You might also notice my peculiar habit of writing directly on photos, evidenced by the “room #1” label scrawled in pen above my bed. But beyond these distracting elements, a closer inspection reveals some genuinely interesting, albeit unconventional, design choices that speak volumes about my developing style and resourcefulness. My prized possession was undoubtedly my denim bedding. Yes, you read that right. I painstakingly sewed a blanket using a collection of old pairs of jeans that I had diligently saved up for years. This wasn’t merely a bedding choice; it was a statement, a tangible representation of my early commitment to repurposing and crafting unique items. The texture, the patchwork of different denim washes – it was a tactile and visual masterpiece in my eyes, transforming a utilitarian object into a personal work of art.
Another bold move was my decision to hang a fish shower curtain directly on the wall. At the time, I genuinely believed it had a mural-like quality, transforming the sterile dorm wall into an aquatic escape. And honestly, if it had spanned wall-to-wall, creating a continuous, immersive effect, I still think it would have been pretty amazing… for a dorm room, that is. This impulse to turn everyday items into decorative statements was a consistent theme. I also painstakingly created a faux-crown molding effect all around the room. My secret? Those free postcards you could find next to bathrooms in NYC bars. Arranging them meticulously along the ceiling line, I mimicked the architectural elegance of crown molding on a shoestring budget. It sounds utterly bizarre, I know – a total weirdo move, huh? Yet, looking back, this resourceful and artistic approach to molding was an uncanny foreshadowing of a more sophisticated, artistic crown molding creation I would tackle years later in a professional capacity. My dorm room, cramped and temporary as it was, became a laboratory for DIY design, demonstrating that creativity can flourish even within the most restrictive confines.
Despite the questionable aesthetic choices of my dorm days, there was a clear silver lining: I was actively embracing the concept of repurposing. This nascent passion for giving new life to old items, for seeing potential where others saw discard, is something that absolutely still makes me giddy to this day. This “waste not, want not” philosophy became an even stronger guiding principle when I moved into my very first solo apartment in Brooklyn. Can you believe that at the tender age of 20, I was living alone in one of New York City’s most vibrant boroughs? It was an exhilarating, slightly terrifying, and incredibly formative experience that further cemented my DIY ethos.
My Brooklyn apartment truly became a canvas for my evolving design sensibilities, where resourcefulness met necessity. Remember my beloved denim blanket from the dorm? Well, when I finally upgraded to a bona fide duvet, I couldn’t bear to part with my denim creation. Instead, I ingeniously transformed it into a set of unique throw pillows. You can spot them stacked proudly under my curbside-find chair – a testament to my burgeoning knack for upcycling and finding treasures where others saw trash. And speaking of that chair, nestled on it is a peculiar little pink lumbar pillow. This, too, was a product of creative repurposing, crafted from an old pink satin sleep camisole. Up close, the fabric’s sheen and the delicate stitching made it surprisingly chic, a playful contrast to its humble origins, though undeniably strange from a distance. It was in this apartment that I truly began to embrace home-related projects with fervor. The hanging hearts in the window, for example, were a labor of love. I made them using wax paper, colored vibrantly with red and pink crayons, and then baked them in the oven to achieve a stunning, albeit cheap, stained-glass effect. This budget-friendly approach to creating beautiful things is a habit that has stuck with me; I’m still pinching pennies and hunting for deals almost ten years later – some things, truly, never change.
Of course, no retrospective of my early decor would be complete without mentioning the weirdly dark still life painting that adorned my wall. It had a distinctly Adams Family vibe, a stark contrast to the brighter aesthetic I tend to favor today. While my personal artistic style has certainly lightened up over the years, the impulse to create and integrate art into my home remains as strong as ever. From the curated items in our shop to the “Artsy Ideas” category on our How-To page, my hands are constantly involved in making and designing. These early spaces, with all their quirks and experiments, weren’t just rooms; they were incubators for a passion that has defined much of my adult life. Perhaps, after all, there are more consistent patterns and foundational design philosophies evident than mere fleeting trends.
So, what’s the final verdict on this rather revealing journey through my early design archives? Are you appropriately shocked and perhaps a little “skeevy” by my past choices? Are you, like me, still momentarily fixated on those airbrushed jeans? I wouldn’t blame you. Did you perhaps imagine my dorm room, given my current aesthetic, would have been impeccably preppy, whitewashed, and effortlessly clean? I bet many of you did, and the reality was a delightful (or horrifying) surprise. But beyond the immediate reactions, this trip down memory lane serves as a wonderful reminder of the evolution of personal style and the enduring influence of our formative decorating experiences.
I’m genuinely curious about your own design journeys. What did your rooms look like “back in the day”? Do you notice any patterns or unexpected trends from your youth that are still subtly (or overtly) popping up in your home today? Did anyone else share my inexplicable affection for that baby seal poster? Seriously, do tell! Share your most cringe-worthy, hilarious, or surprisingly prescient decor choices from your past. It’s a comforting thought to know we’re all part of this continuous, often amusing, process of shaping our spaces, and ourselves, one design decision at a time.