What A Decade In Design Has Taught Me

Ten years is long enough to know what you're doing. It's also long enough to know how much you got wrong in the beginning.

I started out thinking good design was mostly about taste, knowing what looked right, understanding proportion, having an eye. And those things matter. But after a decade of working in people's homes across Sydney, London, New York, and now Manhattan Beach, I've learned that taste is actually the easy part. Here's what the work has really taught me.

People don't know what they need. And that's not a criticism.

Most clients come to me with a list of what they want. A decade in design has taught me that the better conversation is always about how they actually live. That's where I find out what the space actually needs to do.

I've had clients certain they needed a bigger kitchen, when what they really needed was a better mudroom. Clients convinced they needed more storage, when the real problem was that nothing had a logical home in the first place. The list of wants is a starting point, not a brief.

The best designers I've ever worked with, and the best design I've ever done, starts with listening before it starts with ideas.

Trends are a trap.

I understand why people follow them. Trends feel safe. They're validated, widely photographed, and easy to sell. But they date, often faster than anyone expects, and then you're left with a home that looks like a very specific moment in time rather than a home that looks like you.

The interiors that have stayed with me, the ones I still think about years later, were never trend-driven. They were specific to the people who lived in them. Layered, personal, occasionally a little unexpected. The kind of rooms that feel inevitable once you're standing in them, even if you couldn't have predicted them from a mood board.

Function is not the opposite of beauty.

This is probably the thing I feel most strongly about after ten years. There's a persistent idea that you have to choose: that a beautiful room is one you don't really live in, and a functional room is one that's been stripped of anything interesting.

I don't accept that. Some of the most beautiful rooms I've ever designed are also the hardest working. A well-considered storage solution can be as visually satisfying as a piece of art. A thoughtfully placed window seat solves a spatial problem and becomes the favourite spot in the house.

When function and beauty are treated as separate concerns, you usually end up with less of both.

The floorplan tells you everything.

Before I look at finishes, fixtures, or furniture, I look at how a space flows. As Dezeen explores, the way a layout is structured fundamentally shapes how a home feels to live in. Where does the light fall? How does a family move through the house on a Tuesday morning? Where does everything land when people walk in the door?

Square footage tells you how much space you have. It doesn't tell you whether it's any good. I've walked through 3,000 square foot homes that felt like a rabbit warren and 1,700 square foot homes that felt generous and calm. The difference is always the layout, not the size.

The relationship matters as much as the result.

Design is an intimate process. You're asking people to trust you with the place they come home to every day. That requires honesty, including the honesty to tell a client when something they want won't actually work for them.

The best client relationships I've had are the ones where that trust runs both ways. Where I can say I don't think that's the right decision and be heard. Where the client can say that's not quite us and I take it back to the drawing board without ego.

The rooms that come out of those relationships are always better. Not because of compromise, but because of genuine collaboration.

If you’re ready to explore refined design for your own home, connect with Jennifer to begin your journey.