PIXOMNI

type

status

date

Navigating Interior Design Styles: Your Guide to a Home That Feels Like You

Ever scrolled Pinterest for 10 minutes and suddenly felt like you’re decoding a secret language? One second you’re cooing at a rustic farmhouse kitchen—you know the one, with a wooden table that looks like it’s got a million stories (probably involving pie crumbs and homework)—and the next, you’re staring at a Scandinavian living room so sleek, your current couch starts looking like a messy pile of laundry by comparison. Then someone drops a term like “Japandi” or “Bohemian” and you’re just… frozen. Do I need to sign up for a night class? Did everyone else get a memo I missed?

Trust me, I’ve been there. I once spent 45 minutes Googling “what even is Grandmillennial” while my coffee went cold. And I’ve had clients walk into my studio with that exact deer-in-headlights look—saying they feel like they “have to pick a style” and stick to it, or they’re failing at home decor. But here’s the big, cozy secret: You don’t. Not even a little bit.

I’m an interior designer, sure—but the best rooms I’ve ever worked on? They’re not the ones that fit perfectly into a “Scandinavian” or “Traditional” box. They’re the ones that breathe like the people who live there. Take my client, Lisa—she’s obsessed with hiking, like “plans her weekends around trail maps” obsessed. So we didn’t force her into one style. We put minimalist shelves up for her trail guides (and that one beat-up water bottle she refuses to replace), a rustic wooden coffee table she found at a camping trip yard sale (it has a small burn mark from a marshmallow roast—she refused to sand it out), and a few potted succulents (the only plants that survive when she’s gone for 3 days). That’s not a “style”—that’s Lisa. And that’s the good stuff.

This guide isn’t going to quiz you on design rules. I’m not here to make you memorize the difference between “cabriole legs” and “turned legs” (though we’ll talk about it if you want). This is your compass. We’ll break down 50+ styles, yeah—but more than that, we’ll talk about how they feel. Because a room’s vibe? Way more important than its label. We’ll see how they overlap (spoiler: a lot—most styles are just borrowing from each other like friends swapping sweaters) and where they mix. By the end, you won’t just know Modern vs. Contemporary—you’ll look at a room and go, “Oh, that’s my kind of cozy.” And that’s what turns a house into a home.

The Modern & Minimalist Family: Less is More (But Make It Cozy)

This crew’s all about 20th-century vibes—ditching the frills, focusing on what actually works, and proving “simple” doesn’t equal “boring.” The big idea? Form follows function. But that doesn’t mean you can’t curl up with a blanket and a book here. These spaces feel calm—like a deep breath after a day of back-to-back meetings.

Mid-Century Modern

Think post-WWII—1945 to 1969, when people were ready to ditch the somber and embrace something fresh, something optimistic. This style’s all about clean lines, soft curves (no sharp edges here—nothing that’ll make you stub your toe on the way to the fridge), and letting materials shine. We’re talking teak and walnut wood that feels smooth under your hand, like it was made to be touched. Iconic pieces, too—like the Eames Lounge Chair. I know it looks sleek, but trust me: It’s

surprisingly

comfy. I sat in one at a design show once and almost fell asleep. Colors? Earthy beiges for the base, then fun pops of mustard or teal—like adding a candy to a plain cookie.

Full disclosure: I have a mid-century teak side table I found at a flea market for $40. I haggled with the seller for 10 minutes (she said $50, I said “I’m a designer—this table’s gonna live its best life with me”), and it’s got a few scratches. But that’s part of the charm. One scratch is from when I set a mug down too hard after a bad day; another’s from my niece drawing on it with a crayon. It’s inspired by Scandinavian design, but it’s not scared of man-made stuff—molded plastic chairs, plywood—because back then, that stuff was new and exciting. Like how we get hyped about smart home tech now.

Scandinavian

Hailing from the Nordic countries—Sweden, Denmark, Norway—where winters are long, dark, and cold enough to make you want to hibernate. So this style’s whole mission? Make spaces bright, airy, and so cozy, you forget there’s snow piling up outside. It’s all about “hygge” (pronounced hoo-gah)—that feeling of contentment, like wrapping yourself in a thick wool blanket with a hot cup of cocoa, or sitting by a candle with a good book on a rainy day.

Light wood floors (birch, ash) that reflect what little sunlight there is—every bit counts when the days are short. Minimal curtains, too—no heavy drapes blocking the light! Colors are soft: whites, grays, pale blues—like the sky on a cloudy but calm day. And lots of natural materials: wool rugs that feel soft under bare feet, linen cushions that get cozier with time, maybe a sheepskin throw over the arm of a chair (my dog loves to nap on mine—don’t tell the client who gave it to me). Everything here is simple, but it feels like a hug. No fancy stuff—just things that make you go, “Ah, this is nice.”

Japandi

This is my personal favorite—like taking the coziest parts of Scandinavian design and mixing them with the calm minimalism of Japanese style. It’s the best of both worlds: the clean lines and neutral base of Scandi, but with deeper earth tones (soft browns, muted greens—like a forest floor in spring) and rich textures that feel handmade, not mass-produced.

Japandi’s not about being “perfect.” It’s about “wabi-sabi”—finding beauty in imperfection. Like a ceramic bowl with a tiny crack (I have one that I use for fruit; the crack makes it feel special), or a wooden spoon that’s worn smooth from years of stirring soup. It’s uncluttered, but never cold. I designed a Japandi bedroom for a client, Mia, who works from home—she was tired of her bedroom feeling like just a “sleep spot.” We used a low platform bed (no bulky headboard), a simple wooden desk (she picked it up on a trip to Japan—has a tiny hand-carved mark on the side), and a linen duvet in soft gray. She texted me a week later saying it’s the first time her bedroom feels like a retreat—she even takes 10-minute breaks there to just breathe. That’s the goal, right?

Minimalism

Let’s get one thing straight: Minimalism isn’t living in a white box with nothing but a single chair. I’ve met so many people who avoid it because they think it’s “sterile”—like a doctor’s office. But that’s not the point. Minimalism is about

intentionality

. Every piece in the room should matter. No random decor you bought because it was on sale (we’ve all been there—hello, that neon sign I got for $5 that’s now in my closet). No clutter on the counters (okay, maybe a small bowl for keys—but that’s it).

A minimalist home has the essentials: a sofa you love (not just one that “fits”), a table that works (for eating, working, whatever), maybe one piece of art that makes you stop and look. The colors are usually monochromatic (whites, grays, blacks) or super controlled—like adding one pop of green from a plant. And every item has space to breathe—no overcrowded shelves, no piles of blankets. It’s calm. Focused. Like hitting a mental reset button when you walk in. My friend Sarah did minimalism in her apartment—she has a white sofa, a wooden coffee table, and a single painting of the ocean. She says she used to feel stressed when she got home; now she feels peaceful. That’s the magic of it.

Bauhaus

This is the OG modern style—started by a German school in the early 1900s that wanted to mix art and industry. Their big goal? Make beautiful things that everyone could afford, not just the rich folks with big mansions. So they used modern materials: tubular steel (sleek, strong), glass (bright, open), concrete (durable, no frills). No fancy carvings, no extra fluff—just straight lines and geometric shapes.

Bauhaus loved primary colors—red, yellow, blue—like a kid’s art project but grown-up. And it laid the groundwork for so many styles we love now, like Mid-Century Modern. You see Bauhaus influence everywhere: that simple steel-and-leather chair at your local café, the glass coffee table your cousin has, even some of the furniture at IKEA (fun fact: IKEA’s early designs were totally Bauhaus-inspired). It’s bold, it’s functional, and it still feels fresh a hundred years later. I designed a Bauhaus-inspired home office for a client who’s an architect—he wanted something that felt “timeless but not old.” We used a steel desk, a glass lamp, and a red chair for a pop of color. He says it makes him feel creative—like he’s part of design history.

The Traditional & Timeless Family: Classic Elegance (No Stuffiness Allowed)

These styles are rooted in history—think old European charm, like something out of a Jane Austen novel—but they’re not stuck in the past. They feel permanent, like they’ve been around forever and will stay that way. Symmetry, rich materials, and little details that make you go, “Wow, someone thought about that.” And no stuffiness—these rooms are meant to be lived in, not just looked at.

Traditional

Traditional is the “grandma chic” that feels familiar—like walking into your nana’s house, but with a little more polish (no dusty doilies, promise). In North America, it borrows a lot from 18th and 19th-century European styles, especially British and French. Think symmetry: two sofas facing each other (perfect for chatting), matching table lamps on either side of the bed (no more reaching for a lamp in the dark), even bookshelves with equal numbers of books on each side (my nana used to do this—she said it “looked neat”).

Rich colors—burgundy, forest green, gold—like a warm hug for your eyes. Fabrics that feel luxurious: damask (soft, with a subtle pattern), florals (not too loud—think small roses), paisley (timeless, not dated). And details: crown moldings that wrap around the room like a frame, chair rails that add texture to walls, maybe a chandelier with tiny crystals that catch the light (but not too many—we’re not going full palace). It’s comfortable, not fussy. I had a client, Karen, who wanted a traditional dining room because she loves hosting Sunday dinners for her family. We used a wooden table that seats 8 (her grandkids climb on the chairs—we made sure they’re sturdy), floral curtains in soft green (they let in light but still feel cozy), and a rug that’s soft underfoot (great for when the kids run around). Now her kids say it’s their favorite room to eat in—they even help set the table. That’s what traditional should be: about family.

Neoclassical

This is traditional’s more refined cousin—born in the 18th century when people fell in love with ancient Greek and Roman design. Think columns (like the ones on old temples, but smaller—we’re not building a Parthenon), pediments (triangular tops over doors, like a little roof), and clean lines that feel elegant but not over-the-top. Symmetry is key here too—everything feels balanced, like a well-composed photo.

The colors are usually muted—creams, soft blues, gold—nothing too bright. Materials are luxurious: marble (cool to the touch, perfect for a console table), silk (soft curtains that drape nicely), mahogany (dark wood that feels rich). It’s elegant, like a fancy hotel lobby, but it can still feel homey. I designed a neoclassical entryway for a client, Elena, who loved old architecture—she’d visited Rome and fell in love with the columns there. We added a small column next to the door (it’s decorative, not structural—no need to worry about holding up the house) and a marble console table. She keeps a small vase of fresh roses on the table—so every time she walks in, she’s greeted by color and a nice smell. She says it feels like “coming home to something special.”

French Provincial

Imagine a cottage in Provence—sunny, cozy, with a little garden out back where you can pick lavender. That’s French Provincial. It takes the elegance of Parisian design (think chandeliers, soft fabrics) and softens it with countryside charm (distressed wood, floral patterns). Think furniture with curved legs—called cabriole legs—they look like they’re dancing, not just standing there. Distressed wood that looks like it’s been loved for years (no perfect paint jobs here—chips and scratches are okay). Fabrics that are soft: floral toile (a subtle pattern with scenes, like a little story), linen (breathable, perfect for cushions).

The colors are warm—cream, soft yellow (like butter), light blue (like the sky over Provence)—and everything feels welcoming. I had a client, Marie, who wanted a French Provincial kitchen—she’s half-French and wanted to bring a little of her heritage into her home. We added a farmhouse sink (deep enough to fit a big stockpot—she makes a mean beef bourguignon), a wooden table with curved legs (her kids do homework there), and a few floral cushions on the chairs (they’re washable—important for kid messes). Now she says she feels like she’s cooking in a French villa, even though she lives in a small apartment in the city. That’s the magic of it—transporting you to a place you love.

English Countryside

This is the cozy, romantic cousin of traditional design. Think a cottage in the English countryside—fireplace crackling, shelves full of books (some with dog-eared pages), floral curtains fluttering in the breeze from an open window. It’s lived-in, not perfect. Chintz fabric (bright florals—think roses and daisies) is a classic here, along with wooden furniture that’s sturdy and warm (no fragile pieces—this is a room for sitting, reading, and sipping tea).

The colors are inviting—soft greens (like grass), pinks (like wild roses), beiges (like wheat fields)—and there’s a lot of texture: wool rugs that feel thick underfoot, knit throws (perfect for wrapping around you on cold days), maybe a tapestry on the wall (with a scene of a countryside—my grandma had one of a castle). It’s connected to the Arts and Crafts movement, which loved handmade things—no mass-produced stuff here. I designed an English Countryside living room for a client, Emma, who’s obsessed with Jane Austen. We added a fireplace (electric—no messy wood, but it still looks real), a floral sofa (soft, so she can curl up with a book), and a bookshelf full of classics (Pride and Prejudice is front and center). She says it’s the perfect place to read on a rainy day—she even makes scones and serves them with clotted cream, just like in the books.

Grandmillennial

Also called “Granny Chic,” but make it young. This style is a rebellion against stark minimalism—young people taking their grandma’s old china (the blue-and-white set that’s been in the attic for years), their mom’s needlepoint pillows (the one with the cat), and mixing them with modern pieces (a sleek laptop, a neon lamp). It’s nostalgic, but not outdated. Think bold floral patterns (but not too loud), ruffled cushions (soft, not frilly), shelves full of blue-and-white porcelain (vases, bowls, even a teapot), and maybe a vintage radio next to a sleek laptop (my friend has one—she listens to old jazz on it while she works).

It’s all about celebrating the past while being true to the present. I have a friend, Lila, who decorates this way—she has a vintage floral sofa (her grandma’s, reupholstered in a softer fabric), a modern coffee table (glass, so it doesn’t clash), and a wall of family photos in mismatched frames. One frame is from her childhood—pink plastic, with a tiny crack from when she dropped it at age 7. She won’t fix it because it’s part of the story. Her apartment feels like her—like she’s surrounded by the people she loves, even when she’s alone. That’s what Grandmillennial is all about: heart.

The Rustic & Natural Family: Earthy and Authentic (Like a Hug from Nature)

These styles find beauty in nature—raw materials, imperfection, and that “lived-in” feel. They’re grounded, like they belong in the woods or by the ocean. No fake stuff here—just honest, real design. Think of them as the “outdoor lover’s” styles.

Rustic

Rustic is all about nature—raw wood, stone, and that “cabin in the woods” vibe. Think exposed ceiling beams (big, thick, like they came straight from a tree), a big stone fireplace (perfect for roasting marshmallows—even if it’s electric), and heavy wooden furniture that looks like it was cut from a tree (no smooth finishes here—you can feel the grain). The colors are earthy—browns (like tree bark), greens (like pine trees), beiges (like dirt)—and everything feels simple and unpretentious. No fancy decor—just things that fit the vibe: a antler candle holder, a woven basket for blankets, a sign that says “Welcome to the Cabin” (cheesy? Maybe. But it works).

I designed a rustic cabin for a client, Mike, who loves hunting and fishing. We used reclaimed wood for the walls (it came from an old barn—so it has character), a stone fireplace (he actually uses it to cook burgers in the winter), and a wooden table that could fit all his friends (they come over for poker nights). He says it’s the first place he’s ever felt truly at peace—after a long day of hunting, he sits by the fire with a beer and just relaxes. Rustic isn’t about being “rough”—it’s about being real. It’s about bringing the outdoors in, without the bugs.

Modern Farmhouse

You’ve probably seen this everywhere—on Instagram, on HGTV, in your neighbor’s house—and for good reason. It’s the perfect mix of old and new: the nostalgia of a farmhouse (think shiplap walls—those wooden planks that look like they’re from an old barn, apron-front sinks—deep, perfect for washing big pots) with the clean lines of modern design (no clutter, simple furniture). Neutral colors are key here—white, black, gray—like a blank canvas that you can add color to with decor (a red kettle, a blue rug). And a mix of materials: wood (warm), metal (sleek), maybe a little rattan (soft).

It’s family-friendly—no fancy furniture you’re afraid to let the kids touch. I designed a Modern Farmhouse kitchen for a client, Jessica, who has two young kids. We used a big island (they eat breakfast there every morning—no more messy dining table), shiplap walls (easy to clean—just wipe off the crayon marks), and open shelves for their favorite cups (they can reach them on their own, which means less help from mom). She says it’s the heart of the house—everyone gathers there, whether she’s cooking, the kids are doing homework, or friends are over for coffee. That’s what Modern Farmhouse is about: bringing people together.

Coastal

Coastal isn’t just anchors and seashells (thank goodness—no more cheesy nautical decor). It’s about that beachy vibe—light, airy, and calm. Think colors that remind you of the ocean: white (like sand), cream (like driftwood), soft blue (like the water), sandy beige (like the shore). Natural materials are a must: jute rugs (rough, like sand underfoot), rattan chairs (light, like beach chairs), light-washed wood (looks like it’s been in the sun and salt air—faded but beautiful).

It’s relaxed—like coming home from the beach with sand on your feet, no need to rush to clean up. I designed a coastal bedroom for a client, Lily, who loves the ocean but lives miles inland. We used a white linen duvet (soft, like a beach towel), a blue-and-white rug (looks like waves), and a rattan headboard (light, so the room feels open). She has a jar of seashells on her nightstand—collected from trips to the beach with her family—and every morning, she picks one up and remembers that day. She says it feels like waking up by the sea, even when she’s surrounded by city buildings. That’s the power of coastal design: it transports you.

Biophilic Design

This is less a “style” and more a way of thinking: connect your home to nature. Why? Because science says being around plants and natural light makes us happier and less stressed. I mean, have you ever walked into a room with lots of plants and thought, “Ugh, this is terrible”? Probably not. So biophilic design is all about natural materials (wood, stone, jute), lots of windows for sunlight (the more, the better—natural light beats artificial any day), and—most importantly—tons of plants. But don’t worry, you don’t have to be a “plant parent” (I kill succulents, and I still make this work).

I had a client, Alex, who worked from home and felt stressed all the time—she was staring at a screen 8 hours a day, no windows in her office. We added a wall of plants (mostly pothos—they’re hard to kill) above her desk, a wooden desk (warm, not plastic), and big windows (we had to install them, but it was worth it). She also got a bird feeder outside the window, so she can watch birds while she takes breaks. She says her anxiety went down almost immediately—she even looks forward to going to her office now. It’s not about filling the room with plants until it looks like a jungle; it’s about adding small touches of nature that make you feel connected. Even a few succulents or a single pothos can make a difference.

Tuscan

Think sun-drenched Italian countryside—olive groves, terracotta roofs, big meals with family where you stay at the table for hours. Tuscan design is warm and earthy: textured walls (stucco or plaster—you can feel the texture, not just see it), rustic wood furniture (dark, like olive wood), terracotta tiles (red-brown, like the roofs), and colors that look like the land—ochre (like dirt), rust (like dried leaves), olive green (like the trees), deep reds (like wine).

It’s inviting—like a villa where everyone’s welcome, no fancy dress code required. I designed a Tuscan dining room for a client, Marco, who loves to cook Italian food (his nonna taught him how to make pasta from scratch). We added a terracotta tile floor (warm underfoot, even in winter), a wooden table that seats 10 (his family comes over for monthly pasta nights), and a chandelier made of wrought iron (it has little candle-shaped bulbs—when he dims the lights, it feels like a Italian villa). Now he hosts monthly pasta nights, and his friends say it feels like they’re in Tuscany—even though they’re in a suburb in the US. He even makes his own wine and serves it in clay cups—total Tuscan vibe.

The Eclectic & Expressive Family: Bold and Personal (Rules? What Rules?)

These styles throw out the playbook. They’re all about personality—mixing, matching, and telling your story. No two rooms are the same, and that’s the point. They’re fun, daring, and full of life. If you’ve ever thought, “I like this and this and this—can I put them all together?” the answer is yes.

Bohemian (Boho)

Boho is the free-spirit of design—relaxed, artistic, and a little bit wild. It’s a mix of patterns, colors, and textures, often from around the world. Think a macrame wall hanging from Mexico (the kind with tassels that sway in the wind), a rug from Morocco (bright colors, intricate patterns), and a pile of pillows in every color (pink, blue, green—no matching required). Modern Boho is a little more curated (no clutter—we’re not talking a room full of random stuff), but it still feels like a treasure hunt. Every piece has a story.

I have a friend, Maya, who’s a travel writer—her apartment is pure Boho. She has a vintage trunk as a coffee table (she found it in a market in Turkey—inside, she keeps her travel journals), a rug she bought in India (it has a tiny stain from a cup of chai—she won’t clean it because it reminds her of that day), and shelves full of souvenirs from her trips (a small statue from Japan, a painted bowl from Kenya, a necklace from Brazil). Every time you go over, she has a story about each piece. Her apartment doesn’t fit into any “style” box—but it fits her. That’s Boho: being unapologetically you.

Eclectic

Eclectic is like Boho’s more intentional cousin—it’s not just a pile of cool things, it’s a

careful

mix of styles. Think a crystal chandelier (fancy, traditional) over a rustic wooden table (casual, rustic), or a modern sofa (sleek) next to an antique chest (old, with history). The key is to have a common thread—something that ties everything together. Maybe it’s a color palette (all warm tones—browns, oranges, reds), or a material (lots of brass—on the chandelier, on the chest, on the lamp), or a vibe (cozy, no matter what the pieces are).

I designed an eclectic living room for a client, Jake, who loved both modern and vintage—he couldn’t pick one, so I told him he didn’t have to. We used a sleek gray sofa (modern, comfy—he naps on it every Sunday), a vintage wooden coffee table (his dad’s old one—he refinished it himself), a crystal chandelier (his great-aunt’s—he inherited it), and a rug with warm colors (oranges and browns, to tie the modern sofa and vintage table together). It sounds like it would clash, but it works—because everything ties back to that warm, cozy vibe. Jake says his friends walk in and go, “This is so you,” which is the best compliment.

Maximalism

Maximalism is the opposite of minimalism—and it’s so much fun. It’s “more is more”: bright colors, mixed patterns, lots of decor, and layers everywhere. Think a pink sofa (bright, not subtle), a patterned rug (floral, or geometric—whatever you love), a wall of art (photos, paintings, even kid’s drawings), and pillows in every print (stripes, polka dots, florals—no such thing as too many). It’s about filling your space with things you love, no apologies. No “shoulds”—if you love it, put it in.

I had a client, Zoe, who was scared to be “too much”—she loved color but thought she had to stick to neutrals (thanks, Pinterest). She said, “What if people think it’s messy?” I told her, “Messy is just another word for full of life.” We did a maximalist bedroom: a purple bed frame (her favorite color), a floral duvet (big, bold roses), a wall of family photos (mismatched frames, some with stickers), and a rug with rainbows (yes, rainbows). She also hung fairy lights around the bed frame—so at night, it feels magical. She says it’s the first time her room feels like her—she no longer worries about being “too much” because it makes her happy. Maximalism isn’t about being chaotic—it’s about being unapologetically you. And that’s never a bad thing.

Art Deco

Step into the roaring 20s—glamour, luxury, and bold geometric shapes. Art Deco is all about making a statement: rich materials like marble (cool, sleek), onyx (dark, dramatic), velvet (soft, luxurious), and lacquered wood (shiny, bold), plus high-shine metallics (gold, chrome—think sparkle). Symmetry is key—think sunburst mirrors (they look like fireworks), zigzag patterns (fun, energetic), and furniture with sharp lines (no curves here—this is bold).

It’s opulent, like a old Hollywood movie set—think Great Gatsby, but in your home. I designed an Art Deco entryway for a client, Clara, who loved old movies—she watches 20s silent films every weekend. We added a gold console table (shiny, perfect for setting down her keys), a sunburst mirror (it hangs above the table, and when the light hits it, the room glows), and a velvet bench (deep blue—she sits there to put on her shoes). She also has a small vintage record player next to the console table—she plays 20s jazz when she gets home, and the entryway feels like a time capsule. Every time she walks in, she says she feels like a movie star.

Hollywood Regency

Art Deco’s more dramatic cousin—born from the golden age of Hollywood (think 1930s, 1940s). This style is pure drama: mirrored furniture (shiny, reflects light), bold color contrasts (black and white, red and gold—think old movie posters), lavish textiles (satin, fur—soft, luxurious), and lots of shine (chandeliers, metallics, mirrors). It’s not subtle—this is a style that wants to be noticed. Think a mirrored coffee table (you can see your reflection in it), a fur throw (drape it over the sofa—even if it’s fake, it looks luxe), and a chandelier that sparkles (the more crystals, the better).

I had a client, Rachel, who loved hosting parties—she wanted a living room that felt like a Hollywood party. We did a Hollywood Regency living room with a mirrored bar (she mixes cocktails there—her signature drink is a martini), a red velvet sofa (so cozy, guests always end up sitting there chatting), and a chandelier with lots of crystals (it lights up the whole room). She also added a few old movie posters on the walls—Casablanca, Gone with the Wind. Her parties are now legendary—everyone says it feels like a Hollywood party, even if they’re just drinking wine and eating chips. That’s the fun of Hollywood Regency: it makes every night feel special.

Postmodern

Postmodern is design with a sense of humor—born in the late 20th century as a reaction to strict modernism (which was all “rules, rules, rules”). It’s irreverent, witty, and a little wild. Think whimsical shapes (like a chair that looks like a puzzle piece—my friend has one, and it’s actually comfortable), bold clashing colors (pink and green, yellow and purple—colors that “shouldn’t” go together, but do), and a “rules? what rules?” attitude. It’s like design decided to have a party.

It’s fun, like a design experiment. I designed a postmodern home office for a client, Tom, who’s a graphic designer—he wanted something that would inspire him, not bore him. We used a bright yellow desk (it’s impossible to be in a bad mood around it), a chair with a geometric pattern (blue and green—clashing, but cool), and a wall of colorful art (some of it his own work, some from other artists). He says it inspires his work—because it’s not “normal.” He even has a few fun stickers on the desk (a pizza sticker, a cat sticker) to keep it light. Postmodern isn’t for everyone—but if you love fun and don’t take design too seriously, it’s perfect.

The Global & Cultural Family: Rich Heritage (Stories from Around the World)

These styles draw from cultures all over the world—vibrant colors, intricate patterns, and handmade pieces that tell a story. They’re a celebration of heritage, and every room feels like a journey. If you’ve ever traveled and thought, “I want to bring this feeling home,” these are the styles for you.

Moroccan

Moroccan design is a feast for the senses—rich colors (deep blues, bright reds, golds—like a Moroccan marketplace), intricate tilework (called Zellige—small, colorful tiles arranged in patterns that look like works of art), arched doorways (soft, curved, like the ones in a Moroccan riad), and luxurious textiles (silk, wool—soft, warm). Think layered Moroccan rugs (one on top of another, different patterns but matching colors), leather poufs (perfect for extra seating—my client uses hers as a footrest), and pierced metal lanterns that cast beautiful patterns on the wall at night (like starlight). It’s exotic, warm, and inviting.

I designed a Moroccan bedroom for a client, Leila, who’d traveled to Morocco and fell in love with the culture. We added a Zellige tile backsplash behind the bed (the pattern is the same one she saw in a riad in Marrakech), a leather pouf (she bought it on her trip—she uses it to hold her books), and a lantern (it’s made of metal, and at night, it casts patterns that look like the ones in the marketplace). She says it feels like she’s back in Marrakech, even though she’s in a small apartment in the US. She even burns Moroccan incense in the room—so the smell takes her back too. That’s the beauty of Moroccan design: it engages all your senses.

African

African design is broad—since Africa is a continent, not a country—so it’s hard to put it in one box. But it’s all about bold patterns (bright, geometric—like the ones in Kenyan Kikoy fabric), earthy colors (browns, oranges, greens—like the African savanna), and handmade crafts (no mass-produced stuff here). North African styles (like Moroccan) have intricate tilework, while other regions (like Kenya, South Africa) focus on carved wood sculptures (animals, people—handmade by local artisans) or vibrant textiles (woven, dyed with natural colors). Natural materials are key: wood (dark, like mahogany), clay (terracotta pots), woven fabrics (thick, durable).

I designed an African-inspired living room for a client, Amara, who has roots in Kenya. We used a woven Kenyan rug (it was made by artisans from her village—she wanted to support her community), carved wooden side tables (they have animal shapes—elephants, lions—her kids love pointing them out), and a wall of African art (paintings of the savanna, a mask from Ghana). It’s a celebration of her heritage, and every time her family visits, they feel at home. She even has a few traditional Kenyan dishes on the shelves—she uses them to serve food when her family comes over. That’s what African design is about: honoring your roots.

Southwestern

This style is all about the American Southwest—deserts, canyons, and Native American heritage. Think earthy colors: terracotta (like desert soil), turquoise (like the sky over the Grand Canyon), sandy beige (like sand dunes). Natural materials: rustic wood (dark, like mesquite), leather (brown, soft—used for sofas or chairs), woven textiles with Native American patterns (geometric, like Navajo rugs—bold but not loud). And details like kiva fireplaces (round, like the ones in old pueblos—perfect for cozy nights) or cactus decor (small succulents, not big cacti—we don’t want anyone getting pricked).

I designed a Southwestern kitchen for a client, Mia, who loved hiking in Arizona—she’d spent weeks exploring the Grand Canyon and wanted to bring that desert vibe home. We used terracotta tiles on the floor (warm, like desert sand), a turquoise backsplash (bright, like the sky), and a wooden table (rustic, so it feels like it’s been in the desert for years). She has a small real succulent on the windowsill (low-maintenance—she forgets to water it sometimes) and a few Native American pottery pieces on the shelves. She says it feels like she’s bringing the desert into her home—even though she lives in a rainy city. That’s the magic of Southwestern design: it captures the spirit of the desert.

Mexican

Mexican design is vibrant and festive—big colors (reds, yellows, blues—like a Mexican flag), hand-painted Talavera tiles (bright, with floral or geometric patterns—each one is unique), rustic wood furniture (dark, like pine—sturdy, perfect for family), and colorful textiles like serapes (striped blankets—soft, warm, perfect for draping over sofas). It’s full of life—like a Mexican marketplace, but in your home. Think a Talavera tile backsplash in the kitchen (the tiles have little floral designs—my client says they make cooking fun), a serape throw over the sofa (she uses it to wrap around guests when it’s cold), and traditional pottery on the shelves (clay pots, painted with bright colors).

I designed a Mexican-inspired patio for a client, Carlos, who loved hosting Cinco de Mayo parties. We used Talavera tile tables (the tops are hand-painted—each one has a different pattern), serape cushions on the chairs (washable—important for party spills), and string lights (they’re shaped like chili peppers—cheesy? Maybe, but it’s fun). He even has a small grill on the patio—he makes homemade tacos during parties, and guests love it. Now his parties are the highlight of the neighborhood—everyone looks forward to them. That’s Mexican design: fun, festive, and all about community.

Diving Deeper: More Styles to Explore

We’ve covered the big families, but there are tons of other styles—hybrids, sub-genres, and hidden gems. Here are a few more to spark your curiosity. They’re not as mainstream, but they’re perfect if you want something a little different.

Arts and Crafts

A reaction to mass production—this style says, “We want things that are made by hand, not by machines.” It loves handcrafted pieces, natural wood (oak, pine—you can see the grain), and skilled work. Think sturdy furniture with simple lines (no fancy carvings—just well-made), woven textiles (thick, durable—like wool rugs), and pottery (hand-thrown, with imperfections that make it special). It’s about quality over quantity—buy one thing that lasts, instead of 10 things that break. My grandma had an Arts and Crafts wooden chair—she sat in it every day for 50 years, and it still looks good. That’s the point: things that stay with you.

Art Nouveau

Flowing, organic lines inspired by nature—flowers, vines, insects (but in a pretty way, not a creepy way). Think curved furniture (like a chair with arms that look like flower stems), stained glass (with patterns that look like flowers or leaves—when the sun hits it, the room is filled with colored light), and patterns that look like they’re growing (vines winding up a wall, flowers blooming). It’s romantic and a little whimsical—like a fairy tale for your home. I saw an Art Nouveau mirror once—it had a frame that looked like vines, with small stained glass flowers. It was so pretty, I almost bought it (even though I had no place to put it).

Cottagecore

Nostalgic and cozy—like an idealized rural life (think: picking flowers in a field, baking bread in a small kitchen). It’s all about floral patterns (soft, small flowers—like daisies), vintage furniture (old wooden tables, chipped paint is okay), pastel colors (pink, blue, yellow—soft, not bright), and maybe a few potted herbs (basil, mint—you can use them in cooking, so they’re practical). It’s about slow living—taking time to enjoy the little things. My friend has a Cottagecore kitchen—she has a small herb garden on the windowsill, a vintage bread box, and floral curtains. She bakes cookies every Sunday, and it feels like a little slice of heaven.

Dark Academia

Inspired by old universities—think Oxford or Cambridge, with libraries full of old books and dark wood shelves. It’s all about dark colors (navy, burgundy, brown—rich, moody), classic furniture (leather chairs, wooden desks—sturdy, like they’ve been used by students for years), and shelves full of books (classics, textbooks, even old encyclopedias—you don’t have to read them, just display them). It’s scholarly and atmospheric—perfect for book lovers. I designed a Dark Academia home office for a client who’s a teacher—she has a leather chair, a wooden desk, and shelves full of books. She says it makes her feel like she’s in a library, which helps her grade papers.

Industrial

Draws from old factories—exposed brick (rough, like the walls of a factory), concrete (cool, industrial), metal (steel, iron—sleek, edgy), and utilitarian fixtures (exposed pipes, metal lamps—no frills). Think a loft with exposed pipes on the ceiling, a metal desk (sturdy, perfect for working), and a leather chair (worn, but comfortable). It’s edgy and urban—perfect for people who love the city vibe. My cousin lives in a loft in Brooklyn—his living room has exposed brick, a concrete floor, and a metal coffee table. It’s not cozy in the traditional way, but it’s

his

—and it fits the city perfectly.

Shabby Chic

Romantic and vintage—distressed furniture (white-painted wood with chipped edges—like it’s been loved for years), soft pastels (pink, blue, cream—soft, like a watercolor painting), and floral patterns (small, delicate—like wildflowers). It’s like a vintage shop, but in your home. Think a white-painted wooden table with chipped edges (my mom has one—she uses it for craft projects), a pastel duvet (soft, like a cloud), and a vase of fresh flowers (roses, daisies—something pretty). It’s feminine and cozy—perfect if you love all things vintage. My aunt has a Shabby Chic bedroom—she has a white iron bed, a pastel pink duvet, and a few vintage dolls on the shelves. It feels like a little girl’s dream room, but for adults.

Steampunk

19th-century industrial meets science fiction—gears, cogs, brass, and leather. Think a desk with brass accents (shiny, like old machinery), a clock with exposed gears (it actually works—my friend winds his every Sunday), and a leather chair (brown, worn—like something a Victorian inventor would sit in). It’s imaginative and a little quirky—perfect for people who love sci-fi and history. I designed a Steampunk home office for a client who writes fantasy novels—he has a brass lamp, a desk with gears on the sides, and a few vintage science books on the shelves. He says it helps him get into character when he’s writing.

Transitional

The perfect middle ground—traditional comfort meets modern clean lines. It’s for people who can’t decide between traditional (too frilly?) and modern (too cold?). Think a neutral sofa with clean lines (modern, but soft), a traditional rug (with a subtle pattern, not too loud), and modern lamps (sleek, but warm). It’s versatile and works for almost any home—whether you live in an apartment or a house. My sister has a Transitional living room—she has a gray sofa (modern), a traditional Persian rug (her grandma’s), and modern lamps with brass bases (to tie the traditional rug in). It works for her because she loves both styles, and Transitional lets her have both.

Your Home, Your Story

Okay, that was a lot—but I hope it felt more like a chat over coffee than a lecture. Here’s the most important thing to remember: These styles aren’t rules. They’re just tools. Like a paintbrush—you can use one, or mix a few, or even make your own. The best homes aren’t the ones that look like they came from a magazine (those homes are usually staged—no one actually lives there with kids or pets or messy piles of laundry). The best homes are the ones that are built over time, with pieces that matter to you.

Start a Pinterest board. Go ahead—pin that rustic farmhouse kitchen, that Scandinavian living room, that Boho bedroom. Then step back and look for patterns. Do you keep pinning rooms with light wood? Or are you drawn to bold colors? Maybe you love the warmth of rustic design but hate the clutter—boom, that’s your “Rustic Minimalist” style. I

Find Your Perfect Look: 30+ Interior Design Styles