The Beauty of Imperfection in Design

The most beautiful rooms I've ever been in were never the most perfect. They had a worn leather chair, a slightly faded rug, a wall that had clearly lived through a few different lives.

Perfection reads as distance. It says don't touch, don't relax, don't actually live here. Imperfection invites you in. It says this is a real home, made by real people, and you're welcome to put your feet up.

So I design for it on purpose. I choose materials that will patina rather than degrade. I mix the new with the genuinely old. I leave room for a family's own things to take over once I'm gone.

A home should feel like it's been loved a little. That's not a flaw to design around — it's the whole goal.