The Issue with Trends

What’s in, what’s out. The color of the year. This season’s new collection. 

It’s the new year, so I’m sure you’ve seen it, too. Trends. All the trends. A flurry of things that are perfect now, yet passé tomorrow.

Design your kitchen with oak cabinets. Paint over them in three years. Adorn them with black hardware, then swap that out for brass. Wait—this year, it’s all about dark wood, so can you sand and refinish please? 

And this year, the color of the year is peach fuzz. Peach. Fuzz. 

My goodness, it’s exhausting. And pointless. And expensive. We are keeping up with the Joneses, and we no longer know who the Joneses are. 

I get it, you know. Trends are fun and catchy. We live in an era where it’s so easy to get bored with what we know (guilty as charged). And trends, brilliant trends, poke and prod that restless spirit. They open up doors to potential new worlds of who we could be and what magic pillow ride could take us there.

But, before we race too hard and fast after the next sparkly object, I think it’s worth considering: there’s an issue with trends, too. 

First, if you let me slip on my practical and slightly less sexy hat for a moment, trends aren’t financially sustainable. Unless you’re cut from a certain class, re-designing your home every 2-3 years is wildly impractical. Filling your space is a huge financial investment, especially if you care to fill it with quality pieces.

Trends weave a story that what we have isn’t good enough. It’s dated, done for. So two thousand and late. I hate the idea that people spend a great deal of time and a great deal of hard-earned money, only to be told what they thought was in vogue was in vain.

If we use the word investment in design, shouldn’t it be just that?

Second, and a touch more poetically, trends by their nature aren’t lasting. They say: I’m only passing through. I’m here for a pause, not permanence. But shouldn’t our homes be the opposite of that? Shouldn’t they be the sole places in the world that reflect not what we’re captured by now, but what we care about deeply?

Here’s the thing: you can’t take your house with you, but you can take your things. Your piece of art can live a thousand lives, dangling on nail hooks from Paris, Texas to Paris, France. You can cuddle under a soft wool throw when you’re just embarking on your own and then, seasons later, cuddle your newborn in the same warmth.  Your things don’t have to be things.

They can be extensions of you. Stories, just like photographs, that spark memories and feelings.  Items that resonate so clearly that you feel joy, warmth, and comfort in their presence. Or, if not sentimental, they can simply be things that compel you. Designs, materials, and silhouettes that you find continually beautiful and striking. Great things aren’t necessarily new or vintage, inherited or found, expensive or cheap. They’re simply things that engage you. And here’s the great news: you make the rules on that. 

So this year, just maybe, push pause on the trends. Refrain from painting your home in peach fuzz (I know it will be hard), and take time to listen to what resonates with you. Who cares what’s in and out in the world. I promise it will change tomorrow. Instead, care to ask: what’s in with you?