Unreal Rooms

Homes never look like they do in magazines. Like, ever. Even in the most architecturally perfect, artfully styled, professionally cleaned, child-free and barely lived-in home you could hope to come across, if someone does in fact reside there, you’ll find evidence of that. It might be as subtle as a stray smear of hummus on the polished kitchen counter, or an ever-growing pile of bobby pins in the designer soap dish next to the bath.

It could be an embarrassing object hastily shoved under the tasteful leather couch or a wine stain (that’s never coming off) on the wool throw rug casually adorning a Scandi-chic bench. And that’s just in the most flawless home you can think of. In most homes, the signs of being lived in are much more apparent, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. It’s normal – that’s my whole point. So why do we try so hard to emulate the interior styling of homes pictured in magazines? 

Sometimes, of course, it’s out of necessity. We’ve all been in the position of needing bathroom renovations. Across Melbourne, there are bathrooms crying out for a functional facelift, for better storage solutions, for increased air circulation. I’m not denying that reality. My question is, why do we try for ‘Moroccan resort’ or ‘Parisian apartment’ when ‘Melbourne unit’ is clearly what goes with the build of the room? That’s just an example, by the way. The same could be asked of other zones of the home.

Like, why do bring in laundry designers, instead of embracing the teetering piles of ironed shirts balanced on the edge of sinks, above cupboard doors about to burst open with the mountains of reusable shopping bags crammed inside? Do we think we can achieve a luxuriant lifestyle, magically exempt from regular laundry duties, if we only install some sage green tiles?

Look, there’s nothing wrong with a bit of creative fancy, and everyone’s got to do what they’ve got to do. I’m just saying, we shouldn’t expect a home makeover to reboot our existence.