Maximalist

Maximalist design is what happens when you stop editing and start expressing. It’s color. It’s texture. It’s five patterns in one room and somehow it still works. It’s the opposite of that “clean girl aesthetic” where everything’s beige and you’re scared to spill coffee on anything. In a maximalist space, coffee belongs on that embroidered vintage velvet. It adds character.

This style is for people who collect — and not just stuff, but stories. The room says: “Oh that? I found it in a thrift shop in Portugal. The table? Flea market. The rug? It’s handwoven and yes, slightly crooked. Isn’t it perfect?” Nothing matches but everything goes.

Color is king here. Bright jewel tones, moody dark walls, clashing shades that somehow become best friends in the right light. You’ll see art — lots of it. Gallery walls that keep growing. Books stacked sideways. Trinkets on every surface. Mirrors. Candles. Maybe a plant with a name. (Her name is Susan and she’s thriving, thank you.)

It’s not about being messy. It’s about being bold. Maximalism is controlled chaos. It’s curated. But not in the “Pinterest-perfect” way. More like, “I tried ten throw blankets and this is the one that made my soul exhale.” It’s instinctual. You know when it feels right — and you’ll keep adding until it does.

Furniture doesn’t have to match. In fact, it really shouldn't. A Victorian armchair next to a modern lamp and a rattan side table? Yes. That’s the vibe. It’s not a showroom. It’s a life collage.

Maximalist design isn’t for everyone. But if you’ve ever walked into a room and thought, “You know what this needs? A hot pink bar cart and three disco balls,” then this style has been waiting for you. Embrace the drama. The detail. The delightfully extra energy of it all.

Less is more? Not here. More is more. Always has been.