To be honest, I bought into some of it. It did look nice - clean, polished, serene. But the need to assimilate faded quickly. I believe it was because, a hotel is a nice place to visit but home is where you live. Our home is a picture of our life story, clues to our interests and life stages. Home is a place to make memories, to grow up, raise a family or grow old in. Home doesn't feel like home when it looks like a hotel.
I now see that what was sold to us as aspirational was, in many ways, a war on beauty. The trend was a flattening of personality and a silencing of stories. White walls, white bedding, white shelves with two neutral vases. And nowhere to hang the artwork your children created. Nowhere to drape a handmade blanket or quilt, except neatly hidden deep from view, but only if it sparked joy. But why in the world would we hide the items in our home that bring us joy? Is having the perfect 'beige aesthetic' really worth hiding precious keepsakes that bring us joy.
After my mom passed away, I inherited many of her belongings. At first, influenced by the minimalist tide, I felt the pressure to let go of anything that wasn’t useful or didn't immediately spark joy. I decluttered things I now wish that I had kept. Not because I needed them, but because they meant something. They told a story. In hindsight, that meaning was far more valuable than any tidy aesthetic. As women, the feelings that feel like a spark of joy are fleeting and unreliable. Our feelings and emotions are constantly changing through the month and how we feel about any given object changes through time. It wouldn't have been possible to keep everything my mom left behind but there are some items that have even more meaning now then they did immediately following her death.
I’ve come to believe we’re wired to want beauty - not the sterile kind, but the rich, layered kind. The kind you find in a grandmother’s house. Flowers, needlepoint pillows, old books with yellowed pages, doilies, ornate frames, family photos, dishes with floral patterns, and rooms that smell like cinnamon or lemon Pledge. It's not about clutter, it’s about comfort. Not excess, but expression. It's a space where we feel love and experience life. For many of us, Grandma's house holds a very special place in our heart, or is still a favorite place to be. What's so wrong with letting our homes be inspired by such a warm and wonderful memory.
In recent years, I’ve seen others waking up to this too. A small rebellion has begun... An entire aesthetic, featuring flowers, vintage wallpaper, teacups, furniture with curves, shelves filled with things that matter. It's much more than a mere love for vintage or farmhouse décor. No, this is definitely more... It’s the rise of grandma-core. It's an embrace of what once was, not out of nostalgia alone, but out of a desire for deeper meaning and true beauty.
We see it reflected beyond our homes as well. Compare modern buildings that lack any personality in the design, made of steel, glass, and straight lines, to the detailed allure of a Victorian home. We see the same pattern occurring in art and are slowly witnessing a shift from abstraction, back toward representational beauty. There’s something within us that longs for depth, warmth, texture, and story.
The beige aesthetic told us we’d be happier with less. And in some ways, that may be true. But the mistake was in assuming that less was more, ultimately giving us a minimal and meaningless home, lacking any elements of ourselves.
Now, I’m not here to say that there’s isn't a place for simplicity or tidying up. Decluttering has its time and purpose. But it shouldn’t come at the cost of erasing who we are, where we’ve come from, or what we love.
The Beige Rebellion is a return to color, character, and meaning. It’s realizing that home is far more than likes and followers, or a way to impress others. Home is meant to hold the people we love and the stories we carry. It's a rebellion rooted in love. And if that means your house ends up looking like your grandma’s… maybe that’s the highest compliment of all. After all, Grandma's house is more than insta-worthy... it's sentimental.
I now see that what was sold to us as aspirational was, in many ways, a war on beauty. The trend was a flattening of personality and a silencing of stories. White walls, white bedding, white shelves with two neutral vases. And nowhere to hang the artwork your children created. Nowhere to drape a handmade blanket or quilt, except neatly hidden deep from view, but only if it sparked joy. But why in the world would we hide the items in our home that bring us joy? Is having the perfect 'beige aesthetic' really worth hiding precious keepsakes that bring us joy.
After my mom passed away, I inherited many of her belongings. At first, influenced by the minimalist tide, I felt the pressure to let go of anything that wasn’t useful or didn't immediately spark joy. I decluttered things I now wish that I had kept. Not because I needed them, but because they meant something. They told a story. In hindsight, that meaning was far more valuable than any tidy aesthetic. As women, the feelings that feel like a spark of joy are fleeting and unreliable. Our feelings and emotions are constantly changing through the month and how we feel about any given object changes through time. It wouldn't have been possible to keep everything my mom left behind but there are some items that have even more meaning now then they did immediately following her death.
I’ve come to believe we’re wired to want beauty - not the sterile kind, but the rich, layered kind. The kind you find in a grandmother’s house. Flowers, needlepoint pillows, old books with yellowed pages, doilies, ornate frames, family photos, dishes with floral patterns, and rooms that smell like cinnamon or lemon Pledge. It's not about clutter, it’s about comfort. Not excess, but expression. It's a space where we feel love and experience life. For many of us, Grandma's house holds a very special place in our heart, or is still a favorite place to be. What's so wrong with letting our homes be inspired by such a warm and wonderful memory.
In recent years, I’ve seen others waking up to this too. A small rebellion has begun... An entire aesthetic, featuring flowers, vintage wallpaper, teacups, furniture with curves, shelves filled with things that matter. It's much more than a mere love for vintage or farmhouse décor. No, this is definitely more... It’s the rise of grandma-core. It's an embrace of what once was, not out of nostalgia alone, but out of a desire for deeper meaning and true beauty.
We see it reflected beyond our homes as well. Compare modern buildings that lack any personality in the design, made of steel, glass, and straight lines, to the detailed allure of a Victorian home. We see the same pattern occurring in art and are slowly witnessing a shift from abstraction, back toward representational beauty. There’s something within us that longs for depth, warmth, texture, and story.
The beige aesthetic told us we’d be happier with less. And in some ways, that may be true. But the mistake was in assuming that less was more, ultimately giving us a minimal and meaningless home, lacking any elements of ourselves.
Now, I’m not here to say that there’s isn't a place for simplicity or tidying up. Decluttering has its time and purpose. But it shouldn’t come at the cost of erasing who we are, where we’ve come from, or what we love.
The Beige Rebellion is a return to color, character, and meaning. It’s realizing that home is far more than likes and followers, or a way to impress others. Home is meant to hold the people we love and the stories we carry. It's a rebellion rooted in love. And if that means your house ends up looking like your grandma’s… maybe that’s the highest compliment of all. After all, Grandma's house is more than insta-worthy... it's sentimental.
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