Is It Impossible To Design An Authentic Home?
A philosophical deep dive… and some wallpaper drama
How do we create a home that feels like an authentic reflection of who we are inside? Asking for a friend. J.K.—asking for myself. It's a deep insecurity of mine that my home doesn't feel like an actual portal into the depths of my soul. Facilitating authentic design is, after all, what I do for a living. Our mission at LES reads: "We're here to help you create a home that reflects the extraordinary person you are." So what does it say about me that, at this moment in time, I'm struggling with a home that isn't exactly aligned with who I am? Bear with me as I sort this out because I have a lot of thoughts. Maybe by the end, I'll answer my own question.
I spent the afternoon having tea at my friend Janie's new apartment earlier this week. Janie is one of my coolest and most creative friends. She is a jewelry and textile designer (her bio is my all-time favorite example of a good “about” section). It was my first time visiting since she moved. I walked in, and immediately, I was in her world. Every corner, every odd and end—it all told Janie's story. I left feeling inspired and, admittedly, a bit jealous. Not the burning, angry kind (I'm not prone to that), but the "I'm so happy for her, but I want some of that for myself" kind. I even journaled about it the next morning, scheming ways to make my own home feel more Lauren.
The following day, I posted this on Instagram: "Anyone else struggling with an interior that doesn't reflect who you are at this point in time? Send me your thoughts." Janie was the first to respond. I was flabbergasted (dramatic word choice, but appropriate). It turns out authenticity isn't an aesthetic—it's a feeling, and it's one only the person living in the home can experience.
Janie told me her home didn't reflect who she wanted to be. It felt stuck in the past—a story of who she was, not who she was becoming. Sure, it was filled with objects she loved, but it wasn't quite put together—not the elegant, cohesive space she imagined.
And it got me thinking: Is it even possible to create a home that reflects who we are at this moment in time?
To quote the Greek philosopher Heraclitus: "The only constant in life is change." I know it's cliché, but it's true. Change is a fundamental truth of life and one that should be embraced. Who wouldn't want to grow and evolve? But if who we are is constantly changing, how can our homes ever keep up?
Beyond that big philosophical question, there are real-world constraints when designing a home: cost, architectural details, layout, and engineering. Compromises must always be made. Maybe you have the perfect design in your head and the skills (or team) to execute it, but not the budget. Each value-engineering decision feels like it degrades the vision just a little more. Or maybe you're comfortable with budget compromises, but the layout isn't quite right—and certain structural realities just can't be worked around. I have heard from so many people that they know they could create the home of their dreams if it weren't for x, y, or z. I get it; I'm with you
And then there are the people we share our homes with. A roommate, a partner, children, a family. How do you create a home where everyone feels good? Case in point: I recently decided to remove the wallpaper in our spare bathroom, which my kids use for baths. I HATE it, and we had a ceiling leak, so it felt like a sign to change. I brought home swatches, including a deep aubergine (purple is my daughter and my favorite color). I showed her, expecting excitement, and she burst into tears. "How could you change it? I love this wallpaper," she said, starting to panic. I promised I wouldn't make any rash decisions. She calmed down. Now I'm stuck. It's powerful for a kid to grow up with a room that reflects who they are. But this isn't even her room, and kids change even faster than adults. Should I really make a decision based on a 7-year-old's aesthetic preferences? Maybe. I don't know.
Going for something in a dark aubergine or burgundy:
Mixed with blue accents in this shade (I was going to paint the mirror and shelves):
So where does that leave us? Is it actually impossible to create a home that's an authentic reflection of who we are? Of our families? Should we just give up? That can't be the answer. We also can't overhaul our homes every other year. It's expensive. It's exhausting. And it's not sustainable—for us or for the planet.
Here's what I'm starting to realize: maybe our homes aren't meant to be a perfect mirror of who we are right now. Maybe they're more like journals—capturing pieces of us at different points in time—layers of our experiences, our values, and the people we love, all woven together into something that's still unfolding.
My advice (mostly to myself) for moving through this:
Embrace imperfections—both in your home and in the process of designing authentically. Just as we embrace change and growth, we must embrace a space that reflects that evolution. And all of those compromises you had to make? The budgetary constraints, the architectural quirks you couldn't get around—they forced you to think creatively. That process of struggling through the problem has value. It helps you grow your eye and flex your creative muscles. Instead of feeling resentful toward those limitations, look at them with love and compassion. After all, they are part of your life.
Take your time. Live in your home and think deeply about what you might want to change, but don't let that stop you from enjoying your space as it is. When it's time to make changes, do it slowly and intentionally. Choose pieces with deep meaning—something by an artist you've loved for years or a shape that speaks to your soul. Pick objects that tell your story. Even if they don't reflect who you'll be in 10 years, they'll always be part of your journey—not just a trend you followed.
Authentic design isn't about arriving at some finished state. It's about creating space for growth, for change, for the tension between who we were and who we're becoming. It's about embracing the process, imperfections and all, because that's where the magic happens.
A home doesn't need to tell a perfect story—it just needs to tell your story. And as long as it feels like home to you, that's enough. More than enough.
And now for the latest on the LES Jounral - The Curated Life: Inside the Exquisite Homes of Yves Saint Laurent
and if you want to see more from Janie— here is her home tour from Volume II of our journal
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Love this musing! I’ve found with my own house, it’s an ongoing conversation between what I want stylistically x what the house wants.
Such a good post! Completely agree there are so many moving parts/constraints with creating a home that reflects who we are & who we want to be that’s also comfortable for our families who live with us…I tend to move every 1-2yrs and start over with my design since every home is different and I believe good design has to listen to the space. I always sell most of my things, this is not feasible for most people but it’s definitely helped me not drag lots of things from the past around and end up with house that feel dated in my past. My homes always feel like a current reflection of who I am, with little bits of who I was reflected in my Art.