Whether you're simply refreshing your home or embarking on a new design journey, decorating can be both exhilarating and daunting. The excitement builds as you browse Pinterest or Instagram and envision your dream home, but you might get cold feet when faced with the endless array of decisions. While access to home decor has expanded significantly since the 1980s, the overwhelming feeling isn’t new. In fact, flipping through an old issue of Better Homes & Gardens from 1981 might feel shockingly familiar—choices, possibilities, and those nagging doubts about whether you’re making the right call.
The key to overcoming decision paralysis lies not in eliminating options, but in focusing on timeless principles. The 1980s had its fair share of memorable trends—some flashy, others surprisingly grounded in practicality. Those decades weren’t just about neon and shag carpets; they offered smart strategies for creating character-filled, personal spaces. And as it turns out, those strategies are just as effective today.
Take mix-and-match styling, for instance. The '80s loved to layer—the louder the better. Cluttercore may be a modern buzzword, but its DNA is rooted in this era of unapologetic abundance. Picture a family living room in 1986: a plaid couch, paisley throw pillows, a wall tapestry, and perhaps even floral curtains, all happily coexisting. The charm, however, wasn’t in the chaos. It came from thoughtful coordination. A young couple in Des Moines, for example, recalls how they picked out their entire living room suite from a department store’s design collection, right down to the lamp shades and side table linens. Everything felt connected, intentional.
Today’s equivalents are curated collections from paint and fabric companies. These help you build a cohesive look with less effort, reducing that intimidating trial-and-error phase. If you’re playing with bold floral upholstery, balance it with a solid velvet pillow in a complementary shade. Choose textiles from the same color family but vary the pattern scale—think wide stripes against micro-checks—to keep things dynamic. And don’t forget textures. A chunky knit throw or linen curtain can ground even the most energetic palette.
Now imagine you’ve moved into your first apartment. The walls are white, the floors a mystery laminate, and your only furniture is a couch you inherited from a friend. Here, color becomes your savior. In a scene echoed across countless starter homes, a fresh coat of paint transforms bland into brilliant. A design student in Portland once told of how she chose a dusty emerald green for her small living room, inspired by a thrifted painting. The space, once sterile, took on warmth and depth. And it didn’t stop with walls. Painting the ceiling a slightly deeper hue added intimacy, while light blush trim gave the room a sense of finish and flair.
Even the finish you choose matters. Glossy paints reflect light, opening up small or dim spaces. Matte finishes, on the other hand, feel cozy and enveloping. Don’t be afraid to experiment. A rich navy on a single wall can make a room feel dramatically chic, while a pale buttery yellow can bring a kitchen to life on dreary winter mornings. Inspiration is everywhere—a ceramic mug, an old scarf, a childhood memory—and translating that into a room’s palette can make your home feel uniquely yours.
But color alone can’t tell your story. That’s where accessories come in. Walk into any grandmother’s house, and you'll likely see a gallery of memories: ceramic figurines from vacations, embroidered cushions, antique clocks. These aren’t just decorations—they're expressions of love, heritage, and identity. Similarly, your home should wear its heart on its sleeve. Whether it’s a stack of books you’ve read and reread, a vase picked up during travels, or a print your child made in school, these elements give a space soul.
It’s tempting in the age of fast decor to buy everything at once, but the most meaningful rooms evolve. A couple in Atlanta began with just a vintage rug and a coffee table when they moved into their fixer-upper. Over the years, they added art from flea markets, handmade pottery, a gallery wall of family photos, and plants that grew with their children. Their living room became a diary of their life together—layered, lived-in, and unmistakably theirs.
There’s also elegance in restraint. While maximalism has its devotees, the enduring appeal of simplicity can’t be overstated. A friend once rented a tiny cottage in Maine with bare white walls, linen curtains, and only a few rustic wood furniture pieces. The space felt serene, not sparse. What made it work was the balance—each item had a purpose and presence. The negative space wasn’t empty; it was intentional.
This philosophy extends to furniture. The 1980s championed modular pieces, and today’s iterations are more versatile than ever. Consider a sectional that breaks into armchairs or a coffee table with hidden storage. For a city dweller with a 500-square-foot apartment, a modular sofa became the MVP—serving as a guest bed, movie lounge, and even makeshift workspace. The beauty lies in adaptability.
Small spaces benefit greatly from smart joinery. Multifunctional furniture isn’t just a trend; it’s a necessity. In a two-bedroom flat in Tokyo, a Murphy bed hides behind a custom bookcase, and the kitchen island doubles as a dining table and storage hub. One woman turned her hallway into a home office by tucking a pull-out desk into what used to be a broom closet. These clever ideas don’t just save space—they transform how we live.
Of course, practical design doesn’t mean sacrificing charm. A retired couple in the English countryside had a spare room that wore many hats—sewing room, library, guest bedroom. Their joinery included built-in shelves, a fold-down desk, and a daybed with under-bed drawers. It was their most-used room, not because it was large or grand, but because it was thoughtfully made to suit their lives.
The art of decorating is part planning, part experimentation, and part storytelling. It’s about taking inspiration—yes, even from decades past—and layering it with your own experiences. Maybe you grew up with chintz curtains and now find yourself longing for the nostalgia of florals. Maybe you remember your dad’s love for wood paneling and now embrace natural finishes. Design is deeply personal.
And while trends may shift—chrome, beige, terrazzo, rattan—the desire for a home that feels right never changes. You want rooms where you can rest and dream, where your friends feel welcome, where your memories live. You want practicality that doesn’t stifle beauty. You want to walk in and say, “This is me.”
By revisiting the wisdom of the past and blending it with your present, you’re not just decorating—you’re creating a home that tells your story, one brushstroke, one cushion, one shelf at a time. The 1980s may have handed us plenty of design quirks, but they also left behind principles rooted in individuality, boldness, and balance. And in an age of overwhelming choice, those old-school lessons might just be the fresh start you need.