The enduring appeal of a well-designed space isn’t simply aesthetic; it’s a fundamental aspect of how we experience and navigate our lives. For decades, I’ve explored this connection through writing, observing trends and translating expert advice for readers. But a curious gap remained: a formal understanding of the principles underpinning those recommendations. This isn’t a story about a career change, but about the surprising necessity of formal education even within a field one feels intimately familiar with – and what that reveals about the evolving nature of expertise itself. It’s a question many professionals across disciplines are facing: how do we bridge accumulated experience with rigorous, updated knowledge?
My journey began with a simple admission: “I don’t know what I don’t know.” After 1,086 columns dedicated to home design, spanning 40 years of covering health, real estate, and beyond, I realized the breadth of the field concealed significant depths. It wasn’t enough to report on design; I needed to understand its foundational logic. This impulse, born from a lifelong fascination with transforming spaces – a fascination that began with a teenage rebellion against a blue butterfly bedspread in favor of a Pier 1 tapestry – led me back to school. The decision, understandably, prompted questions from my husband, but the core motivation was clear: to fill the “gaps…wide as the Sargasso Sea” in my understanding.
The nine-month residential interior design program at my local university wasn’t merely a collection of facts and figures. It was a process of synthesis, connecting disparate pieces of knowledge into a cohesive whole. The curriculum encompassed everything from the history of furniture – tracing its evolution from prehistoric origins – to the intricacies of color theory, lighting design, and sustainable practices. It wasn’t simply about learning what works, but why. This emphasis on underlying principles is a critical distinction often lost in the rapid cycle of design trends. The program, as I discovered, mirrored the core tenet of interior design itself: the importance of how all the pieces work together, not just the individual elements.
The culmination of this intensive study was not just earning a certification, but a shift in perspective. I pursued a national certification exam – a step beyond the university program, akin to passing the bar after law school – driven by a desire to validate my newfound knowledge and overcome lingering imposter syndrome. The process of preparing for the exam, poring over a thick study manual and re-engaging the cognitive muscles dormant since college, was a humbling reminder of the continuous learning required to remain current in any field. It also highlighted a subtle but important distinction: the difference between “classic” – meaning timeless – and “classical,” referencing the aesthetic traditions of ancient Greece and Rome. These nuances, often glossed over in popular discourse, are precisely what elevate design from mere decoration to a thoughtful, informed practice.
Based on the original NOLA.com report.
But the true test of this education came not in an exam room, but in a home décor store. Offering an opinion on a floral arrangement – pointing out that a narrow vase was ill-suited for a rainbow-shaped niche – felt less like applying knowledge and more like embodying a new way of seeing. It was a moment of validation, a quiet affirmation that the investment in formal education had yielded a tangible shift in my ability to analyze and articulate design principles. This experience underscored a key takeaway: good design isn’t about imposing a particular aesthetic, but about creating spaces that are safe, comfortable, and accessible for all occupants, regardless of age or ability.
The program also revealed surprising historical and technical details. The Arts and Crafts movement, for example, wasn’t simply a stylistic choice, but a deliberate reaction to the dehumanizing effects of the Industrial Revolution. And the sheer complexity of building plans – the multitude of electrical symbols – demonstrated the intricate layers of knowledge required to bring a design to life. These discoveries weren’t just interesting facts; they were contextual clues, illuminating the cultural and technological forces that have shaped the built environment.
Looking ahead, the field of interior design is poised for further evolution. The increasing emphasis on sustainability, accessibility, and technology will demand a new generation of designers equipped with both creative vision and technical expertise. The question now isn’t simply what will be designed, but how – and with what consideration for the environmental and social impact. Will we see a broader integration of universal design principles, ensuring that spaces are inherently inclusive? And, crucially, will the industry prioritize ongoing education and certification, raising the bar for professional standards and protecting consumers from unqualified practitioners? These are the questions homeowners – and aspiring designers – should be watching for in the coming years.
