Glamorous Scenes from the Design World, Volume 1
Behind every glossy photo is an interior designer simultaneously sweating and freezing from panic.
You know what screams glamour? Me, last November, standing in a wind tunnel downtown, receiving a tile delivery in a puffer coat that looked like it lost a fight with a duvet. The tiles were heavy. The wind was howling. I looked like a haunted Roomba, hauling boxes into a condo lobby while trying not to curse in front of the doorman.
Instagram: Cute tile close-up, 103 likes
Reality: Windburn, dust, a herniated disc
The finished product is always flawless. The path to get there is anything but.
I’m still relatively new to this business, and I’m learning some hard lessons. Mostly, I take it in stride. How else do you learn except by doing? But sometimes, even the cheeriest among us need a moment. This work is deeply fulfilling, but let’s be real, it’s also a slog. And while I’m happier than I’ve ever been, there have been some shockers.
Here are a few of my favorites so far:
The Great Outlet Cover Panic of... Every Project
“Outlet covers: my white whale.”
I always forget them. Always. Like, we’re walking the finished space with the homeowner, everyone’s smiling, and suddenly: there it is. A gaping electrical hole in the wall. “Who was supposed to get the outlet covers?” I ask casually.
Awkward silence.
It was me. I was supposed to get the outlet covers.
Why? Who knows. I can remember a thousand other details. I’ve got a spreadsheet for brass pulls and vintage sconces, but, somehow, those tiny white squares keep slipping through the cracks. Literally.
That Time I Painted the Whole Damn Place Myself
“Cue the playlist. Grab the ladder. Watch me spiral.”
One bad calendar call and suddenly I’m the painter. Except I’m not. But the walls weren’t going to paint themselves.
Let’s also set the record straight: Levi, my Design Assistant (aka LDA), did 75% of the painting. But it was definitely my fault we were in that position to begin with. (Thanks and sorry, Levi.)
On the bright side? The room looked incredible. On the downside? My spine still hasn’t forgiven me.
Styling = 30% Vision, 70% Hauling Crap
“Some people carry purses. I carry brass ducks in laundry baskets.”
Styling day is equal parts art and chaos. My trunk becomes a mobile flea market: candles, antique books, seven throw pillows, a ceramic leopard I found on a whim. I’ve schlepped across downtown like I was prepping for a design-themed episode of Survivor.
To be fair, many of my designer friends say the same thing: styling is the most fun and the most exhausting part of the job. Especially when the photographer’s ready, the light is perfect, and you’re still trying to decide which vase says “nonchalantly curated with an undercurrent of whimsy.”
Timelines Are Fiction
“Design timelines are like weather reports: mostly wrong, but fun to pretend we believe them.”
Even the most carefully laid plans can unravel. Permit delays. Vendor ghosting. Cracked tubs. A full pallet of expensive tile—all broken. (And yes, that was the same tile delivery from the November windstorm. Good times.)
I kid you not I have about 100 photos of broken tile from this shipment.
I now have a deep and abiding respect for general contractors. How they juggle moving parts without losing their minds is beyond me. But even on the smoothest projects, there’s always a moment when the plan is shredded and you’re starting over—deep breaths, backup plan, hope and prayers.
Photoshoots = High Glam Meets High Stress
“Me, on the floor holding a lamp cord out of frame: ‘This is my dream job 🥰.’”
You think it’s all peonies and perfect natural light? Ha. It’s mostly cords, glares, and me sweating profusely while adjusting a throw blanket to look “effortlessly tossed.”
And let’s not talk about wrangling plants, vacuuming invisible dust, or whispering sweet nothings to a bar cart that just won’t sit straight. The final shots? Stunning. The behind-the-scenes? A sitcom with a lot more lint rolling.
And Yet… I Wouldn’t Trade It
Designing spaces is a full-body, full-brain love affair. It’s messy. It’s demanding. It’s sometimes absurd.
But it’s also magic.
Even when I’m schlepping tile in the snow, painting walls by headlamp, or Googling “how to center an outlet plate” at 11:43pm—I still want to do it again tomorrow.
Got a Disaster Story of Your Own?
What’s the most ridiculous, chaotic, or just so real moment you’ve had at work that no one saw on social media? Hit reply and tell me. I want to laugh with you.
And if you’re new here, welcome. I write weekly about the glorious, gritty world of bold design—with a side of chaos.