Psychedelic Neon Chicken Aesthetic
This isn't my design perspective. But it's close.
Ever try to explain your personal style and end up sounding like a lunatic? That’s me every time someone asks about my design aesthetic. “Maximalist” sort of works, but it also makes people picture rococo chandeliers and velvet fringe on everything. I love bold—but not that bold.
And then I saw this photo from Pocket Macro.
© Samuel Williams
Yes, it’s neon. Yes, it’s chaotic. Yes, there’s a chicken in leg warmers. But somehow… it’s me. Not literally, but spiritually. There’s teal. There’s cheek. There’s a refusal to be beige.
But I am a designer, not a feral raccoon with a credit card. My job is to take all that joyful visual energy and rein it in just enough that your home feels thrilling, but still somewhere you'd actually want to drink coffee in your pajamas.
Let me explain.
I am a designer, not a feral raccoon with a credit card.
I design with color, but never chaos.
Give me a good teal—rich, jewel-toned, maybe with a little smoke in it. Give me wallpaper with scenes that make you lean in, not back. Give me geometry that feels rhythmic and intentional, not like it’s shouting at you in Greek.
I like pattern with purpose. When I use it, it’s to tell a story. It anchors a space, creates a vibe, whispers something about the people who live there. You walk in and think, This is fun, but you stay and realize, This is thoughtful. Color is how I spark joy. But scale, texture, and restraint are how I keep it organized.
You won’t find me throwing in five prints just because I can. I don’t want your space to feel like a mood board gone rogue. I want it to feel personal, alive, and like it could only ever belong to you.
I believe a room should have personality.
Yours, not some internet algorithm.
Your home should be an expression of your character, not a mash up of internet trends. I love when a room has one piece that makes guests go, “Wait, what is that?” and you get to say, “Oh, it’s hand-painted, and yes, the cheetah has pearls.” Or “That’s a nod to my grandmother’s old floor tile, but we made it...luxury.”
Because when you surround yourself with things that mean something, pieces that hold memory, humor, or surprise, you don’t just live in a house. You live in a story.
I believe in custom moments you can’t click-to-cart.
One of my greatest joys is designing something so uniquely tailored to my clients that it simply wouldn’t exist without them. That could mean a built-in banquette with hand-selected upholstery from a quirky fabric house in Europe. A vintage light fixture we rewire and reimagine. A mural in a powder room based on your favorite childhood garden.
Every project gets at least one “off-menu” design move. Not because it’s fancy—but because you deserve something that isn’t mass-produced or mass-experienced. Something made for you. Your taste. Your story.
This is what happens when I make soap. Kinda wish it was brighter.
So yeah. That chicken photo? It’s chaos. It’s fabulous. It’s a fever dream in feathers. But it also gets at the heart of something I care about: design should make you feel something. Even if that feeling is, Wait… is that poultry in pink leg warmers?
I design homes that feel personal, joyful, and nothing like everyone else’s. If you're craving something a little unexpected, a little bold and a lot you, let’s talk.
And no birds were harmed in the making of this aesthetic.