2026 Design Forecast: INS & OUTS
- Heather Ault
- Jan 19
- 5 min read
Updated: Jan 19

Last week, I took clients and our contractor on a design field trip to the mall to talk about how lighting highlights architectural moments, creates mood, and shapes how we move through space. Somewhere along the way, a client joked that I was like the “Ms. Frizzle of design.”
I took it as a compliment. At its core, the comparison speaks to something I value deeply: design works best when people understand it and feel included in the process. When clients are engaged and informed, the result is always more intentional—and more meaningful.
I often say that art history is simply history, because art and design reflect the cultural moment in which they’re created. They capture our anxieties, our optimism, our rebellion, and our resilience.
As we look ahead to 2026, that lens feels especially relevant. We’re living in a period of global tension and transformation, and historically, these are the moments when design doesn’t just reflect culture—it responds to it and pushes beyond it.
Interestingly, 2026 is the Year of the Horse, specifically the Fire Horse, a symbol of intensity, confidence, and forward momentum. While I don’t take astrology too literally, the alignment is hard to ignore. These qualities are already emerging in art and interiors, and they shape the shifts ahead.
Together, these trends signal a broader move away from performance and toward presence.
1) IN: Beauty - OUT: Perfection
Perfection is static. Beauty is human.
I see this insistence on perfection as a reflection of the influence of the machine-made. Over the last decade, we experimented heavily with filters and digital edits, first in photography and then in our own appearances. Eventually, that same pursuit of artificial perfection made its way into residential design, as homes were styled to mirror the unattainable smoothness and symmetry of filtered images.
But perfection at that level isn’t human, and it isn’t sustainable. What began as experimentation turned into overuse, and now, fatigue. People are growing bored with spaces that feel optimized rather than lived in.
In response, design is shifting toward something more authentic. There is a renewed appreciation for honest materials, visible process, and character that develops over time. Beauty, once again, is allowed to be imperfect, expressive, and real.
Design Translation
Asymmetrical compositions
Hand-applied instead of machined finishes (plaster, limewash, patina)
Vintage or singular pieces
Rooms that feel alive, not staged
2) IN: Storytelling - OUT: Clickbait
A storytelling home isn’t designed to impress at first glance; it’s designed to unfold over time.
Until recently, we’ve largely been living in a seller’s market. Homes were frequently designed not as long-term reflections of the people inside them, but as products prepared for broad appeal. Interiors were staged to sell, optimized for resale value, and stripped of specificity in favor of what photographed well and offended no one.
In that environment, décor became ubiquitous. The same objects, palettes, and layouts appeared again and again, not because they held meaning, but because they felt safe. The goal was not to create a home someone wanted to grow old in, but one that could be easily passed on.
A storytelling home operates differently. It isn’t designed for the masses; it’s designed for the people who live there. These are spaces that invite a guest to take off their coat and stay awhile. They recall family vacations, personal rituals, hobbies, and interests. They unfold slowly, revealing themselves over time rather than announcing themselves all at once.
In other words, a storytelling home resists the one-liner, “gotcha” moment. It doesn’t rely on instant impact or visual punch. Instead, it rewards attention, presence, and history—and in doing so, creates spaces that feel more familiar and hospitable..
Design Translation
Moody rooms with depth and atmosphere
Heirlooms and collected pieces instead of thematic décor
Details that feel intentional, not excessive
Emotion and meaning over spectacle
3) IN: Organic Curves - OUT: Hard Geometry
Softness as a form of sophistication.
Organic curves signal a move away from machine-led aesthetics, while still embracing technology as a powerful partner in the design process.
After a decade dominated by rigid geometry and precision-driven forms, design is softening—literally. Curves feel more intuitive, more natural, and more expressive. They invite movement and rest rather than control.
This shift is not a rejection of technology, but a recalibration of its role. Advanced tools now allow us to model, refine, and engineer complex forms with incredible accuracy, while still preserving the warmth and subtle irregularity that make spaces feel human. Technology becomes a collaborator rather than the author, supporting design instead of dictating it.
The result is structure with grace. Forms move naturally, like wind-carved stone, water flowing downstream, or a horse in full gallop. Spaces feel less rigid, more intuitive, and ultimately more engaging—benefiting from innovation without sacrificing soul.
Design Translation
Rounded upholstery and banquettes
Arched openings and softened thresholds
Sinuous millwork and furniture
Layouts designed to flow rather than divide
4) IN: Rodeo Queen - OUT: Trad Wife
If it can’t handle real life, it isn’t good design.
Recently, I’ve noticed a clear return of Western and cowboy references in art and décor at design trade shows—velvets and leathers, fringe and plaid, boot-inspired motifs, and wood floors that celebrate knots, wear, and patina rather than conceal them. After all, it's the year of the horse:)! What’s emerging isn’t costume or nostalgia, but an appreciation for materials that work hard and age honestly.
Like the saying “all politics are local,” residential design is deeply regional. This doesn’t mean we adhere rigidly to geography—Santa Fe isn’t the only design language in Arizona, nor is American Ranch the only option in Texas—but our physical environments inevitably shape how we live and, in turn, how we design.
In San Diego, indoor–outdoor living is second nature because the climate allows for it. In New York City, apartments are often treated like jewel boxes, offering richness and refuge from the intensity of the urban landscape. Florida embraces boldness and saturation, mirroring its tropical environment. These aren’t rules; they’re responses.
So perhaps my reference to the rodeo queen is, in part, personal. I’m a Californian. The rodeo queen represents strength, capability, and self-reliance. She values function, resilience, and freedom of movement. Her beauty isn’t fragile or performative; it’s earned through use. She's wild west and isn’t afraid of wear, weather, or a little dust.
The trad-wife aesthetic, by contrast, is rooted in image rather than reality. It presents as effortless and pristine, but depends on a carefully constructed performance—one that often obscures the labor, resources, and support systems required to maintain it.
When translated into design, this mindset prioritizes appearance over durability and perfection over livability.
Homes, like people, should be allowed to be real. In 2026, design favors spaces that hold up, move forward, and grow richer with time. Spaces that don’t demand perfection, but support real life as it unfolds.
Design Translation
Materials that patina and strengthen with time
Naturally strong textiles like denim, wool, and canvas
Flow that supports real life instead of restricting it.
Grounded proportions, tailored silhouettes, and intentional restraint
Design in 2026 isn’t about chasing what’s next—it’s about moving forward with intention. Beauty over perfection. Conviction over noise. It’s a little more mature, grounded, and tired of having to shout to be heard. Spaces that live well, age well, and reflect the people inside them. When design is rooted in confidence, it doesn’t need to announce itself. It simply lasts. And, as it goes with most things, it’s always best to leave ‘em wanting more.






















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