The Big House Era
Once upon a time (okay, like… last year), I was living large in oversized homes with cavernous living rooms, grand high ceilings, and enough wall space to display my impressive collection of mirrors, art, and the occasional brass bug. Adelaide spoiled me. Brisbane, circa 2022–23, spoilt me too. Big houses meant big dreams. More specifically, big furniture. I could indulge in all the maximalist glory my heart desired: console tables, velvet footstools, sculptural vases, dramatic lamps, and bookcases overflowing with tchotchkes, curated curios, and emotional support crystals.
Now, I love a console table. Curved legs? Brass inlays? Haunted manor energy? Sold. I had a console in every room. Hallway? Console. Bedroom? Console. Spare room I never used but looked good in real estate photos? Also console. My style was layered, lived-in, loud – and unapologetic.
But all good things must shrink. Or at least get packed into a garage. My new place is cute, charming, and tiny. I’m talking half my furniture now living in storage, resting peacefully in a garage like it’s taking an extended sabbatical. I do have a walk-in wardrobe (bless) and an ensuite (double bless), and don’t get me started on the balcony. The balcony alone makes up for a lot. But the living area? It’s small. Cosy. Intimate. Which is code for: I had to become brutal about what stayed and what didn’t.
The Discernment Muscle
Downsizing as a maximalist means learning the fine art of choosing between your favourite children. Which mirror will hang on the one available wall? Which vase makes it to the console table (the one, singular console table that made the cut)? Which books get displayed, and which get banished to a sad, dusty box? It’s a process that involves intense stares, some light weeping, and a lot of internal monologues like, “Yes this is a gorgeous pink glass lamp, but is it… essential?”
Enter: discernment. The most underrated superpower. People rave about minimalism and discipline, but discernment is the real flex. It’s not about denying joy – it’s about choosing what still sparks your soul when space is tight. Which pieces pull visual weight? Which are just pretty passengers?
Let’s not pretend this process is clean or quick. It’s not a one-day job. It’s more like a two-week existential crisis followed by spontaneous rearranging at 1am. But eventually, you start to see what works. The mirror that sings on the wall. The chair that still slaps even when surrounded by less clutter. The colour palette that feels curated rather than chaotic. You start to refine, not reduce.
Console Table Olympics
When you’re only allowed to keep one console table, you best believe that console is going to be The One. It’s not just furniture anymore. It’s a statement. A commitment. A deeply personal decision that says, “I might be living in a smaller place, but I still have taste and I am still that bitch.”
I rotated three consoles for days. It felt like the Bachelor but with furniture. Who will receive the final rose? The one with the intricately carved mango wood? The modern glass number that makes me feel like I live in an art gallery? Or should i just opt for a practical bookshelf? In the end, I chose drama. Of course I did. The one with curves. The one that demands attention. The one that turns heads the minute you walk in. No regrets.
And then came the styling. Oh, the joy and pain of styling a single surface when you’re used to having six. Which vase? Which candle? Which bowl of random but aesthetically pleasing objects? I had to curate a micro-moment of my former maximalist kingdom into 1.2 metres of tabletop. But honestly? That console now looks better than any I’ve styled before. There’s something powerful about having less, but loving every single piece.
Display, Don’t Hoard
When you’re a maximalist in a small space, every item has to earn its keep. Think: gallery, not storage unit. You’re not cramming in everything you’ve ever loved – you’re showcasing a few things with impact. Just because you own it doesn’t mean it needs to be out at all times.
Think of your home like a gallery, not a storage unit. You’re not cramming in every piece you’ve ever loved. You’re showcasing a select few with impact. Just because you own it doesn’t mean it needs to be out at all times. Pack some things away and let your favourites breathe. Rotating items keeps things feeling fresh without requiring you to buy more stuff or give up your maximalist identity.
This approach isn’t about becoming minimalist. It’s about becoming deliberate. You’re still allowed to have personality, vibrance, and layers. But now, your space gets to be calmer, clearer, and more refined. It’s curated chaos at its best: every corner telling your story, without yelling over itself.
Small Space, Big Personality
My new place might be small, but it’s bursting with personality. Every piece in it is something I chose deliberately, not just because it was pretty or trendy, but because it meant something. That’s the real shift. I’ve moved away from decorating on impulse and into the era of true curation. My space is smaller, yes, but it feels more like me than any large home ever did.
Each object had to fight for its right to stay, and that process forced me to pause and ask why I even wanted it in the first place. Is this just cute filler, or does it actually spark joy? Would I buy it again if I saw it today? Curation is an ongoing practice, a muscle you keep flexing. And the more I do, the more confident I feel in my style. Chaos, yes. Goblin, always. But now with just a smidge more sophistication.
So no, you don’t need to become a minimalist to live small. You just need discernment. Love what you own, and own what you love. Build a space that whispers your story back to you. Tiny square footage, massive vibe. And darling – if your console table still makes people gasp? You’ve nailed it.
We Need to Stop Clapping for Basic Decency – Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity
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