Still In Style: Flipping Through 20 Years of Design Magazines
What does a 2007 issue of Domino have in common with a room you'd design today? More than you'd think.
In this episode, I dig through a stack of old design magazines — Domino, Flea Market Style, House Beautiful, Veranda, and Country Living, spanning 2007 to 2019 — and ask the question I find myself returning to constantly: what still holds up?
We talk suzanis, suzanis (yes, still), the case for painting all four walls instead of just one, why the humble breakfast nook deserves a comeback, and what the best white kitchens actually have in common. I share my ongoing plinth hunt, make a confession about Country Living being my Bible in the late '90s, and make a gentle but firm plea for the death of the accent wall.
If you've got a pile of old tear sheets, a half-finished vignette, or a dining room that could use some bookshelves — this one's for you.
In this episode:
What Domino got right about sustainability back in 2007
Minimalism vs. maximalism — and why neither is ever really "out"
The case for the jewel box room (powder rooms, butler's pantries, and going all out in small spaces)
Layered window treatments, bed canopies, and other things that keep coming back around
Why I think the accent wall's days are numbered
Treating your kitchen and bathroom like actual rooms
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KEY TAKEAWAYS
2007: What Domino Got Right Almost Twenty Years Ago
The oldest magazine in my pile was a 2007 issue of Domino, and oh, Domino. At one point, it was my absolute favorite design magazine in the world. One of the things I loved most about it was that they included little sheets of stickers — furniture, entertaining, gardening, renovation — that you could slap on pages as you flipped through to mark things you wanted to come back to. I loved that so much. I miss that magazine in its original format more than I can say.
But I didn't just want to wallow in nostalgia. I wanted to ask a real question: what did Domino get right in 2007 that still looks just as good and just as relevant today?
Quite a lot, as it turns out.
Sustainability. They ran a whole feature on eco-conscious home products that year. I think it's only become more important since then and I'm glad it's been on the radar this long.
Suzanis. There was a beautiful suzani folded over the back of a couch in that issue. For those who don't know, a suzani is a textile that originated in Central Asia — primarily Uzbekistan — these incredibly colorful embroidered pieces with large circle motifs, sun motifs, and pomegranates that symbolize fertility and abundance. I tore that page out in 2007, and I've been looking for one ever since. I finally found my first suzani just this past year at Round Top in Texas. I got a pillowcase because I could not afford an entire blanket's worth, but I truly believe it's one of those motifs that goes with almost anything, which is exactly why it's timeless.
Both minimalism and maximalism, celebrated in the same issue. One photo had neutral walls, neutral floors, neutral trim, all slightly different shades of cream — light and airy, but with one dark velvet wingback chair and one piece of art. Minimal but with real visual interest. Right next to it, a room with busy wallpaper, lots of objects, different colors, and materials — maximalism in full swing. Here's what I've come to believe: both are always in style when they're right for the person living in that space. Don't let anyone tell you one is out and the other is in.
2017: Flea Market Style and the Art of Living With Old Things
I'm not sure what happened to my magazines between 2007 and 2017 — I must have been tearing out pages and tossing the rest — but in 2017 I started keeping whole issues again. This one was Flea Market Style magazine, under the direction of Ki Nassauer, who has been on the podcast several times and is a genuine flea market and antiquing genius. The magazine celebrated bringing old things into our homes and mixing different eras and materials and aesthetics, all on a budget.
A few things from this issue that I'm still thinking about:
The table as hospitality. There's a photo of a table set for what looks like just a regular dinner — not a holiday, nothing special. But someone took the time to really dress it beautifully. Vintage wooden cutting boards instead of placemats. Old splatterware dishes. Terracotta pots with fresh herbs running down the center. It's thoughtful and warm and generous, and it says: this evening is going to be special, not because we're celebrating anything in particular, but because we have this chance to be together and break bread. I find that idea deeply moving and I don't think it ever goes out of style.
Mixing eras at the table. There's a dining room photo I keep coming back to. Warm wood chairs, probably from the fifties or sixties. A glass-topped table with chrome legs, maybe 1980s. A bright chrome chandelier, possibly seventies. All of it somehow working beautifully together because of the mix of woods and metals — and the mix within those categories. This absolutely still holds up today.
Fabric as a shape-shifter. This issue was full of clever repurposing ideas that revolved around fabric. Striped blankets hung as curtains. A Persian rug laid over a bench instead of upholstering it. I bought a vintage curtain panel in France once and was completely in love with the fabric — I thought I'd use it as a curtain in my office, but while it was lying across my guest bed I realized it was exactly the right size for a twin coverlet. Sometimes you don't know what something wants to be until it's in the room.
2018: House Beautiful, Small Spaces, and a Butler's Pantry I Think About Constantly
The 2018 issue of House Beautiful was all about small spaces, and before I get into the content, I have to mention two people who used to be involved with that magazine who I really miss — Sophie Donelson, who was editor-in-chief and was wonderful when I visited her offices, and Eddie Ross, who had a column following his own country home renovation that I was completely obsessed with.
Here's what caught my eye from this issue:
The plinth. There's one in the center of a photo — probably painted wood with a marble bust on top — and I zeroed in on it immediately because I am still actively looking for one right now. I want a tall plinth for my living room to hold a plant in the corner. I have apparently wanted one since 2018. Clearly, they have staying power.
The humble breakfast nook. There's a photo of a small, round cafe table and two little chairs, and that's it, and I found myself feeling genuinely wistful looking at it. We've moved so far in the direction of the massive eat-in kitchen that I think we've lost something. When you eat dinner in the kitchen, you're surrounded by dishes you haven't washed yet. You can't control the lighting the same way. There's something to be said for a separate dining room, and something really charming about a breakfast nook that just serves its purpose without trying to be everything.
Layered window treatments. A woven shade doing the actual work of privacy and light control, with draperies hung on either side that are probably always open. Together, they make the room feel finished, cozy, and considered. Layering window treatments is one of those things that elevates a room more than people realize.
Eddie Ross's butler's pantry. Lacquered deep green walls. Hammered bronze backsplash. Brass sink. Completely glamorous, completely over the top, and in a small space. We talk a lot about the powder room as a jewel box — this tiny room where you can go bold in a way you might not feel comfortable with in a larger space. I think the same principle applies to a butler's pantry. Give yourself permission to go all out in small rooms.
2018: Veranda and the Case for Doing It Properly
From Veranda that same year, a few things I'll never get tired of:
Stripes and plaids. They've been around forever, they'll be around forevermore, and I will never stop loving them. They read a little masculine and linear, so juxtaposing them with something that has a softer, rounder silhouette is always a smart move.
White kitchens done right. White kitchens are always in style — always have been, always will be — but there is a right way and a wrong way. This photo from Veranda shows the right way. Yes, it reads as a white kitchen, but there's quite a lot of warmth going on without detracting from that feeling of openness and light. Exposed dark wooden beams on the white ceiling. Dark urns in little niches at the tops of the cabinets. Pendant lights with some patina to them. Tile behind the range with dark grout creating a quiet pattern. A marble-topped island with dark wooden legs. Woven chairs in a neutral tone that add texture without color. The whole thing is white from the marble tabletop to the ceiling but it feels warm and lived in. That's the goal.
Block print wallpaper. A motif that originated in India, hand-carved and hand-stamped with wooden blocks. Classic, and always will be.
The Tear Sheets With No Date: What I've Been Carrying Around for Twenty Years
Some of my tear sheets have lost their source entirely — I can't always tell you the magazine or the year. But here's what keeps standing out:
Entryways that honor the threshold. The first thing you experience when you walk into someone's home, and the first thing you experience when you come home to your own space. There's something ceremonial about that moment — stepping out of the outside world and into your inside sanctuary. An entryway that acknowledges that transition, even quietly, is doing real work.
Books in the dining room. I don't think people do this enough. Put your bookshelves in the dining room, or think of it the other way around — put a dining table in your library. Books tell a story about who you are. Objects on shelves tell a story about where you've been and what you love. Putting all of that in the room where you entertain makes the whole evening feel more intimate, more like an invitation into your actual life.
Passementerie. A trim, a braid, a decorative edge running down just one side of a plain drape. Such a classic considered touch. And here's the practical version: if you can't afford expensive custom drapery, get a plain pre-made panel and add your own passementerie to the edge. It's not cheap, but it's nowhere near as expensive as fully custom curtains, and it makes all the difference.
Treat your kitchen and bathroom like rooms. Not just functional spaces, but rooms that happen to have a sink or a tub in them. Both tend toward hard surfaces and right angles, so when you soften that with objects from the rest of the house — a vintage rug on the floor, a coat rack doing the job of a towel holder, a garden stool, a lamp on the counter — the whole space changes. It feels like part of the home instead of a room that's cut off from the rest of your aesthetic.
What I Actually Took Away From All of This
Going through twenty years of tear sheets taught me something I probably already knew but needed to be reminded of: good design doesn't expire. The things that work — the things that feel considered and warm and personal and a little bit soulful — they keep working regardless of what year it is or what the magazines are saying is the new it thing.
Be bold in small rooms. Layer your windows. Mix your materials. Set a beautiful table for no particular reason. And please, paint all four of your walls.
But more than any specific design advice, what I found in that stack of old magazines was evidence. Evidence that my eye has always known what it loves. That my taste didn't arrive fully formed one day — it grew slowly, quietly, over decades of paying attention. And that's exactly what Slow Style is about.
Until Next Time
-Zandra
