Over the last decade, interiors have moved away from the pursuit of perfection towards something more layered, tactile and seemingly ‘authentic’. Carefully selected materials, vintage furniture and evidence of craft have become familiar shorthand for character, creating spaces that feel lived-in rather than meticulously curated and styled. Yet, as this aesthetic becomes increasingly mainstream, has ‘character’ become another look to aspire to? Has the whole concept of authenticity become reduced to a stylised aesthetic?
A visit to Palm Springs, California in late 2025 brought this into focus. Cycling through Twin Palms Estates, I was struck by how naturally the architecture and interiors belonged to their desert setting. This was particularly evident in Richard Neutra’s Kaufmann House, completed in 1946, where the boundary between interior and exterior is deliberately blurred. Sliding glass planes, sheltered terraces, stone, timber and concrete all combine to create a seamless dialogue between architecture and landscape.
The character of the house emerges from the relationship between these two aspects, as well as from local climate and lifestyle. Palm Springs has a distinctive visual language, but its real appeal lies in its historical and environmental roots. It’s a lot more than a collection of mid-century forms that can be reproduced elsewhere; it’s a clear reflection of both its ‘desert oasis’ location and a distinctive way of living.
The Kaufmann House also raises questions about the value of time. Its only major restoration, carried out between 1993 and 1995, involved careful attention to the original architecture, using archival photographs and historical information to reverse ill-advised alterations to materials and details. This recognised that its significance lies not simply in its appearance, but in its history and design integrity. Authenticity, in this sense, is not about preserving the past, but about clearly understanding what gives something meaning before deciding what should change.
This distinction feels increasingly important as AI makes visual experimentation almost limitless. Any aesthetic can be generated, refined and replicated in an instance. Even imperfection can be manufactured; patina can be simulated, vintage pieces sourced and craftsmanship imitated. The visual language of authenticity is becoming easier to reproduce, but there is a danger here to the value of integrity and meaning.
The next evolution of character will perhaps therefore represent a shift away from aesthetics towards intent. Rather than asking how to make an interior feel individual, we should ask what makes it inherently specific to its place, its purpose and the people who inhabit or experience it. This demands more than a considered palette or a collection of objects with interesting-sounding provenance. It requires a clear understanding of context, a willingness to make decisions that may not conform to a prevailing aesthetic, and an acceptance that character often emerges over time through use, rather than being perfected at handover.
The most compelling spaces combine a distinctive visual identity with a sense that every element genuinely belongs. The question, then, is not simply how we create character, but whether we can design for it at all going forward. Does genuine character emerge only when we stop treating character – and authenticity – as an aesthetic objective and design instead for place, purpose and the life that will unfold there?
Read the full article in Design Insider.
