by Alejandra Ríos

If you have never heard of Victor Papanek’s definition of “design” in his Design for the Real World, you are in for a treat. He writes:

“Design must be an innovative, highly creative, cross-disciplinary tool responsive to the needs of men. It must be more research-oriented, and we must stop defiling the earth itself with poorly-designed objects and structures.”.

I love this quote: it does not simply just speak to creativity. It speaks volumes about responsibility. It is a clear reminder that good design isn’t just about making things; it’s about making things matter. It’s about creating with care, intention, and a long view. Something that can genuinely serve both people and the planet.

How Architectural Design Shapes Life

As interior architecture became more central to my work, I began paying closer attention to the quiet impact of space. The truth is, the way a room feels can shape the way a life feels and that’s powerful.

Life, as it always does, becomes the unexpected teacher. Over seven years, I have moved six times across London, with each and every flat and space becoming a fresh chapter in my journey.

With every move, I found myself wanting not just to decorate, but to curate and exclusively carry forward the things that felt essential. I would ask myself: What objects are part of my daily routine? Which ones truly serve me, not just as a person, but as a designer?

I became obsessed with the idea of meaningful ownership, holding onto things that carried significance, and, consequently, letting go of what didn’t: the poorly designed, the irrelevant, the excess. I’m not saying we are not meant to buy mass-produced articles, or even eventually fall for something a little imperfect. I do, however, believe in a deeper equation, one that considers how something fits into your life, how it functions, and how long it’ll stay with you before it turns into waste.

The Oyster Shells Collection

During one of my countless moving days, I noticed a few oyster shells I had collected during my beach walks in Cádiz with my aunt. They were small, yet they told a story, one that had followed me through every flat.

They had no labels and no price tags. No real use for them either. Regardless, they quietly mastered the art of versatility: they became ring holders, then salt shakers, and, ultimately, vessels of memory. Consistently, they had nonchalantly served their purpose every step of the way.

Those oyster shells made me think differently about what responsible design really means. Since then, I’ve started embracing my coastal roots: the sea, the salt, the texture of tide-washed things, and finding ways to weave them into my spaces. Oyster shells now hold my spices, my soaps, even my earrings. Small rituals. Small beauty. Small reminders to stay connected to the places that shaped me.

Even my grocery shopping shifted. I began to ponder regularly: What do I want to eat? But also: What fits into these little bowls? What colours lift the space? What makes my kitchen feel alive?

Bit by bit, I began inching away from rigid minimalism. I did this not by approaching cluttered or baroque ensembles, but by allowing myself to appreciate higher standards of living: an empathetic kind of design that listens to mood, rhythm, and actual life.

Designing with Purpose

And that’s when it hits me: all interiors I create need to be more than functional, more than stylish. They must be an experience. We need spaces that shape how we feel. Every. Single. Day.

I always circle back to those oyster shells and how they nudged me to slow down. They drove me to experiment more and, at the same time, romanticise the ordinary. They’ve become quiet companions, ones which grow and change along the way, that are reassessed and reassured in their ever-changing positions. Just like Eileen Gray and her iconic chair, not just furniture, but a partner in the everyday.

In a nutshell, or, for lack of a better term, in a seashell if I may, this is how we should reimagine interiors:

• By actively looking for natural optimisation: choosing objects that elevate our routines.
• By conveying seamless interaction: designing spaces that feel alive.
• By upholding constant conversation: letting our homes tell the story of how we live and who we’re becoming.