Everyday Spaces

Interior Design is all about people. The whole idea is to create an environment within a space that sets the scene for the next act. Every space is designed for a specific purpose—and most definitely, designing the space itself is not the purpose.

Design has the potential to evoke different emotions depending on how it is conceived and executed. It can make you relax—or, for that matter, make you restless. A waiting space could invite you to lounge for hours, like a hotel lobby, or make you edgy, like waiting at a bus station.

One doesn’t have to be formally trained to engage with design. We have all grown up watching our mothers arranging spaces with intent—creating zones within a home without ever naming them as such. And now, we see the same instinct in our children, setting up their own worlds with toys and imagination.

The real question, then, is: what makes a “good” interior design for a particular space?

The honest answer is—no one really knows. There is no single solution.

Unfortunately, the answer we often encounter is that everyone seems to know. Spaces get filled with symbols associated with a style or tradition, as if assembling a checklist. More often than not, this results in imitation rather than interpretation—design without depth, intent without coherence.

A couple of weeks back, I found myself in one such space while taking refuge from the sweltering heat at a car wash in Doha, Qatar. The waiting area was clearly attempting a traditional Arabic theme—low-level majlis seating, fabrics with regional motifs, familiar patterns. The intent was visible.

But the experience wasn’t seamless.

The air-conditioning units stood out. The water dispenser felt misplaced. The appliances—functional as they were—did not belong to the story the space was trying to tell. The result was not discomfort, but a quiet disconnect.

It reminded me of a visit many years ago to a restored fort in Oman. There too, modern interventions existed—but they were concealed, integrated, respectful of the narrative. Wiring, fixtures, utilities—all present, yet invisible to the experience. The intent was there but the execution was not. The desire was to restore the old fort, they ended up modernising it but that is another story to narrate.

That, is where design moves from imitation to understanding.

Good design is not about choosing the right motifs—it is about ensuring that every element, visible or invisible, speaks the same language. When intent and execution align, even the most functional object becomes part of the story. And when they don’t, even the most beautiful setting feels incomplete. 

The purpose of space design lies not in borrowing identities, but in integrating them—quietly, thoughtfully, and with respect for both form and function.