I’ll Never Make Another Decor Decision Without a Mood Board
I always doubted whether the design planning approach was actually helpful, but now that I’ve found the right platform, I’m a full-on convert.
I always doubted whether the design planning approach was actually helpful, but now that I’ve found the right platform, I’m a full-on convert.
Recently, I took a look at my living room and realized that, unfortunately, I hated almost everything about it, and that it all needed to change. The rug I’d purchased four years ago was now an eyesore that I actively despised; despite having ample lighting options, the entire space still felt dim. Because I lack patience, my instinct was to overhaul the entire place in one fell swoop—but because I lack the funds required to do so, I was forced to take a more measured approach. It was time to make a mood board.
Generally, I associate mood boards with their more spiritual cousins, vision boards, which are meant to piece together nebulous life goals, hopes, and wishes in a collage-like manner, and therefore do not generally play in that field. But the mood board part of a design process, as seen specifically on home renovation television, is actually a lot more useful than I realized, because it’s the first time the actual aesthetic vision for a space comes to life: fabric swatches, wallpaper choices, paint colors, and tile samples make more sense when they’re collected in aggregate, and the feel of an interior starts to form. The tiny makeover I’d planned for my living space wasn’t going to be as extensive as anything I’d see on television or otherwise—mostly, I just wanted to spend roughly $200 on a rug or two, and I wanted to make sure the choice I was making would make me happy for at least a few years and would work with the rest of my furniture.
Making a mood board sounds more complicated than it has to be, but the operating principle behind it is this: if the time has come for you to make a purchase that will cost a lot of money or will significantly change the look of a room, you should see it in situ with the other stuff that’s already there to insure, as in my case, that the patterns and colors work harmoniously, or the lamp’s height and angle is the correct scale for the space, in order to avoid instant regret when you arrange the setup IRL. This is the process that, after a lot of trial and error, has worked wonders for me.
When I looked at my rather narrow and relatively dark living room, I knew that I could only afford to update a few key items: the aforementioned hideous rug and some new lighting. The current rug was too dark for the space and actively made me angry when I looked at it; I wanted—needed—a lighter-toned rug in a neutral that wasn’t boring. And even though there were three lamps in my living room already, it seemed that when all of them were on, it was still too dark for my aged eyes to read a book. I knew what I wanted these items to look like, and had been carrying them around in my head for weeks, but that wasn’t helpful when it came time to buy. I needed to be able to see what I actually own next to what I would like to own. Pinterest is the correct platform for this type of inspiration-gathering in spirit, but in practice, not so much—I want the freedom to place potential purchases next to each other in an attempt to replicate what it would look like if they were in the space, rather than just collect example photos of products and other people’s setups. (The same goes for Dwell’s own—very nice!—Collections.) Canva offers a wide range of mood board templates, but I found it slightly too complicated for my needs and a little too cutesy. I’m not an aspiring influencer, I just wanted to buy a rug that I wouldn’t regret. And yes, I could’ve gotten a piece of foam board and a glue stick and really gone to town, but that’s not an efficient solution for a problem that requires, in my opinion, immediate action.
Google Slides turned out to be just the ticket. I made a slideshow with images of the furniture I own and the furniture I want, and incredibly, I was able to see what worked—and what very much didn’t—immediately. The red shag rug, patterned in a faintly tacky leopard, that I’d pinned my hopes and dreams to looked horrible next to my olive-green couch, and threw off the vibe of the entire space—the red was too visually heavy and didn’t work well with my cool-toned walls. A very basic lamp, consisting of three globes arranged on a squiggly base, looked better than I’d imagined. This slideshow was also useful for planning out other rooms of my apartment that were in need of rehab, too—specifically my bedroom, which is where I ended up putting my old rug. When I wanted to see how a beloved table lamp I already owned might look in a newly cleared corner of my bedroom, I didn’t have to physically move the lamp myself—I just dragged a photo of it from one slide to the next.
The advice to always make a mood board may seem obvious, especially if design and aesthetics are important to you, but sometimes, stating the obvious is necessary! Every time I’ve made a decision about decor up until this point, I’ve always found myself slightly disappointed with the result, because the vision I have in my brain never quite matches up with real life. But now that I’ve fully subscribed to making mood boards for any design decision and found a platform that I can navigate without losing my mind, I feel better. If I spend one weekend day touching various vintage lamps with the intent to actually buy one, I can eliminate any lingering doubts by pulling up my mood board and seeing what works.
We love the products we feature and hope you do, too. If you buy something through a link on the site, we may earn an affiliate commission.
Related Reading:
