Where Imagination Lives: A Moody, Playful Room Built to Grow

There’s something about designing kids’ spaces that always takes me right back to the earliest roots of why I do what I do.

As a little girl, I kept a folded-up JCPenney catalog tucked under my bed — the pages worn, corners turned down on every room that made my heart race. I would flip through it long after I was supposed to be asleep, getting completely lost in imagined spaces.

I still remember the way my heart raced thinking about taking down the wall between two of our third floor bedrooms and plastering the ceiling with glow in the dark stars.

I didn’t know it then, but that late-night daydreaming was the start of something I’d later do for a living.

So, I guess it’s not really a surprise that kids’ rooms still hold a special place in my heart. There’s a kind of magic in creating a space that’s both deeply personal and full of possibility — something that makes a child feel like this is their place, their story, their corner of the world where they’re safe to be themselves.

This particular room — designed for a boy ready to grow into his next chapter — strikes that balance between imaginative and elevated. I fell in love with the inky, earthy tones of the plaid wallpaper the moment I saw it. It’s moody and classic, with just the right edge. The palette anchors the space with a quiet confidence, while layers of texture, gray washed wood (already purchased by client), and curated details keep it grounded and real.

We brought in some playful touches — like the unexpected neon-lit sneaker shelf (I want one- ha!) — that feel fresh and fun now, but won’t need to be edited out later. That’s always the goal: to build something that can stretch and evolve alongside the person who lives in it.

The final space feels masculine and cool, with a dash of whimsy and lots of room for personal expression. It’s a bedroom meant to grow with its owner — a space to dream, unwind, and just be.

And for me, it’s a full-circle moment. Because designing rooms like this means that maybe, somewhere, there’s a kid flipping through photos late at night, feeling that first spark of possibility too.