“I Don’t Know What I Want”: Why That’s the Perfect Place to Begin an Interior Design Project

One of the things I hear most often from new clients is: “I don’t know what I like.”

Sometimes they have pieces of furniture they’ve collected over the years, but they don’t love the way everything works together. Sometimes they know the room isn’t working for them, but can’t explain why. They may have looked at countless images, spent hours scrolling Pinterest or Instagram, and become overwhelmed by the possibilities - or simply have no idea where to start or how to piece those things together in a way that’s coherent.

And sometimes, it’s as simple as they don’t have the time to work it all out.

That’s where an interior designer comes in to play.

There’s often a sense that they should already have the answers before speaking to an interior designer. They feel they ought to know their style, arrive with a perfectly edited collection of images and be able to describe exactly how they want their home to look.

But that’s not the client’s job. In many ways, not knowing is the perfect place for us to begin.

You don’t need to speak the language of design

Most people don’t naturally think in terms of scale, proportion, visual balance, materiality or spatial flow. They simply know how a room makes them feel. Trying to articulate that feeling is the most important step.

They might say, “It just isn’t working for us.” They may tell me that they want their friends to walk in and say, “Wow.” Or they may point to something they already own and say, “We have this, but I don’t love it.”

These aren’t vague or unhelpful comments. They’re clues.

My role is to listen carefully, ask the right questions and understand what sits behind those first reactions. A client may not be able to name the precise colour, fabric or style they want, but they can tell me how they live, where the room frustrates them and how they would like to feel when they walk through the door.

That gives us somewhere meaningful to begin.

Good interior design begins with how you live

Before considering colours or furniture, I want to understand the people who will live in the space.

How does the family use the room now? What works well…and what never has? Is it a place for quiet evenings, relaxed entertaining, busy family life, or all three? Are there possessions that matter deeply, even if the client is unsure how to incorporate them? What do they reach for every day, and what constantly gets in the way?

The answers help reveal what the home needs to do as well as how it should feel.

I also pay attention to the things that aren’t said directly. A client’s emotional response to an image, material or existing piece can be more revealing than whether they describe it as traditional, contemporary or eclectic. Noticing where they hesitate, what they return to and what immediately feels wrong helps me read between the lines.

I remember presenting a selection of fabrics to a client who told me that they liked them. On the surface, the response was positive - but instinctively, I could tell that the fabrics had not truly connected with them. Rather than asking the client to explain a feeling they could not yet put into words, I went away and reworked the scheme. When I returned, I presented the new selection as a second option. Their reaction was completely different: they loved it.

Moments like this are an important part of the design process. Listening is not only about hearing what a client says; it is also about noticing how they respond and having the confidence to explore another direction when something does not feel quite right.

This is a collaborative process, but it does not require the client to come up with the design. It requires an honest conversation about their life, their reactions and what they want their home to give them.

From scattered thoughts to a clear direction

Clients often arrive with fragments rather than a finished vision. They might love the atmosphere of one room, the colour in another and a particular fabric, while feeling unsure whether any of it belongs together.

That’s entirely normal.

The skill of an interior designer is not simply finding beautiful things. It is recognising the thread that connects a client’s responses and translating it into a coherent design. It means balancing the way the room needs to function with its architecture, proportions, light and the character of the people living there.

This is where uncertainty begins to turn into clarity.

Instead of facing hundreds of disconnected choices, the client has a considered direction against which every decision can be made. Furniture, colour, lighting, joinery, textiles and art are no longer separate purchases; they become part of one idea.

That clarity brings enormous relief. Clients feel understood and more confident in the decisions being made. They can become excited about their home again rather than daunted by it.

A home that feels like you—only better than you imagined

For me, a successful interior should not feel imposed on the client. It should feel personal: a reflection of who they are, how they live and what they value.

But it should also take them somewhere they could not necessarily have reached alone.

That might mean seeing potential in a room they had dismissed, finding an unexpected way to use something they already own or introducing a colour, material or bespoke piece they would never have had the confidence to choose themselves. The finished space may be more resolved and more imaginative than they first pictured, but it should still feel instinctively theirs.

The moment a client feels both surprised and completely at home is where the real value of the process lies.

Not knowing is not a barrier

If you know your home is not working, but you cannot see the answer, you do not need to solve it before asking for help. You do not need a label for your style, a complete wish list or the vocabulary to explain every feeling.

You only need to be open to the conversation.

Through careful listening, observation and collaboration, those uncertain first thoughts can become a clear design direction—and ultimately a home that feels considered, individual and unmistakably right for you.

If you are looking at your home and thinking, “I don’t know where to start,” that may be exactly the right moment for us to begin.