The concept of joy has suffered somewhat in recent years. It became associated with Marie Kondo and decluttering, which is too often something we feel we ought to do, and wandering our homes repeat-questioning ourselves as to whether or not something “sparks joy” - and thus can escape the cull - can become chore-like and emotionally fraught. But perhaps it’s time to reclaim the word, and to ask ourselves if it shouldn’t be getting higher billing in what we require from our interiors. We regularly bandy about such words as comfort, serenity, and sophistication – shouldn’t we be asking for joy, too, particularly as we know that there’s a link between our interiors and our mental health? The general consensus is a resounding yes: “a joyful interior has become something that I refer to often,” says Olivia Outred, and “joy is a great thing to bring to an interior,” confirms Brandon Schubert.
To clarify, we are speaking specifically about interiors that are going to actively deliver joy rather than the more nebulous finding of joy in the process – though, obviously, that exists. And, for a full-on dopamine hit, various psychologists have answers – suggesting good natural light (duh), warm and bright colours such as yellow and pink, a range of textures, and prioritising curves over straight lines.
Olivia, while acknowledging that “joy can mean different things to different people,” agrees with the yellow – “it’s the colour of inspiration, brightness, sunlight and joy,” adding that for her the word also means “some indulgences that are over and extra, like a glamorous bar trolley, an exceptional chair upholstered in the loveliest fabric, a marble side table” – to which we might add, if you’re so inclined, trims, frills, and flounces – anything that speaks of unnecessary frivolity. Lucy Hammond Giles of Sibyl Colefax & John Fowler suggests that you shouldn’t “be scared to do things in your house that make you happy or laugh.” And, says Brandon Schubert, “joy really is about play, whimsy, having fun and specifically not adhering to rules.” Finally, “there’s no such thing as a guilty pleasure,” says Jonathan Adler. “Love what you love unapologetically . . . you can never have too much joie de vivre.”
We could end here, and perhaps you do want to live in bright yellow room with a pink skirted sofa, masses of pattern, scallops galore, and moments of kitsch – or amid a rule-less arrangement of whatever you love best. But, remembering that there exists the phrase “toxic positivity” (in terms of emotions, we’re not single-note, and nor should we try to be) - Lucy moots that joy perhaps shouldn’t be too shouty: “subtlety is key,” she says, pointing out the difference between wit and slapstick. Brandon recommends that we think of joy in interiors like sugar in baking: “it’s delicious, and without sugar it would be difficult to create nice deserts. But unless the baking rests on a solid foundation of technical skill, the outcome will be inedible, no matter how much sugar you add.” Technique, he says, is conceivably a vital foil. And, says Olivia, “it’s when the room functions are complete - by that I mean when it fits, it works, its ergonomic - that’s when I like to inject joy into the space.”
So there are other interiors that we could look at. Brandon puts forward a futuristic kitchen that Jermaine Gallacher recently posted on Instagram: “sinuous curves and fun, based on distorting the well-known principles of shape and space,” he says. Those curves playing into the previously mentioned psychologists’ checklist - though the hue is less than intense, and the expanse of stainless steel could not be described as warm. (Brandon neglects to mention his own designs, but know that he is currently installing corduroy walls in the flat he’s renovating and decorating for himself, playing into the point about texture.) Olivia mentions Sir John Soane’s Museum in Lincoln’s Inn Fields: “the drawing room upstairs has yellow painted architraves, giving the feeling that the room is bathed in sunlight.”
Yellow curtains do the same thing, she says, as does a yellow sofa, “you feel like you are sitting in a cocoon of sunlight, even if the world outside is not reflecting that.” And here we might bring in Bridie Hall’s house, too, with its wall of yellow shelves (Farrow & Ball’s ‘Babouche’), and a glorious yellow dining room by Lucy Hammond Giles (Farrow & Ball’s ‘India Yellow’) complete with a beautifully painted pergola ceiling – the whole feels both joyous and sophisticated because the brightness is grounded by an accompanying use of black. Then, returning to Lucy’s earlier mention of wit, and Brandon’s of whimsy, there are other interior designers – beyond those mentioned – whose visually playful work we could consider, including Nicky Haslam, Beata Heuman (and the joy-sparking curves and colours of her Shoppa line of lights, handles, and other furnishings), and Benedict Foley.
Alongside – and although we don’t often look to poets for interiors advice – it’s worth remembering William Blake’s poem, Eternity. “He who binds himself a joy/ Does the wingéd life destroy,” he wrote – which reinforces the idea that joy is something best not necessarily insisted on, and that decorating for joy is about having an awareness of what sparks the feeling, and incorporating that into a scheme alongside items or finishes that offer function, comfort, serenity, and more. “He who kisses the joy as it flies/ Lives in eternity’s sunrise,” finished Blake – and doesn’t that sound the dream? Whether it translates into scallops, pink as a neutral, a yellow sofa - or something else entirely.
