The Top Hat Matters

This is a noticeable shift from what I usually post.
No existential wandering.
No cultural post-mortem.

As we move into 2026, I’m going to start using my design education for something simple: small, useful observations about how we live, and why our spaces quietly tell on us.

I was trained as an interior designer, though I never really practiced.
I couldn’t handle the therapy sessions disguised as conversations about pull handles and door knobs.
If your relationship is collapsing, brushed nickel isn’t the villain.

So I moved into lighting instead.
Lighting made sense.
It was the top hat on Fred Astaire.
The final move that said, this works.

Lately, I’ve been thinking less about design and more about unfinished business.
Literal and metaphorical.

Most homes don’t look bad because they’re poorly designed.
They look bad because they’re full of things that were never quite finished.

A towel not hung.
A jacket living on the back of a chair.
A hat on a stool, pretending it belongs there.
A charger still plugged into the wall, doing nothing, like an idea you never followed through on.

One or two of these is fine.
A whole house full of them starts to feel heavy.

They’re visual reminders of things you meant to deal with.
Tiny open loops.
And living surrounded by open loops is exhausting.

It’s the same feeling as having forty browser tabs open.
Nothing is on fire.
But nothing feels settled either.

Your house knows this. You know this.

Unfinished thoughts create drag.
They make a space feel tired.
And, if we’re being honest, they often mirror how we’re living.

Before anyone gets defensive, yes.
I make my bed every morning.
I do my dishes before I go to bed.

Do they always get put away immediately? Does the laundry?
Of course not.

Sometimes there’s a YouTube tutorial on Idiots At work that deserves my full attention.
I am not a monster.

But even small completions matter.
They tell a space and all who enter , that someone here is paying attention.
That someone finishes things.

You don’t need to be a designer to do this.
You just need to finish the thought.

Hang the towel.
Put the jacket away.
Unplug the charger.
Give the hat a home.

And here’s where it cuts closer.

Homes cluttered with unfinished tasks often belong to people surrounded by unfinished conversations.
Unsaid things.
Texts not answered.
Closures postponed.

We tell ourselves we’ll get to it later.
But later has a way of piling up. Doing it later is a choice.

Completion isn’t about control or perfection.
It’s about not living inside reminders of things you avoided.

When things are finished, a space relaxes.
It looks cleaner.
Quieter.
More intentional.

The top hat fits. Luxury is quiet

And when you realize that, everything looks like it was meant to be there.