Somewhere Between Greige & JoJo Siwa: A Deal With Dopamine Decor

Millennial beige had a good run. For a while there, we were all very proud of our monochromatic backdrops, oat-coloured linen bedspreads, and perfectly aligned stacks of Kinfolk magazines. But as of late, we’re seeing walls painted in primary colours, lamps shaped like dachshunds, and living rooms that feel like a sickly-sweet tribute to Katy Perry’s 2010 California Gurls music video (fine, fresh, fierce!). Enter: dopamine décor. A maximalist, sensory overload of an interiors trend, designed to make you feel anything but beige.

I can’t quite pinpoint when I first clocked this trend, but it arrived at a pretty pivotal time (early thirties, existential, slightly unhinged etc). For whatever psychological reason, I found myself revisiting my inner child and expressing it through functionally useless but undeniably cute household objects. (Beginning a full-blown burger-shaped item obsession).

Was it some delayed inner child healing? Or was I subconsciously syncing up with the collective conscience of dopamine decor? I am a slut for a playful trend, and it had been all over my feed. Suffice to say, it was at some point during this early post-pandemic era that my home had quietly pivoted to checkered rugs and bold primaries.

I’d now describe my aesthetic as landing somewhere in the realm of a LIGHT (but not too minimal) DOPAMINE (but not too maximal) BOHO (but not too scruffy) BADDIE (that’s still a teacher’s pet). My version of dopamine decor sits comfortably in that middle ground; a white or solid backdrop sprinkled with colourful objects (but, like, not in a JoJo Siwa kinda way). And the random-er, the better, too.

A quick Google reveals the why behind the colour craze, explaining that after years of isolation, stress, and beige Zoom backdrops brought on by COVID-19, people craved visual, emotional and physical joy after a hellish few years of being unsure as to whether the world would implode or not. (I don’t think I’d heard the word “unprecedented” so many times before). Unsurprisingly, dopamine decor emerged as a response to all of that bleakness. Instead of calming neutrals, people wanted fun ladened with loud colours, weird objects and whimsy AF vibes. Minimalism reflected control and discipline while dopamine decor reflected freedom and play.

The trend arrived as many millennials hit their 30s (🙋🏻‍♂️🙈🙋🏻‍♂️), and with therapy-speak and childhood healing gaining traction, dopamine decor gave us permission to surround ourselves with joy-sparking objects. Turns out there was a reason I suddenly became drawn to lava lamps, inflatable furniture, smiley faces, and squishy textures.

And sure, “greige” still has a grip on the timeline. Those minimalist 2010s aesthetics aren’t completely gone (nor should they be). But when kept to a minimum, just like dopamine decor itself, we might just land on a Goldilocks-level sweet spot; not too beige, not too chaotic, juuust right.

P.S. I bought my bestie the incredibly popular orange mushroom lamp (oh, you know the one) for her birthday a few years back. So not only am I buying into dopamine decor. I’m spreading it. Like an unapologetically demented, technicolour fairie.

Until next Dispatch,
LGM