It's Okay to Change Your Mind
How my career is nothing like what I dreamed it would be, and how changing my mind allowed it to develop into so much more.
When I graduated college, I was “going to be a commercial interior designer”. I envisioned a career where I worked for a large commercial firm designing restaurants and schools and working my way up the ladder to Senior Designer. A little background - I graduated college in 2010 during the recession, and there were no jobs. No ladders. Just quickly approaching student loan bills and sending resumes out all over the world – literally. Despite having grown up in the Grand Rapids area, I had nothing tying me to Michigan and was open to moving if the right (commercial) job came along. I told myself – I don’t want to work in sales. I don’t want to work for a small company. I want an adventure, and I don’t want to live in Grand Rapids. I don’t, don’t, don’t. For a recent graduate applying for jobs in an economy where they were few and far between, I put a lot of mental parameters on what I did not want. At “the end of the day” (or rather – the beginning of the career) I landed a job in Grand Rapids... doing furniture sales...for a small company. In this position, I was also going to have the opportunity to go to customer’s homes and space plan furniture and do paint consultations. While it checked every box for what I surely did not want, I was excited to be gaining experience in my field, but only so I could put it on a resume and move on to my inevitable dream commercial job a few years later. Then, something interesting happened. I didn’t dislike my job selling furniture and working with residential clients. In fact, I really liked the one-on-one interactions and learning about my clients’ needs and wants, and I loved the problem solving element of it. I also really liked learning about furniture construction and fabric properties, and I was gaining confidence in my sales skills. I quickly realized that in the design industry everything was sales; whether you’re selling a product or an idea, you’re always selling, and this first job was a great low-pressure environment to learn.
After a year and a half – IT HAPPENED. It was 2012, and I landed a job as a commercial interior designer for a company in Grand Rapids. The first project I’d be working on? Designing the private suites at the Whitecaps Ballpark. You want to know how long it took me to realize it wasn’t the right job for me, and I didn’t want to be a commercial interior designer? Less than one hour. I had spent years working towards a college degree and searching for THIS JOB. THIS IS MY DREAM, RIGHT? Wait - is this my dream? I cried – a lot, and after 11 days (feeling bad that a company was investing in training me knowing I’d be leaving as soon as possible), I quit.
Here's what I quickly realized... being a commercial interior designer means designing for the masses. Often, it means trying to make a space appeal to as many people as possible. It can mean presenting designs to a boardroom of professionals who may or may not even use the space. It means working in the confines of commercial building codes and products exhibiting commercial wear capabilities. It means keeping in mind ADA guidelines and egress (fire escape) constraints and sometimes LEED certification requirements. It means working around sprinklers and signage. While all of these elements are wildly important, and I admire designers who are creatively fueled by designing spaces that accommodate all types of people and capabilities, in this ‘dream’ commercial interior design job, my favorite part of design was missing.
After a few more years working in the residential industry, I founded Fuchsia Design and have spent the past (almost) 10 years growing in my residential interior design career.
Interestingly enough, as an interior designer, the thing I am most passionate about is not the visual design of a space. Yes, form is important and it’s a huge part of what I do, but function is what drives me. Social media and magazines are FULL of beautiful homes where the homeowners clearly invested a tremendous amount, but all I can see is everything that will not work. I see beautiful kitchens with poor layouts. I see stunning bathrooms with big deep drawers and mudrooms with floor-to-ceiling storage layouts that will be impossible to keep organized. I see floor plans that don’t flow, families with dogs but no way to conveniently let the dogs outside. I see foyers with no coat closets and family rooms with no good wall to place a TV leading to awkward furniture layouts. I see white grout that will be absolutely impossible to keep clean and expensive natural countertops used in ways that will have them ruined within a few years.
My passion as an interior designer is working with my clients to design spaces tailored specifically to their lifestyle. When I start a new construction project, we begin by going over a nearly 10 page, single-spaced document which I’ve spent the past decade developing. This is where we go over every intimate detail of their lifestyle they are willing to share from “tell me about your typical Christmas decorations” to “what does Saturday morning often look like?” and “are you left handed or right?” I want to know what kinds of collections they have, how many purses they own, and what their hobbies are. I want to know if they have elderly family members who will regularly be visiting. Pets? Kids? Plans for the future? What’s their definition of a relaxing evening and do they struggle with seasonal depression (in which case – how do we position their home and windows to maximize their exposure to winter daylight?). Where do they plan to store their vacuum? We walk through every inch of their floor plan and talk about their needs and their wants and their wish lists, and then eventually – we talk about how it will look. It’s important, but it’s possibly not the most important. I always encourage clients to hire their designer before finalizing their architectural plans. Countless times, clients have finalized their plans and felt really confident about them only to quickly realize the second I start asking questions that they don’t function for THEIR needs. This is where my superpower lies and this, in my opinion, is what sets me apart from other designers. I was raised to appreciate the value of a dollar, and I value every dollar my clients invest in their homes. Let’s stop building beautiful, dysfunctional homes.
An example of a floor plan the homeowners felt confident with before hiring Fuchsia Design only to quickly realize their kitchen was going to lack sunlight, the kitchen layout was not conducive for entertaining, the dining room built-in was awkwardly place, the laundry room was small, and the mudroom had too much unused space with cluttered lockers visible from the kitchen.
We were able to achieve way more spacial symmetry and balance in the space by rearranging the kitchen giving them a large window centered on the great room fireplace, increasing the size of the dining room built-in, increasing the size of the laundry room, decreasing wasted space in the mudroom, and utilizing pocket doors to reduce door swings in already tight spaces. The increased cost is minimal compared to the incredible difference in how this space will function for this family longterm.
The process of getting to know my clients and then designing a custom home tailored to their needs is the greatest privilege of my career, and no commercial interior design job will ever fuel me the way this does. I may not have ever realized my true calling had I not landed a residential interior design job at the very beginning, and I’m so thankful that despite the parameters I set for myself, I was still open to taking a position outside of what I thought I wanted.
It’s okay to change your mind.
With gratitude,
-Autumn