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5 min readA few years ago, I left a furniture store in New York City with a light gray fabric swatch and instructions to “try to ruin it.” That night, my kids—two- and six-years-old at the time—went wild dousing the swatch in ketchup, finger-painting on it, and, of course, dunking the poor, soft square in the toilet bowl (which was, I promise, clean…ish). After all their upholstery debauchery was done, the swatch remained good as new. The fabric was indeed indestructible. I ordered the couch that night, and sure enough, it has held up like a champ.
But guess what? I hate that couch. And I hate my living room. Everything is so kid-friendly and stain-proof that it lacks any sophistication or edge. I love ceramics, and with a now five-year-old boy, I can’t have ceramics. I love antique rugs, and because of my hot-cocoa-crazed kids, I deploy only Ruggables (an excellent brand, I might say). As a woman who identifies as an artist and individualist, I find it humiliating to tell friends that “I really, honestly, seriously do have great taste,” as they recline on a Good Vibes Only pillow from Five Below.
When I recently found myself in a friend’s newly designed living room—a milieu of Parisian upholstery, formal drapes (freakin’ drapes!), silk rugs, and sexy coffee table books that had nothing to do with Dork Diaries or Ramona and Beezus, I was dead with envy. The room was decidedly kid-unfriendly—and she definitely has kids, whom she definitely loves. So when I asked what kind of phenomenon I was experiencing, she said, “Oh, the ‘off-limits living room’ is back!” The off-limits living room. What a genius idea.
It’s not an entirely foreign concept to me. I have an off-limits bedroom—a rule I imposed after my daughter’s friend was found under my Brooklinen Luxe Sateen sheets, eating chicken nuggets. And I grew up with a mother who had strict boundaries around rooms: Shoes and coats must live in the mudroom; no TVs in the bedrooms; no food outside the dining areas; and when the kitchen is closed, THE KITCHEN IS CLOSED. But the living room—as in, the thing commonly known as the “family room”—being designated for grown-ups only? Could this glorious trend be real? I had to tap designers to find out for myself.
Why We Want “Very ‘Adult’” Spaces
Joan Barzilay Freund, author of Defining Style, highlights the return to a more formal living room and entertaining space in recent years. “There’s certainly been a return to living rooms that feel very ‘adult,’ with a focus on well-planned seating areas for thoughtful conversations, rich surfaces and materials—think silk and velvet upholstery and polished woods, metals and stone, low-wattage mood lighting, and accessories for entertaining, such as bar carts and blazing fireplaces—that would please the likes of Cole Porter,” she says, adding that Art Deco-inspired rooms are particularly conducive to this grown-up aesthetic.”
I was shocked to find out that furniture brands are feeling the off-limits living room popularity too. There might even be a low-key backlash against the shiny, inherently depressing (to me, at least) performance fabrics that have been all the rage in my mom friend circles. “We’re seeing a rise in our hemp fabrics, which are 100 percent natural and untreated. We were initially concerned that people would shy away from the hemp due to its being less stain-resistant. However, its sales continue to increase rapidly. I think perhaps stain-resistant fabric is taking a back seat to the beautiful, organic materials,” says Phantila Phataraprasit, co-founder and CEO of Sabai Design. says
Lauren Martin-Moro of the design firm Alchemy Collective thinks all this could be in response to the pandemic years earlier. “Post-COVID, we’ve definitely seen a shift in clients wanting spaces to feel more aesthetically elevated. It’s a priority I’m hearing more than ‘family friendly’ these days,” she adds.
When I asked if other factors could play into the adultification of our living rooms, Martin-Moro suggested it could have something to do with the current real estate climate. Since no one can afford to level up these days, they’re taking what they have and making it better and more aspirational. “Our clients want to feel inspired at home. They want style. So whether it’s a bold stripe on an unexpected chair silhouette, a sophisticated wallpaper, or a coffee table with the long-feared sharp edges…they’re ready to design for them and enjoy every ounce of it, which I wholeheartedly encourage.”
The Fantasy Versus Reality
Martin-Moro might have this kind of agency because it’s how she grew up. “My mother did not change one ounce of our family home to accommodate the wilder child-rearing years. She had open shelves full of china, a metal and glass coffee table, antique rugs in each room, and special artwork everywhere. She instilled in me a respect and awareness for the finer things within a home, and how much joy a personalized, beautiful space can bring.”
Preach. However, I’m not sure how practical any of this is for my family. We live in a tiny Brooklyn apartment (it’s about 900 square feet). If I don’t let my kids in the living room, they literally have nowhere else to go. If I do let them in the living room, and it’s filled with gorgeous, fragile things, someone will wind up in the emergency room with either stitches (the kids) or a nervous breakdown (me). So either the Off-Limits Living Room is an option that’s only available to people with big homes, or there’s a way to implement some of these lessons into our particular, smushed-together lifestyle.
For example, I’ll never have the space or lifestyle for a snazzy bar cart, but I can enhance my glassware game by replacing our cups that may or may not say Chuck E. Cheese on them with gorgeous drinkware that feels very me and very cool. Little upgrades like that definitely make me less embarrassed to entertain adults. I can also put up more art from artists whom I personally respond to. And once and for all, I can burn that soul-sucking, boring gray couch and go with something dangerously chic and recklessly beautiful—although as I currently watch my daughter eating Nutella without a spoon on said sofa, I think the design gods might be telling me, “not quite yet.”
