Wellness, Wisdom From Friends, LivingMichelle AdamsDecember 11, 2023

How to Design a Magnetic Home

Wellness, Wisdom From Friends, LivingMichelle AdamsDecember 11, 2023

Written by Olga Naiman

Interior designer and renowned stylist Olga Naiman explores the psychology of design and takes us on a tour of her previous homes, highlighting design choices that helped and hindered her along the way.

Here’s a little secret that even some of the most diehard design aficionados among us don’t fully know: beautiful homes are not always magnetic homes. Some of the most instagrammed and imitated homes in the world look amazing but are, in fact, not supporting their residents’ deeper desires.

Photo courtesy of Melanie Acevedo for *Better Homes & Gardens*

How can that be? It turns out that these spaces stop at beauty alone, never taking into account a key component of design: Magnetism, which goes beyond aesthetics to intersect with manifestation.

Magnetism is all about attraction. It’s the powerful force that draws us in. Designing a home that’s magnetic is one of the massive keys in your manifestation tool box (this is especially true for anyone who already knows their way around home design principles).

What exactly makes a home magnetic?

First, it’s one that is aligned with your deeper desires. Think of the law of attraction. When your home reflects your deepest desires, whether you're entirely aware of them or not, it pulls them toward you. Seems straightforward, right?

The second component is love energy. A home imbued with this life force welcomes you with a warm, delicious feeling as soon as you cross the threshold. You feel your exterior-world armor drop and settle into a softer, shoulders-down version of yourself. This is a natural response to the way your surroundings make you feel as much as how they look. (In fact, maybe even more so.) When you live in a space that feels aligned with your deeper desires, you know it— viscerally.

By contrast, when we live surrounded by our unconscious design choices (even ones that may look really good), we find ourselves in a yearning loop, which presents itself as the experience of always longing for yet never quite having what you want.

The goal then, as I see it, is to design a home that reaches beyond beauty, to encompass magnetic attraction. This is how you arrive at a space that truly supports you in creating the life you want.

It took me many years to realize this. Up to that point, I steadily built a career as a design-magazine editor and interior stylist. Drawing on my theater background, I created beautiful sets and interiors for catalogs, editorial and advertising clients. Eventually, the 20-year career I once adored began to feel flat.

At the same time, I widened my perspective. I started to see how we can use our homes to our advantage, to propel us towards what we desire. The irony is that this realization came to me during the pandemic lockdown, when I was sheltered in place with my family. When my styling work (and the world at large) came to a grinding halt, I had a 24/7 view of my home, up close and uninterrupted. By studying what was and wasn’t working, I could finally see straight into my blind spots, those pain points that had me spinning my wheels for what felt like eternity.

Beautiful homes are not always magnetic homes. Some of the most instagrammed and imitated homes in the world look amazing but are, in fact, not supporting their residents’ deeper desires.

Slowly, I embarked on a few small changes, followed in quick succession by bigger ones. Like clockwork, as my home shifted, my life shifted along with it. By aligning what I said I wanted – a new career, for one– with the state of my home, and by injecting more of that love energy into my surroundings, my life expanded in ways I'd only dreamed of before.

Now, when I look back on some of my earlier homes, the blind spots within them are more obvious. My personal design decisions led to unconscious blockages that were holding me back. Nowhere is this more apparent than in my bedrooms. Each of these bedrooms was featured in national design magazines; they were, for many, considered beautiful. However, the rooms were anything but magnetic. They were, in fact, hindering me in the fulfillment of my deep desire: to experience deep, secure love and partnership.

As I began to see through the eyes of an alchemist (as well as a stylist), I could finally see what my spaces were manifesting, positively and negatively. This is how I taught myself how to manipulate energy to better suit my present-day and future needs, especially for lasting companionship.

Let’s take a look at that journey.

No Man’s Land

This is my bedroom from the early 2000s, when I was one of the main stylists at a very hip shelter magazine. I was living my Brooklyn version of Sex and the City, but without the sex part. I couldn’t understand why everyone around me was partnering up and I couldn't find my soulmate. I deeply desired a partner, yet looking at this photo, I realize why I was destined to remain single. What I see now is that I was designing to please myself, without making room to let love in. It looks as if I’m perfectly content all by myself in this quiet, reclusive-looking bedroom, nestled among my girly, soft-colored linens, and my mismatched lamps. And those stacked cinder blocks holding up the bed, doing double duty as visible shoe storage? The message was clear: I was not interested in settling down and settling in, announcing instead that I could pick up and leave at a moment’s notice, pumps in hand. In retrospect, I wish I had designed this space with a partner in mind, placing twin lamps of equal weight on either side of the bed. They would have been a little more calm and solid, representing the kind of energy I wanted to feel, rather than the kooky randomness of my original lamp choices, which unconsciously perpetuated the kind of mental patterns I was ready to leave behind. I also needed a bed frame with a headboard, to give my body a sense of being able to lean on something and be held (these were the feelings I wanted to anchor in my life).

The message was clear: I was not interested in settling down and settling in, announcing instead that I could pick up and leave at a moment’s notice, pumps in hand. In retrospect, I wish I had designed this space with a partner in mind.

Together But Feeling Alone

Fast forward to my bedroom nine years later, circa 2017, in a larger apartment in the city. I had found a mate at this point, and we’d started a family. Here, the matching bedside tables were more stabilizing, and the color palette stronger and more primary than in my earlier, girlier abode. Nevertheless, I still felt alone in this bedroom (and often, in my partnership). The artwork is a dead giveaway to my state of mind, especially the piece over the bead, with its human head surrounded by seemingly impenetrable walls. And the framed pieces that ran down the wall on my side of the bed mainly featured butterflies pinned in place, which subconsciously symbolized entrapment. Though the matching tables suggested partnership, they lacked drawers that would’ve made them function better and help us to feel held in our bedroom; we either had to let things pile up, or get out of bed to find what we needed. Without realizing it, I made many similar design mistakes throughout the rest of our home and before I knew it, chaos set in, and the friction between us built up. My partner and I felt unsupported and restless—exactly the opposite of how we should’ve felt in the bedroom. Looking at it now, I realize that I chose the artwork for how it looked rather than how it programmed the communal space. The image of a man having his tooth removed while being held down is NOT the art to have wherever you want more intimacy. This photograph of our bedroom was published in a magazine, but the room was not encouraging the partnership my heart still longed for. Again, I had one foot on the gas pedal, another foot on the brakes, without knowing it.

Though the matching tables suggested partnership, they lacked drawers that would’ve made them function better and help us to feel held in our bedroom; we either had to let things pile up, or get out of bed to find what we needed.

Starting to See the Light

This bedroom, from just a few years ago, represents a turning point for me. It was in our rental house outside of the city, just as I was beginning to understand how I could use interior design to magnetize the life I desired. My partner and I were coming into a stronger relationship, having made it through a rough patch and survived a brief separation. I decided that we should design the bed together; sharing equally in the process was beneficial to our relationship. I had always been the creative force, which had weighed on us both more than we realized. We chose the orange velvet for the bed frame, which delivered much needed softness; orange also references the second chakra, a creational portal that supports intimacy. We kept the bed close to the floor for grounding energy. And though I prefer bold patterns in bed linens, Mike pulled me back from that tendency. He was right in wanting something simpler, but still with some lively stripes and flowers. The snake pattern of the mirror is another suggestion of being entwined, to reinforce our partnership. The solid, sturdy side tables helped us both feel held in place during the lockdown period early in the pandemic.

I decided that we should design the bed together; sharing equally in the process was beneficial to our relationship. I had always been the creative force, which had weighed on us both more than we realized.

Photo courtesy of Winona Barton-Ballentine.

Settling in and Steering Forth

Our most recent bedroom re-style represents another positive shift. This time, still in our rental but faced with scheduling delays and budget issues on the construction of our future home, we needed less active energy in the bedroom. Our overloaded nerves needed a space with peace and quiet in which to down regulate. The zig-zag patterns in our previous bed linens weren’t helping in our efforts to relax and breathe with the uncertainty. I craved stillness and sensuality as we rode out the remainder of our time in the rental home. To lean into lushness, I layered the rugs for coziness underfoot. And to keep the design from tilting towards Dullsville, I added simple artwork in cheerful colors, for a nod towards active energy without the risk of overwhelm. We laid the pillows low to the bed, not standing upright as in earlier arrangements, to ground us and soften any end-of-day edges. There is nothing haphazard in this newly styled bedroom; its seamless simplicity addresses our current circumstances. Though we are in a holding pattern, I finally understand how to curate my bedroom to manifest the love (including self-love) I desire and need. None of the adjustments we made were significant or taxing. And importantly, they weren’t costly. Together, these shifts represent the integration of desire and design.

None of the adjustments we made were significant or taxing. And importantly, they weren’t costly. Together, these shifts represent the integration of desire and design.