Why the most important design project you’ll ever complete may be the one waiting for you tonight.
By Jarvus Ricardo Hester
I have a confession.
I judge restaurants by their lighting.
Hotels by their lobby.
Bookstores by their chairs.
And homes by one very simple question.
Would I want to stay a little longer?
Because a beautiful home isn’t about square footage.
It isn’t about expensive furniture.
And it certainly isn’t about perfection.
It’s about how a space makes you feel.
I’ve always been fascinated by people whose homes immediately communicate who they are.
You walk through the front door and you understand them.
The framed photographs.
The stack of books beside the sofa.
The bowl collected during a trip abroad.
The vinyl records.
The oversized chair tucked beside a window.
Every object tells a story.
Every room becomes a biography.
Perhaps that’s why I’ve never understood the obsession with decorating for other people.
The most memorable homes aren’t designed for guests.
They’re designed for the people who live in them.
They reflect habits.
Rituals.
Memories.
Personality.
And nowhere is this philosophy more visible than in New York.
We live in apartments.
Studios.
Brownstones.
Walk-ups.
Historic buildings.
Tiny spaces with impossibly large personalities.
New Yorkers have learned how to do something extraordinary.
We’ve learned how to create beauty within limitations.
And that’s a form of artistry.
Lately, I’ve become obsessed with tablescapes.
Not for dinner parties.
Not for holidays.
For Tuesdays.
There’s something deeply satisfying about pulling out your best plates for an ordinary meal.
Lighting a candle.
Using cloth napkins.
Pouring sparkling water into crystal glassware.
Creating a moment.
Because luxury isn’t always something we buy.
Sometimes it’s something we create.
I’ve also become convinced that every home needs three things.
Books.
Plants.
And a chair worth sitting in.
Everything else is negotiable.
The books tell people what you value.
The plants remind you to care for something beyond yourself.
And the chair?
That’s where life happens.
Reading.
Thinking.
Coffee.
Conversation.
Silence.
We spend so much time pursuing extraordinary experiences outside our homes that we often forget our homes should be extraordinary, too.
Not because they impress anyone.
But because they restore us.
Maybe that’s why I love Harlem brownstones.
Their proportions invite people to gather.
Their architecture encourages conversation.
Their details reward curiosity.
They remind us that beautiful spaces aren’t accidental.
They’re intentional.
And perhaps that’s the lesson.
Your home doesn’t have to look like a magazine.
It doesn’t have to follow trends.
It doesn’t have to be finished.
It simply has to feel like you.
Tonight, before you sit down for dinner, make one small change.
Light a candle.
Open a book.
Put flowers on the table.
Use the good dishes.
Because life doesn’t begin when guests arrive.
Life is already happening.
And your home deserves to be part of the celebration.
The Mood Question
One question. One community. One conversation.
Which object in your home tells your story better than words ever could?
A photograph?
A painting?
A cookbook?
A chair?
Tell us what it is.
Tell us where you found it.
And tell us why you’d never let it go.
by Jarvus Ricardo Hester
Stay in the Mood
The story doesn’t end here.
Continue exploring Mood Magazine, where food, culture, travel, wellness, style, business, and community come together to tell the stories shaping Harlem, New York, and the world.
Listen to WHRL Mood Radio Harlem and continue the conversation on The Morning Show NYC and After Hours NYC, where the stories behind the headlines become deeper conversations about how we live, what we value, and where we’re going next.
Because at Mood, we don’t just publish stories.
We build conversations.
Listen. Read. Experience.
Let us curate your mood.
