For nearly a decade, minimalism has reigned supreme in closets, homes, Instagram feeds, and even the soulless glass boxes we call modern architecture. And I’ve had enough. We’ve stripped so much in the name of “clean lines” and “neutral palettes” that we’ve sterilized the very soul out of style. Personal style? Gone. Architectural personality? Flattened. Everything is beige and dead inside. The world even seems less bright, almost more dull.

Minimalism Wasn’t Always the Villain

Let’s give credit where it’s due. Minimalism started as a rebellion—a palette cleanser against consumerism and clutter culture. At its core, it’s about intention: choosing less, but better. Think Mies van der Rohe’s “less is more.” But somewhere between Steve Jobs’ black turtleneck and the Pinterestification of our lives, minimalism became the default—and default is never stylish.

The Cult of Beige

Minimalism today isn’t about editing with intention; it’s about erasure. Fashion influencers parade identical oat-colored linen sets and call it chic. Apartments all look like they were spat out by an AI obsessed with Restoration Hardware. And don’t get me started on the buildings—boxes wrapped in black metal and sadness, slapped with the word “luxury.”

Where’s the drama? The texture? The color? The expression?

We’ve sacrificed individuality at the altar of “timeless.” But who decided timeless meant boring?

Personal Style Is Dead—and Influencers Killed It

Once upon a time, style icons took risks. Think Prince. Think Iris Apfel. Think your eccentric aunt who wore leopard print and red lipstick to the grocery store. Today’s “style” is an algorithm-approved monoculture: monochrome basics, white sneakers, and a gold chain for edge. Even the rebels are uniform.

Search “minimalist aesthetic” and you’ll find thousands of nearly identical TikToks and flatlays. It’s not personal style—it’s branding.

Architecture? More Like Archi-textureless

Walk through any gentrified neighborhood and count the number of concrete cubes with floor-to-ceiling windows and zero architectural integrity. Once, buildings told stories. Now they just tell you the developer couldn’t afford a real architect.

And if you’re in Dallas, brace yourself—there are more McMansions than there are cowboy hats, and trust me, you’ll lose count before you hit the next Target.

We’ve replaced ornate moldings and historical facades with “sleek” nothingness. A city should be a collage of eras, not a monochromatic grid. Minimalist architecture may photograph well, but living in it? It’s like being trapped in a very expensive void.

Style Has Always Been About Soul

Individuality is rarely appreciated until it’s been commodified—until it’s “cool” or trending. It’s ironic how the very things people mock for being “too much” suddenly become genius once they’re mainstream. I’ve always struggled with fitting into boxes—literally and metaphorically. When it comes to personal style, I lean into what makes me feel alive: bold colors, mismatched patterns, and a touch of whimsy. I especially love boho aesthetics—brands like Spell and Free People speak to my soul. Life is a special occasion, and I believe we should dress like it. Why blend in with a sea of beige when you can show up in something that sparks joy? Even when I wear neutrals, I gravitate toward sustainable fabrics with soul—lace trims, embroidery, texture. It has to say something.

I grew up overseas in a home with marble staircases and wood shutters, where beauty was built into everyday life. Architectural details weren’t rare—they were the standard. That kind of intentional beauty changes how you experience the world. It stays with you. And it’s exactly what minimalism forgot.

The Comeback of Maximalism—and the Return of Soul

The tide is turning. People are finally craving color, chaos, and character again. Maximalism is no longer a dirty word—it’s a palette, a mindset, a rebellion. Designers are layering patterns, dressing with intention, and embracing too muchness as the new luxury.

Even in architecture, postmodernism and eclectic restorations are sneaking back. People are sick of living in shoeboxes that feel like airport lounges.

Because style—true style—isn’t sterile. It’s not afraid to be loud, messy, or weird.

Style Isn’t Sterile: Why Beige Minimalism Can’t Compete with Bold Self-Expression

Minimalism promised clarity, but all it delivered was cultural amnesia. We’ve scrubbed the personality out of our closets, our homes, and our cities in favor of looking “clean”—but clean isn’t the same as compelling. We’re living in a sea of sameness, where style has been diluted into a mood board of beige-on-beige and entire neighborhoods look like the inside of a SoulCycle.

But here’s the truth: style was never meant to be safe. It was meant to speak—loudly, unapologetically, and uniquely. We weren’t put on this planet to match our furniture or blend in with drywall. We were meant to live vividly. To take up space. To wear the damn sequins to brunch and hang fringe on the walls and paint the front door turquoise just because it makes us smile.

Minimalism may have sold us a fantasy of control, but maximalism reminds us we’re alive. That’s why people are slowly waking up from the neutral-toned nap and craving something real, something rich, something textured. So here’s your permission slip to stop editing yourself into oblivion. Be extra. Be loud. Be art.

Minimalism didn’t elevate us. It erased us. It’s time to color outside the lines again.