I IMAGINE THAT GOLDILOCKS wasn’t living the fairy tale anymore. That, as a grown woman, she’d moved into her own condo and attempted to decorate it, but nothing was quite right. The ornateness of maximalist design looked bewitching on Instagram but seemed cloying in real life—too vibrant, too hoarder-y. Yet minimalism felt as cold as hours-old porridge, giving her abode the cheerless quality of a dentist’s waiting room. It wasn’t until she discovered a happy medium—halfway between the two—that she felt anything close to “home.”
Ms. Locks’s famous hunger for appetizing moderation might be a fable, but the quest for just-right interior design is very real. About five years ago, maximalism burst onto the scene, a reaction to the notion that the only routes to chic were a complete disavowal of ornament; or the wan offerings of Restoration Hardware (RH) and Pottery Barn; or a trite midcentury-modern look. Maximalism’s orgy of pattern, color and objets, and its acres of energetic textiles and wallpaper, were like fresh water to the parched. The snag? “All that drama is a lot to live with day to day,” said Brooklyn designer Doreen Chambers.
Perhaps inevitably, the decorating pendulum has come to rest at what might be called happy-medium design. Pattern appears in measured amounts, colors tend toward palatable pastels, traditionalism shows up in gracefully curved antiques covered with updated textiles or contemporary shapes clad in classic upholstery. Designers welcome idiosyncrasy but not to a chaotic degree.