Why I’m Bringing Romance Back Into the Home (And How You Can, Too)

Interior designer Zoe Feldman is one of Homes & Gardens' new Editors-At-Large for By Design, sharing her thoughts on decor through her lens, clever color palettes, and family-friendly materials. See the rest of her articles here.

Romance has always had a place in my work – but never the overly powdered, corseted kind. I’m drawn instead to a quieter, more modern romance, rooted in light, texture, and the simple pleasure of being at home. To me, the most beautiful interiors carry a gentle seduction. They shift with the day, invite you to slow down, and remind you that a home should support how you live – not perform for the outside world.

By daylight, I love rooms that feel open-hearted and unguarded. Natural light reveals a home’s soul: the subtle grain of a floorboard, the warmth of a favorite painting, the lived-in softness of upholstery that has shaped itself to you over time. Daylight tells the truth. It animates every layer you’ve so thoughtfully chosen and connects you to the life unfolding inside your walls.

And nowhere does this matter more than in romantic bedrooms – spaces that should feel restorative by day and deeply enveloping by night. In the morning, I want bedrooms to feel calm, breathable, almost bare in their honesty. In the evening, the house should change its posture. This is where romance quietly steps in.

I want rooms to glow – to soften at the edges, to feel like they’re exhaling with you. Good lighting is emotional architecture; it shapes how a space feels as profoundly as layout or color ever could. A dimmed sconce, a pendant with a silk shade, a table lamp casting a warm pool of light – together they create an atmosphere that encourages lingering. Recessed lighting has its place in kitchens and baths, but everywhere else, diffused, layered light should reign. And yes, I will forever campaign for real candles in kitchens. They bring an old-world intimacy we could all use a little more of.

Room color ideas, too, play an essential role in creating a romantic home. I don’t believe a room needs to be uniformly warm to feel warm – but it does need undertones that hold the space gently. Even cooler palettes benefit from touches of brown, camel, or soft white, notes that keep a room from feeling aloof or chilly.

I’m drawn to red-based neutrals, softened terracottas, and muddy blushes – tones that feel luminous in the morning and quietly seductive at night. These are colors that know how to linger. They shift with the light, deepen at dusk, and never demand attention. Instead, they create a sense of ease.

The most romantic rooms allow color to meet color effortlessly, blending the way paint does on a canvas rather than competing for the eye. When hues relate to one another, a space feels composed, calm, and deeply livable – less designed for display, and more for being in.

Then there is texture in interior design – the most intimate of design tools. When I think of romance, I think of materials that invite touch: mohair, cashmere, velvets with just enough nap to catch the light. These aren’t fabrics that shout; they whisper. A generously scaled mohair rug underfoot, a nubby throw that tempts you to cancel your plans and stay in – these are the pieces that make a home feel lived in, loved, and deeply personal.

For those who delight in the rituals of home – long dinners that stretch late into the night, lively game evenings, quiet moments spent reading by the fire – designing for romance is ultimately about designing for connection. And few elements have more power than a fireplace.

Whether wood-burning or gas, in a living room, dining room, or romantic bedroom, a fire brings both immediacy and a sense of nostalgia. It grounds a space and draws people together instinctively, reminding us why home has always been a place of gathering, warmth, and return.

What I hope people embrace is that romance at home isn’t precious or fussy. It has nothing to do with ornate flourishes or grand gestures. This new romance is soft, imperfect, and wonderfully human. It lives in the glow of a lamp at dusk, the pleasure of a well-loved chair, the feeling of being enveloped rather than impressed. It’s warmth and soul, with just enough daring to make a room feel alive.

In the end, romance is simply the art of making space for feeling. And when you shape your home with light, color, and texture that truly resonate with you, the result is a quiet rebellion: a home that nurtures rather than performs, inspires without insisting, and reflects – honestly – the life you want to live.