I'm a sucker for overly busy design, so long as there's some kind of throughline to the aesthetic. A living room has full license to have the appearance of complete optical illusion, so long as the color palette is consistent. A bathroom can and should induce vertigo if that's the intention of the designer and her houseguests are willing to brave the experience. It's my house, sez I, I can do what I want with it.
This desire to see brash, individualized aesthetic choices in interior design is, thankfully, not limited to me. In fact, there were enough people, at least in the 90's, who shared this love for over-the-top, brazen, loud, claustrophobic, kitschy, hallucinatory interiors that they dedicated a magazine to the cause.
Nest debuted in 1997 and continued publication at an unsteady pace until 2004. Editor Joseph Holtzman went extreme where others went modest. What about a sensible linoleum kitchen countertop? Isn't the open-air floor plan just so darling?
Holtzman saw the Sunset Magazines and House and Gardens not just as boring rehash, but as an affront. Nest saw eggshell white and raised adolescent bedroom.
Nest saw sterile hospital room and raised floor-to-ceiling drapery.
Nest saw tame framed magazine cover and raised entire wallpaper dedication to all things Farrah Fawcett.
The point here wasn't to demand awe at the prices associated with spare furniture and luxury objects as it would be in a more traditionally designed celebrity home. Though some of these rooms were certainly not cheap to create, and some features in the mag were created by professional designers, it's near impossible for money alone to create these acts of unabashed individualized maximalism. The interiors that resemble outsider art are my favorites. The collected Best of Nest, a worthy art object itself, is available through Phaidon.
Previously: 433% mechanical keyboard
