By Maggie Zhou Interiors 16.04.2025

"My First Home Isn’t My Dream Home – But It Feels Like Me"

What turning a first rental into a home taught me about personal style, and letting go of perfection.

When Melbourne writer and host of Culture Club podcast Maggie Zhou moved into her first rental, she dreamt of a perfectly styled space that reflected her taste. But she quickly realised that curating a home is less about perfection and more about personality. In this reflection, she shares how embracing the in-between taught her to value the pieces with meaning, the comforts of imperfection, and the quiet joy of making a space feel like hers.

I moved out with my partner into our first rental about a year ago. I was fizzing with excitement. The thought of a new space – one without the demands of my parents’ style – was invigorating. I couldn’t wait to dress the place up; my appetite for interior styling content was rapidly growing and needed an outlet.

I wanted to live in a beautiful home full of beautiful pieces and beautiful knick-knacks that were thoughtful and reflected my and my boyfriend’s personal styles. Simple, no?

I soon realised that this tall order had endless possibilities. Why have generic salt and pepper grinders when you can have handmade, ceramic ones? Why have supermarket tissue boxes on display when they could be cosy under crochet covers that look like strawberry shortcake?

Social media proved to be no help. I remember a time when our clothes were the main subject of social scrutiny, but now our living quarters are expected to be Instagram-worthy too. Social algorithms thrive off comparison and feelings of unworthiness and when our FYPs show us everyone from local micro-influencers to literal Kardashians, it’s hard to know whether we’re keeping up or not.

My aforementioned interior styling diet thrived off The Design Files’ sleek photography, endless home inspo scrolling on Pinterest and Architectural Digest’s drool-worthy celebrity home tours. This interest in interior design was both a blessing and a curse. While I religiously watched YouTube videos showing me around a Hollywood starlet’s $18 million holiday home, the reality of moving out into my first apartment was… grim.

We scrimped what furniture and household items we could from friends and family, and managed to live without a couch or coffee table for too many weeks. Moving out for the first time was tough. It felt like I just found out that Santa Claus wasn’t real – if Santa took the form of a mid-century modern furniture dealer.

Despite enjoying the ’70s inner-city apartment, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t doing it right. I didn’t have the necessary warm-toned, ambient lighting required, or unique framed artwork hanging on the walls. Online, all I saw were these beautifully curated and lived-in homes, and I felt 10 steps behind.

When friends came over to visit, I was quick to remark that the “space wasn’t finished yet”. My partner and I had a few ornaments we’d collected over time, but we also had to make a fair few trips to budget-friendly stores to stock up on household basics – like shower caddies, kitchen bins and door mats.

One space we’ve gradually put more care into is the bedroom. It’s the one room that feels reliably calm – soft sheets, a warm lamp glow, and a few sentimental objects help set the tone. We haven’t styled it to 'perfection', but small details – like layered bedding in tones we both love or a candle on the bedside – have made it feel like ours.

I was torn. One part of me wanted to slowly accumulate homewares, collecting them when they ‘spoke to me’. The other part of me needed somewhere to put my shampoo and conditioner bottles. It was a constant push and pull – do we buy from ‘fast homewares’ companies and stock up on the essentials, or do we wait out and buy their aesthetically pleasing counterparts from independent and local makers?

A year on, I know the answer is somewhere in the middle. I’ve learnt that not all home bits need to be visually interesting (I’m in no rush to seek out a handmade, artisanal kitchen bin), but I know the value of having pieces that hold significance and fondness.

And so, we’ve got a couple of furniture hand-me-downs from loved ones that’ll do until we find pieces we really love that can replace them. Our walls are still a bit bare (because framing things is a pain), and it’s rare to find a matching pair of cutlery in our drawers.

In tandem, I love our ceramic plate that holds our keys, sunglasses and hair ties, bought from an art cafe in Bangkok last year. I love the $10 oil painting I found at the Camberwell Sunday Market. I love the candlestick holders that were a wedding gift to my partner’s parents.

Creating a home with pieces full of memories can’t happen overnight. Memories marinate best with time. I want a home brimming with furnishings that I’ve collected over the years, pieces I’ve picked up on travels, items passed down from loved ones, and fittings I’ve invested in. But until that day, I’ll be at peace with my rental apartment made up of things I love and budget bits that’ll do.