Elitism in Interior Design is Going to Kill Creativity.

–if we're not careful.

A couple of nights ago, I was scrolling Instagram in that semi-focused daze between procrastination and passive research, and I read a caption on an ad that stopped me. It was a post from an interior designer (the algorithm lords clearly working hard with that one), and the person in the post claimed they had uncovered the secret to getting homes featured in magazines.

Oh, I thought, their credentials—editor of an interior design magazine—suggested knowledge in the area, this might be insightful. Little did I know.

There was a lot of spiel about most designs being apologetic. “In other words, they weren’t created with confidence,” it said. With a raised eyebrow and building scepticism, I continued reading. Then came the part that annoyed me, the catalyst for writing this piece: “Most designers go about it the wrong way.”

Most designers? Most? The sheer confidence of it struck me. Surely, we can’t all be doing it wrong. Can we? Then I continued to the comments. “If you don't know this, you're clearly not a real designer” “Instagram designers take note”. It was a barrage of abuse, levied at the so-called influencer interior designers.

It shocked me. Firstly because, how do you even define wrong in an industry where subjectivity is one of the only constants? Taste, culture, heritage, external influences and emotional states mean that design appreciation is not fixed but fluid. Interior design is always evolving, shaped by its time, place, and the person inhabiting it. How we feel about a space one day could be entirely different the next, never mind season to season or year to year. This insistence on right and wrong felt, at best, simplistic. At worst, it was a complete misunderstanding of what interior design is. Yet, this person called themselves an interior designer.

Now, not to toot my own horn or anything, but I know a lot of interior designers, like a lot. And, as far as I believe, not one of them would hold the view that there is a singular right and wrong way to design.

There aren’t even many right and wrong ways to physically do the tasks needed to create a design. You can 3D model it, 2D sketch it, or draw it up on the back of your hand if you like. You can collage it using magazine cuttings, if you’re so inclined, or find yourself back in 1991. You can even do everything without completing a single drawing. Personally, I wouldn’t advise it, but it has been done.

However, some might hold the opinion that influencer interior designers aren't real designers.

Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe it was just a badly written, clickbait ad trying to sell something no one needs, something that, like most Instagram ads, should have been ignored. But, as you can see, it got me thinking.

For as long as I can remember, there has always been a sense of elitism in design. It used to be between architects and interior designers, with architects being seen as the more “serious profession.” However, thankfully, that archaic view has been dispelled. Partly, I believe because the financial disparity between being an interior designer and being an architect has shifted now that being an architect doesn't pay anywhere near as well as it used to (or should be?). And because people are much more aware of the work required in interior design.

But now, instead of rejoicing that we are finally being taken seriously and our skills recognised, we’re the ones doing the sneering. A new divide has formed between those who classify themselves as “real” interior designers, the ones with formal qualifications, and those without. With one defining itself as the more “serious profession.”

In recent years, technology has changed interior design. The rise of the “Instagram interior designer”— someone self-taught, highly visible and algorithmically amplified—has reshaped the industry. Social media has given designers, both trained and untrained, a platform to showcase their work to massive audiences, bypassing traditional industry gatekeepers like large practices. A carefully curated feed, packed with perfectly lit pictures and trend-driven aesthetics, can now hold as much weight as a portfolio of recognised clients built over years.

Now, technically, if these distinctions were accurate, I’d fall in the “real designer” category, having gone to university and whatnot. But as someone who hated school, left at sixteen, never wanted to go to university, and certainly wouldn’t have gone if it hadn’t been free (thanks, Scotland), I’ve never believed that having qualifications on paper makes you qualified. The proof is in the pudding, is more my line of thinking. Or to put it more professionally, skill is demonstrated through execution, not certification.

So I have to ask: Why? Why is this becoming such a common conversation between designers? Real or not real? Is it even a question? And why are we being so snobby about it?

Interior design is about problem-solving, about creating spaces that work for people, that enhance their experience of the world. This requires skill, technical knowledge, and often years of experience. Absolutely. But does that mean that those without formal training can’t also create meaningful spaces? Spaces that deserve to be on the pages of magazines?

The landscape of interior design is clearly shifting, and rather than resisting it, we should be asking how the profession can remain relevant, inclusive and valuable. The idea that only formally trained designers hold authority in the field is as outdated as the notion that architects should be the sole arbiters of spatial design.

The accessibility of design tools, social media platforms and visualisation software has empowered a new generation of self-taught designers to engage with interiors in ways previously reserved for those with formal education. This is not a threat to the industry, it is an expansion of it. This is the democratisation of design. A really good thing. Something this world desperately needs as funding for the arts is chipped away little by little every day. It means that more people have access to the language of space, materials and aesthetics. People who might not have previously had the money or resources to explore their creativity in this way. A problem I would have faced if it hadn’t been for Scotland's free university.

Diversity and innovation have always propelled design forward, so surely, they should be encouraged rather than blocked.

It doesn’t mean that expertise is obsolete. If anything, the role of the trained interior designer is more crucial than ever. Rather than guarding knowledge and belittling those without formal training, professionals should be sharing their wisdom. Passing on a deeper understanding of what makes design not just visually compelling, the ruling feature on apps like Instagram and Pinterest, but functionally brilliant and experientially enriching. It’s not really enough to be good at aesthetics, designers must understand the sustainability, human psychology, spatial ergonomics, and technological advancements that define the built environment. These are areas where formal education provides an undeniable advantage, but they are also areas where experience, curiosity and continuous learning can allow anyone to excel.

The future of interior design should not be about exclusion but about contribution. The value of a designer should not rest solely on whether they have a degree but on their ability to think critically, solve problems and push the boundaries of what interior spaces can achieve. If the profession focuses less on who is allowed to design and more on how design can genuinely impact lives, then it’ll be a better place.

Which brings me back to that Instagram caption. The claim that most designers go about it the wrong way is exactly the kind of gatekeeping nonsense that does nothing to advance the profession. It assumes there is one definitive way to design, one sanctioned process, one club that decides who gets to be taken seriously. It assumes there’s a single sanctioned process, a right and wrong way to design, when, in reality, interior design has always thrived on reinterpretation and reinvention.

It’s not about following rules (maybe why I love it so much) it’s about knowing when to challenge them. The best designers aren’t those who cling to outdated definitions of expertise. They’re the ones who push boundaries, who question assumptions, who recognise that interior design is far from a static set of principles. Who does or doesn’t have a degree will never be important, but who is willing to explore, experiment, and understand will surely be the next chapter of interior design excellence.