While flipping through old photo albums with a friend recently, I was hit with a wave of nostalgia—and a fair bit of embarrassment. Looking back at my grade school, dorm and first-apartment decor (not to mention my clothing choices) made me cringe. I’ve always had a reputation for being neat and put together, but those pictures tell a very different story. Ready for a tour through my past decorating missteps?

Here’s a snapshot of my eighth-grade bedroom. Try to ignore the high-waisted, airbrushed jeans with a winking motif, the tie-dyed shirt and the scrunchie. I have no defense for the outfit. What’s more revealing, though, is the room itself. As a child I dreamed of becoming an artist, so painted clouds on the closet doors and chose a less conventional trim color instead of crisp white. It felt creative and personal at the time.

Most of those DIY projects were done while my mom worked late; I would surprise her with my “masterpieces” when she came home. She responded with a mix of pride and stunned bemusement, which I now appreciate. The painted trim and closet doors hinted at my lifelong love of color and paint. The beanbag and stuffed-animal hammock, meanwhile, were early signs of my fondness for cozy, informal seating—years later that would translate into floor cushions and a large hammock in the backyard. And yes, there was a baby seal poster on the wall. Strange choices, but they all point to the quirky aesthetic that would follow me into adulthood.

Next up: my freshman dorm at FIT in New York City. I was proud to be in art school, but my dorm room was a lesson in resourceful, sometimes questionable creativity. Beyond the Slim Shady poster and a habit of writing on photos, I sewed a denim blanket out of old jeans I’d saved for years. When I later upgraded to a real duvet, that patchwork denim became pillows stacked under a reclaimed chair. I also used a fish-patterned shower curtain as wall decor—I saw it as an inexpensive mural that added personality to a small space.

I loved using found materials. I created a faux crown molding effect by lining the walls with free postcards I collected in the city. Those little, imperfect touches felt like an extension of my artistic personality and foreshadowed larger projects I would attempt later on. Repurposing and upcycling were already part of my design vocabulary.

When I moved into my first solo apartment in Brooklyn at age 20, the experimentation continued. The denim blanket became pillows, and I made a small pink lumbar pillow from an old satin camisole. In the window I hung heart shapes made from wax paper colored with crayons and oven-baked for a stained-glass effect—cheap, cheerful and handmade. My wall art included a dark still-life painting that could have been pulled from an Addams Family set, but it was mine. Over time my palette lightened and my tastes evolved, yet my impulse to make and alter things never left.

Looking back, there are recognizable patterns: a penchant for paint, a devotion to repurposing materials, and a willingness to mix the whimsical with the practical. Those early experiments—some cringe-worthy, some endearing—laid the foundation for how I approach decorating today. They remind me that creativity often begins with curiosity and a willingness to try things that may look silly at first.

So what’s the verdict? Am I suitably embarrassed? Absolutely. Will I ever stop laughing at the airbrushed jeans? Probably not. But those photos also reveal the roots of my creative habits—patterns that still show up in my home. How did your childhood or college rooms shape your style? Any surprising threads that persist today?