Cluttercore: The Beauty in the Chaos of Everyday Life

There’s a curious rebellion happening in the world of interior design, one that laughs in the face of minimalism and celebrates the glorious mess of lived-in spaces. It’s called cluttercore, a movement that turns what used to be considered “too much” into a deliberate, expressive aesthetic. But is cluttercore just a reaction against sterile perfection, or is it a more profound statement about how we connect to our surroundings and ourselves?

The Rise of Cluttercore: A Reaction to Perfection

For years, the design world has been dominated by minimalism, think Marie Kondo’s “spark joy” philosophy, Scandinavian simplicity, and the “less is more” mantra. Instagram feeds filled with white walls, empty countertops, and neutral tones became synonymous with calm and control. But life isn’t always clean or quiet. Many people began to feel that these immaculate spaces didn’t reflect who they really were.

Enter cluttercore, a maximalist counter-movement that says, “Your space should tell your story, not erase it.” Instead of hiding things away, cluttercore invites you to display them proudly: books stacked in teetering towers, sentimental trinkets from travels, mismatched frames, vintage finds, and colorful textiles layered without apology.

As interior designer Justina Blakeney, known for her bohemian style, once said, “Your home should be a reflection of your soul and most souls are not beige.” That’s the essence of cluttercore. It’s not about mess; it’s about meaning.

What Does Cluttercore Actually Look Like?

If minimalism is a blank canvas, cluttercore is a collage. Imagine a room filled with overlapping patterns, florals, stripes, paisleys, and walls covered in art, photographs, and postcards. A stack of worn novels sits beside a plant that’s grown wild, creeping across a shelf crowded with candles and curiosities. There’s a comfort in this visual noise; it feels alive.

The aesthetic draws inspiration from cottagecore (the romanticized rural lifestyle) and vintage maximalism. You might find antique teacups beside modern art prints, or embroidered cushions piled onto a boldly patterned sofa. Nothing quite matches, yet everything belongs.

Think of the homes of artists, writers, or even your grandmother’s living room, a space where every object seems to have a memory attached. Cluttercore embraces nostalgia. It’s a warm chaos that invites you to stay, look closer, and ask questions: Where did that come from? Who made that? Why is this here?

The Psychology Behind Cluttercore

But cluttercore isn’t just about style, it’s about emotion. Psychologists have long studied how our environments affect our mood and identity. While excessive clutter can lead to stress, intentional clutter can foster comfort and creativity.

A 2022 study published in the Journal of Environmental Psychology found that people who surrounded themselves with personally meaningful objects reported higher feelings of belonging and emotional security. This aligns perfectly with cluttercore’s ethos: your things are extensions of your story.

Ask yourself — when you walk into a minimalist room, do you feel relaxed or removed? For some, minimalism provides peace. For others, it feels like erasure. Cluttercore, in contrast, feels personal and grounding. It allows you to display your history, the postcards from friends, the concert tickets, and the chipped mug from your first apartment.

As writer and style influencer Emma Garland put it, “Cluttercore is about owning your chaos — about making peace with the stuff that makes you, you.”

The Role of Social Media

Ironically, the rise of cluttercore owes much to the same platforms that popularized minimalism. TikTok and Pinterest, once dominated by clean beige aesthetics, are now filled with creators proudly showing off their “organized chaos.” The hashtag #cluttercore has millions of views, with users giving room tours that look like treasure hunts rather than catalogs.

It’s become a generational statement, too. Millennials and Gen Z, growing up under the shadow of economic uncertainty, are rejecting the “perfect home” ideal. Instead, they curate spaces from thrift stores, secondhand finds, and inherited items, a patchwork of affordability and authenticity.

As one TikTok user joked, “I can’t afford a minimalist lifestyle, I need every chair and shelf I can get.” Beneath the humor lies a truth: cluttercore celebrates accessibility. You don’t need designer furniture or matching sets. You just need things that speak to you.

Cluttercore vs. Chaos: Where’s the Line?

Of course, there’s a fine line between intentional clutter and plain disorganization. Critics argue that cluttercore can easily become overwhelming, and that there’s a point where “curated chaos” just turns into chaos.

So, what keeps cluttercore from becoming hoarding? The answer lies in curation and care. Every object in a cluttercore space should have a reason to be there: sentimental, aesthetic, or functional. It’s not about keeping everything, but about keeping what matters.

Ask yourself: Does this item bring joy, memory, or meaning? If yes, it stays. If not, perhaps it’s time to let it go. Cluttercore isn’t an excuse to avoid organization; it’s a new way of defining it.

“Life is messy and that’s okay.”

Cultural Shifts and Deeper Meaning

Cluttercore also reflects a cultural shift toward embracing imperfection. We live in a world obsessed with optimization: productivity hacks, digital decluttering, even “clean girl” aesthetics. Cluttercore is a soft protest against that. It says, “Life is messy and that’s okay.”

It’s no coincidence that this movement gained traction after the pandemic, when our homes became our everything offices, gyms, schools, sanctuaries. People began craving coziness and comfort over sleek, impersonal designs. Cluttercore offers that emotional warmth.

It also challenges capitalist notions of constant consumption. Instead of buying new décor, cluttercore encourages reusing and repurposing. That quirky candle holder? A thrift find. Those wall prints? Old magazine clippings. The movement quietly advocates sustainability through sentimentality.

"When did we start believing that our homes had to look perfect to feel good?"

The Future of Cluttercore

Will cluttercore last, or is it just another design phase? That depends on what we value in our spaces. If minimalism was about control, cluttercore is about acceptance. It feels more human, less curated for social media, more curated for self-expression.

In the end, perhaps cluttercore isn’t about clutter at all. It’s about reclaiming space as something lived in, not just looked at. It asks us to see beauty in imperfection, to embrace our collections, and to find meaning in the things that surround us.

So maybe the real question isn’t whether cluttercore is “in style.” Perhaps it’s this: When did we start believing that our homes had to look perfect to feel good?

Because sometimes, the most beautiful spaces are the ones that tell the messiest stories.