Design Lessons From a City That Doesn’t Try Too Hard
Philadelphia has changed the way I see design. Not just architecture or fashion, but how people exist in general - in our everyday spaces. There’s a scrappiness here. Honestly, it reminds me of Louisiana in many ways. But the main difference is that Philly has this quiet confidence. It’s not trying to be anything it’s not, and that’s what makes it work. That’s what completely reshaped how I think about good design.
Before I moved here, I was still in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. It’s a place full of culture, but the mindset and physical space I was living in had a sense of sameness that started to wear me down. I was working in higher education, surrounded by some of the most thoughtful and inspiring leaders I’ve ever known. I genuinely admired them and the mission we were working toward. At the time, one of our main focus points was all about keeping Louisiana’s “best and brightest” - the top students - in-state. It was a noble goal, and I believed in it. But even with the incentives and messaging, the reality was hard to ignore. So many people I knew and looked up to were still leaving and chasing opportunities elsewhere. Eventually, I became one of them.
When I accepted a new role in Philadelphia, I got the usual reactions. People told me I’d hate it. That it was cold. That it was harsh. And that the Eagles fans were dangerous and crazy (LOL). I came here and found something totally unexpected. This city doesn’t try to impress you. The city and the people who claim it are the most genuine people I’ve ever known. They are authentically themselves and proud of it. Philly made me question everything I thought I knew about personal style, and what makes something - or someone - feel whole.
I had spent years chasing that clean, TikTok-friendly look: beige tones, quiet fonts, everything minimal. But being in Philly reminded me that real life isn’t minimalist. It’s chipped (possibly lead) paint. It’s crooked sidewalks that probably won’t get fixed. It’s walls covered in old flyers, layered over each other, with artwork disguised as graffiti scrawled across the top. It’s light fixtures still buzzing from the ’70s. Somehow, all of it just works.
Here’s what I’ve learned from being here:
Texture over perfection
Philly is not polished, and that’s what makes it feel so authentic. The streets don’t match. The buildings don’t try to look like each other. It’s a patchwork of old brick, strange signage, and weird corners. You are literally walking through a living history book. The city doesn’t even try cover up its age - it happily adds to it. You feel the history. You feel the mess. It’s a design lesson in letting things have texture and layers instead of sanding them down or starting from scratch.
Charm isn’t curated
People in Philly don’t try too hard. They wear what they want - not what’s trending. The same goes for design. My favorite spaces here aren’t the ones trying to look perfect for Instagram. They’re the ones that kept the original tile, left the radiator in the corner, and just made it work. It’s not perfect, but it feels lived in.
Function beats branding
Some of the best places in this city have the worst logos. Wild fonts. Offbeat color choices. Signs that look like they haven’t been touched in 40 years. But you remember them. You trust them. There’s something about that kind of history and honesty that sticks. It’s not trying to be clever or clean — it’s just telling you what it is.
I come from a part of the country where rebuilding every 10 years is just part of life. Hurricanes reset everything. That kind of deep-rooted charm is harder to come by back home, which makes me a little sad — for all the things that could have been, and all the incredible businesses in Louisiana that have had to start over again and again. That same kind of grit, though, is what made me fall in love with Philly. And the more time I spend here, the more I realize: function will always beat “branding.” Those trustworthy and authentic brand names will live through every setback.
Why it matters
I used to think good design had to look a certain way - subtle, soft, clean. But Philly helped me unlearn that. It showed me that the best design doesn’t hide. It shows up loud, a little messy, and completely unbothered.
I find it funny that I had to move across the country to learn lessons I probably could’ve picked up back home. That shift in perspective made me think more deeply about where I come from - and how proud I am to call Louisiana home. Even when the “best and brightest” leave for opportunity, they still carry the values and soul of the place that made them.
