Why Your Environment Shapes Your Aesthetic (More Than You Realize)

Not gonna lie - I used to think aesthetic sense was something you either had or you didn’t.
A talent. A personality trait. Something internal. And yes, to some extent I still think it’s true.

And then I thought my design taste came from my work. From studying brands, collecting visual references, being around creative people. And of course, that plays a part. But over the past few years, I’ve realised something else shaped me just as much:

where I lived.

There’s something about moving between countries that changes the way you see.
Not just how you think about design, but how you sense atmosphere.
How you notice small details.
How you recognise what feels “right” in a space, and what doesn’t.

Hamburg taught me clarity and care.

Hamburg feels elegant in a way that doesn’t need to be announced. It’s clean, orderly and considered. Buildings are looked after. Public spaces are respected. Homes feel calm because they are maintained.

Growing up there gives you the sense that quality is normal. Cleanliness is normal. Spaces that work are normal. The baseline is dignity. Not luxury, just respect. There is an understanding that beauty isn’t a moment — it’s how something is cared for over time. Old buildings can still feel soft and beautiful when they are maintained with intention. I didn’t realise how foundational that was until I left.

London taught me atmosphere and contradiction.

The centre of London is full of history and character. You feel the layers of culture in every stone. But once you go beyond the core, the city changes. Interiors remain untouched for decades. Carpets stay even when they’re tired. Kitchens are functional but unconsidered. Windows don’t quite close. There is personality, yes, but not necessarily care.

And yet, London has a charm that is emotional rather than aesthetic. Style comes from the people, their humour, the way life moves there. Being there taught me that beauty also lives in identity, not just in form. But it also made me aware of how deeply the physical environment affects how you feel inside yourself. I understood for the first time that even subtle neglect has a texture — one you carry in your body.

Hong Kong taught me intensity.

Hong Kong is immediate. There’s no slow introduction — the city arrives all at once. Heat and humidity press into your skin. Neon signs, dense high-rises, endless movement. And then, in the middle of it all, mountains covered in thick tropical forest. The contrast is unreal.

I lived in Causeway Bay, where the streets never really quieten. Yet every morning, crossing to the other side of Hong Kong Island meant passing through a tunnel carved into jungle. Ten minutes — from one of the busiest areas in the world into what felt like another planet. On weekends, friends would take boats to nearby islands, where the water was clear and everything slowed down. Office towers to tropical coves in the same day. Urban intensity and raw nature coexisting side by side.

Hong Kong sharpened my senses to everything: chaos, texture, scale, contrast, atmosphere. It’s a place that expands your perception simply by overwhelming it. In the end, it showed me how contrast can be its own aesthetic.

Italy taught me to feel beauty.

Here, beauty isn’t something added.
It’s built in. I mean, look at this Edicola (aka Newsstand) on the streets of Milan.

The stone, the light, the way balconies are shaped, the curve of a door handle, the colour of plaster in the late afternoon sun.
It’s in how cafés arrange their cups.
How people dress without effort.

Beauty is normal here.
Expected. Inherent. Cultural.

And being in this every day changes what you notice.
You start to see texture, balance, proportion.
You choose materials differently.
You place things more intentionally.
Your sense of “what feels right” becomes more refined.

Not because you tried to be more aesthetic.
But because your environment has been in quiet conversation with your senses all along.

And that’s what I think really happens when your environment changes:

You don’t just get new inspiration.
You get new perception.

You learn to see differently.

If you design, create, build, or express yourself in any way:

Pay attention to what’s around you.

The textures.
The light.
The pace.
The care (or lack of it) in the spaces you move through.

Your environment is teaching you something.
Every day.
Quietly.

And one day, you look at your work — or your life — and realise:

Your aesthetic didn’t come from trends.
It came from living and starting to see.

Final Thoughts

Living in different places didn’t just change my surroundings — it changed me.
It stretched my eye, my senses, my pace, my tolerance, my softness.
It taught me that beauty is not universal — it’s cultural, lived, and inherited through the spaces we move in every day.

Your environment is always in conversation with you.
It shapes how you feel, how you create, how you show up.

Your eye grows when you grow.
And you grow by living and by letting yourself be changed.

With lots of love from Milano 🤍
xx,
Lisa