Let’s be honest up front: my dining room did not come together in a day. Or even a year.
It’s the room I avoided for the longest time because, well, it felt like a weird, formal museum space I didn’t really want to sit in. Like, sure, let’s all gather in here on Thanksgiving and then abandon it the other 364 days?
So, I wanted it to feel… me. Us. Not a showroom. Not even a Pinterest board, really (though yes, I do have way too many pinned dining rooms I’ll never live in).
What I wanted was a space where you could spill wine, talk too loud, eat pizza on nice plates, and feel like you could stay all night.
And that’s how I fell in love—truly, messily in love—with the idea of an eclectic dining room.
Because eclectic is just code for mine. For yours. For no rules (but also, let’s be real, there’s a vibe you want to nail).
So here’s what I’ve learned.
But not as a list, okay? More like… if you came over, and we poured tea, and I told you what worked and what didn’t while the dog barked at the mailman and the toddler wiped spaghetti on the wall.
The table that didn’t match… but did
I started with the table because that’s where the dinner happens. (Obvious, yes, but it took me a while to realize I had to choose it first.)
It’s old. Like, wobbly-leg, secondhand-store old. I almost didn’t get it. The guy at the shop tried to talk me out of it, actually—said it was “rustic” in that tone of voice that meant “trash.”
But it was cheap. I liked the gouges in it. It looked like someone lived life at it.
I hauled it home. My partner rolled his eyes. We propped it up on books for a week while we fixed one leg with wood glue and stubbornness.
And you know what? It’s perfect. Not because it’s pretty. But because it has personality.
I think that’s the whole key to eclectic design, honestly.
You have to let go of “matching.” You have to want the personality more than the polish.
Chairs: the unplanned collection
My chairs don’t match.
At first, it bugged me. I thought it looked messy, not “eclectic.”
I bought four different styles, thinking I’d choose one. But I never did.
They just stayed.
One’s an old metal patio chair I spray-painted teal. Two are black bentwoods I found on Facebook Marketplace. And there’s this hideous-but-great barrel-backed upholstered chair I call “the throne.”
When people sit down, they always choose their chair.
That’s my favorite thing.
It feels like the room has different voices talking at once.
Color: not planned, but felt
I wish I could tell you I had a color palette planned out in advance.
I didn’t.
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It kind of just…happened.
It’s warm. Muted greens, mustard yellows, deep navy in a rug. There’s a giant floral painting with so many colors it “shouldn’t work,” but does.
My walls are a chalky off-white because I needed some calm in the chaos.
I tried bright white and it felt like a hospital.
(That’s the thing you learn: you try it, you hate it, you repaint. No big deal. Even if your partner glares at you the entire time you’re rolling on coat #3.)
Lighting: the oddest choice won
I’ll confess something embarrassing.
I was going to buy this faux-farmhouse chandelier I saw at Target.
It was fine. But it was safe.
Then I found this weird, mid-century-looking brass fixture on clearance at a local lighting store. It was scratched. The guy offered me another one, but I wanted the scratched one.
It looks like it belonged in a 1960s space station.
I didn’t expect to love it.
But it’s the centerpiece now.
Everyone comments on it.
Even the people who hate it admit it makes the room feel intentional.
I think eclectic design is about letting that one weird thing lead.
Art: all over the place (literally)
Oh, man.
If you think I planned an art wall with careful mockups and tape measurements… you’re very wrong.
I just started hanging stuff.
Old thrifted portraits. An abstract painting I made when I was drunk on a girls’ night (I won’t take it down). A vintage fruit crate sign.
One corner has way too many small frames.
Another wall is basically empty.
It doesn’t matter.
It feels like me. Like this evolving diary on the walls.
When I find something new, I cram it in.
Textiles: Embrace the mix
My rug? Old and a little stained.
Table linens? Mismatched.
I used to think I needed a “set.”
But honestly, I love the chaos.
When I throw a dinner party (which is a fancy word for inviting two friends and yelling at the dog not to eat the bread), I put down linen napkins that don’t match. One’s striped. One’s floral.
No one cares.
It’s cozy.
It feels like you can breathe.
Plants. Always plants.
This is non-negotiable for me.
There’s a big old rubber plant in the corner that has survived me forgetting it for weeks.
A scraggly pothos on the buffet.
Sometimes fresh herbs in jars if I remember to buy them.
They bring life to the weird mix of chairs and art.
I swear, even when the table’s a mess with bills and school forms, the plants make it feel intentional.
Mistakes that taught me everything
Okay. Honesty time.
I tried so many things that failed.
A neon-pink accent wall. (I loved it for five minutes. Then it gave me a headache.)
A modern black dining set I ordered online and immediately hated. (Sold it at a loss. Sigh.)
A giant mirror that reflected all the clutter. (Don’t recommend.)
I kept changing things.
I still do.
Eclectic doesn’t mean everything works immediately.
It means you keep trying.
And you’re okay with it feeling a little undone.
Hosting in a space that’s “done” but never done
When friends come over, I always apologize.
“I know it’s kind of a mess.”
But they say it feels good.
Warm.
They don’t worry about putting their glass down.
They stay longer.
I love that.
I think about my mom’s dining room growing up. So formal we didn’t really use it.
Plastic on the chairs.
A cabinet full of china no one touched.
I didn’t want that.
I wanted a room that got used.
Where wine got spilled and stories got told.
And honestly, where I didn’t feel like I had to perform as a host.
Don’t ask permission
If there’s one thing I want to tell you (I know, I’m rambling), it’s this:
You don’t need anyone’s approval.
Not your mom’s. Not your partner’s. Not some designer on Instagram.
If you love that hideous chair, keep it.
If you want a floral mural on one wall and wood paneling on the other? Go for it.
Eclectic design rewards the brave.
Or the stubborn.
Or the people too lazy to make everything match.
It rewards the people who live in their homes.
What it feels like
Now?
My dining room feels alive.
Like it has stories in the walls.
It’s a little messy. Always changing.
But it feels like home.
I think that’s what we all want, right?
Not the showroom. Not the catalog.
The room that says:
This is me.
A little weird. A little rough around the edges.
But warm.
Inviting.
Mine.
Final thoughts (because I have to wrap this up sometime)
Look.
If you want to design an eclectic dining room?
Start with what you love.
What feels real to you.
Don’t worry about the “rules.”
Forget matching.
Pick things that make you happy, even if they’re weird together.
Let it evolve.
Let it be imperfect.
Honestly? That’s what makes it perfect.
So here’s to the wobbly tables.
The unmatched chairs.
The art that’s too much.
Here’s to rooms that feel like you.
Pour yourself a glass of wine (red, white, box, I don’t care).
Sit down.
Enjoy it.
And don’t forget to tell me if you try something weird. I want to hear all about it.