A Love Letter to An Apartment

My first apartment out of college was never just an apartment to me. It was the place where I figured out how to make something feel like home with almost no money, a very odd layout, and a trunk full of secondhand finds.

Now that the building is for sale, I have been thinking about that little space so much. Not because it was perfect. It absolutely was not. It had weird corners, awkward rooms, and the kind of quirks you only learn to love once you have lived with them for a while.

But at 22, I loved it hard.

I was working at a home decor store, picking up shifts at a coffee shop, flipping furniture on Facebook Marketplace, and painting custom pet portraits on the side. Every piece I owned was secondhand, thrifted, flipped, or found with a little luck. I did not have a big budget, so I had to be creative. Honestly, that is what made it special.

That apartment taught me that a home does not need to be expensive to feel beautiful. It just needs personality, patience, and a few pieces you cannot stop thinking about years later.

The apartment had quirks, so I made them the whole point

The layout was not something you would find in a design magazine. There were little spaces that did not have an obvious purpose. Corners felt too small for regular furniture. Rooms flowed in a way that made me stop and think before moving anything in. But it was the weird little areas became the best parts of the apartment.

I did not have the budget to buy everything new, so I leaned into what I already loved. Vintage shapes. Painted furniture. Soft colors. Floral prints. Gold frames. Little lamps.

The apartment started to feel less like a rental I was passing through and more like a tiny world I built for myself.

Almost everything was secondhand, and that made it better

At 22, I was not walking into a furniture store and ordering a matching set. I was hunting and let's be real... that has carried with me. I like the hunt and the challenge.

I looked for furniture at ReStore, thrift stores, antique booths, yard sales, and Facebook Marketplace (my parent's basement). I watched for pieces with good bones, even if the color or finish was wrong. Since I was flipping furniture at the time, I knew a paint color, new hardware, or a little sanding could completely change something.

That mindset made decorating feel possible.

Instead of asking, “Can I afford the perfect version of this?” I asked:

• Could I paint it?

• Could I change the knobs?

• Could I recover the cushion?

• Could I use it in a different room?

• Could I make it look intentional with styling?

That is how most of my apartment came together. Nothing matched in the traditional way, but everything had the same feeling. It was soft, feminine, collected, and a little playful.

The secondhand pieces gave the apartment so much character. New furniture can be beautiful, but there is something different about finding a piece that feels like it has been waiting for you.

The couch was the piece I never got over

The star of the whole apartment was my couch.

I found it at ReStore, and I loved it immediately. It had that charming, vintage, feminine look that made the whole room feel special. It was the kind of couch that did not need much around it because it already had a personality.

I have shared it recently on Instagram, which is funny because the story did not end when I moved out.

When I left that apartment, I had to leave the couch behind. I sold it to the next renters of the space, and at the time, it made sense. Moving is chaotic. Sometimes you make decisions because you have to, not because your heart is fully on board.

But I kept thinking about it.

Years passed, and I still remembered that couch. I would think about how it made my first living room feel cozy and complete. I remembered the shape, the fabric, the way it softened the whole apartment.

Then, in the strangest full-circle moment, I found it again at the same place I had originally found it.

So I bought it back.

I know that sounds dramatic, but some pieces hold memories. That couch was part of my first home, my early twenties, my scrappy decorating era, and the beginning of learning what my style really was.

I turned an odd space into a dream closet

One of my favorite parts of the apartment was the closet area I created.

It was not a grand walk-in closet with custom shelving. It was much more humble than that and it felt absolutely dreamy.

I used what I had and made the space feel pretty on purpose. I treated clothing, shoes, bags, and accessories like part of the decor instead of things to hide away. A small apartment asks you to get creative, and sometimes the best solution is to make practical things beautiful.

The biggest lesson from that space was simple. You do not need a perfect closet to have a dream closet. You need a spot that feels like you.

Even if the layout is weird, you can make it charming with a little attention. I think that is what I loved most about decorating that apartment. It taught me to stop wishing for a different space and start working with the one I had.

My creative work space grew out of the season I was in

That apartment also held a very busy version of me.

I was flipping furniture and selling it on Marketplace. I was working at a home decor store, which meant I was constantly surrounded by pretty things and styling ideas. I was working at a coffee shop. I was also making custom pet portraits.

It was a lot, but it was also such a creative season.

I needed a space where I could paint, plan, photograph small pieces, answer messages, and figure out what I was doing next. The apartment did not have a perfect studio, so I carved out a creative corner where I could keep supplies and projects close by.

It was not glamorous at all, it was just a back entrance but I loved watching the animals in the field behind the apartments and seeing the neighbors flowers grow.

Looking back, I see that apartment as the place where I practiced making things beautiful with limited resources. I learned how to spot potential. I learned how much paint can change a piece. I learned that styling matters, but so does function.

Most of all, I learned that creativity usually grows best when you are willing to start with what you have.

The girly details made it feel like mine

When I say I “girly’d up” the apartment, I mean I let myself enjoy the details (and color).

I did not try to make the space look neutral just because that felt safe. I wanted it to feel feminine, collected, cozy, and fun. I liked blush tones, florals, curves, vintage gold, soft textures, and pieces that felt interesting.

The key was layering.

I used pillows, art, mirrors, lamps, furniture shapes, and thrifted accessories to build the feeling over time. Nothing happened all at once. I would bring home one piece, move three things around, paint something, then realize another corner needed balance.

Budget decorating taught me what my style really was

I think there is something special about decorating when you cannot just buy your way to the final result.

A tight budget forces you to pay attention. You learn what shapes you are drawn to. You learn what colors you keep coming back to. You learn what is worth waiting for and what you can make yourself.

That first apartment helped me understand my style in a way no shopping cart ever could.

I made mistakes, of course. I know I painted things colors I would not choose now. I probably overcrowded a few corners. I definitely rearranged furniture more than necessary. But every choice taught me something.

The apartment became a scrapbook of that season of life. The jobs, the side projects, the thrift trips, the late nights painting, the coffee before early shifts, the excitement of selling a flipped piece, the pride of making a rental feel like home.

That is why seeing the building for sale feels emotional. A building can be just walls and floors to someone else. To me, that apartment holds the memory of becoming myself.

What I would tell my 22-year-old decorating self

If I could go back, I would tell her she was doing just fine.

I would tell her to buy the strange vintage couch (because it is so good you'd buy it again! haha). Paint the furniture. Make the odd nook cute. Use the good lamp. Hang the random art. Let the apartment be sweet and feminine and full of personality.

And I would tell her not to sell the damn couch.

But then again, finding it years later made the story even better.