Why I Believe Constraints Are the Secret to Better Design (Not Fewer Options)

A lot of people think that having more freedom leads to better design creativity. But after years of working on projects, I’ve found the opposite is true.

The primary bedroom of a project in Pacific Palisades. Photo by Meghan Beierle-O'Brien. Interior by Patrick Ediger

I recently came across David Epstein's new book, Inside the Box: How Constraints Make Us Better, and it’s been on my mind ever since. If you haven’t heard of Epstein, he also wrote Range, which is the kind of book people talk about for years. In his latest book, he argues something that seems backward at first but makes perfect sense once you think about it: limitations don’t stop creativity. They fuel it.

This belief guides how I approach design. So today I want to pull back the curtain and show you why I've spent the past few years intentionally narrowing my process — and why my clients end up happier, calmer, and in their finished homes faster because of it.

Here’s the surprising part: starting with a blank canvas can actually be overwhelming.

The blank canvas of the primary bedroom of the Pacific Palisades

Epstein explains that our brains tend to take the easy way out. When we have unlimited options, we often choose what’s obvious or safe. But when we set some boundaries, we’re pushed to find more creative solutions.

​His examples are wonderful. Dr. Seuss wrote Green Eggs and Ham on a bet that he couldn't do it in fifty words or fewer — and produced one of the best-selling children's books of all time. Jazz pianist Keith Jarrett was handed a broken, barely playable piano before a concert in Cologne. He worked around its dead keys all night, and the recording became the best-selling solo jazz album in history. The constraint wasn't the obstacle to the masterpiece. It inspired the masterpiece.

Honestly, I’ve noticed this since I was a kid playing with Legos.

My experience designing with constraints probably began in my childhood bedroom. I loved playing with Legos. Each brick has a set size and shape—you can’t change them or make them into something else. You just work with what you have. But I never saw that as a limitation. Those little pieces were what made building so much fun.

I’ve seen this happen in interior design many times. The client who says, "I want anything, surprise me, no limits," is usually the one who has the hardest time making decisions. Too much freedom isn’t freeing—it’s actually tiring.

Designers call this the paradox of choice, and it can quietly derail a renovation.

Image via iabdi.com

Over the years, I’ve learned that when a design process takes too long, clients start to feel anxious. When that happens, they begin to second-guess their choices. A sofa they loved in March might seem wrong by June—not because anything changed, but because they’ve spent months looking at other options online and imagining all the sofas they didn’t pick.

I think Legos taught me a skill I use every day. Working with a fixed set of pieces showed me how to look at a structure from every angle, imagine what would work and what wouldn’t, and picture the finished result before I even started building. That’s similar to what I do now when I enter a client’s space. The room’s constraints become my kit, and the design starts to form in my mind right away.

Having endless options doesn’t lead to better results. It leads to doubt. And doubt is costly—in time, money, and stress. It can turn a renovation into something you just get through instead of something you enjoy.

So I made a choice. My job as an interior designer isn’t to give you a huge list of options. My job is to recommend the best few and help you feel confident choosing between them.

Here's how I've intentionally built constraints into my process.

Every project begins with a concept mood board.

I’ve simplified my palettes. Over the years, I’ve chosen materials, finishes, and color stories that I trust—ones that work well in Southern California light and last in real homes. When I show you a focused set of options, I’m not limiting your choices. I’m giving you a shortlist I truly believe in. This helps decisions get made faster and with more confidence.

I’ve also focused my vendor relationships. Instead of always looking for the newest thing, I work closely with a trusted group of makers and suppliers. This means I can get better results for you and feel sure that what we order will arrive on time and meet my standards. There are fewer surprises on installation day and fewer emails about long backorders. That kind of reliability is a real luxury.

I have the budget conversation early and honestly. This is one of the most important steps. At the start of a project, we set the overall budget for the room. Once that’s decided, you don’t have to worry about the cost of every single item. You can focus on what you love, knowing I’m keeping the big picture in mind and balancing splurges with savings. This lets you enjoy the design process instead of stressing over numbers.

What this means for you, if we work together.

My goal is to work quickly and with purpose, usually about a four to six month development period for a full renovation, or as little as ten to twelve weeks for focused design and furnishing. It’s not about rushing. It’s about removing the delays that often slow projects down. That’s not to say there are highly complex projects I take on that can take much longer, but even in those cases we work to establish the vision, make key decisions, and create momentum as quickly as possible.

In my experience, uncertainty is what stalls projects. The longer decisions linger, the harder it becomes to maintain clarity, excitement, and alignment. By creating a clear roadmap early, we allow homeowners, contractors, fabricators, and tradespeople to move forward with confidence rather than continually revisiting the same questions.

Every constraint I’ve added to my studio is there for one reason: to give you a calmer experience, help you make decisions faster, and deliver a finished home that feels truly yours without unnecessary chaos.

Design is creative, but my process is based on logic. I truly believe those two ideas are not in conflict with each other.

So when someone says good design needs endless options, I have to disagree. Constraints aren’t obstacles. They’re the foundation for creativity. By narrowing the field, we create clarity. By creating clarity, we make better decisions. And better decisions, made with confidence, are what ultimately lead to the most thoughtful and personal homes.

Until next time,

XO, PE​