The 1990s vogue for radically minimalist interiors sprung from early 20th-Century modernism and a zero tolerance, among some of its exponents, for extraneous elements. 'People now want a simpler life partly because they're more conscious of sustainability,' says Betsy Smith, an interiors stylist and colour consultant for Graphenstone Paints, who dubs her taste 'relaxed minimalism'. She tells BBC Culture: 'As we're becoming more informed about what we buy, our interiors are becoming more considered. We're using fewer elements to curate a comfortable, practical, stylish home.' A perception of maximalism as excessive and wasteful in the light of growing environmental concerns might have also sparked a trend for more clean-lined homes. Perhaps lockdowns, which reawakened an interest in nature, helped foster this taste for a palette inspired by the great outdoors. One indication of this is paint colours, which are moving away from maximalism's dramatic, even oppressive hues, such as navy or bottle green, to paler, earthier mid-tones like sandy beige and sage green that arguably make rooms feel more spacious. We're now witnessing a return to more restrained, uncluttered interiors – but with a more relaxed, comfortable feel. Five ways to be calm and why it mattersīut there's a happy medium to be found between these two extremes. Floral wallpapers and rich, intense colours became popular in interiors crammed with contrasting textures and an eclectic mix of furniture, artworks and curios. In recent years, some designers have even gone to the other extreme, cultivating maximalism, welcomed by many as a joyful, exuberant antidote to uptight minimalism.

Even ardent design fans associate it with soulless interiors and a humourless reverence for design that prioritises aesthetics over comfort, or simply regard it as impractical, given all the stuff many of us inevitably accumulate. From the 1990s, it has been used by many as a derogatory term. The word 'minimalist' elicits mixed reactions.

Minimalist bathroom art