I want you to do a quick exercise with me.
Close your eyes for a moment. (Unless you’re driving. If you’re driving, please keep your eyes open.)
I want you to think of a space where you feel completely comfortable. Or as close to completely comfortable as we can get.
A space that isn’t your home. Not your own space.
It could be somewhere you currently frequent. It could be somewhere from your past. It could even be somewhere you only went once or twice, but it left a deep impression.
Anywhere that you feel at ease. What comes to mind?
Take a moment. Really picture it.
Got it? Good.
What I See (My Grandparents’ House)
For me, this brings images of my grandparents’ house.
And when I think of their house, I’m flooded with memories.
The first one: My grandma standing on the front porch as I drive in.
I can picture it so perfectly. Their driveway was curved. She’s standing up there, up some steps. The house is brown.
She’s waiting for me. Always waiting.
Another memory: Playing cards after dinner.
All the dishes would be put away. We’d sit in the living room at this round four-person table.
I always sat with my back to the windows, facing the kitchen. My grandpa across from me. My grandma on my right.
We always sat in the same chairs.
We played so many card games. Crazy Eights when I was little. Rummy. Cribbage. Hearts. So much Hearts.
Until I was old enough to play pinochle. Then we played that.
I can picture the cards on the table. The placemats. The after-dinner tea in little teacups with saucers.
I can even picture the floral china pattern.
Another memory: The garden.
If you went out the back door, there was a patio. The garage was across the way. If you walked along the patio between the garage and the house, you got to their side yard.
Two raised beds. A pear tree. And under the patio: my grandpa’s tomatoes.
I can picture walking through those raised beds. Down into the tomatoes.
My grandpa showing me what was growing. The beans. The tomatoes. The lettuce.
Him kneeling down, knees on this little yellow pad that was falling apart and peeling.
All the hours I spent sitting there, picking green beans and eating them while talking to him.
Those are the things that flood back.
What Do YOU Remember?
Now think about your space. The one you pictured at the beginning.
What memories are flooding back?
Maybe hit pause right now and really think about it.
What comes to mind? Is it a specific memory? A feeling? A snapshot of a certain part of that space?
What naturally surfaces when you think of being there?
Here’s what I notice about my memories:
I can actually walk through my grandparents’ entire house in my mind.
I do this often when I’m trying to fall asleep. (Weird sleep trick, but it works for me.)
I walk in the front door. There’s a rug. Stairs on the left. I can picture where the outlets were.
The entryway table on the right. The photo above it.
In front of me, another table. The big orange sectional.
I can walk through this house. I can picture where certain books were. Where certain art was. Where the closets were. What was in the closets.
I can see it all. The stuff. The items. The design. The decor.
But that’s not what comes back first.
What naturally surfaces are those memories with my grandparents.
The feeling of being there.
The Disconnect (What We Think People Remember)
Here’s what I’ve been thinking about recently:
We’ve been trained by social media to believe that the little details are what people remember about our homes.
The perfectly styled coffee table. The organized pantry. The matching throw pillows.
We can pick up that device in our pocket and scroll through countless images of perfect spaces.
And somewhere along the way, we started believing that THAT is what lingers in our guests’ minds.
But didn’t we just prove that wrong?
When you thought back to that comfortable space, was it the decor that came to mind first?
Or was it the feeling of being there? The memories made? The people who made that space feel like a second home?
So why are we letting these surface-level details hold us back from hosting?
From creating space for people? From letting them into our homes?
From creating the same meaningful memories we were just envisioning… for other people, yes, but also for ourselves?
The Strange Time We’re Living In
We’re living in this really bizarre time where we can walk through strangers’ homes in our minds.
Houses we’ve never stepped foot in.
I can think of influencers where I could do the same exercise I just did with my grandparents’ house.
Walk through their entire home. Picture where things are. Know what their closets look like.
For people I have never met.
And I think that’s doing something strange to our perception of what really matters when we’re in other people’s spaces.
What We’re Seeing (The Scrolled Spaces)
When we think about these scrolled spaces (these homes we’re seeing constantly online) what comes to mind?
I see a few different things:
The Perfectly Curated White Space
White walls. Marble countertops. Perfect light wood accents. Framed TVs.
Everything styled just so.
And because we’re being sold products (that’s often the point: affiliate links, sponsorships), that’s what they’re highlighting.
The products. The aesthetic. The vibe.
And we’re coming to expect that.
When we pick up our phone, we expect a nice space. A perfect space.
The Eclectic Mid-Century Vibe
Or maybe you’re in the part of the algorithm I’m in, where you see more eclectic spaces.
Perfect mid-century thrift finds. One-of-a-kind furniture pieces.
And you’re wondering: “Can I get that somewhere?”
Nope. Turns out they had it custom-made for their space. For their content. For their feed.
But whether it’s white walls and marble or colorful eclectic mid-century, it’s still a curated space.
Designed to look good in a magazine. In an ad. In a how-to video.
And we’re thinking that’s the standard. That’s the average.
The Shift (Lived-In Spaces Are Coming Back)
I do think we’re seeing a shift. More people are showing lived-in spaces now.
Photo dumps. Real moments. Messy kitchens.
But this transition is new. We’re very used to that millennial curated space.
And for a long time, if you had a lived-in space, you filmed in one corner where nobody could tell your house wasn’t a movie set.
Or you filmed outside. Or in your car.
Think about how many people film in their car.
Maybe it’s because it’s quiet. Maybe it’s because no one’s bothering them.
But maybe it’s also because a car is just a car. And they don’t feel like their home meets that aesthetic standard.
The Problem: We Think This Is Normal
Because we’re inundated with these perfectly curated spaces (on social media, on TV, in news articles, in ads) we think this is the majority.
But is it? Is it really?
Because that’s what people are SHOWING. If you don’t live in a space like that, you’re probably not showing it.
(Or you weren’t, until recently.)
So it FEELS like the majority. But I don’t think it is.
I think most people have lived-in, imperfect, messy, not-perfectly-designed homes.
But we’ve been trained to think otherwise.
The ASMR Ice Example (Or: How Ridiculous This Has Gotten)
Let me give you another example.
Have you seen those ASMR ice-stocking videos?
People make all different types of ice. Coffee ice. Glitter ice. Ice flavored with juice. Ice with berries in it. Ice with lemon and lime slices. Ice with whole flowers frozen inside.
They freeze them in different shapes. Flower molds. Little pebbles. Perfect squares. Tall cylinders for water bottles.
And then they take all these different types of ice (with all the satisfying sounds, that’s the ASMR part) and put them in perfect clear containers that somehow fit perfectly into their freezer drawer.
And you watch this and think: Oh. Is that what people expect? A perfectly organized, curated freezer?
Then you go to your own freezer.
I went to mine this morning. It’s so full right now because we just went to Costco.
I put a bag of mangoes straight in the ice tray. We will not have ice for a few days.
Because the ice tray currently needs to hold mangoes. Because we have more than enough food for the next few days.
So if you come to my house right now and need ice? You’re getting frozen mangoes in your water.
Sorry. That’s what it is right now.
And that’s slightly ridiculous, I know. But do you see how silly this is?
It’s like thinking if your pantry isn’t full of perfect plastic containers, something’s wrong with you.
Our brains have been warped.
So we need to rewire them.
The Wedding Example (Perfection vs Connection)
Here’s another example of how out of control this has gotten.
I was a wedding and event planner for over 10 years.
And I can’t tell you the number of times I saw people sacrifice real connection for the perfect photo.
Example:
Clients who were SO focused on photos for their album (for their coffee table book, for social media, for their “memories”) that they wanted photos of the reception room before any guests entered.
They’d spent months envisioning the chairs, the linens, the table settings, the stationery that goes perfectly with the floral arrangement and the lighting.
They wanted these perfect photos. And they were such a priority that guests weren’t allowed in the reception room yet.
So when they look back, they’ll see the perfect photo.
But what’s actually happening?
The guests are stuck outside the cocktail hour. And it’s hot. Very hot.
Everyone’s sweaty. Dabbing their faces with napkins. There’s barely any ice left because it’s all inside the air-conditioned reception space.
They’re miserable. They’re not having fun. They just want to go inside.
And the couple is sacrificing comfort and connection for that perfect photo.
That’s what happens when perfect gets in the way of connection.
The Martha Stewart Doc (How This All Started)
Did anyone else watch the Martha Stewart documentary?
If you didn’t, you should. For many reasons. But this is where this whole idea really cemented for me.
Martha moved to a house (I think in Connecticut), and she said: “This is perfect because it gives me all these projects.”
She could create this perfect entertaining home. This garden. All this opportunity for content.
And logically, we know this. But we don’t really THINK about it.
Back in the day, Martha was one of the original influencers. If not THE original influencer.
So she would redo her garden, and as she did, she’d create how-tos. Shoot photos. It would all go in her magazine and her books.
She’d remodel her kitchen and set it up perfectly to be the backdrop for her book cover. For photo shoots. For the magazine.
The purpose wasn’t necessarily for her to live in it. (I’m not saying she disliked it.)
But the point was to create the content. To create something aspirational.
Want to hear more about why our obsession with perfect spaces is actually hurting our friendships? Listen to the full episode for even more examples and practical tips.
Why It Worked Then (And Doesn’t Now)
Here’s the thing: Because Martha was an original influencer, and because media was slower (books, magazines) we could separate it.
You’d look at the magazine and think: “Wow, that’s beautiful. That’d be so cool if my home looked like that.”
And then you’d put the magazine down. And go to your neighbor’s house.
And you didn’t expect your neighbor’s house to look like the spread in Martha Stewart’s magazine.
Because you could separate aspirational from normal.
You got one magazine a month. A couple books a year.
The normal was getting up and going to someone’s actual home.
What’s Different Now
Fast forward to today.
The creation and consumption of aspirational content is constant.
Endless videos. Not just from one person, but from hundreds of people.
And you start to think it’s normal.
I’m not saying anything bad about influencers. Influencing is a female-driven business. It drives massive revenue.
This isn’t a critique of being an influencer.
It’s the warped situation we’re in.
We think these people whose houses we have constant access to are just average, everyday people.
And that our homes should look just like theirs.
And if they don’t? We shouldn’t let people in.
The Reality: Influencers’ Homes Are TV Sets
Here’s what we need to remember:
Influencers’ homes are often their actual content studios.
The items they bring in and make videos about? Part of their business.
They might buy a car, create content on how to organize it, how to clean it, how to fit four car seats in it.
That’s not just an average everyday situation. That’s their business.
But because we see it constantly, we think it’s normal.
And we end up in this comparison trap where we think we need to meet these standards.
We feel embarrassed. Ashamed. Anxious.
If we let someone into our home, they’ll realize it doesn’t look like those aspirational homes.
So we’re overwhelmed. We can’t stop thinking about what people might notice.
“I’ll have people over when I get a new couch. When I organize that area. When it looks a certain way.”
And because of that, we’re avoiding social situations. We’re avoiding hosting.
We’re avoiding letting people in because we think those little details (the coffee table styling, the photos on the wall, the couch we chose) that’s what people will remember.
When, as we proved at the very beginning of this episode, that’s really not the case.
What People Actually Crave
Here’s what I’ve learned after years of watching people gather (in my own life, in my career as an event planner, from watching my mom and grandma host:
What people are actually craving isn’t a perfect party.
Not something they’ll have to “come down from.” Not something they have to leave and return to “reality.”
What they’re craving is real connection.
We’ve all been to those parties. You know what I’m talking about.
The big corporate holiday party. Or that friend’s house who always has the perfect, curated thing.
And you’re in that environment, and it’s great (don’t get me wrong, it’s fun).
But there’s this feeling of: “Okay, that was a nice step into an alternate universe. Now I have to go back to reality.”
I’m not saying those are bad. They’re fun. But they’re not what most people are craving.
Maybe every once in a while. But for the most part, what people are craving are real spaces.
Spaces to be with other people. To create memories. To feel safe and comfortable and seen and loved.
Where they can just be themselves.
The Reframe: Holding Space vs Curating Space
This is your permission slip.
Let go of any idea that you need a perfectly curated space to have people over.
Here’s the reframe I want to offer you:
Holding space vs curating space.
What “Holding Space” Means
Holding space is about being welcoming. Being present. Listening and being listened to.
Sharing and being in the moment with each other.
You don’t need fancy bells and whistles.
In fact, your house can be pretty messy. You don’t have to serve any food. You don’t have to decorate a single thing.
And you can still hold space.
And I think that matters more than aesthetics. Because that’s what lasts.
As we proved at the beginning of this episode.
Why Holding Space Creates Connection
Holding space is what creates genuine connection.
It’s you being yourself. Your guests being themselves.
Everyone just feeling grounded.
It’s fun to go to a curated space. To go to a big party.
Maybe you get dressed up. It’s fancy. There’s a vibe. You dance.
And then you leave. Heels in hand because your feet hurt two hours ago.
You’re thinking: “That was so fun. But now I gotta take my makeup off. Take this dress off. Put my sweatpants back on.”
Back to reality.
That’s the difference.
What are you creating?
Both are fun. But I think in this day and age, holding space is harder.
Because it’s not the norm. Because it’s outside the box.
And because the work isn’t decorating and cooking and fussing.
The work is sitting with ourselves and our own discomfort and anxiety about whatever we perceive as flaws in our space.
The Six Roles of Hosting (You Don’t Have to Do Them All)
If you’re still struggling (if you’ve been trained that hosting means doing ALL the things) let me break this down for you.
There are six roles of hosting:
- Initiating: being the one to organize the gathering
- Food and beverage
- Decorating
- Cleaning
- Organizing: dealing with logistics, RSVPs, etc.
- Day-of hosting: being present with your people
You don’t have to do all six.
In fact, I’d argue that holding space is really just that day-of hosting. And maybe the organizing.
You might not even be the initiator.
Someone else might say: “Hey, that old work group should get together.”
And you say: “I can do that. People can come to my place.”
You give them a day and time. You’re the organizer. They text you if they can’t find parking.
And then you’re present.
That might be it. You might not do the other things. Or you might outsource them.
That’s what I mean about holding space.
(If you want to dive deeper into this, I’ve got a free audio guide that breaks this down- Check out the 6 Roles of Hosting Audio Guide. )
Why Authentic Spaces Matter More Than Ever
I think authentic spaces (spaces where we hold space instead of curating) matter more than ever.
Here’s why:
1. The Decline of Third Places
Third places are communal spaces where you can just exist.
Living rooms in our communities. Places where you don’t have to pay. Where you don’t need a reservation.
Over time, if you go regularly, you start seeing familiar faces.
We’re losing these spaces. (Listen to Episodes 38 and 39 for more on this.)
So our homes? They become even more important.
2. The Loneliness Epidemic
I talk about loneliness in many episodes (Episodes 27 and 69 specifically).
But here’s the thing about loneliness:
It’s not just about being around people. It’s about being around people and feeling seen and heard and safe and comfortable.
If your home can be that space for someone? That’s a big deal.
3. The Need for Genuine Gatherings
We need spaces where we can feel grounded.
Where we can be ourselves. Where connection matters more than perfection.
And that comes from the host (holding space) but also from the guest.
(If you want to know more about the guest side, listen to Episode 91: how to stop dreading parties.)
If you’re rethinking how you host and want to create spaces where people truly feel welcome, tune into the complete episode for a deeper dive into shifting your mindset.
Your Permission Slip
This is your permission:
If you want to gather people more (or you want to be invited to more gatherings) your house doesn’t need to be Instagram-ready.
Connection matters more than perfection.
People want to be in your space because YOU are interesting.
And by being in your space, they’re going to learn things about you.
Like: you’re serving mangoes instead of ice because you went to Costco.
And they’re going to ask what else is in your freezer. And you’re going to laugh together.
Being in someone’s space gives so much more insight into who they are.
And people want to know you. They don’t want to walk into a showroom.
People want to know who you are.
What People Actually Remember
The next time you’re hesitating to invite people over because your house doesn’t look like an influencer’s, remember this:
No one walks through their memories thinking about the perfectly styled coffee table.
They remember how it felt to sit on that couch.
They remember laughing with the people around them.
They remember the conversation where they felt seen.
People are desperate for somewhere to feel like they belong.
And you might have just the space.
Struggling with hosting anxiety? I’ve got free resources for you! Check out the 6 Roles of Hosting audio guide. You don’t have to do everything. You just have to hold space.
Want to dive deeper into why authentic spaces matter? Check out Episodes 38 and Episode 39 (decline and revival of third places), Episode 27 (what is loneliness), and Episode 69 (learned loneliness).
Ready to stop letting your space hold you back from gathering your people? Listen to the full episode here for all the stories, examples, and encouragement you need to open your door today.
