Have you ever noticed that once something enters your mind, you suddenly start seeing it everywhere?
Perhaps someone buys a particular car and suddenly that exact model seems to appear on every street. Or you discover a colour you love and begin spotting it in shop windows, clothing racks and café interiors.
It turns out there’s a reason for that.
Recently I learned about something called the Reticular Activating System, or RAS — and discovered it’s something I’ve unknowingly relied on for years as a designer.
As an interior designer, noticing details is practically an occupational hazard. Discovering the science behind that tendency was fascinating. I’m certainly no neuroscientist, but a little reading revealed that the RAS is the reason why, once something enters your awareness, it suddenly seems to appear everywhere.
The Reticular Activating System is essentially a filtering mechanism in the brain. Without it, we would be overwhelmed by the constant stream of information around us every moment of the day. Our senses are always taking in far more than we could ever consciously process, so the RAS quietly sorts through it all, deciding what deserves our attention and what can fade into the background.
But the interesting part is that the process works both ways.
Once your brain decides something is important, the RAS begins highlighting it. What was previously invisible suddenly becomes impossible to ignore.
Since learning about this, I’ve realised just how much the RAS shapes the way I work as a designer.
When I begin a new project and learn about a client’s preferences, my brain immediately starts tuning into those elements. I might notice them in shop windows, while sorting through samples, or even while travelling. My mind quietly flags these details, storing them away until the moment they’re needed to bring a project together.
It’s almost as though an internal radar switches on.
I once had a client talk at great length about a colour they absolutely hated. They described it so vividly and passionately that, for weeks afterwards, it felt like it was the only colour I could see anywhere. It appeared on furnishing websites, in fabric samples, and even on the wall of nail polishes at the salon.
Everywhere.
That experience taught me something useful. The RAS doesn’t distinguish between positive and negative attention. It simply prioritises whatever is emphasised most.
Because of that, I now try to guide conversations towards what clients love, rather than spending too much time focusing on what they want to avoid. Our brains respond far better to inspiration than prohibition.
The RAS can also produce some amusing side effects. When I’m deeply immersed in a particular aesthetic, I sometimes notice myself unconsciously dressing in that style too, as though I’m quietly stepping into the brief.
Before meeting one client who worked as a gymnastics coach, I instinctively slicked my hair back. Completely unplanned. My brain had simply tuned into her world and mirrored it without me realising.
Good design isn’t about imposing my personal taste on someone else’s home. It’s about understanding their preferences so clearly that I can translate and elevate them. It’s the process of turning a collection of ideas, memories and instincts into a space that feels cohesive, thoughtful and intentional.
Sometimes that means working with elements I might not choose for myself, and that’s perfectly fine. My role is to interpret the vision and make it sing.
And once the brief is clear, something interesting happens.
My brain locks in, the RAS does its quiet work in the background, and suddenly the right ideas begin appearing everywhere.
Of course, they were probably there all along.
I just needed to notice them.
