A little less beige, a little more you

There is something strange about arriving at university and being handed the key to a room that is technically yours, but does not feel like you yet. 

I still remember collecting my key fob at Kirby Corner on a surprisingly sunny September day. It was my birthday, I had just arrived from Heathrow, and my family were miles away. When I finally opened the door, everything I needed was technically there: a bed, a desk, a chair, and four very undecorated walls.  

Functional? Yes. Mine? Not quite.  

But that was also the exciting part. The room was not empty. It was waiting. 

And yes, it may be rented. You may have to hand the keys back eventually. But that is no reason to spend your time living inside somebody else’s idea of beige. If this is where you are going to wake up, study, get ready, procrastinate, and occasionally question every life decision, it deserves to feel a little like you.  

Start with whatever makes your eyes happy. 

You do not need to arrive with your entire Pinterest board packed between your socks

For me, that was a Van Gogh poster I nearly talked myself out of buying until a friend convinced me otherwise. Best bit of peer pressure, really. It now hangs opposite my bed, ‘The Starry Night’ staring back at me every morning. Yours might be a film poster, anime prints, photographs, album covers, postcards, a football scarf, or a quote you printed because apparently reading “you’ve got this” above your desk does occasionally help. 

 Thankfully, you do not need to arrive with your entire Pinterest board packed between your socks. Warwick campus often has stalls and market pop-ups with posters, books, vinyl, plants, and plenty more, so leave a little blank space for something you have not discovered yet. 

Let some of your room happen accidentally. Things picked up because they remind you of a friend, a day, or a version of yourself often mean more than the decor you panic-bought before moving in. 

Once the walls start looking more like you, lighting does a surprising amount of the rest. 

I like to play with colours and lights according to my mood. The Big Light has committed enough crimes. 

A small lamp can completely change how a room feels, especially during late-night studying or those evenings when you simply want the space to feel softer. I even picked up a little LED candle from The Chaplaincy for meditation, which now moonlights as cosy lighting without giving my accommodation team a reason to know my name. 

A bit of green beside the window can make four walls feel instantly less… four-wally

IKEA is useful for affordable additions, while Primark can rescue you on the bedding front. 

Just check the size first; I once fell in love with a pink bedsheet that did not fit my mattress and made it work through what can only be described as optimism and poor geometry. 

Leave room for something familiar too. A favourite book. Your usual mug. A scent you associate with home. A small keepsake. It does not need some enormous emotional backstory; sometimes recognising one tiny thing in an unfamiliar room is enough to make it feel less unfamiliar. 

Somewhere along the way, the walls start collecting bits of your life too. If you have a noticeboard, let it join in:photographs, tickets, little reminders, quotes or completely unserious things that make you laugh. 

And while we are adding little signs of life, please consider a plant.  

Campus plant sales are dangerous if you are easily persuaded by tiny pots of greenery. A bit of green beside the window can make four walls feel instantly less… four-wally. 

 Taking care of one is also a rather humbling arrangement. You water it. You forget. It looks offended. You apologise. Eventually, both of you learn to survive university. 

But whether it is a plant, a poster, or a pile of books, the idea is not to fill every surface. If you love books, let books appear. If music is your thing, show it. If you love colour, use it. If you prefer everything clean and quiet, that counts too. 

Little objects will acquire stories

A room can reflect your mind without becoming a museum of everything you have ever liked. 

Slowly, though, it will collect you anyway. Books will stack up. Mugs and tumblers will migrate towards the desk. Little objects will acquire stories. 

One of the books that found its way into mine was Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own, which feels almost suspiciously on theme. 

I would love to say I have finished it. 

I have not. 

Job interviews and assignment deadlines have had other ideas. 

Maybe that is why our rooms matter more than we think. They don’t just reflect whatever is happening inside our heads. On difficult days, they can soften it. On busy ones, they can ground it. 

And after spending all day surrounded by new people, new places, and new expectations, there is something lovely about opening one door and thinking: 

Ah. This feels like me.