You’ve probably seen his work without even realizing it. Maybe it was a glimpse of the Obama family’s private quarters in a magazine, or perhaps a shot of a sun-drenched Malibu living room that felt somehow both impossibly grand and totally lived-in. That’s the thing about Michael Smith interior design. It doesn't scream. It doesn't try too hard to be "of the moment." Instead, it feels like it’s been there forever, slowly accumulating soul and stories.
Michael S. Smith is the guy people call when they have everything but need a home. We're talking Steven Spielberg, Cindy Crawford, and Shonda Rhimes. He’s the designer who managed to make the White House—a literal museum—feel like a place where two young girls could actually grow up and be comfortable.
The Secret Sauce of Michael Smith Interior Design
People often ask what his "style" is. Is it traditional? Modern? Honestly, it’s both and neither. He calls it a blend of European classicism and American modernism. Basically, he takes the "bones" of old-school elegance—think crown moldings, 18th-century screens, and symmetrical layouts—and then breathes life into them with contemporary art and deep, plush sofas.
He isn't afraid of a canopy bed. In fact, he famously talked President Obama into one for the Master Bedroom, despite the President's initial hesitation. Smith’s logic? A canopy creates a "sanctuary within a sanctuary." It’s that kind of psychological approach to space that sets him apart. It’s not just about what looks good on Instagram; it’s about how the room makes you feel when you’re exhausted and just want to hide from the world.
History is a Ingredient, Not a Rulebook
Smith is a self-described student of history. He studied at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London and worked under legendary antiques dealer Gep Durenberger. You can see that education in every project. He uses antiques not as trophies, but as "seasoning."
If a room feels too stiff, he’ll throw in a nubby sisal rug or some simple matchstick blinds. If it’s too cavernous, he’ll use folding screens—he loves an 18th-century Coromandel—to carve out smaller, more intimate "rooms within rooms." It's about scale. Most people get scale wrong. They buy furniture that's too small for big rooms or too bulky for small ones. Smith plays with it like a conductor.
Designing the White House: The Ultimate Stress Test
When the Obamas moved in during the 2009 recession, they famously turned down the $100,000 taxpayer allowance for redecorating. They paid for it themselves. Working with Smith, they borrowed art from the National Gallery—pieces by Glenn Ligon and Alma Thomas—to bring a diverse, "progressive" energy to the 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
He had to navigate the weight of history while making the place functional for a modern family. He talked about late-night phone calls with Nancy Reagan, who gave him tips on the house’s quirks. It wasn't just about picking paint colors; it was about diplomatic design.
"My job is to create an expression of my clients' taste, lifestyle, and passions. I do that in an immersive way that combines a sense of place with the way they live." — Michael S. Smith
The Jasper Factor: Making the Look Accessible
You don't have to be a tech mogul to get a piece of the Michael Smith interior design aesthetic. He launched Jasper, a line of fine furniture and textiles, back in the 90s. The name comes from his middle name, and the pieces are inspired by his personal archive of historical designs.
- The Fabrics: Think hand-printed linens and rich wovens that look like they’ve faded slightly in the sun over twenty years.
- The Furniture: Pieces that have "good bones." They aren't trendy. A Jasper sofa bought today will still look right in 2045.
- The Philosophy: He’s a big believer that everyone should live with things they love. It sounds like a cliché, but he actually means it. If you love a weird 19th-century Greek pot, find a way to make it the center of the room.
How to Get the Look Without the Presidential Budget
If you want to channel Smith in your own house, start by "editing." He often says that formal spaces feel better when you reduce the amount of "stuff." Clear the clutter so the few things you actually love can breathe.
Mix your textures. If you have a sleek, modern coffee table, put it on a rough, natural fiber rug. If your walls are a crisp, gallery white, hang a heavy, ornate mirror. It’s that "teeter-totter" balance he talks about. For every formal element, add an informal pairing.
Comfort is the Only Trend That Matters
In his latest book, Classic by Design, Smith focuses on the questions most designers ignore. Is the seating actually comfortable? Does the lighting flatter people’s skin? Does the furniture arrangement invite people to actually talk to each other, or are they just staring at a TV?
He’s been known to live in his own homes for a year before changing a single thing. He wants to see where the light hits at 4 PM in November. He wants to know which door people naturally walk through. That’s the difference between a "decorator" and a true interior designer. One is obsessed with the surface; the other is obsessed with the experience.
Actionable Steps for Your Space
If you’re looking to incorporate the Michael Smith interior design philosophy into your home, start with these non-negotiables:
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- Invest in "the skin" of the house. Spend your money on high-quality millwork and a perfect paint job. If the walls and trim are beautiful, you can get away with cheaper furniture.
- Focus on flattering light. Avoid harsh overhead LEDs. Use lamps at different heights to create a warm, "golden hour" glow throughout the evening.
- Buy the best sofa you can afford. Smith’s rooms are built around comfort. If you can't nap on your sofa, it’s the wrong sofa.
- Layer, don't match. Don't buy a furniture set. Buy an old chair, a new table, and a textile from a trip you took. The friction between different eras is where the magic happens.
Stop worrying about what's "in" this season. Look at history, look at how you actually use your living room on a Tuesday night, and build from there. Whether you're in a Manhattan duplex or a suburban ranch, the goal is the same: a house that feels like you, only better.