Spoonflower is a Trap (And So Is Styling, Sometimes)
I had to take a break. I didn’t call it that at first, it was more like everything just sort of stopped, and I let it, because I couldn’t keep doing the thing where I’m chasing clients and chasing trends and chasing other people’s approval and chasing my own tail at the same time, like a dog spinning until it falls over. I was exhausted, not just tired but existentially wrung out, like even the fun parts had started to taste like cardboard, and I just couldn’t pretend that opening another glossy shelter mag was giving me joy when all it did was remind me that I was falling behind, and so I left.
Spain was supposed to fix me. I really thought it would — the jamón, the tiles, the heat, the walking around streets older than the entire history of my country, I thought I’d come back with clarity and confidence and maybe even a plan. A “new me.” Spoiler: I didn’t.
I came back and did what I always do when I don’t know what I’m doing: I opened Spoonflower. At 1:13 AM in the morning.
Because of course I had decided to redo my headboard, because why not torture myself with the single biggest upholstered surface in the house, why not make the stakes as high as possible when I already had zero confidence left.
Here’s the thing about Spoonflower. It’s not Schumacher. It’s not even Ikea. It’s chaos. It’s like opening the junk drawer of the internet, and you think, “Okay, somewhere in here there must be a treasure,” but mostly it’s paperclips and rubber bands and old receipts. Thousands of prints, uploaded by god-knows-who, and you’re scrolling and scrolling, and after a while your brain starts to melt.
And that’s when the doubt creeps in. That’s when I start to spiral. Do I even have taste? Am I just a fraud who likes ugly patterns? Am I actually about to upholster my headboard in something that looks like a child’s shower curtain? Some of it is so bad it feels like a personal attack — clip-art roses, pastel stripes that belong on a cupcake liner, patterns that buzz like a Windows 98 screensaver, repeats that make your eyes cross.
And yet.
Every once in a while, you hit something. The one. And it feels like a drug. A little rush of dopamine, like your whole chest opens up, and you suddenly picture the headboard in the room, the light hitting it, the exact moment you’ll walk in and it’ll feel right, and you think, “See, I knew it, I do have taste, I am a genius.”
That’s the Spoonflower high. And that’s the flex, honestly. Because anyone can point at Schumacher and get approval. But finding a jewel in the Spoonflower landfill? That’s taste. That’s stamina. That’s imagination. That’s sitting in the mud and insisting there must be gold in there somewhere, and then, finally, holding up the shiny thing you dug out and saying, “See? See??”
But it’s exhausting. It’s humiliating. And it’s addictive. Because for every one little high, there are a hundred moments where I’m muttering, this is all wrong, this is all bad, I’m wasting my life, and yet I keep going, keep ordering swatches, hoping that one day the samples will land and they’ll actually exceed my expectations — which almost never happens but I can’t let go of the idea that maybe next time, maybe this one, maybe if I just scroll a little longer.
Why Stylists Don’t Use Spoonflower
And here’s the truth: stylists don’t use Spoonflower. Not really. Good news? I’m not a stylist. Or am I? Depends on the day, I guess.
But back to why serious stylists — like the ones that get paid — do not use Spoonflower and why they’ll never use Spoonflower in their Domino magazine spread.
No upsell. There’s no trade pricing, no margin, no neat way to pad the invoice. Stylists survive by buying at wholesale and selling at retail. Spoonflower is just “add to cart” like everybody else. No cut. No profit.
No control. Digital print-on-demand means the colors can shift, the scale isn’t guaranteed, a reorder might not match the first order. Imagine explaining that to a client who paid thousands.
No pedigree. Clients love to hear “Schumacher.” They love to hear “Pierre Frey.” They do not want to hear “Spoonflower.” Even if the Spoonflower print is actually cooler. It’s about prestige.
Too much risk. Picture months of work, then the magazine shoot comes, and your carefully chosen Spoonflower duvet photographs like a craft fail. That can tank a reputation.
That’s why stylists steer clear. And honestly, sometimes I wish I could steer clear too.
How to Survive Spoonflower Without Losing Your Sanity
But if you’re stubborn like me and can’t quit it:
Swatch, swatch, swatch. Never skip this. Your laptop lies. Your eyes lie at 2 AM. Get the fabric, tape it to the wall, stare at it in morning light, evening light, after you’ve cried, after you’ve had wine. See if it still feels right.
Pick a base that has weight. The cheap cottons will betray you. They wrinkle, they look flat, they read “DIY.” Go for performance velvet, linen-cotton canvas, or heavy twill.
Mind the scale. Big painterly strokes feel intentional. Tiny repeats look pixelated, like wrapping paper from the dollar bin.
Use it as spice. Pillows, lampshades, headboards — yes. Entire sectional? Absolutely not.
Look for artistry. Choose the ones that look painted, sketched, textured. Skip the clip-art daisies.
The Best Spoonflower Artists + Prints (Because I Still Can’t Quit It)
If you’re going to dive in, at least go to the good stuff. These are the designers and prints that consistently deliver:
Artists worth following:
Holli Zollinger – Boho-meets-French queen of Spoonflower, thousands of solid designs.
Peacoquette – William Morris-inspired, heritage and detail without the price tag.
Danika Herrick – Modern chinoiserie and traditional motifs with unexpected color.
Domesticate – Organic geometrics, tribal-inspired repeats with a hand-drawn feel.
Moodboard Picks
Apparently I really like unicorns (pun intended). Aren’t these marvelous? Fuck those designers. They don’t know what they’re missing.
And me? I’m still hooked. Because here I am, circling the drain of my headboard project, thinking maybe the next page, the next swatch, the next pattern will be the one.
And when you land on a Spoonflower print that doesn’t look cheap? It feels like a win — like proof you can still surprise yourself.
And maybe that’s why I keep styling, too. Even when it feels like a trap.
