Designing Spaces for Humans: What Two Very Different Airbnbs Remind Me About Connection
As entrepreneurs and creators, we often move so fast that we forget the most important element of any space—whether it’s a physical home or a digital website: the human experience. When we design purely for efficiency or profit, we create spaces that feel cold and impersonal. But when we slow down and design with intention, focusing on how people will feel when they enter those spaces, we create connections that last. This simple shift changes everything—how people engage, how they remember us, and ultimately, how our businesses grow.
I’m staying at this Airbnb right now. In the profile, it looked really cute and simple, and it fit our budget perfectly. But the experience of being here is so starkly different from where I’ve just come from—a charming cottage in the French countryside. A place where someone once called home. Now I’m in the city of Carcassonne, a city I’m eager to explore.
The difference between the two Airbnbs isn’t about location; I’m sure there are plenty of places here that would feel much more inviting. And I’m grateful for this stay because it reminds me of something I believe deeply: the spaces we create—whether physical, like this Airbnb, or digital, like your website—have a profound effect on how people feel. And we get to decide, ahead of time, what kind of experience we want to create. That’s not just important—it’s powerful. When you consider the human experience in your design, you build a very different kind of business than someone who thinks it doesn’t matter.
It is so clear to me how this particular Airbnb was designed purely for profit, functioning more like a cheap hotel room than a home. And something else is truly obvious– no one has ever LIVED here. If someone had spent time living here, the experience would be more intuitive. The furniture wouldn’t be so darn uncomfortable. The silverware wouldn’t be in the back of a large cabinet in a way that takes much too long to discover. There would be a wine key. We are, in fact, in the region of France where the most wine is produced.
So, to be honest, it just feels like this person, if they are a person instead of a company, just hasn’t thought about us.
This Airbnb, though mostly functional and designed with an instagramable aesthetic, ends up feeling impersonal and cheap. It’s clear that it was designed to check off the boxes of what a short-term rental needs: matching IKEA furniture, bright white lighting that’s efficient but harsh, and a lack of any personal touch. It smells like a big box Ikea itself, minus the meatballs, and feels cold, despite being in a lively city. When I wake up (the bed IS comfortable, thankfully) I honestly can’t wait to leave. To get out to a place that has some kind of reminder of the actual place I’m visiting. This apartment could be in any city in the world, it’s so generic.
And that, to me, is such a missed opportunity.
Will I recommend this stay to a friend or family member? No. Will I write about it glowingly or give it high marks? Honestly, probably not. I won’t have much to say, except that it was acceptable. It’s clean and ready for us, which is important, but will I gush about its charm or share it on social media? No.
And that’s what the business misses out on by designing in this way. This place could have been a Guest Favorite. It could have been the kind of spot that gets written about by people far and wide, even featured in magazines like my dear friend Rana’s Airbnb’s in Istanbul. She has the best Airbnb business there—not only is it profitable, but it’s sooo personable. It’s designed with such care that guests rave about it, and that’s what makes it stand out. It’s what makes her booked all the time and written about in magazines and even by me, all the way across the world.
The Airbnb I just left in the French countryside felt like a home someone had truly loved living in. It had a simple fireplace for the colder months—so cozy and welcoming. The dishes were collected over time, from local shops, adding character and history. Artwork on the walls felt personal, connected to the surrounding area and to the people who lived there before. The dining table was from a local brocante (antique shop), not just something delivered from Amazon for as cheap as possible. You could feel the warmth and care in every corner.
And this difference got me thinking: How often do we, as entrepreneurs, move so fast that we forget the human experience in the spaces we create? Whether it’s a physical home or a digital one, like a website, it’s easy to fall into the trap of designing for efficiency or profit rather than for the people who will actually inhabit those spaces.
In my work as a website designer (with a background in architecture), I’ve seen this again and again. When we rush, we focus on getting things done quickly, meeting all the functional requirements, but we miss the opportunity to create something that feels thoughtful and welcoming. And just like with this Airbnb, visitors to a website can tell when they weren’t considered. They feel it in the sterile, impersonal design, and they leave without engaging fully. And we miss out on the chance to build real, lasting relationships with them.
The truth is, when we design with people in mind, we create spaces—both digital and physical—that invite connection. It’s in the details, the thoughtfulness, the care that goes into making someone feel welcome and seen. Whether it’s a warm fireplace, a well-loved dining table, or a website that feels intuitive and human, these are the elements that make people want to stay, engage, and come back.
So, whether you’re designing a home, a website, or a business, I encourage you to slow down and consider the human experience. Are you creating a space that feels warm and inviting? Or are you just checking off boxes for the sake of efficiency? Connection starts with design. And when we take the time to design with intention, we build spaces where people feel like they belong—and that’s where real relationships, and sustainable business, begin.