The Illusion of Choice: How Algorithms Are Designing a Boring World

Why reclaiming originality in architecture, interiors, and fashion is more urgent than ever

In a world overflowing with options, why does everything feel the same? From the playlists we stream to the clothes we wear and the spaces we inhabit, our lives are increasingly shaped by algorithms that favor convenience over creativity. Global brands dominate our cities, our screens, and even our tastes—flattening culture into a predictable loop. But this sameness isn’t inevitable. It’s a choice. And in design, choosing originality is an act of rebellion. This post explores how the illusion of choice is reshaping our aesthetic world—and how architecture, interiors, and fashion can lead the way back to wonder.

The Illusion of Choice: How Algorithms Shape Our Aesthetic World

When was the last time you arrived in a new city and felt truly surprised? Not by the familiar glow of a Starbucks sign or the predictable presence of Zara, but by the streets themselves—their colors, scents, voices, and rhythms. A place where life moved differently, where the atmosphere felt genuinely unique.

In today’s hyper-connected world, we can fly from Seoul to Dubai, New York to Istanbul, and land in environments that feel eerily similar. The same playlists hum in the background, the same brands line the streets, and even our accommodations—Hotels and Airbnbs curated for Instagram—mirror one another. We were promised infinite variety, yet somehow, we’re all living the same life.

Why? Because we’re no longer choosing. The data chooses for us.

This phenomenon is known as the illusion of choice. Platforms like Amazon, Netflix, and Spotify offer staggering catalogs—millions of products, thousands of shows, hundreds of millions of tracks. But this abundance doesn’t liberate us. It overwhelms us. And so, we default to what’s placed in front of us.

Take Amazon. Search for headphones and you’ll get 43,000 results. But will you scroll through them all? Of course not. Most of us pick from page one, not because it’s the best, but because it’s the easiest. Variety, in this case, breeds fatigue—not freedom. We choose the path of least resistance.

This is the paradox of choice: the more options we have, the less satisfied we feel. A famous study from Columbia University illustrates this perfectly. Researchers set up a jam-tasting booth with two scenarios—one offering 24 flavors, the other just six. The result? Only 3% of people bought jam when faced with 24 options. But with just six, 30% made a purchase. Fewer choices led to more action.

Our brains, it turns out, prefer shortcuts. We gravitate toward “best sellers,” “trending now,” or “most popular.” Not because we’ve made a thoughtful decision, but because we’re conserving energy. We’re not choosing—we’re surrendering to convenience.

The Flattening of Culture: When Algorithms Replace Curiosity

YouTube or Netflix follows the same pattern. Despite its vast library, 80% of viewing comes from algorithmic recommendations, not active searches. After five minutes of browsing, most users give up and click what’s served. The platform becomes less a catalog and more a tunnel—guiding us toward familiar, predictable content. We think we’re exploring, but we’re simply confirming what the algorithm has already decided.

Spotify, too, reveals this shift. In the 1990s, songs averaged four minutes. Today, they hover around two and a half. Why? Because Spotify rewards artists per play—not per minute. Shorter songs mean more plays, which means more revenue. The result? A musical landscape shaped not by artistic expression, but by algorithmic efficiency.

Originality is becoming a system error. In the age of AI, creativity is no longer disruptive—it’s derivative. A recent study comparing AI-generated and human-created art found that most viewers described the AI work as “safe,” “average,” and “predictable.” It lacked surprise. It lacked soul.

Could an algorithm invent Picasso? No. Because AI doesn’t imagine—it averages. It reassembles patterns from the past, creating something new that feels eerily familiar. It cannot see what hasn’t been seen. It cannot dream.

A World of Sameness: How Algorithms and Scale Flatten Creativity

But this flattening isn’t limited to media. It’s happening across industries. Aesthetics—once a celebration of diversity and human expression—are becoming predictable.

Take cars. In the 1960s, parking lots looked like rainbows: pistachio greens, sunshine yellows, powder blues. Today, 80% of cars sold are black, white, gray, or silver. Why? Because automakers play it safe. Neutral tones appeal to the masses. Algorithms confirm their popularity. And so, the 30% who crave color are left out—unable to find a pink or turquoise car without feeling “outside the norm.”

Fast fashion follows the same logic. Brands like Zara, H&M, and Primark don’t invent trends—they replicate them. Scouts scour TikTok and city streets, spotting what’s popular. Within two to three weeks, a trend is mass-produced and shipped worldwide. A beige sweater worn by a teenager in New York or Dubai, and posted on Instagram becomes a global uniform. What was once original is now everywhere.

Pinterest, too, flattens culture. It turns inspiration into imitation. Home renovation shows reinforce the same aesthetic: big kitchen islands, French doors, neutral palettes. Everyone wants the same thing. Individuality is replaced by algorithmic consensus.

Architecture is no exception. Think of Gaudí, the Spanish architect who drew inspiration from nature. His buildings were organic, whimsical, alive. Today, we build boxes—glass rectangles in muted tones. Not because they’re beautiful, but because they’re efficient. They promise return on investment. They’re easy to replicate. And they please everyone, which means they inspire no one.

This isn’t just about algorithms. It’s also about economics. When a company scales globally, it becomes a cultural bomb—wiping out local ecosystems. IKEA is a prime example, a once-thriving furniture industry has all but vanished. Artisans who crafted unique pieces can’t compete with a Swedish giant offering cheap, convenient alternatives within 30 kilometers of every town.

Rediscovering Depth: Why Diversity Is More Than Decoration

Globalization promised bridges between cultures. Instead, it built a global supermarket. Starbucks in 86 countries. H&M in 75. Netflix in 190. Spotify in 184. You can fly 10,000 kilometers and still land in the same aesthetic. The same coffee shop. The same fashion. The same playlist.

Cities become showrooms for the same few brands. A walk down Paris or London main avenue reveals Louis Vuitton, Prada, Zara—identical to Tokyo, New York, or Dubai. Why visit a new place if it offers the same experience?

But diversity isn’t just decoration. It’s the foundation of culture. Neuroscience shows that novelty sparks dopamine—the neurotransmitter that drives motivation and action. Predictability dulls us. It lowers our energy. It makes life feel like a prison, even if the walls are invisible.

Studies show that walking in varied natural environments improves memory and mood far more than walking in monotonous urban settings. Nature lowers cortisol, the stress hormone. Cities raise it. A flat world isn’t just boring—it’s unhealthy.

Start the Movement: Choose Wonder Over Default

We’re lucky to live in a time when so much is available. Two hundred years ago, people couldn’t dream of the variety we enjoy today. But abundance isn’t enough. It’s up to us to resist the default setting—the boring world—and seek the local, the imperfect, the unpopular.

Train your taste. Support creators who make from passion, not profit. Speak for yourself. Don’t post what feeds the feed—share what feeds your soul. Reclaim the habits of the real: cook, walk, draw, laugh off camera, look at the sky.

Originality is a risk—but it’s the risk that makes life worth living.

So let this be more than a reflection. Let it be a call.

Let’s build homes that tell stories. I just started, I am happy to get out the modern Dubai Look and get more cosier, with many plant not only outdoor but indoor. Implementing natural materials in my environment. Going little agains the wanted and expected to more what I really want. Let’s wear clothes that speak of place and purpose. Let’s design spaces that surprise and stir. Let’s choose the strange, the soulful, the slow.

Because the world didn’t become boring by accident—it became boring because we allowed it to. But we can choose differently. We can choose wonder. We can choose depth. We can choose to make the world original again.

And it starts with you.

My Reflection: Design as Resistance

In architecture, this means rejecting the sterile glass box. Let’s build spaces that breathe, that surprise, that reflect the soul of a place. Let’s bring back texture, asymmetry, and emotion.

In interiors, it means resisting the Pinterest-perfect kitchen. Let’s design homes that tell stories—through color, through clutter, through character. Let’s celebrate the imperfect.

In fashion, it means stepping outside the algorithm. Let’s wear pieces that speak of craft, of culture, of courage. Let’s choose the strange sweater. Let’s be the pistachio car in a sea of silver.

Because design isn’t just about aesthetics—it’s about identity. And in a world that’s becoming more uniform, choosing originality is an act of rebellion. A beautiful one.

Yours in stilettos,

XOXO Henrieta