Beyond the Pretty Pictures...

When I’m designing a kitchen, nine times out of ten the first decision to make is what material the worktop should be. Not the floor, not the walls, not the cupboards. It’s the worktop that’s at the heart of the whole look and feel of the kitchen, as well as its functionality, so making the right choice between stone or steel, wood or laminate is crucial.

But how do I know if I’m making the right decision?

• Firstly, I remind myself that there is no black and white, right or wrong decisions in design.

• Secondly I lean into my values, and those of my clients, and trust my thought processes and designer instinct.

  
  

It’s this approach that’s the very essence of me as a designer, and it impacts everything from start to finish of each project. It’s most evident in how and why I choose the materials I do, and that’s what I want to discuss in more depth here.

The complexity of the design process

Work with a recent client – let’s call her Sophie – neatly illustrates my methods. I’m designing her kitchen and I want to include a creamy, butter-coloured worktop because primarily, I’m always thinking aesthetically.

I’ve found two potential materials to use; they look remarkably similar. Both would create the aesthetic I’m aiming for, both would photograph beautifully, both will last a long time.

But dig a little deeper and the reality behind these seemingly identical options couldn’t be more different.

• Option one is quartz, at £2,000 for the entire worktop. It’s cost-effective, reliable and fits the brief.

• Option two is Durat, a recycled plastic surface at £4,000 – double the price but wildly more sustainable. Both would deliver the same look, but significantly differ in their impact on budget, environment and long-term satisfaction.

This deliberation is the reality of material specification that rarely makes it into those glossy mag design features. Beyond the pretty pictures lies a complex web of factors that determine whether a space truly works for the people who live in it, and whether our design choices align with our responsibilities as professionals shaping the built environment.

Why materials matter more than we think

When someone walks into a room, they experience it through their senses. We’re highly sensory beings, responding to what we see, feel, smell and hear. And as designers we have several tools in our toolkit to create the mood and atmosphere a space needs – lighting, colour, proportion, acoustics and, crucially for me, materials.

Watching clients’ faces change when they run their hands across a piece of reclaimed wood as opposed to a plastic laminate that mimics the same grain is fascinating. The difference is visceral. It’s a similar effect to the tension between modern hardness and organic warmth created by placing a metal coffee table next to a soft wool rug. Your brain processes the sensation instantly, even if you can’t articulate why.

This is why I’m fascinated by the question, how do different materials make us feel? It’s not something that’s clearly defined in a textbook because there’s no fixed rule, but it works in a magical way that good designers learn to understand both instinctively and through experience.

While other designers might be passionate about lighting or the furniture, I’m drawn to the fundamental elements – as I refer to it, the inside of 'the box'. The architect takes care of the space and volume of the box; I’m all about the lining of the box and how it feels from the inside out. It’s the materials used here that are at the heart of my design decisions.

The five pillars that underpin my material choices

Every material decision, let alone every design decision, involves balancing my five pillars to achieve the most appropriate outcome for the client. Rarely do they all align perfectly, but they all need to be given due consideration.

1. The intended use. Practicalities have to come first, so I’ll always consider the needs of the people living in the space. I’ve learned to ask the unglamorous questions: How hard-wearing does this worktop need to be? Is this paint finish going to show every fingerprint? Is that gorgeous terracotta floor going to survive the client’s two large dogs and muddy boots? Will it need sealing every six months? Is that realistic, or will the client grow to resent their beautiful floor because it’s constantly stained? These practical considerations often eliminate options that look perfect on Instagram but fail in real life.
   

2. The unexpected impact on our psychology. Different surface materials and textures evoke different emotional responses, just as different colours do. Industrial materials like steel and concrete can make a space feel modern and sophisticated, but they also might feel cold and unwelcoming in a family kitchen. Natural materials, like wood and stone, tend to feel more grounding and warm, but they might look out of place in a sleek, minimalist scheme. Understanding how materials affect mood isn’t just about following design trends, it’s about creating spaces that support how my clients want to live and feel in their homes.
   

3. Environmental responsibility. This is where things start to get complicated. Sustainability in materials isn’t straightforward, and anyone who tells you otherwise is oversimplifying. It’s not a one-dimensional judgement call; we need to consider the material’s embodied carbon, recyclability, durability, modularity and end-of-life considerations. The terminology alone is enough to make your head spin – embodied carbon versus operational carbon, lifecycle assessments, carbon footprints. Frustratingly, the most sustainable options are almost never the cheapest. A beautiful reclaimed parquet floor costs more than wood-effect laminate. Clay-based paints cost more than conventional alternatives. Recycled worktop surfaces cost double their mass-manufactured equivalents. But sustainability isn’t just about carbon footprint. It’s also about longevity, repairability, and whether something can be reused or recycled when it reaches the end of its life. Sometimes a slightly more carbon-intensive material that will last 50 years is more sustainable than a lower-carbon option that needs replacing every decade.
   

4. The material’s characteristics. Every material has its own personality – how it ages, how it responds to wear, how it feels underfoot, how it reflects light. Understanding these characteristics, particularly of innovative new materials such as Durat, requires continuous learning and I’m painfully aware of the gaps in my knowledge. I find myself constantly researching such as: How does this perform in high-humidity environments? Does this scratch easily? How does the colour change over time? Will this fade in direct sunlight? The learning never stops, and with new materials constantly being developed, it never can. ChatGPT has become an invaluable research tool for these practical questions, but it’s no substitute for seeing materials in real projects, talking to suppliers at trade fairs, and learning from other designers’ experiences, which is a never ending process.
   

5. Budget reality. This is often the deciding factor, and I’ve learned to be honest about it rather than pretending money doesn’t matter. If a client has £2,000 for a worktop, my hands are tied – I can’t specify the £4,000 option, no matter how much better it might be environmentally or aesthetically. The key is being transparent about trade-offs. I’ll say, “Here are your two options: this one costs less but has these limitations, this one costs more but offers these benefits. Your choice." I’ve found clients appreciate honesty about why certain options cost more and what they’re paying for.

Case study: The Waterloo kitchen

A much-treasured recent project illustrates how these factors can work together when everything aligns. The client was a climate scientist with a mid-range budget for a new kitchen, who had a quirky design sensibility and a real appreciation for sustainability and craftsmanship.

For the worktop, we chose reclaimed teak from a Sheffield school science block, sourced via Retrouvius – probably 50 years old, complete with kids’ graffiti (including some rather unfortunate swastikas that needed sanding away). At £3,000, it wasn’t the cheapest option, but it wasn’t the most expensive either. The client loved the history embedded in the material and the idea of giving this beautiful wood a new life.

For the walls, I used bespoke ceramic tiles designed by a ceramicist I work with regularly – £6,000 for something completely unique versus £2,000 for standard tiles. The client saw it as commissioning artwork for her kitchen wall, and the joy of paying a single artist to create something beautiful specifically for her space was worth the premium.

The combination created exactly what I’m always aiming for: something unique, sustainable, and deeply personal. The client later wrote that the design reflected “a perfect balance between character and practicality,” which captures exactly what I was trying to achieve.

This project demonstrates how the five pillars can align when client, budget, and values work together. But the reality is that this level of alignment doesn’t happen on every project, which brings me to the ongoing challenge of staying current with materials and managing client expectations.

This is Part 1 of a two-part series. In Part 2, I'll explore my favourite materials to work with, how I stay current with innovation in the field, and what excites me most about the future of sustainable design.