Earlier this year, we heralded the rise of theatrical drapery: walls swathed in sumptuous velvets and floor-sweeping silks—sometimes for practicality’s sake, as wall wraps or acoustic panels, other times for the drama of it all. A lighthearted counterpart to the curtain trend has also quietly emerged among interiors, furnishings, and collectible design pieces: short, whimsical drapery that’s all about pattern play and scale.
From the striped cabinet curtains seen in Michelle Dockery’s Victorian London home (reminiscent of 1800s-era kitchens) to the “modesty curtains” that cover up a sliver of window in AD100 designer Beata Heuman’s bathroom and kitchen, the tiny curtain takeover could be traced back to cottagecore’s rise in 2020. But they’ve been a source of delight for much longer. Back in the 1900s, architect Adolf Loos debuted teeny silk curtain lamps for his Art Deco venue Loosbar in Vienna. Instead of ceiling-grazing, floor-pooling fabrics, this short style is fresher, more fun, and less of a stylistic investment. Like baby bangs, but for drapery.
AD100 designer Sarah Sherman Samuel, whose office features striped curtains to cordon off the under-desk storage space, explains that they can even replace furniture altogether: “[Fabric curtains are] a softer, more textural alternative to cabinet doors.” She appreciates “how they bring warmth and personality to a room while [softening] the space and [making] it feel more lived-in.” Practically speaking, she adds, you can easily switch out fabrics based on your mood.
Curtained storage solutions—the opposite of the cold, stainless steel shelving that has dominated interiors recently—can also offer a symbolic partition in multiuse spaces. Riffmade founders Stephanie Betesh and Nicholas Steigmann launched a line of renter-friendly furnishings with built-in, customizable drapes last year at Afternoon Light’s design fair Shelter, including a desk you can stage a curtain call for when the work day is over.
“One of the main things that started it all was being able to shut off at the end of the day and signal to your environment and also to yourself that you’re in a new mode, [one of] unwinding and resting,” Steigmann says of the brand’s curtain desk. “Nick will come over and close the curtain and be like, ‘Time to stop working,’” Betesh adds.
In our most private spaces, little sheer curtains can also create a peekaboo effect. Last year, Germany-based designer Hannah Kuhlmann debuted a dreamy aluminum nightstand topped with a pale blue curtain. To her, the embellishment is revealing, but not overly so: “In Lily of the Valley, the curtain is slightly transparent, so it separates yet still reveals. It creates a small, intimate place where personal things can be kept,” Kuhlmann says.
In other cases, the act of opening and closing these curtains symbolizes routine. Brooklyn-based architect and artist Liyang Zhang, who makes ceramic and metal sconces outfitted with diminutive drapes, says her work is informed by daily household rituals. This project explores light piercing the window of a home and how “the act of drawing a curtain [is] a reaction to the changing environment and the time and the weather.”
Plus, they’re practical. The curtains on her sconces not only obscure the strip of LEDs at the back and trigger the dimmer switch for this light, but they also lend nuance and softness (plus, a whole lot of charm) to surrounding spaces. “The texture of paper and fabric is such a good material to add to a home that’s hard and sterile,” Zhang says.
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