by Jenny Barnett

Some spaces are beautiful. Others tell a story.

Out here on the modern frontier, we don’t decorate to impress. We layer a home the same way we build a life: with purpose, grit, and a whole lot of soul.

The frontier aesthetic isn’t about chasing trends. It’s about surrounding yourself with materials that have weight, textures that remember, and objects that mean something. You’ll find more rust than resin in a house like ours, and that’s just how we like it.

1. Start with Natural Materials

Wood, leather, clay, iron, wool, stone, these are the bones of a frontier home. They age with grace, wear their history, and invite touch. A live-edge shelf, a rawhide lampshade, a wool camp blanket: each one adds warmth without saying a word.

We don’t need shiny. We need solid.

2. Iron as Foundation, Not Finish

Iron hardware isn’t just a detail, it’s the backbone of a room with character. Think of it like punctuation in a sentence. It ties everything together.

A hammered strap hinge on an old pine door. Wrought clavos dotting a weathered barnwood cabinet. A forged iron curtain rod holding up linen drapes that whisper when the windows are open.

If you’re building a space with story, don’t skip the hardware. That quiet weight speaks volumes.

(Decor tip: If you want ironwork that feels real (not like it came in bubble wrap) check out the pieces made by the smiths at Old West Iron. Their work is the real deal: heritage-grade, hand-forged, and made to last generations.)

3. Layer with Intention

The frontier home is a tapestry, not a showroom. A Navajo rug over a wood floor. A mix of pottery from local fairs and great-grandma’s kitchen. Books stacked like bricks beside a chair made to last.

Don’t be afraid of mixing rough and refined. That tension, that story, is what makes a room breathe.

4. Decorate with Memory

Hang the map from your first backcountry trip. Display your granddad’s branding iron. Use your wedding quilt as a winter throw.

These aren’t decorations. They’re reminders of who you are, where you’ve been, and what you value. That’s the kind of beauty you can’t buy at the mall.

The soul of a space isn’t found in perfection—it’s found in presence.
In the echoes of hands that shaped it, the stories etched in each scratch and patina. When you build with that kind of depth, you don’t just create a home. You carve out a world.

— Jenny