Image credit: Nujuma courtesy Wimberly Interiors

by Alan Hayward & Garreth van Niekerk

There is a discernible shift taking place in the kinds of spaces the trade is being asked to deliver. Not softer in the decorative sense alone, but softer in how a space lands on the body: calmer to move through, warmer in material expression, quieter in tone, and more emotionally attuned to how people now want to live, shop, eat and gather.

For architects, interior designers, contractors and fit-out teams working across hospitality, retail and renovation, this is beginning to register less as a style and more as a practical brief. Clients may not describe it that way, but the request is there all the same: spaces with atmosphere, tactility and ease; rooms that feel restorative rather than relentless; environments that encourage people to stay a little longer and return a little sooner.

Recent hospitality reporting points to a move away from stark minimalism and toward interiors layered with texture, vintage character, locally rooted detailing and a stronger sense of narrative. At the same time, wellness-led design conversations are broadening beyond spas and resorts into more mainstream commercial thinking, including growing attention to sensory balance, silent or low-stimulation spaces, and environments that support meaningful connection.

The Soft Life, in this sense, is useful not because it names something fleeting, but because it gives language to several overlapping currents already reshaping the market.

One is the renewed value of tactility: plaster, limewash, timber, woven surfaces, textured tile, natural stone, brushed metals and finishes that reveal the hand rather than conceal it. Another is the growing importance of light as material — diffused, layered, reflected and filtered, rather than used purely for effect. A third is the commercial return of spatial generosity: layouts that allow for flow, pause, intimacy and social exchange, rather than forcing every square metre into overperformance.

For restaurant and retail design especially, these are no longer indulgent extras. They are increasingly central to the experience being sold. Designers working in these sectors are being asked to build places that do more than function cleanly or photograph well. They are being asked to create mood, memory and belonging.

Photography by Migdal Studio - Sunday

Some of the most compelling recent hospitality interiors are persuasive precisely because they are not shouting. They build atmosphere through tonal control, material honesty and spatial rhythm.

In New Delhi, Call Me Ten, designed by Renesa Architecture Design Interiors, uses natural limestone plaster, stone aggregates, polished concrete, handmade mosaic tile and shoji-inspired partitions to create a restaurant that feels simultaneously serene and dramatic. It is a good example of how hardwearing hospitality materials can still produce a room with softness, depth and composure.

In Poznań, Sunday, a café-playroom by Cudo Studio, offers a different but equally relevant lesson. Natural materials, soft colour and carefully zoned planning create an environment that accommodates both relaxation and activity without becoming visually chaotic. For anyone designing family-friendly hospitality, mixed-use café concepts or soft-public interiors, it shows how comfort can be achieved through discipline rather than excess.

Wallpaper’s survey of the best design-led restaurant openings of 2025 also reflects how seriously spatial design is now being folded into the dining experience itself. The restaurant is no longer backdrop; increasingly, it is part of the draw.

Retail is moving in a similarly interesting direction when handled well. The strongest projects are often those that borrow some of the emotional cues of hospitality: calmness, welcome, rhythm, intimacy and a sense of pause.

At Matsuya Ginza Lounge I in Tokyo, washi-covered illuminated surfaces, hinoki cypress detailing and carefully calibrated light create a VIP retail space that feels luminous and composed rather than ostentatious. The project demonstrates that luxury does not need to rely on spectacle; often it is material intelligence and restraint that produce the more enduring effect.

Meanwhile, Space Available Jakarta Community Center points to a more community-driven retail future. Conceived as more than a store, it integrates retail with learning, gathering and cultural programming. For brands, developers and designers working on next-generation shopping or hybrid destination concepts, it is a telling example of how commerce and community can now be designed together.

For the trade, the implication is not that every project should suddenly become muted, minimal or wellness-branded. In fact, the opposite may be true. The best reading of Soft Life is not blandness; it is a richer, more grounded kind of design thinking.

It asks whether a restaurant can feel both high-functioning and sensorially calm. Whether a shop can be both commercially sharp and emotionally warm. Whether a renovation can improve not only the appearance of a site, but the tempo of being inside it.

That puts renewed value on things the industry already knows matter, but may now need to foreground more deliberately: daylight, acoustics, circulation, joinery, seating comfort, natural materiality, and the subtle thresholds between public and private zones. Wellness architecture commentary in 2025 has increasingly emphasised “silent architecture,” analogue spaces, and built environments that prioritise wellbeing and meaningful human connection.

In other words, the Soft Life is not an excuse to do less. It is a challenge to edit more carefully.