WANA (Nov 20) – The brown wooden door, the tak-tak sound of the knocker, a courtyard with a turquoise pool, a few heavy-laden fruit trees, and a traditional bench…

 

For any Iranian, these evoke memories of old homes and the coolness of summer afternoons—places the younger generation mostly knows from Instagram or, if lucky, from their grandparents’ houses.

 

These houses were not merely places to live; they were part of the rhythm of life. A manifestation of inward-looking architecture, a hot climate, and a family-centered culture in which the courtyard was considered the heart of tranquility.

In summer, the coolness of the pool’s water, and in winter, the sound of the samovar could be heard from the rooms surrounding it. Handwoven carpets, the aroma of freshly brewed tea, and hours that seemed to pass more slowly.

 

But with the rapid growth of urbanization and the wave of migration to major cities, compact apartments and towers replaced courtyard homes.

 

Today, these houses have become nearly extinct—so rare that some have been turned into museums, and living in them is no longer part of people’s shared experience. No courtyard remains, no tree is planted in the ground, and no pools where colorful fruits floated on the water.

A general view of buildings in Tehran, Iran, December 2024. Majid Asgaripour/WANA (West Asia News Agency)

In their place now stand small apartments, narrow terraces, and a few potted plants—plants that, if they’re lucky, survive the stale indoor air. But the story doesn’t end there.

 

The new generation has accepted this loss, yet hasn’t come to terms with it. They long for courtyards, for the shade of trees, and for a shared sense of calm. And since there’s no way to return to the past, they recreate it.

 

They have blended the modern style with an Iranian spirit: a red Persian carpet on light flooring, traditional poshtis (a backrest cushion upholstered with rug fragments) in the cozy corner of a room, patterned cushions on minimalist sofas, pottery and handmade dishes alongside modern décor, and dozens of houseplants that have taken the place of old trees.

For them, the small apartment space isn’t a limitation; it’s an opportunity for creativity. This generation has revived the “spirit of Iranian architecture and decoration” in its own way.

 

But the change isn’t only in the objects; a profound shift has taken place in people’s perspectives and tastes as well. It’s enough to sit and talk with a few people from different generations to notice this transformation.

 

Like Niloufar, a 26-year-old woman living in a 60-square-meter apartment, who wrote on Instagram: “Right now the trend is that a home should be bright and uncluttered, but without a Persian carpet it just doesn’t feel complete.” A blend of modern minimalism and Iranian identity—exactly the balance today’s generation is searching for.

Fardin, another member of this same generation, has filled his home with wood and plants and writes: “Homes these days have become kind of Boho–Iranian; a mix of warm lights, string lights, wood, and a few patterned cushions. This style is really beautiful.” His home, too, is an example of this generation’s attempt to recreate the forgotten calm of old houses in a smaller space.

 

These perspectives show that today’s interior design in Iran is not merely an aesthetic choice; it is a response to the lack of space, the longing for nature, the fast pace of urban life, and a thirst for identity.

 

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The new generation that has lost the experience of sleeping under the clear, star-filled sky of a rooftop or in the courtyard of a grandmother’s house now tries to revive a fragment of that feeling with star-shaped string lights, hanging lamps, and warm lighting—even if it is artificial.

 

In the design and layout of Iranian homes, kitchen features have expanded, built-in and hidden cabinets have become more common, and many people have turned a corner of their home into a caffeine refuge: a small coffee bar with several assorted mugs, a coffee maker, and various brands of coffee.

 

And of course, there’s also a separate shelf… full of herbal teas—for the moments when they’re worn out by the rush of city life and coffee can no longer calm them.

Book lovers have their own story as well—from shelves that hold everything from Hafez and Saadi books to psychology books, to balconies that, with a few chairs, a wooden table covered with a termeh cloth (a type of valuable and traditional fabric, often made from silk, cashmere, or wool, and featuring intricate traditional patterns), turquoise flooring, warm lighting, and several plants, have turned into small sanctuaries for escaping the noise of the city.

 

The turquoise color, the termeh, and things of this kind speak of this generation’s longing for old houses and their decoration; yet it seems the elements of those homes have delicately come to life again, this time in a new form.

Ayat Hosseini, a 39-year-old Iranian woman, is seen in her home in Tehran, Iran, on November 18, 2020. Picture taken November 18, 2020. Majid Asgaripour/WANA (West Asia News Agency)

The walls have moved away from neutral colors and shifted toward shades like turquoise, green, and yellow—colors that recall the warmth of old homes but in a simpler, more minimal style.

 

Paintings, wall hangings, handmade works, and old objects have returned to homes to bring people back to the mood of the past; some have turned to handwoven tapestries, while others have placed Persian poetry on their walls.

 

The new generation in Iran may not be seeking the flashy furnishings of previous generations, but in the simplicity of their choices—in the plants they place on the ledge, in the colors they choose, and in the clay pot they set on the table—they are seeking to revive an Iranian identity; an identity that has adapted to the rhythm of today’s life and has come alive again in small apartment homes.