My Hygge Home: How to Make Home Your Happy Place

by Meik Wiking

Design impacts how we move in our cities, what food we put on our plate, how we interact with our loved ones, whether we have dinner with our neighbors, how happy we are at work, and what we do with the time that we have been given. In short, it impacts the fabric of life and what makes life worth living.

Design can inspire us to become better human beings, to change the world positively, and if we harness the power of design, we have the tools to improve our quality of life.

hygge is about how we turn a house into a home—into a place where we find comfort and connection. Designing your hygge home is to imagine which activities can take place here that will have a positive impact on your well-being—and then shaping your living space to make that happen.

seems so ingrained in our cultural DNA and national values that to say you don’t care about it would be as much of a social faux pas in Denmark as it would be for a British person to say, “I don’t think we should stay calm—I think we should freak out,” or for an American to say, “I’ve been thinking lately about this freedom thing—and I’ve come to the conclusion that it is not for me.”

hygge is a situational sense of ease and pleasure—enjoying the here and now—an atmosphere brought about by the way you are with people, the mood of the encounter, and the feel of the physical space. The surroundings are very important when it comes to the feeling of hygge. It is about places with atmosphere.

Homes are hygge headquarters to the Danes. Not only is it where we relax and recharge, home is also central to our social life in Denmark.

You can easily tell an introverted Dane from an extroverted Dane. The introverted Dane will look at their shoes, and the extroverted Dane will look at your shoes. We are a nation of silent Northmen and -women.

Remember that small design changes can have a big impact. Switch the lamps around, or try out candles during dinner. There is nothing wrong with starting small.

One theory that could explain our love for nooks is the “prospect–refuge theory” proposed by English geographer Jay Appleton in The Experience of Landscape (1975). The theory proposes that when we examine places to sit or stay, we look for qualities that give us the ability to see without being seen. Standing on a hill with a tree behind us would give us both prospect and refuge. Sitting in the mouth of a cave would offer the same benefits—nobody can attack us from behind, and we can see what is coming. Maslow placed the need for safety as the second basic need we seek to fulfill, after shelter.

This is why I call my favorite chair Viking-proof. I know there’s no danger of any angry invaders sneaking up behind me while I’m working—not that they would, but it’s a human instinct to protect ourselves.

How can we design cities that would make people happier simply by living out their daily lives in them?

Not according to Jan—he calls it “bird-shit architecture.” These were streets designed for cars, not people. No one was asking what it would be like to live and commute in a city where everyone was living in the same area and working in the same area across town. No one was asking how it would feel to be less than seven feet tall in a city of monumentality.

“We need to sit closer together—we need to be able to hear each other and look each other in the eye. That is the foundation for reaching a consensus today.”

But there are steps between the two extremes along the public–private spectrum. There is a semi-public and semi-private place. For example, people often have a front garden or a front yard. You own the place, and you talk with your neighbors or nod to people walking by. But every house also has a backyard. You are still as close to the neighbors as you are in the front yards; you can see them and they can see you, but interestingly, there is an unwritten rule that you don’t say hi to your neighbors when you see each other in the backyard. You don’t talk. I believe this is the difference between semi-public (front yard) and semi-private (backyard) space.

We have spent many evenings picking fruits and berries, and many Sunday afternoons making jams, chutney, and the warm cherry sauce for the traditional Christmas dessert in Denmark. Making summer last until Christmas is a pretty good recipe for happiness.

Wood gives warmth several times. When you chop it, when you stack it, when you carry it inside, and when you burn it. It is the same with a well-stocked pantry. It gives you comfort and hygge several times: when you grow or forage it; when you cook it, store it, and eat it.

Stocking up and creating a small pantry also means understanding and respecting the ebb and flow of seasonality in nature. Strawberries do not grow all year round in Denmark. Strawberries in the supermarket midwinter are neither tasty nor hygge. Eating seasonally means a redesign of what we eat when. It means eating or preserving foods that are grown and harvested locally.

If we have the overhead light on, the kids think that they can lie anywhere—but when we turn these pendants on, their focus is on the table. They are like moths. They get drawn to the light. To the table. And they know that now it is time to get to work on their homework.” These pendant lights are single light bulbs that give off a warm glow and hang down from the wall or ceiling. In Heidi’s experience, these lamps create a focused area, allowing the kids to shut out the distractions around the room. “The pupils talk with the other kids who are under the same lamp. They create a small community. I was surprised that such a little thing like changing the lamps could have such a large effect.”

Spatial pattern is the distribution of light in the field of view. The temporal pattern is how you present different light at different times of day—maybe bright in the morning and dim at night. Light spectrum is whether you go with a colored or white light or a warmer or cooler light. Light level is the absolute intensity of light.

Mess causes stress. If our home is very small and therefore cramped and cluttered, most of us will be unhappier with it. Thank you, big data, for that nugget of wisdom, you might say. But here is the kicker. The size is not the key element—the key element is spaciousness.

we found that the perception of space is three times more important than actual size when it comes to being happy with your home.

The greatest threat to capitalism is everyone feeling happy enough that they no longer need to buy anything to make them so. Which means that staying at home and finding comfort and joy in what you already have is an act of rebellion. This is what hygge is truly all about—living the good life on a tight budget. It is the enjoyment of simple pleasures. It is the art of creating a nice, warm, comforting atmosphere.

It’s the same with towns and streets. If you can see a mile ahead what is coming, it is less interesting to walk around than it would be in the crooked streets you find in European town centers from medieval times. The curvy streets hold promises of a new discovery around every corner. The same goes for yards. If you can create small spaces, it will be more interesting to walk around—and it will be more hygge. You want to aim to create small, cozy spaces where you can get your hygge on.

If you have a terrace with a table and some chairs, you can hyggefy the space by surrounding the table and chairs with some pots with plants in them, to give the sensation of a protected space. This can also be a way to create the right microclimate for your hygge space. You want to make a place where you would be happy to spend a few hours with a book on your lap and your feet on the table.

one of my favorite activities will always be hiking, whether it’s longer stretches on Bornholm with my trusted backpack and thermos, or my daily evening walk around the green space in the city. When I move to a new neighborhood in Copenhagen, the first thing I do is explore which streets and areas provide the most trees and green spaces and create my daily walking tour around those. No matter where you live, there will be somewhere nearby that you can do the same.

It means learning how we can separate what we have from how we feel. Hygge can be felt anywhere, by anyone, so take notice when activities bring you joy and are free or inexpensive. Hygge is about living the good life on a low budget and using your space for living rather than for storage of your stuff. Hygge is what turns your house into a home.

Green is good. Green works. Whether we are in a hospital, at home, or simply walking along a tree-lined street, plants have been proven again and again to have a positive effect on our well-being, so bring them into your home too.

Every year, I make the same New Year’s resolution: I want to have friends over for dinner once a month in the coming year. I always fail in the mission—travel, deadlines, and coronaviruses get in the way—but the ambition does mean that I have more people over than if I had not stated it.

Eating in front of the TV is fine from time to time, but if we never have dinner at the table, we lose out on an investment that yields a high happiness return. The dinner table is the one place where you can have a positive impact on the physical and mental well-being of your friends and family.

consider which meals give you longer family dinners One way to have more table time with your friends and family is to serve them food they have to work for. The more of the cooking process you can move to the table, the better.

If you are in the mood for Mexican food, the principle is the same: Place the tortillas and ingredients in the middle of the table and let people assemble the dish themselves. Go for guacamole, onion, black beans, pineapple, cilantro, and chilies.

SWEET DREAMS ARE MADE OF CHEESE Who am I to diss a Brie? Yes, it is time to put on Eurythmics and go old school with the eighties answer to tapas. Fondue is, well, fun to do, and it is a sure way to slow down dinner and bring the cooking to the table.

when we design for connection it is not just about considering the shape of the table but also what we bring to the table in terms of friendly shoulders and open hearts.

The wisest words I’ve ever heard have often come when people have been holding something in their hands—a tool of some kind, a fishing rod, a pool cue, a paintbrush, a chopping knife, a hand of playing cards, puzzle pieces, or a tennis racket. A hygge home puts something in your hands and makes that activity occur naturally and frequently—and this means your words can flow more freely.

A hygge home is never lonely, so building up neighborly connections is essential to make you feel like you belong and that you are safe inside your home, too.

We know that social support is key to well-being. Knowing that we have somebody to rely on in times of need is vital. However, we can also increase our level of well-being by offering social support. Studies have shown that people who engage in volunteer work experience higher levels of satisfaction with life, an increased sense of purpose, and stronger social relationships. The hygge home is not an island; it is a place that knows it is part of a wider community, and it offers support and warmth to those in need.

Consider ways in which you can move the cooking or assembling of food from the kitchen to the dinner table to make family dinners last longer.

It is said that the recipe for happiness includes something to do and something to look forward to.