Dear Sean,

As the holidays approach and we enter a slower season, I plan to take a hard look at my finances, pricing and even my business model. I really enjoyed the challenge in your last column to double my design fee for 21 days—for me, it was less about the new price and more about doing the work to justify it. Are there other challenges that I should consider to really help me work on my business instead of in it?

Challenge Accepted

Dear Challenge Accepted,

First, thank you so much for appreciating what I was getting at in my last column. Owning the irrational value a designer provides to a project is critical to the overall success of both the project and the firm. In that vein, I have two challenges for you: one that examines the idiosyncrasy of design, and another that I consider a Monty Hall problem.

In addition to what I discussed last time, the problem with providing line-item pricing is that it gives the illusion that all elements are either interchangeable or of equal importance relative to price (for example, the $10,000 rug is of equal value to the $10,000 chandelier). In other words, line-item pricing kills the idiosyncrasy of design—and make no mistake: Idiosyncrasy of design is why you and your firm exist.

So what is idiosyncrasy of design? Those elements in your design which you simply cannot live without—the ones that are foundational to your design, whether for an individual space or the overall project or both. Here is a clause I ask all of my clients to include in their agreements: “To the extent that additional options for any fabric or furniture item(s) or any other elements presented by Designer are requested by Client, Designer, in its sole discretion, may determine to: (a) provide additional options for Client to consider (but no more than one) and, if said requests would be a complete redesign of the project, in Designer’s sole determination, deem this agreement terminated with no further right or obligation existing on the part of either the Client or Designer following said termination.” (A quick disclaimer: I am not your lawyer and this is not legal advice—just an example of the importance of the idiosyncrasy of design.)

Your challenge should be obvious: What are your design idiosyncrasies, either in general or for a specific project, and what are you doing to make sure that your clients understand what they are (and what they are not) throughout their project? The reason I keep saying “idiosyncrasy” is that it is the perfect word. What elements are foundational to you but might not be for your client, or even another designer? The elements that are rational only to you and your voice are the only ones that matter here.

The ultimate takeaway: Foundational elements in the design are for you to decide—and for you to live with the client’s selection (or not).

But what about non-foundational elements? For these items, you would not have chosen them if they did not matter, but they are not critical to the success of your design. They require a different approach—that’s when you can turn to the Monty Hall problem, which gets its name from columnist Marilyn vos Savant’s answer to a letter writer’s game-show-related probability brain teaser that created such a stir back in 1990 (though she was correct, she got heated pushback).

Let me set the scene: Monty Hall is the host of Let’s Make a Deal, a game where contestants choose one of three doors to win a prize. Behind two doors is a goat; behind the third, a new car. You choose door No. 1. Before your door is opened, Monty reveals a goat behind door No. 2. The question is: Should you switch to door No. 3? The answer: always. In fact, you have a two-thirds chance of finding a car if you switch.

Why does this game matter to designers? Two things have to be true to make the switch worth it: First, the alternative (another door) has to be more valuable than the current state of affairs (the door you initially planned on choosing); and second, the change is permanent, meaning that you can never get back what you decided to leave.

If your client wants you to show them an alternative selection for a non-foundational element and you are willing to do it, imagine imposing the Monty Hall problem on the client. Translation: I will show you another side table, but only one (or two), and you must know that this side table will be the one you will own and that the current side table will be gone forever. No backsliding into the first selection. In other words, how important is the new side table to your client? Are they willing to take a chance that what comes next is so much better than what they have to both warrant the change and forgo ever having the current option? This line of thinking stops the merry-go-round of sourcing new items but ending up back to where you started that is so soul-sucking to so many designers.

Regardless of your business model, identifying foundational and non-foundational elements, and then treating them accordingly, is integral to any designer’s DNA. Bringing them both front and center in your business process is work most designers don’t focus on when they are in the middle of it all. With time to reflect, however, there are no better challenges to undertake. Good luck! I can’t wait to see where you land.

____________

Sean Low is the go-to business coach for interior designers. His clients have included Nate Berkus, Sawyer Berson, Vicente Wolf, Barry Dixon, Kevin Isbell and McGrath II. Low earned his law degree from the University of Pennsylvania, and as founder-president of The Business of Being Creative, he has long consulted for design businesses. In his Business Advice column for BOH, he answers designers’ most pressing questions. Have a dilemma? Send us an email—and don’t worry, we can keep your details anonymous.