On Having Good Taste: Aesthetic Intelligence

Apr 11

Philosophy / Personal Essay

Opening: The Question That Reveals Everything

"How do you know that looks good?"

A friend asked me this while watching me rearrange my living room for the third time in an hour. Moving the vintage brass lamp two inches left. Adjusting the angle of a ceramic vase. Swapping linen throw pillows until the cream-to-white ratio felt right.

To her, I was obsessing over details that didn't matter.

To me, I was conducting.

Because taste isn't about following rules or copying Pinterest boards or knowing which Pantone colours are trending.

Taste is a language. And once you speak it fluently, you can't unsee it.

You walk into a space and know—within seconds—if it's right. Not because you studied interior design, but because your body tells you. The room either breathes or it suffocates. The colours either sing or clash. The proportions either balance or they strain.

Good taste is aesthetic intelligence.

And like all intelligence, it can be developed, refined, trusted.

This is about the taste I've cultivated over years—not as decoration, but as decision-making framework. Not as vanity, but as strategy. Not as luxury, but as the lens through which I build everything.

I. The Essence of My Taste

What I'm Actually Drawn To

If you studied everything I've ever chosen—every piece of clothing, every client, every business decision, every word in every article—you'd find a through-line:

Elevated femininity with a spine of steel.

Soft, but not fragile.
Romantic, but not naive.
Dreamy, but disciplined.

I like beauty that communicates competence.

The aesthetic:

Silk with structure
Softness paired with strategy
Elegance with intention

The energy:

The woman who smiles whimsically but negotiates sharply. The room that looks effortless but required years of curation. The business that feels intuitive but runs on systems.

That's my taste. That's my frequency.

II. European but Modern

The Old World Translated for Now

My taste is shaped by a lineage that runs deep and cities I've only visited in dreams.

I'm Hungarian-Anglo/French Canadian, born in one place, raised in another, never fully belonging to either, whether in the way the world spoke of me, or how I interacted with the world, I was never quite fitting in, too exotic for my people, not enough culturally integrated on the other side, the diverse cultural identity has been a reality of my day to day for as long as I can remember. So I built my aesthetic from the in-between spaces—from the idea of "more" than the reality of "it".

Linen. Wool. Neutrals.
Layered textures. Muted palettes. Luxury. Unique.
Quality over quantity. Artisan over mass-made.

But here's the key: I don't dress like I'm cosplaying.

It's referential without being costume. Elevated without being precious.

III. Glamour Through Restraint

The Power of Understatement

I don't scream. I whisper and still get the room.

My glamour is:

Clean lines
Glossy hair
Dewy skin
Delicate jewellery
Intentional silhouettes

Nothing loud. Everything precise.

Almost like the "good witch" aesthetic I love—ethereal but grounded. Beautiful but also slightly dangerous if you pay attention.

The restraint is the point.

Because when everything is dialled down to essentials, what remains carries more weight.

One perfect gold necklace > five statement pieces.
One exceptional blazer > ten trendy jackets.
One carefully chosen word > a paragraph of filler.

In life. In business. In taste.

I've learned: Glamour isn't about more. It's about better.

IV. Spiritual & Intellectual

Taste That Thinks

Here's where my aesthetic diverges from pure visuals: My taste is conceptual.

I'm not just drawn to things that look good. I'm drawn to things that mean something.

I like:

Symbolism (jewellery with meaning)
Mythic undertones
Spiritual language
High-level strategy (poker and chess, not checkers)
Layered references (art history, literature, philosophy)

Because taste is based on our inner world and perception of the world, on how we operate, on the message we are trying to convey, and when I like something, it is because it relies on a version of me, on a part of me, well thought of, living and breathing into flesh by how I choose to represent it – and that matters.

V. Wellness Meets Power

The Body as Brand

My taste extends to how I move through the world physically.

I gravitate toward:

Pilates and Yoga bodies (long, lean, controlled strength)
Herbalism (plants as medicine, holistic)
Clean beauty (ingredients I can pronounce)
Longevity (not just health, but vitality for decades)
Soft mornings (rituals over rushing)
Home as sanctuary
Luxury minimalism (less stuff, better stuff)

Not the overly-stretched wellness look. Not the "green juice is my personality" aesthetic.

More the "quiet health" of a woman who cares for herself because she has bigger things to do.

The woman who:

Gets up early for Pilates and Yoga every. day. (discipline)
Eats simply but well (nourishment, not restriction)
Moves through her day with energy (because she's not depleted)
Looks timeless at every age (because she invests in longevity)

Wellness as foundation for power, not performance.

VI. How Taste Becomes Strategy

The Business Application

Here's why this matters beyond aesthetics:

My taste dictates my business decisions.

When choosing clients:

I ask: Does this feel like an iron hand on a velvet glove, or just soft with no spine?

If a client wants a strategy but won't do the work—soft, no spine. Decline.

If a client is collaborative but has clear boundaries— Yes.

When pricing:

I ask: Does this feel like quiet luxury or loud cheapness?

Competing on price = loud cheapness.
Commanding premium for exceptional work = quiet luxury.

When designing offers:

I ask: Would the woman with good taste buy this?

If it feels gimmicky, trendy, or desperate—no.
If it feels timeless, valuable, elegant—yes.

When writing content:

I ask: Does this have intellectual depth and spiritual resonance?

Generic tips = surface.
Essays that teach while moving you = depth.

When making any decision:

I ask: Does this align with my taste?

And taste, remember, isn't just aesthetic. It's:

Values
Standards
Boundaries
Vision
Identity

Taste is strategic discernment disguised as preference.

VII. The Curation Process

How I Develop Taste Practically

Taste isn't innate. It's cultivated.

Here's how I've refined mine:

1. Immersion

I study what I'm drawn to obsessively:

Museums
Architecture
Fashion and art history
Design theory

I'm not passively consuming. I'm actively learning the language.

2. Elimination

Good taste often means knowing what to remove:

Clothes that don't fit my palette (donate immediately)
Trends that don't align with my aesthetic (ignore)
Opportunities that feel off-brand (decline)
Relationships that drain energy (end)

Addition is easy. Subtraction requires taste.

3. Investment

I buy less, but better:

One $400 blazer I'll wear 100 times > Ten $40 jackets I'll wear once
One $200 skincare product that works > Twenty $10 products that don't
One $2K client I love > Five $500 clients I tolerate

Quality costs more upfront. It saves more long-term.

4. Refinement

Taste evolves. What I loved at 22, I've outgrown at 26.

I regularly audit:

My wardrobe (does this still feel like me?)
My home (does this space reflect who I'm becoming?)
My business (does this offering align with my current vision?)
My relationships (do these people honour my growth?)

Good taste means letting go of what no longer serves, even if it once did.

5. Trust

Eventually, taste becomes instinct.

I walk into a room and know—instantly—what's wrong.
I see a potential client and know—immediately—if it's a fit.
I write a sentence and know—intuitively—if it's right.

That's what fluency in the language of taste looks like.

VIII. Taste as Femininity

Why This Isn't Shallow

Some will read this and think: "This is superficial. Aesthetics don't matter. Focus on substance."

But here's what I know:

For women, taste is resistance.

We're told:

Caring about beauty = vanity
Having standards = being difficult
Wanting quality = being materialistic
Curating carefully = being high-maintenance

But taste is how we claim space.

When I walk into a boardroom in a perfectly tailored blazer, slicked-back hair, minimal jewellery, I'm not being vain.

I'm being strategic.

Because I know: First impressions are made in 7 seconds. And those 7 seconds determine whether I'm taken seriously or dismissed.

My taste buys me credibility before I've said a word.

When I design my workspace intentionally—beautiful and functional—I'm not decorating.

I'm creating an environment that reflects the quality of my work.

When I choose linen over polyester, vintage over fast fashion, quality over quantity—I'm not being pretentious.

I'm practising discernment as a daily discipline.

Taste is feminist when it's:

Intentional, not performative
Self-defined, not trend-following
Strategic, not superficial
Liberating, not limiting

I refuse to apologise for having good taste.

IX. The Taste Test

How to Know If You Have It

Good taste isn't about expense. It's about coherence.

You have good taste if:

1. Your choices feel consistent

Not matchy-matchy. But cohesive.

Someone could look at your wardrobe, your home, your business, your writing—and see you throughout.

2. You can explain why

Not "I just like it." But at the same time, "you like what you like".

But "I'm drawn to this because it represents [value/quality/energy] I want to embody."

3. You're not trend-dependent

Trends inform you, but don't define you.

You know what works for you, regardless of what's "in."

4. You edit ruthlessly

You're not afraid to remove what doesn't serve.

Even if it's expensive. Even if it was a gift. Even if you used to love it.

5. Others notice

Not because you're flashy.

But because there's a presence to your choices. A thoughtfulness. A thereness.

6. It feels effortless (but you know it's not)

True taste looks easy and requires work.

You've done the work, so now it flows.

X. Building Your Taste

The Invitation

If you're reading this thinking "I don't have good taste"—you're wrong.

You have taste. You've just been taught to doubt it.

Here's how to reclaim it:

Week 1: Identify what you're drawn to

Screenshot everything that stops your scroll
Save images that make you feel something
Notice patterns (colours, textures, energy)

Week 2: Study why

What do these images have in common?
What do they represent to you?
What values are encoded in these aesthetics?

Week 3: Eliminate what doesn't fit

Clothes that don't align (donate)
Decor that doesn't resonate (remove)
Follows that don't inspire (unfollow)

Week 4: Invest in one aligned thing

One piece of clothing that feels right
One object for your space that elevates it
One experience that honours your taste

Month 2-12: Refine continuously

Taste isn't the destination. It's practice.

The more you honour it, the clearer it becomes.

The Truth About Taste

Having good taste isn't about perfection.

It's about knowing what you stand for and letting that guide every choice.

It's about silk with structure.
Softness with spine.
Beauty with intention.

It's about building a life—and a business—that looks like you, sounds like you, feels like you.

Not because you're trying to impress anyone.

Because you refuse to live any other way.

This is taste. This is a strategy. This is how I build everything.

Aja Marie Horváth