Spoiler: not a single visible cable, not a single piece of furniture moved twice.

When I started, I had an apartment and dimensions from the building blueprint. No designer. No clear idea where to go. But there was a desire to make something that would turn a standard apartment in a high-rise into a place of power — a place comfortable to live and work in.

Instead of a designer, I took Claude.

How it all began

The first conversation wasn't about furniture or wallpaper. It was about direction.

I didn't know what I wanted. I knew what I didn't want — kitsch, heavy classics, excessive decoration. We worked through options together. Scandinavian minimalism. Japanese wabi-sabi. Loft. Modern classic. The AI broke down each style by character, materials, color logic. Not "this would suit you," but "here's what this means, here's what this requires, here's what you'll get."

In the end I arrived at Scandinavian for the bedroom. Warm, light, calm, with one deliberate accent behind the headboard. The living room–kitchen — loft with a red thread running through the whole space, because the furniture there was already concrete-grey with red niches and replacing it wasn't on the table. The hallway and corridor — neutral grey, as a transition between two characters.

Three zones, three moods, one logic.

The bedroom

This was the most detailed conversation. A room with one window, one door, three free walls.

Together we came up with: an accent wall behind the headboard with golden geometric lines, the other three walls in cream from the same collection. Tone on tone, different saturation, same texture. The seam between walls reads not as a boundary but as gradation.

White matte furniture with black hardware. A wardrobe with a top cabinet almost to the ceiling. Mirrored doors reflect the accent wall — the golden lines are present even where they physically aren't.

Then came the centimeters. The AI calculated. Adding up wardrobe depth, gaps, bed width, nightstands, dresser. Checking that everything fits. Whether the wardrobe door opens without hitting the nightstand. It even accounted for the arc of opening — that's a whole separate half-page story with mathematical formulas.

By the end I had not "approximate distances" but specific points. Where to mount the light. Where to place the bed. Where to cut a network outlet into the baseboard. At what height to mount the TV unit so that watching half-lying down would be comfortable — that was calculated too, through mattress height plus pillows plus eye position.

The living room

Different approach. Here there was already furniture that wasn't being replaced: concrete-grey, red niches, black desk, grey sofa.

The task — give the space one wall that would tie it all together.

We decided: accent wallpaper behind the sofa, on the longest wall. Red-black-grey circles. Red from the furniture niches, black from the desk, grey from the concrete furniture — the wallpaper literally collects the room's palette into one pattern. By the way, an unexpected moment happened with this wallpaper: it turned out to have glitter, which only added character to the room — it plays so beautifully at sunset.

The fridge against the same wall is white. It was bought six months ago, and buying a new one wasn't an option. The solution — a vinyl sticker. In red-black geometry. The fridge stops being a white blot and becomes part of the wall.

Between the sofa and the kitchen zone — a floor lamp with shelves in a black metal frame. And on the top shelf, an object with character — a replica of an iconic artifact from a favorite horror film. Yes, the Lament Configuration from Hellraiser. A personal thing with a story. Why not?

The hallway and corridor

Grey wallpaper with a vertical tone-on-tone stripe along the entire perimeter. Grey — a neutral buffer between the red-black living room and the cream bedroom.

The entryway unit in oak and graphite. Warm wood against cold grey gives the temperature contrast needed. The vestibule is small, the unit doesn't take up the whole wall — the remaining meter of free wall is for a shoe bench, above which there will be either a mirror or some poster. By the way, ideas for posters Claude also suggested — both within the renovation discussion and in other conversations connected to my work and hobbies.

The through-line

Between all three spaces there are recurring elements:

Black hardware — bedroom wardrobe handles, black curtain rod, black floor lamp frame in the living room, black handles on the entryway unit.

Geometry — lines on the bedroom accent wall, circles on the living room accent wall, verticals on the hallway wallpaper.

Warm base — cream tones in the bedroom, warm wood in the entryway.

These aren't accidental coincidences. This is the logic we built in dialogue.

What the contractors got

The most valuable thing about all this work — I handed the contractor not "well, roughly in the middle" but coordinates accurate to the centimeter. Where to mount the light. Where to cut the outlet — and the outlet landed exactly on the joint between baseboard sections, with no trimming. At what height to mount the TV unit shelves.

The result — not a single external cable in the apartment. Everything hidden in the baseboard, behind furniture, in conduits. I think the people who worked with their hands on my renovation were in shock — usually clients arrive with ideas, and I arrived with an engineering project, layouts and drawings.

On mistakes and dialogue

There were some. I corrected the AI about five times on the orientation of the TV unit's tall cabinet. Left, right, left again. It redrew each time. We sorted it only when I explained that "on the left" meant from the window side, not the door side — the view from the bed is mirrored from the floor plan above.

A good illustration. AI doesn't read minds. It works with what you say. The more precisely you formulate it, the more precise the result. This is a dialogue, not magic.

Sometimes I'd come with my own option and the AI would say: "Bad idea, here's why." This was a real conversation — with objections, arguments, persuasion.

The result

The renovation is done.

The wardrobe almost touches the ceiling. The light hangs exactly centered above the headboard. Mirrors reflect the accent wall. The fridge with its décor is woven into the living room. The grey wallpaper of the corridor flows smoothly between zones. Not a wire visible anywhere.

I spent a week or a week and a half in dialogue with a neural network. We calculated, argued, clarified, redrew schemes. It was unexpectedly effective and at times unexpectedly interesting. When the apartment was just bought, I wanted to do something similar with a living person, but it was slower and far less effective — partly because of the designer's desire to land the contract, which meant there were no arguments at all, and in my view that's not a good thing in matters like this.

The AI didn't invent the style for me. It helped me realize what I wanted — precisely, with calculations, and without regrets.

What's next

Renovation is the skeleton. Now comes the most interesting part — filling the apartment with soul. Posters, scents, objects with stories. That editorial work that separates a home from a showroom.

If anyone has advice on finding things with character — I'd be grateful. Share in the comments.

And one more idea — I want to find someone who can make a discreet engraving on one of the door frames: "Designed by Claude AI". Fine engraving, small font, unobtrusive for guests. A personal acknowledgment of the process that brought me here.