There’s something weirdly sticky about ancient Egyptian colors. Like, not literally sticky (I mean, those pigments were mineral-based, they weren’t smearing on papyrus with jam). But spiritually sticky. You see one wall in ochre and suddenly you’re thinking of the Nile and crocodiles and the sun god Ra, and you don’t even know why.
I had a friend once—Steve, big into design blogs, always quoting Bauhaus like it was a religion – and he painted his living room “papyrus beige”, swear to god, that’s what the swatch was called. But he didn’t realize he’d basically recreated a temple waiting room. I mean, if Tutankhamun had a smoking lounge, it would’ve looked exactly like Steve’s place.
Anyway—
Gold Wasn’t Just Bling. It Was Immortality (Also… Dust Magnet?)
So here’s the thing. Ancient Egyptians didn’t just pick colors like “oh this looks pretty.” Every hue had its own job. Gold? That wasn’t just to show off. It meant the flesh of the gods. Eternity. Unkillable shimmer. Try explaining that to someone who thinks a gold-framed mirror from IKEA is “a bit too much.”
But, like, does it even make sense to use gold in a 2-bedroom apartment with popcorn ceilings and a roommate who collects Funko Pops? Maybe. Maybe if it’s a subtle thread. Like one gold vase. Or even… I don’t know, golden-yellow throw pillows? But even then, you gotta be careful. If it starts to look like you’re worshipping your sofa, maybe back off.
Also, and no one talks about this, but gold accents are hell to keep clean. You ever try wiping fingerprints off brass? Yeah, thought so.
If you’re like many, you love the many shades of blue. You can’t get enough of it in your life, and you enjoy combining any number of shades in your decorating, your wardrobe, and even other products you choose to buy, such as your car. You know blue makes you feel good. You know it speaks to you, and you know it often serves as one of the loveliest neutrals you can get your hands on. Blue jeans go with anything. A pop of blue in the form of a throw pillow can work on almost any couch, and when you add a piece of art that contains shades of blue to your space, it often doesn’t matter what your color theme is. Space without blue just isn’t complete.
https://www.color-meanings.com/history-color-blue/
Red Was For Life And… Murder?
Let’s talk about red. Bright, unapologetic, bloody red. In Egyptian temples, it symbolized both chaos and protection. Which sounds like a paradox, but honestly? Kinda makes sense. Like, red’s the color of war and also love letters written in permanent marker during a wine-fueled emotional breakdown. So yeah – chaos and shield.
Modern designers like to use red as an accent wall. But it always ends up looking like someone either tried too hard or didn’t try at all. Maybe if you treat it like the Egyptians did—as something you respect but don’t overuse—it works better. A red lamp? Good. Red floor-to-ceiling curtains? Nope. Now you’re in horror movie territory. Or Vegas.
Red (desher) – made from oxidized iron and red ocher, used to create flesh tones and symbolizing life but also evil and destruction. Red was associated with both fire and blood and so symbolized vitality and energy but could also be used to accentuate a certain danger or define a destructive deity. The god Set, for example, who murdered Osiris and brought chaos to Egypt at the beginning of time, was always represented with a red face or red hair or completely in red.
https://www.worldhistory.org/article/999/color-in-ancient-egypt/
Also, small PSA: terracotta is not red. It’s… tired clay.
Blue Was Sacred. Today It’s Just “Neutral”?
This one bugs me. Ancient Egypt – blue was sacred. The gods had blue hair, for crying out loud. Blue was for the heavens, the Nile, and, strangely, fertility. And now what is it? Blue is… safe. Blue is “calming.” Blue is the go-to for landlords who want to look sophisticated but can’t commit.
I saw a model home with a “Blue Lotus” couch last week. It was… fine. Clean. Cold. Like an emotional support iceberg. There was no sacred anything. Just, like, a couch trying to ghost you.
Here’s a hot take: try lapis blue, real lapis lazuli color, like they used to crush into eyeshadow for queens and gods. Maybe on a cabinet. Or just one side table. It doesn’t even have to match. Matching is for serial killers. Let it feel like something’s off. Egyptians weren’t scared of bold. They had courage in their palette.
Blue (irtiu and khesbedj) – one of the most popular colors, commonly referred to as “Egyptian Blue”, made from copper and iron oxides with silica and calcium, symbolizing fertility, birth, rebirth and life and usually used to depict water and the heavens. Wilkinson writes, “by the same token, blue could signify the river Nile and its associated crops, offerings, and fertility, and many of the so-called `fecundity’ figures which represent the river’s bounty are of this hue” (107). Statues and depictions of the god Thoth are routinely blue, blue-green, or have some aspect of blue in them linking the god of wisdom with the life-giving heavens. Blue also symbolized protection.
https://www.worldhistory.org/article/999/color-in-ancient-egypt/
Green Was Not “Eco” It Was Magic
Green gets lumped into plant-mom culture now. Everyone thinks green = peace, sustainability, and maybe a succulent that’s already dying. But ancient Egyptians? Green was resurrection. Literal life reborn. Osiris-skin kind of stuff.
There’s a weird energy to green walls. I tried it once. Used a shade called “Crocodile Dream” (seriously, that was the name). At night, it looked regal. In the morning, it looked like my living room had jaundice. My neighbor said it reminded him of a “rotting pickle.” I repainted it, but a part of me still misses the boldness.
Point is, green is tricky. Go too light, it looks like mint toothpaste. Too dark, and it’s a cave. Ancient Egyptians usually used malachite, crushed into a powder, deep and mysterious. Think about that before you pick seafoam.
Black = Protection. Now It’s Minimalism Boredom
Ancient temples used black for protection. It was powerful. Solid. Not edgy. Not clean. It had weight. Today? You slap black on something and people think you’re going for a “minimalist aesthetic.” Nah. You’re killing the vibe, Karen.
One thing I’ll say, though: a matte black accent can still work if it has some intention. Like if it’s guarding something. A fireplace painted black? Feels protective. Mysterious. A black end table from Wayfair? Feels like sadness in flat-pack form.
And whatever you do, don’t pair it with chrome. That’s not ancient. That’s a dentist’s office.
White Wasn’t Innocent. It Was Death and Linen
White wasn’t pure. It was funerary linen. Bones. Dry sand. Sure, temples had white, but it wasn’t innocent. It was preparation. A pause before eternity.
You use too much white now and everything feels… empty. Unlived. Like a staging photo on Zillow. It’s fine if you’re selling your soul, I mean, your house. But to actually live there? You’ll end up feeling like a ghost in your own space.
So yeah, have a white wall. One. Maybe. But cover it in weird stuff. Art. Photos. Something crooked, even. Make it feel like it’s hiding something. Like it has secrets.
Mixing It? Okay, But You’re Not Cleopatra
Here’s where people screw it up. They try to mix all these colors thinking they’re clever. “Look, I made my living room Egyptian-themed!” No. No, you did a mess with a sphinx lamp and a hieroglyph shower curtain. That’s not homage, that’s confusion.
Try restraint. That’s the key. Egyptians knew what color did. It meant something. They didn’t slap turquoise next to mustard just because Pinterest told them to.
If you wanna go “modern-Egyptian,” maybe don’t even say it out loud. Just feel it. Pick one or two hues and build weird little stories around them. Like: “This ochre lamp reminds me of sun-baked tombs” or “This lapis blue bowl holds my keys but also my silent prayers.”
You’ll know if you’ve done it right. The room will hum, but softly. Like something old is awake in there. Watching, maybe. But not judging.
Last Thing. Stop Asking If Beige Is Timeless
It’s not. Beige is what happens when people give up. The ancient Egyptians didn’t even have beige. They had sand. Which is not the same thing. Sand moves. Beige doesn’t.
Try something with guts.
Or don’t.
I don’t care. It’s your living room. But if you’re gonna go ancient, don’t go fake. Get dusty. Get weird. Let your colors mean something, even if that meaning is just: I liked it and it scared me a little.
Last modified: July 24, 2025
