Miniaturism

Functional Miniaturism: What My Tiny Decor Teaches Me About Product Thinking

Not every story in a home is told through grand furniture or bold walls. Some are tucked into corners, balanced on edges, or hanging quietly by the doorway—speaking in whispers, not shouts. These are the miniatures that fill our home.

I didn’t start out collecting them. They found me, one at a time—sometimes while traveling, sometimes while browsing local craft stores, and often while solving product problems in my head. Now, each tiny object not only adds charm to the room, but reminds me how I approach my work, especially as a product manager who deeply values emotion, precision, and play.

Where the Details Live

It starts right at the entrance. Guests usually pause for a second, chuckling at the miniature Marshall amplifier keychain holder. It looks almost too real—sleek, sturdy, with dials and mesh texture. Hanging from it, like a backstage VIP, is a Darth Vader LEGO keychain. It swings when the door opens, as if welcoming you to the dark side—but also reminding you not to lose your keys.

Across the room sits the real Marshall speaker. But even that has its own personality—a tiny white kitten miniature perched on top, its delicate paws resting just so on the speaker’s power switch. Every time I turn it on, it feels like I’m asking for permission.

In our plant corner, the detail continues. We’ve chosen miniature planters, all under 6 inches tall, in deep terracotta hues. They house resilient little greens—pothos, jade, and baby ferns. Their size invites you to lean in, to notice.

And then, the pièce de résistance—a 108-piece miniature terracotta pottery wall installation, crafted by a 7th-generation potter from Alwar, Rajasthan. Each tiny pot is different. Some are smooth, others ribbed or slightly asymmetrical. Taken alone, they are just trinkets. But arranged together, they feel like a pulse—a rhythm that gives the wall breath.

What It Says About My Work

Living with miniatures has taught me more about building meaningful products than any sprint retrospective. Here’s how:

Microinteractions Matter

That kitten on the speaker isn’t “useful.” But it delights. It makes powering up the music feel like a ritual, not a task. In product design, I think about these moments obsessively—those subtle animations, sounds, or feedback loops that create emotion, not just function.

Detail Is a Language

Every miniature is made with extreme care. They don’t beg for attention, but reward it. As a PM, I strive to build features that invite exploration—where users discover small joys, tooltips, confirmations, or personal touches that feel human.

Systems of Small Things

That pottery wall piece reminds me of good modular design. Every pot is unique but follows a shared language. That’s how I build product ecosystems—each component can stand alone, but together they tell a richer story.

Empathy in Scale

When I place a 3-inch plant pot or hang a LEGO keychain, I think about how users experience scale. Whether it’s designing a feature for a first-time user or a seasoned one, I try to ensure no one feels overwhelmed—just gently guided.

A Bias for Story

Miniatures naturally carry memory. I remember where I bought them, who gave them to me, or what mood I was in. In the same way, every product feature should tell a story—of the user’s need, our team’s effort, and the moment it fits into.

The Takeaway

At first glance, miniatures may seem like decorative curiosities. But they are so much more. They are my reminders of scale, empathy, and delight—three principles I carry into every product I build.

In this home we’ve designed, they give me pause. They ask me to look again. And they remind me, in both work and life, that the smallest things often hold the greatest power.

In the end, miniaturism isn't a design choice. It’s a way of noticing. A mindset of care. Whether it’s a 3-inch plant pot, a tiny wall hanging, my iPhone 12 mini, or the miniature breakfast inked on my arm—it all comes down to this: big ideas often hide in the smallest places.