Offbeat, Opulent Whimsigoth Decor Is the Softer Side of Scary

The 2020s have been wickedly delightful, design-wise, for those of us who consider spooky season a state of being rather than the too-short weeks preceding Halloween. Moss-is-more goblincore skittered into the spotlight and foregrounded all things earthy and eerie; dark academia enthusiasts asked, “What if every library and all boarding schools are haunted?” These aesthetics make morbid delights part of everyday life — 12-foot Home Depot skeletons we can invite inside, if you will. (Those skeletons are now springtime sellouts, as demonstrated at a ‘Halfway to Halloween’ event held in April.)

The latest subgenre of scary-good style is an especially playful one. Trendcasters and ridiculous-portmanteau-coiners would have you know that whimsigoth — with graphic black-and-white patterns, off-kilter geometry, a cavalcade of critters and endless delight in all things nocturnal and celestial — is a treat you can experience all year long. It’s so livable, in fact, that you might already recognize its elements in your space. Follow along as we celebrate the lighter side of darkness.

It should go without saying that whimsigoth finds its purest expression through filmmaker Tim Burton, whose instantly recognizable aesthetic — this feature's opening image was a display of his work, of course — has pioneered pop fantasy for more than 40 years. Movie audiences got a taste of what was to come in Pee-wee’s Big Adventure (1985), when Large Marge the truck driver became something decidedly more supernatural and scared the pants off of every Gen X kid. When Beetlejuice (1988) hit the scene three years later, it mainstreamed comedy-horror and launched a look that’s been box-office catnip ever since. The World of Tim Burton, a traveling exhibition of his art and design, has been on the road for more than a decade.

The most straightforward way to rep Burton's style is, of course, to add a copy of The World of Tim Burton, a catalog for the exhibition and a deep dive into his artistry, to your coffee table. Round out your stack with books from whimsigothic forefathers Edward Gorey and Charles Addams, and you're ghoulishly golden.

In Burton’s surreal scenes, creatures can be statuesque and statues (and buildings and furnishings) can wriggle to life. That anything-is-possible drama translates to interiors in irregular, organic-looking pieces that ooze character (and appear to be oozing as a general proposition). Does your lamp look a bit like a deep-sea denizen (or one of these Burton beasties)? That’s whimsigoth, darling.