My Website’s Design Style—Guess What? (Because I Still Don’t Know)

So, on random day, out of nowhere, I got this uncontrollable urge to revamp my website. Not just tweak a little button here or change a font there—no, no, I went full main character energy and decided to make it epic.

The problem? I had no idea what that meant.

I only knew one thing for sure: I despise Minimalism. You know, that whole "less is more" thing? Yeah, no thanks. But at the same time… I also love a clean, spacious layout. Contradictory? Absolutely. But that’s the fun of it.

Phase 1: Ceramics-Inspired Simplicity of My Website Design Style (Not Minimalism!)

The ceramic mugs I make—wonky is the standard here.

At first, I randomly picked a web design style that would match the wobbly, handcrafted spirit of my ceramics. This part, I knew well: I love asymmetry, I love imperfections—but only when they come with intentionally refined details. Back then, the website wasn’t a big deal to me. I saw it as nothing more than a pedestal to showcase my ceramics—simple, so that the product images could stand out. Note: Simple is not the same as Minimalism! This was never a minimalist website; it was just an open enough space that wouldn’t overpower the content.

Another reason: this is an online store, and customers tend to get lost easily. I needed them to land in the right place and smoothly make their way to the product page. Before this, I had already taken a bold risk by naming my brand Hand-Fetish-Projects—a decision that left Google deeply confused. Now I was competing for SEO rankings with, uh, very specific kinds of websites. Let’s just say, things got awkward. 🫠 So, I had to rein in the chaos a little—just enough to keep both customers and Google from running for the hills.

Phase 2: The Descent into Postmodern Chaos

On another random day, I looked at my website and thought, "Hmm… it looks a bit too tame." And in my world, tame is just another word for boring. So, naturally, I had to hunt down a new font that actually vibed with my logo. I threw in some bold color blocks, a few spontaneous illustrations… and before I knew it, my website had turned into a glorious hotpot of design chaos. And I mean that in the best way possible—who doesn’t love a good hotpot? This was the ultimate Hand-Fetish-Projects signature dish.

Then, I stumbled upon the name for my hotpot aesthetic—the design world calls it Postmodernism. Its golden rule? No rules. Think absurd layouts, clashing elements, and a glorious mess of text and images that make you question everything you learned in design school. Imagine:

• Collaged layouts that feel random but are actually placed with sneaky precision.

• A chaotic mix of fonts that somehow works like magic.

• Overlapping, distorted, and glitchy text—because text is also an image, and I will die on this hill.

  
  

Suddenly, my website felt like it had been given an IV drip of pure energy—it was alive.

My year-end design post in Postmodern style, 2025.

Phase 3: The Y2K Revelation (Blame It on a CV)

At this point, I knew I had fallen deep into the Postmodern rabbit hole. But something still felt missing—like a hotpot that needed just a bit more chili and pepper for that perfect kick. My website design needed a little nostalgia, a little boldness to spice things up. And then, fate intervened… in the form of a résumé that needed fixing.

The year 2024 was full of chaos, leading to a reality where 2025 became the year of mass job-hopping. Among the career shifters was my brilliant former boss, who asked me to help revamp her résumé. Both of us grew up in the ’90s, witnessing the dawn of technology, so naturally, we felt a strange attachment to the Y2K aesthetic—which, funny enough, has recently made a comeback thanks to Gen Z.

Deciding to hop on the trend (wait, wasn’t this our invention first?), we threw in some Y2K elements—chunky fonts, grid-patterned backgrounds, and an excessive amount of tiny pixel icons straight out of early SMS interfaces. The more I worked on it, the more obsessed I became.

"Hold on… this is actually fun!"

I’ve always been a designer who enjoys a bit of chaos. That’s precisely why I couldn't stay stuck in an office churning out generic retail designs. I thrive on this kind of messy, anything-goes creativity.

So, obviously, I took that energy and threw it straight into my website design.

A quintessential Y2K-style poster: Windows blue, metallic effects, and vibrant doodles. Image from Pinterest

Now, my design had a subtle but unmistakable Y2K influence—but not in the typical over-the-top, shiny, metallic way. I took what I liked and left the rest behind:

• Unconventional typography—two main fonts that seem completely unrelated. One of them is a classic Y2K-style glitch font.

• Interface elements reminiscent of old-school operating systems—but not overused. They are stylized as design motifs rather than exact replicas. In this case, it’s the TV screen stripe effect.

• A touch of neon green—but in a modern mint shade, not the typical high-saturation green.

  
  

Basically, I was bringing a piece of my childhood internet experience back to life, but with a modern, postmodern, cybernetic twist.

Phase 4: The Legendary ChatGPT Brainstorm

ChatGPT is a genius! I’ve had countless “why” questions with no one to ask—so ever since ChatGPT was born, I’ve been throwing all my existential dilemmas at it. And, of course, this time was no different. Thus began an epic brainstorming session with ChatGPT to finally determine what the world would call my website’s design style.

Let’s recap this thrilling journey: I bombarded ChatGPT with endless screenshots of my website, eagerly awaiting answers. With its infinite wisdom, ChatGPT dissected every detail—decoding the chaos, analyzing the structure, unraveling the contradictions. It declared that my website had a Postmodern vibe, yet remained structured; a hint of Y2K, but without the tacky chrome. It was bold yet controlled, messy yet clean, nostalgic yet futuristic.

After much self-reflection and stylistic soul-searching, I finally named my aesthetic:

Post-Minimal Cybernetic

• Post-Minimal—because I know I hate Minimalism, but I still appreciate the functional clarity it provides.

• Cybernetic—because it carries the logic-driven, robotic essence of something coded yet artistic.

  
  

And honestly? It makes no sense. But that’s exactly why it works.

Final Thoughts: Am I the First to Discover This?

Now, I’m not saying I’m the pioneer of a brand-new web design movement… but what if I just accidentally discovered one? What if, a few years from now, design schools start teaching Post-Minimal Cybernetic as an official style, and it all traces back to this very moment? Remember this, Google!

Of course, I don’t need recognition. I don’t need awards. I don’t need my name written in the history of fine arts. I just need people to buy my art prints and ceramics.

That’s it. Speech over. Thanks to whoever actually read this far.

Check out my homepage to witness the chaos of Post-Minimal Cybernetic in action!