I design the whole thing, from the first sketch to the parts people remember

The issue's theme was “Reminiscence: boulevards of dreams and memories.” Our team answered it with Crimson Rose, a punk rock girl group looking back on its glory days. The challenge was to make three media, graphics, photos and writing, read as one story across three spreads.

Research and moodboards. I worked from three layers of reference: the moodboard from Indigo's pitch meeting, a shared group moodboard and my own.

Designing by iteration. I don't sketch first; I keep moving elements in Figma until the composition fits. I dropped magazine cut-out letters: they added too much color, and once the palette narrowed to red and black they looked flat.

Type exploration. I tested handwritten faces including Sacramento, Passions Conflict, Just Me Again Down Here, Long Cang and Mr Dafoe, then chose Homemade Apple and paired it with Arial.

Shoot day. Veena shot in an on-campus apartment at UTD that we dressed to feel grungy and girly. The models had the palette ahead of time, and we brought extra props and accessories.

Feedback rounds. Review led to two changes:

1. I cut the colors back to a monochrome red, black and white system, with pink as the only accent.
2. I filled in and added white space to balance each composition.

1. Contrast where it counts. Text readers need has high contrast with its background; other text works as texture and pattern.
2. Red overlays for cohesion. They tie the photos into one palette and add color without pulling focus from the layout.
3. Layers and drop shadows for depth. Stacked elements give the collage a physical feel, like keepsakes laid on a table.

I now understand composition better, especially how to mix editorial and collage styles so a design feels personal without straying far from classic layout. I also learned how grids and spacing drive legibility.

With more time, I would rework the last spread. The idea was there, but the composition felt messier and less organized than the other two.

Russell's is a locally owned bakery, coffee bar and cafe with three Austin shops, and it pitches itself as a gathering place for the community. The posts make that neighborhood warmth come through in the feed.

• Welcome people in. Introduce the shop itself through its Hancock storefront.
• Make the case the hero. Show real pastries up close so followers want to come pick one.
• Look like one brand. A small, repeatable set of fonts, colors and elements so posts read as a series.

Austin locals: regulars, neighbors and anyone nearby looking for coffee and a pastry. The voice is warm, short and neighborly, like talking to someone behind the counter: a bold serif headline plus one handwritten phrase per post. No glossy stock imagery, no emoji, and no claims the shop hasn't confirmed.

1. Research (week 1). Reviewed the shop's website, storefront, signage and Instagram to define the rustic direction.
2. Design system (week 1). Chose the two typefaces, narrowed to three colors, set rules for line work and shadows.
3. Illustration (week 1). Drew the Hancock storefront as line art, true to the real awning, badge and topiaries.
4. Photo prep (week 2). Cut pastries from their backgrounds and added shadows in Photoshop.
5. Layout (week 2). Built the posts in Figma at 1080 × 1350, checked them at phone size, refined copy and spacing.

All three posts were finished but never published, because I moved to San Francisco for school before they could go live, so there are no engagement results. What they show is a repeatable small-business social system the shop could keep using without a designer.

Most nightstands sell on how much they hold. My persona, Jayden, 28, a software engineer in San Francisco, furnished his apartment with whatever was cheap. A journey map of his week showed three low points: reaching behind the bed frame to charge his phone, forgetting to water his plant, and a nightstand that clashes with his room.

My competitive analysis covered 9 nightstands from $14.99 to $239.99. The market adds storage, so ledge takes it away: Jayden asked for no drawers, solid wood and a small screen.

Four rounds of sketches turned a box into one stepped form. I started at “it's a box” and kept adding shelves until I flipped the question: what if the form refused clutter? One rule, flat top and flat bottom, led to a tall block that steps down to a low ledge.

I modeled ledge in Autodesk Fusion and documented it in a detailed drawing. Named after its defining feature, the brand carries maple, ink and leaf colors and one line: “A nightstand for four things.”

Each of Jayden's frustrations, wants and needs maps to a feature, and ledge is the only option in my scan with solid wood and a screen. Still unproven: it hasn't been tested with users or measured in a real bedroom.

I came in designing screens and left designing an object, with one habit: let one person's needs decide every feature.

• Start with needs. The journey map showed what Jayden actually struggled with: charging out of reach and a plant he forgot to water. Each became a feature.
• Listen to wants. He asked for no drawers, solid wood and a small screen, even though the market sells the opposite. I designed for his list, not the category's.
• Design for aspirations. Beyond function, he wanted a room that felt like his. The maple and the stepped profile give him a piece he's proud to have, not just one that works.

Next: a scale prototype, a screen test from bed, and a fit check in a real bedroom.