When Taste Is Just Bias in Better Clothes

Yes — “better clothes” is doing some work here. The phrase itself is a judgment, and that’s intentional. Dressing something up makes it more acceptable, more credible, more defensible. That’s exactly how taste often operates in contrast to bias.

Bias is condemned. Taste is celebrated. But both are born from the same invisible frameworks — the ones that quietly define what’s “good,” “professional,” or “beautiful.” Taste doesn’t replace bias; it refines it, styles it, and gives it cultural permission.

Designers like to believe they’re guided by taste, not bias. Taste feels earned. It’s shaped by years of looking, making, and refining. Bias, by contrast, feels like a flaw — something unintentional, something to correct. But the distinction isn’t as clean as we’d like.

At their core, both bias and taste are forms of subjective judgment. They’re ways of sorting signal from noise, deciding what feels right and what doesn’t. Taste is simply the version of subjectivity that’s been socially validated — the preferences we’re allowed to stand behind without explanation. Bias is what we call those same preferences when they cause harm or exclusion.

Taste Is Learned, Not Neutral

No designer’s taste develops in isolation. What we respond to — minimalism or maximalism, restraint or expressiveness, hierarchy or density — is shaped by what we’ve been taught to value. Design education, industry trends, platforms, awards, and even informal peer feedback reinforce certain aesthetics as “good design.”

Sociologist Pierre Bourdieu described this dynamic as cultural capital: taste as a signal of legitimacy and belonging. In design, this shows up when certain visual languages are treated as default or universal, while others are dismissed as noisy, unsophisticated, or niche.

When something “just looks wrong,” it’s worth asking: wrong according to which system?

Where Bias Hides in Design Language

Design critique often uses the language of taste to sound objective. We say something is “too busy,” “not polished,” or “lacking clarity.” Sometimes those critiques are accurate and useful. Other times, they’re standing in for discomfort, unfamiliarity, or inherited assumptions.

“It’s just a matter of taste” can shut down inquiry instead of inviting it. It turns subjective judgment into a dead end rather than a starting point. In those moments, taste doesn’t disappear — it becomes invisible, and therefore unchallengeable.

Bias Isn’t the Enemy — Unexamined Bias Is

Bias in design isn’t inherently bad. In fact, it’s unavoidable. Every design decision expresses preference. Every system of typography, color, layout, and motion reflects a point of view.

Designers develop aesthetic bias through repetition and experience — by learning what holds together, what communicates clearly, and what resonates over time. That intuition is real, and it matters. The problem isn’t having bias; it’s pretending it isn’t there.

The goal isn’t neutrality. The goal is intentionality.

Design Maturity Means Interrogating Taste

As designers grow, taste shifts from instinct to inquiry. Not replacing intuition, but layering awareness on top of it.

Why does this feel trustworthy?
Who has been taught to read it that way?
What histories make this aesthetic feel “modern” or “timeless”?
Who might this choice quietly include — or exclude?

Interrogating taste doesn’t weaken design. It sharpens it. It expands the range of references we can draw from and the audiences we can design for, without flattening everything into sameness.

Reframing Taste as Design Intelligence

One of the most useful reframes is to treat taste and bias as information. They reveal who a design system is serving — and where its blind spots might be. Instead of denying preference, designers can make it visible, contextual, and adaptable.

Good design uses taste to create coherence.
Great design uses awareness to create connection.

In the end, taste and bias aren’t opposites. They’re closely related tools in how designers make meaning. The difference isn’t whether they exist — it’s whether we’re willing to examine them, refine them, and use them with care.

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