The tiny homes are a quarter of the size of my apartment but they didn’t feel very small inside.
These spaces can get cluttered quickly, but we found creative ways to store our items.
I was born and raised in New York City and recently went out of my comfort zone by booking a four-day stay at Charmed Resorts, a collection of tiny homes in Crowsnest Pass, Canada.
Located 2 1/2 hours from the Calgary International Airport in the Canadian Rockies, the resort has about a dozen tiny homes with fairy-tale themes. I stayed in Rapunzel’s Cottage, The Lost Boy’s Treehouse, Belle’s Cottage, and the Elvyn Cottage.
I’m not very big on nature and am far from a minimalist — every closet and drawer in my apartment is overflowing or stuffed to the brim — so I was curious how I’d do staying in a small space in the Rockies.
Here’s what surprised me most about my first tiny-home experience in the woods.
Insider paid a media rate of $400 for four tiny-home stays. The full rate was about $1,000.
The tiny homes felt a lot bigger on the inside than they looked on the outside, mostly due to the high ceilings.
The tiny homes ranged from 200 square feet to 240 square feet, meaning each one was about a quarter of the size of my 800-square-foot apartment. However, I could’ve sworn they weren’t much smaller than my space in the city.
They utilized stairs and/or ladders to give the space multiple levels and had super-high ceilings that reminded me more of a cathedral than a cabin.
Staying in these small spaces made me feel like a kid again, but the resort had plenty of activities for adults, too.
There’s something about staying in a tiny home that made me feel like a kid camping out in a very fancy playhouse. To be fair, these houses are fairy-tale themed, and the couple behind Charmed Resorts used to build whimsical playhouses for celebrities.
I could easily touch the top of nearly every window I encountered, and I climbed a ladder to go to bed for the first time in years.
Even though many of these homes were designed with kids in mind, I rarely felt too big or old for anything. For example, the designers hung Rapunzel’s swing high enough for adults to use it too, and I could easily fit in the corkscrew slide at the Lost Boys’ Treehouse.
Most of our neighbors on the property were families, but I didn’t feel out of place with my fiancé. The secluded campgrounds felt incredibly romantic, and there were many things for adults to do on the property, like chopping firewood and soaking in the wood-fired hot tub.
I was so impressed by the number of outlets in each home.
Because of the resort’s small spaces and remote location, I was under the impression we’d be roughing it a little more than we did.
I expected each house to have one or two outlets, so I brought three portable chargers and an extra-long charging cord for my phone just in case.
But each home I stayed in had outlets beside every bed, if not on both sides of them. It was a huge relief because I’m someone who scours hotel rooms and Airbnbs for outlets and chooses my sleeping spot based on their locations.
Although some of the tiny homes’ outlets didn’t work for me, most did and made it easy to charge my phone regardless of where I was situated.
I was wrong when I thought staying in a tiny home meant the space would be bare-bones and without perks. Tiny-home experiences can obviously vary, but I now know that staying in a small space doesn’t always mean you’re getting the bare minimum.
Not everything in the tiny home felt small — we had a queen-size bed, a full-size fridge, and a luxurious shower.
Though tiny homes vary, the ones I stayed in had many regular amenities. In fact, each home had a large fridge and at least one queen-size bed.
The bathrooms were really impressive and ended up being some of the most spacious parts of the homes. They were about the same size as the bathrooms I’ve seen in most hotel rooms.
The showers had strong water pressure and plenty of hot water, so showering felt as luxurious as it would’ve in a hotel.
I didn’t realize how cluttered a small space could get in just one night.
My partner and I each packed only one carry-on and one backpack for the trip. We were at Charmed Resorts for four days but stayed in a different cottage each night, so we moved around quite a bit.
We quickly learned that even the smallest amounts of clutter can seem so much worse in a tight space.
When I checked into the Lost Boys’ Treehouse, I dumped my backpack in the kitchenette area and left our carry-ons just inside the doorway.
I plopped our big paper bag of snacks down as soon as we walked in. And since the bathrooms had no counter space, I shoved my toiletry bag on the sink’s only empty corner.
We did the same thing in each home. And within seconds of putting our stuff down, the beautiful houses always felt a bit messy.
Even so, we found some creative ways to utilize the small spaces.
We quickly adapted to the limited storage spaces by figuring out ways to make the most of them.
My fiancé, who is taller than me, stored his toiletries on top of the fridge in some houses, and we used the ladder in each home as a makeshift clothing rack. We also ended up hanging our wet swimsuits on the bathroom pipes.
In Rapunzel’s Cottage, we used extra beds to lay out and store our clothes as we picked our outfits. I used the extra lofted bed space as my getting-ready area, where I could lay out all of my makeup and look into a mirror that I propped up on the windowsill.
At one point, we flipped over the recycling bin and used it as a stand for the tiny fan that came with our cottage.
I didn’t think I was big on nature, but I never got bored on the property and I hardly reached for my phone.
At home, it’s common for me to spend a night watching TV while simultaneously scrolling through TikTok or Instagram.
But Charmed Resort’s campground doesn’t have Wi-Fi, and the tiny homes don’t have TVs. So I prepared by downloading six movies and two seasons of a TV series. I also packed four books and downloaded three more on my phone.
By the end of the trip, we hadn’t watched a single thing, and I read only one book.
Even though I could still use my unlimited data to access social media, I seldom felt the desire to pick up my phone. When I got bored, I’d go outside for a walk or start a fire.
I also kept wondering whether my social-media habits would be healthier if I lived outside of the city in a place where I was surrounded by trees.
Much to my surprise, I didn’t miss watching TV.
I grew up in a house where the TV was constantly on. My family wasn’t always watching it, but we used it as comforting background noise. So whenever I check into a hotel, one of the first things I do is turn on the TV.
None of the Charmed cottages have TVs. I’ve never stayed in an Airbnb or hotel room without one, and I thought I’d miss it. But I never even thought about it.
I didn’t feel the need to catch up on “Succession,” nor did I miss the drone of TLC reality shows playing as I got ready. In fact, the lack of TVs made each cottage feel even more aligned with the fairy-tale theme.
The tiny homes were surprisingly quiet, and I found the near silence a bit unsettling at night.
On our last night, the Storybook Square campground was filled with families starting fires and kids running around.
But as soon as I stepped into Elvyn’s Cottage, my tiny home for the night, I couldn’t hear a thing. I was super impressed by how soundproof the space seemed to be.
Maybe I should’ve expected the lack of noise since we were surrounded by trees in a mountainous region, but everything was quieter than I expected. At night, the only audible sounds around us came from mine trains passing in the distance, neighbors chopping wood, and birds chirping. I felt like I could hear myself breathe.
The near silence was peaceful at first, but it eventually started to freak me out. In my city apartment, I’m used to hearing cars honk or people chatting on their way home from a night at the bar. I ended up opening a window and turning on a fan to try to fill the silence.
I felt safe the entire time, but sleeping in a bed surrounded by ground-floor windows at night spooked me.
In the Lost Boys’ Treehouse, the biggest bed is surrounded by multiple huge windows with views of trees and the grounds. It was beautiful during the day, but at night, I kept picturing a bear or a stranger pressing against the glass and standing inches from my sleeping body.
Closing the curtains didn’t help.
I avoided sleeping on the first floor in the majority of the tiny homes so I wouldn’t feel so exposed and ended up on a smaller bed on the third floor.
Funnily enough, I live in a first-floor apartment in the city and never thought twice about it. I know my city apartment probably comes with more dangers than this small resort in the Rockies does, but I wasn’t quite in my element here.
In the city, I can blend into the background of the hustle and bustle. There are also so many streetlights that I can usually see what’s going on at night. In the wilderness, there was almost complete darkness outside unless we put on our house’s exterior lights.
I never felt unsafe on the property, but it was hard for me to get comfortable sleeping in a space where I could reach out and touch a window.
By the end of the trip, I realized that city living might not be for me anymore.
Even though I’ve spent my entire life in metropolitan areas, thinking about living in a city a year from now feels more suffocating than it ever has.
I love the walkability that comes with being in a city, especially because driving gives me a lot of anxiety. Plus, I don’t own a car. I also love that New York seems to have everything. Most of the musicians I love stop in New York City on their tours, and there aren’t many other places where I can order a good bagel at midnight.
I never imagined I’d live in a big city forever, but this trip made me realize I want to head out sooner rather than later.
I think it’d be nice to look outside of my window and see wildlife instead of construction and more identical-looking apartment buildings. I’d also like to be able to drive just a few minutes to get to a park that doesn’t have tons of concrete and more big buildings on its perimeter.
I won’t be selling everything and moving to a tiny home in remote Canada anytime soon, but this trip definitely made me more open to the idea of a house in the suburbs.
Leading up to the analysis, I’d become obsessed with the idea that each person has a “season” of colors that look best on them — winter, spring, summer, or autumn — based on their eye color, hair color, and skin tone.
$130 and multiple photos of myself in natural lighting without makeup later, the expert told me I was an autumn.
Based on my assessment, my power colors (shades I look best in) are navy, orange, violet, brown, and olive green. I was advised to avoid stark white and black — two colors, I was told, that only shine on winters — because I had warm undertones and looked best in gold jewelry. I was advised to skip silver jewelry and black, white, fuchsia, and cool-toned clothing. The recommendations extended to makeup, meaning I should be opting for warmer shades and not cool ones.
At first, a lot of this was unfortunate news, as I’d exclusively owned silver jewelry for my entire life and black was a staple color in my wardrobe. I felt like I’d been lying to myself and sabotaging myself for years.
In the months since, I’ve changed how I dress, accessorize, and do my makeup — for better and for worse.
I don’t reach for or buy the same clothes and accessories anymore
Now, I limit myself when I shop for clothes, even if not always on purpose. My eyes zero in on anything that’s chocolate brown, orange, or any other color in my “autumn” range.
I reach for things I know are in my season and sometimes don’t let myself try things on if they’re not. This is good news for my wallet, but it’s definitely a habit I want to break because I still love wearing bright colors even if they’re not my “power shades.”
When I was shopping for my winter wardrobe, I ended up purchasing two orange sweaters and a cream one with olive and burgundy specks. I would never, ever have worn mustard-colored clothing before this analysis and now I own a few pieces of it.
It was exciting to branch out of my comfort zone, but there were a few times I found myself longingly looking at the black and light-blue options.
I haven’t bought silver jewelry in a year, instead slowly adding gold pieces to my collection.
After the analysis, I made it very clear to my partner that my metal preference for engagement rings has entirely changed (I’m glad I figured out I’m warm-toned before it was too late — he’s glad he bought the ring after I did my analysis). I love how my gold ring looks, and I think it looks way better than silver would have.
I’d like to say I still wear whatever I want, but my olive-green and orange sweaters are worn way more frequently than the fuschia and black ones, which are now at the bottom of my dresser.
But I feel like my brain has been rewired and I’m more insecure about things I wasn’t before
The con of getting a color analysis is when I wear a color I “know” isn’t best for me, I’m very aware of it.
And, because I have talked about this so much, so are some of my friends. Recently when I wore black, a friend of mine gasped in horror and (jokingly) exclaimed, “You’re not wearing your colors!”
In a way, knowing and wearing my power colors feels like a secret hack to looking good — why would I wear anything else?
I don’t feel comfortable wearing some pieces I used to love, especially if they’re cool-toned. A lilac shirt I used to wear almost weekly is now shoved in the bottom of my drawer because each time I wear it I can’t stop thinking about how it washes me out.
I recently put on an emerald-green sweater — a power color for “winters” — and just knew I’d never feel 100% in it. My olive-green tops have been getting so much more wear.
Now that I’m wedding planning, I’m also stressed at the prospect of building a “bridal wardrobe” and picking a wedding dress because as a “true” autumn I shine in rich, dense warm colors. Sadly, those don’t overlap with bridal colors. White, ivory, blush, and cream supposedly wash me out.
Maybe it sounds ridiculous, but there’s something about actively wearing something I know isn’t doing me any favors that really brings out my most insecure teenage self who’s easily influenced by others’ opinions and advice.
During my middle school and high school years, I was insecure, especially about my weight. I almost exclusively wore black because magazines said it was slimming. I avoided horizontal stripes, too, because I read one article that said they can make you look bigger. I don’t even know if either of those things is true, but I internalized them for years.
Stripes and I are in a good place now, but wearing black is now harder for me to do because I was told that it’s not in my season.
On the bright side, I became more confident wearing different colors and have felt inspired to take fashion risks
After being pretty wrong about what colors I looked good in, I wondered what else I could pull off.
Finally, I had the confidence to wear gold hoop earrings and orange sweaters. I started trying out more fashions I’d long admired but had been scared of — halter dresses, square-necked bodysuits, cream-colored boots.
I even bought and fell in love with olive-green and brown leather pants. (Fine, old habits die hard. I also bought them in black.)
I’ve also improved my makeup game and cut out some decision fatigue
Buying makeup can feel super overwhelming when there are tons of blush, bronzer, and eye shadow options out there. Fortunately, I’ve found that knowing my season has cut back my decision fatigue when I’m trying to figure out which lipstick or blush to buy.
Since I was told your season can impact which makeup shades look best on you, I’ve begun buying (and falling in love with) coral, peachy blushes instead of cool-toned pinks. I’ve now ditched my cool-toned pink lipsticks in favor of warm pinky browns, and I’ve loved how much more natural they look on my face. Now, when I apply the cool colors they seem almost out of place and disjointed from my skin and hair.
I’ve leaned into gold, orange eyeshadows and finally left my silver ones behind. I think doing my makeup in autumn-friendly shades has made a huge difference for the better, making me look more glowy and warm.
Overall, getting my colors analyzed has made me more thoughtful about what I wear — but I still plan to grow and take risks
When I was at a recent bar crawl, I got tons of compliments on my bright-pink sweater that was definitely not in my autumn color palette. But I felt great in it and the people around me liked it, too. It felt like a small win.
I’m still working on prioritizing how clothes make me feel regardless of their season (and mine). At the end of the day, clothes should make you feel good. And now I know if I’m not feeling so sure about myself, throwing on gold earrings and an olive-green shirt will always give me a confidence boost.
