For decades, installing mobility equipment in the home has meant making an uncomfortable compromise: your independence or your interior design. Grab rails came in institutional white plastic. Stairlifts screamed ‘medical equipment.’ And homelifts? They looked like they belonged in a hospital, not a home.
Interior designer Ayisha Onuorah is determined to change that narrative. Her philosophy is simple but revolutionary: “Design should never be about choosing between form and function. When we design mobility aids that people actually want to showcase rather than hide, we’re not just changing interiors, we’re changing lives and empowering people to age gracefully in the homes they love.”
It’s a mission that has led Onuorah to forge unlikely alliances in the accessibility world, recently partnering with occupational therapist Kate Sheehan and homelift specialists Uplifts to demonstrate exactly what beautiful accessibility looks like in practice. Together, they’ve created bespoke fabric designs that transform homelifts from purely functional equipment into statement pieces that enhance rather than detract from interior spaces.
For Onuorah, this approach represents a fundamental shift in how we think about mobility aids. Rather than treating them as medical necessities to be hidden away, she views them as integral parts of home design, opportunities to create spaces that are both stylish and inclusive.
Her instincts are backed by hard data. Recent research by Uplifts, surveying 2,000 people, reveals that appearance genuinely matters when it comes to home accessibility. Seventy-one per cent say the look of mobility aids is important when deciding whether to install them, with 28 per cent calling it “very important”.
The resistance to ‘medical-looking’ equipment has real consequences. The research found that 31 per cent of people believe sleeping downstairs is more cost-effective than installing proper mobility solutions, a choice that often means giving up bedrooms, disrupting household routines, and surrendering parts of one’s home. Forty per cent of respondents said they wanted products designed to look like everyday furniture, particularly for visible areas of the house.
Onuorah’s work sits at the forefront of a quiet revolution happening in the accessibility world, one that’s being led by designers, therapists, and even luxury brands. Porsche, a brand synonymous with sleek design, recently launched a grab rail that looks more like a piece of modern sculpture than a safety device. When brands built on performance and aesthetics enter the accessibility market, it signals that the stigma around mobility products may finally be lifting.
“We’re creating spaces that work for real life,” Onuorah explains. “And increasingly, real life means homes that can adapt as we age, without forcing us to choose between staying put and living in a space that feels like ours.”
Her collaborator Kate Sheehan has witnessed this shift firsthand in her occupational therapy practice. “We’re challenging the outdated notion that accessibility means compromise,” says Sheehan. “Mobility aids and adaptations are changing; they can be both functional and beautiful, fitting seamlessly into any home’s aesthetic. People shouldn’t have to exile themselves to the ground floor or hide their mobility aids in shame.”
Onuorah’s approach represents something more fundamental than just prettier grab rails. It’s a recognition that dignity, independence, and aesthetics are not competing values, they’re complementary ones. Her work proves that accessibility is not the opposite of beauty, and that the very best design solutions empower people to thrive in homes they’re proud of.
The message is clear: the industry is finally catching up to what users have been saying for years. They want solutions that work with their lives, not against them.