Trump Insists Oval Office Gold Inlays Are ‘Not Home Depot’ — They Literally Are

President Donald Trump gave a tour of his redecorated White House with Fox News’ Laura Ingraham, which aired Tuesday night, providing a showcase of Trumpian taste — as well as key insight into how he thinks about his unilateral approach to decor and governing.

But it was a snippet that Ingraham posted on Facebook that has raised the nation’s eyebrows. Pausing in the Oval Office, Trump lingered on gold trim and applied flourishes, insisting, “You can’t imitate gold. There’s no paint that imitates real gold.” When Ingraham deadpanned, “So these aren’t from Home Depot?” he laughed it off.

Some eagle-eyed viewers noticed that the very same molded inlays, now adhered to the Oval Office walls, are actually sold at Home Depot for $58.07 a pop, though they aren’t yet painted gold. Hmmm.

Screenshot

The makeover has drawn unusually harsh criticism — not just for its excess, but for what it signals about how Trump views the presidency. One historian described it as a shift toward a “monarchical, autocratic concept of what the job is,” arguing the space now evokes private rule rather than public service. Designers have been even more blunt, calling the room “gaudy,” “tacky,” and — in perhaps the most cutting phrase — “a Ceaușescu hell.”

What’s striking is how little of the reaction focuses on taste. The complaints are about intent: an executive suite transformed into a personal brand environment. One writer accurately said the aesthetic reads like “Temu-level shit” — over-gilded, cheaply produced ornamentation trying to project aristocratic seriousness. Another critic compared it to a “professional wrestler’s dressing room,” meaning the room’s primary function now feels performative.

Trump’s defenders have responded predictably: This is merely a return to “elegance,” a rejection of institutional minimalism, a celebration of craftsmanship. But that argument collapses under the weight of what’s actually happened. The White House was historically designed to look smaller than nearby homes — a deliberate rejection of monarchy. Trump’s version reverses that logic. Gold becomes not an accent, but an argument: power made visible, and therefore unquestionable.

The renovation debate deepened when news emerged that the East Wing may be partially demolished to make way for a roughly 90,000-square-foot ballroom, financed by donors. Critics call it “architectural vandalism”—a vanity expansion that breaks with two centuries of historically respectful additions. One commentator put it this way: The administration is in court fighting to restrict access to food aid, “and this is the shit he’s spending time on.” The ballroom, like the gilded Oval, makes governance look secondary to spectacle.

Some of the reaction has skewed darkly comic. Reports that Trump imported a specialist known as the “gold guy” to consult on finishes prompted one writer to say the White House now resembles “the language of the Eastern European and Middle Eastern nouveau riche,” a space where ornament is meant to stand in for legitimacy. The message is unmistakable: Trump wants a palace, not merely a workplace.

But the sharpest critiques land on what this transformation implies, not what it looks like. The president’s office is the country’s most visible civic room. Its historical restraint is intentional — a reminder that the occupant serves, not rules. By recasting it in the language of private opulence, Trump breaks that compact.

We’re not witnessing a makeover. We’re witnessing a message. The gold isn’t decoration; it’s declaration. The White House isn’t being redecorated — it’s being reimagined as the headquarters of a single man’s brand. When the people’s house starts to look like one man’s marquee, democracy retreats.

Watch above via Fox News.

This is an opinion piece. The views expressed in this article are those of just the author.