Feature
Living Large
How Kylie Beyl turned 169 square feet into a tiny home
big on independence, style, and community.
- Heather Anne Lee
- Fred Lopez
Kylie Beyl did not grow up dreaming of a tiny house. She wasn’t the type to fawn over minimalism blogs or pin photos of meticulously organized 200-square-foot spaces with reclaimed wood shelves and artful string lights. Kylie liked photography, traveling with friends, and collecting trinkets and souvenirs from her adventures. She was used to having what she wanted when she wanted it, “within reason.”
But in her early 20s, standing at the intersection of skyrocketing rents and her desire for independence, a new option presented itself. It was unconventional, sure—a tiny house.
The first weekend she owned her 160-square-foot home, a hurricane was barreling toward Florida. “It felt like a cosmic test,” Kylie later admitted. The water heater could have exploded, the roof might have leaked, or worse, one of those beautiful oak trees surrounding her tiny paradise could have come crashing down. But none of that happened. Kylie evacuated to her mom’s house in Winter Garden, and her tiny house weathered the storm without so much as a scratch.
That was six months ago. Now, Kylie sits on a slim couch/bed tucked against one of her tiny house’s bead-board walls, sharing her story. She has mastered the art of making 169 square feet—including the loft where she sleeps—feel like home. “It’s more than enough space for me,” she says, looking genuinely content.
“It’s not what I expected,” but I love it. It’s mine. It’s home.”
The Draw of Tiny
The tiny house movement isn’t exactly a secret. Search “tinyhouse” on Instagram, and you’ll find nearly 2.5 million posts—images of sunlit mini-lofts, foldable furniture, and radiant young couples living out of pastel-painted homes on wheels. Kylie was not one of these radiant young couples. The West Orange High School grad is a 24-year-old Arizona State University student, We Are Winter Garden admin, and Starbucks supervisor trying to find a way out of the roommate shuffle and into a space she could call her own.
“I started looking at trailers and RVs,” she says, gesturing with the easy confidence of someone who has told this story a few times. “But the cost to park them in most RV parks was ridiculous—like $900-$1,200 a month, and that didn’t even include all the fees. It wasn’t worth it.”
What finally tipped the scales was a Facebook Marketplace listing. A tiny house parked in Orlando Lakefront, a community of 34 tiny homes surrounding a picturesque lake. Kylie had seen the neighborhood before, and its vibe intrigued her—friendly neighbors, affordable lot rents that included Wi-Fi and utilities, and a built-in sense of belonging.
If you’re expecting Kylie to be a poster child for the sustainability and minimalism crowd, think again. “I don’t have a composting toilet,” she confesses with a shrug. “I enjoy shopping for clothes and items for my house, but I’m not too strict on over-consumption.”
Her honesty is refreshing. Kylie is not trying to save the planet or make a statement about anti-consumerism. She simply wanted a home. And yet, despite herself, she’s found something of value in living tiny.
“I don’t feel cramped at all,” she says. Her electric bill hovers between $5 and $15 a month, and her total budget—lot rent, utilities, and a personal loan for the house—comes in at $1,400. “That’s still less than renting a decent apartment, and it’s mine.”
Owning her tiny house has also introduced Kylie to a kind of self-awareness she hadn’t expected. With limited space, every object in her home has to earn its keep. “I’m not a minimalist, but I’ve learned to think differently about stuff. I’m finding new ways to efficiently organize my belongings; it’s been a fun project,” she says. “If it doesn’t have a purpose or make me happy, it doesn’t belong here.” she says.
The interior of Isla Azul, as Kylie christened her home, reflects the charm of its name. It has a cozy, cabin-like feel, with beadboard walls painted a clean white and a ceiling of distressed blue-grey wood, adding a hint of coastal flair. Despite its small size, the design is as functional as it is inviting, with space-saving features that are practically synonymous with tiny homes. There’s storage tucked beneath the stairs, a lofted bedroom, and a slim table Kylie uses for studying and eating. These smart details leave her room for the essentials: a TV, a couch, and, somehow, space to host up parties in her air-conditioned haven—all with plenty of room left for selfies.
Buying Isla Azul wasn’t just about having a place to live. For Kylie, it was a life-changing experiment. “It taught me I can do more than I think I can,” she reflects.
Kylie’s favorite part of her new life isn’t the savings or the cozy loft bed or even the sense of ownership—it’s the people. “The community here is amazing,” she says. “I’ve made friends, real friends. My neighbor Christy is from Minnesota, like me, and we’ve had dinner together a bunch of times. Everyone looks out for each other. It’s like a little family.”
She laughs as she recalls her first few weeks in the neighborhood, when one of her older neighbors, Bea, kept a watchful eye on Kylie and her mom as they moved in. “Bea wanted to make sure we were supposed to be here,” Kylie says, smiling. “Now we chat all the time.”
Dreaming Big
Kylie isn’t shy about having people over. In the months following her move, she hosted a housewarming party, a birthday gathering for her boyfriend, and even a Friendsgiving. “I think we had about 20, but inside at one time was eight or nine,” she says. “We were cozy, but it worked.”
When the weather is nice, guests migrate to the lakeside fire pit or the communal seating areas scattered throughout the neighborhood. “It’s like an extension of my living room,” Kylie explains.
As Kylie settles into her tiny house, she’s also mapping out her future. In two years, she plans to finish her bachelor’s degree and apply to graduate programs in occupational therapy. Wherever she goes, her tiny house will come with her.
“I’ll either move it to my next city or maybe use it as an Airbnb after I graduate,” she says. For now, though, she’s savoring this season of life—the stability of owning her home, the simplicity of her days, and the surprising joy of living small.
"I’m not a minimalist, but I’ve learned to think differently about stuff. If it doesn’t have a purpose or make me happy, it doesn’t belong here."
