A Milan Moment
I went to Milan Design Week for four days.
It was a whirlwind. Brands, activations, people, energy. The kind of week where you’re overstimulated in the best possible way and slightly disoriented the entire time.
But this year felt different.
For the first time in my career, I could walk up to the front of a line, say I was press, and actually mean it.
No hesitation. No explaining.
I skipped every line.
Collected press kits like they were souvenirs.
And for a second, I felt it creep in. That little voice.
Imposter syndrome.
But then I remembered.
Substack made me a published author.
RAREform is real.
And suddenly, it all felt less like getting away with something, and more like stepping into something I’ve been building all along. 🥹
The Footprint
Milan Design Week used to feel like it belonged to designers.
It doesn’t anymore.
It feels like it belongs to everyone.
Especially fashion.
They’re not just showing up. They’re taking up space.
Palazzos, courtyards, entire buildings.
And when it works, it really works.
Gucci with tapestries mapping out moments from their history, almost like a soft, immersive archive you could walk through.
Miu Miu with their Literary Club, turning a brand into a cultural conversation instead of just a visual one.
It’s not about product.
It’s about presence.
And while they’re playing a different game than most designers, the footprint is undeniable.
Craft Is Back (But Better)
At the same time, there’s a very clear return to craft.
Not in a precious way.
In a confident one.
You can feel the hand again.
Wood that still holds the movement of the person who carved it.
Materials that aren’t trying to be perfect.
Pieces that feel like they took time, and mean it.
But what really stayed with me was how craft is showing up as entry.
At Rossana Orlandi, everywhere you turned there was a door.
A literal one.
But not just functional.
Each one felt like a portal.
Carved wood.
A sliding door made entirely of apothecary drawers.
A door designed to look just slightly ajar.
Sculptural thresholds replacing the invisible line we usually cross without thinking.
Suddenly, you weren’t just walking into a space.
You were choosing to enter it.
The act of moving from one room to another became intentional. Dramatic, even.
Something you noticed.
Something you wanted.
It didn’t just frame the space.
It invited you into it.
Whimsymaxxing
And then there’s the part of Milan that feels slightly unhinged.
In the best way.
At Alcova, House of Creatures leaned all the way in.
Bowls with faces in them.
Silly geese as furniture.
Bread tables by Studio CoPain out of France.
And as the proud owner of a very active sourdough starter named Doughphelia, seeing tables, chairs, and lamps made entirely out of bread really did something for me.
Inflatables filling palazzos.
Bright pink mazes.
Old Italian buildings suddenly covered in macramé.
It’s playful. Fully committed.
And honestly, necessary.
Not everything needs to be serious. Not everything needs to justify itself.
Some things are allowed to just make your brain happy.
It Knows What It Is
Not everything that stayed with me was quiet.
The Apartamento installation, specifically the Rockwell-designed room, was anything but.
Sultry.
Opulent.
A little dramatic.
Very him.
And yet, incredibly well defined.
Nothing excessive, even in its richness. Every move felt intentional, held together by a clear point of view.
And then there was this detail I loved.
Someone had slipped a copy of David Rockwell’s book Drama just underneath one of the couches. Slightly hidden, peeking out for the detail-oriented onlookers.
A quiet nod inside a very not-quiet room.
That kind of self-awareness is what made it work.
Kelly, Refined
Kelly Wearstler for H&M Home was doing something interesting.
It was unmistakably her.
But there was a constraint.
In an interview, I heard her say that everything had to be modular.
Not exactly her natural habitat.
And you could feel that tension.
In a good way.
It forced editing.
Sharpened decisions.
Translated her world into something that could actually live in real homes.
Designed for more people. More spaces. More realities.
And it worked.
It didn’t dilute her voice.
It made it clearer.
Final Thought
Milan was a mix.
Big gestures and quiet ones.
Highly considered work and things that feel completely spontaneous.
Moments of precision and moments of pure play.
Fashion, craft, absurdity, refinement.
And the most interesting work is happening right in that tension.
💌 Elle
P.S. I’ll be pulling together a Milan Design Week trends presentation. If you’re looking for some fresh inspiration, reach out. Would love to connect.
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