19/04/2026
•MILANO•
Mentally, emotionally… spiritually parked in Milan Design Week right now while our feed is flooded and I’m sitting here in Melbourne pretending I’m not jealous. I am. Deeply.
Two years ago, I somehow landed the golden ticket, a trip with to Milan, moving through ateliers that most of us only ever see through a screen. , , , … each one a masterclass in obsession, craft and absolute devotion to process.
And that’s the thing, it wasn’t just beautiful (though… it really was). It was the level of care. Watching a leather hide at get scanned, mapped, cut around its imperfections like it’s some kind of sacred artefact. Seeing the rugs at shift in tone thread by thread, like a painting translated into fibre. Sitting in pieces at that feel less like furniture and more like fully realised ideas.
Everything held narrative & nothing felt accidental.
There was a moment, somewhere between warehouses of hand-pulled rugs, fresco-lined showrooms and a slightly too many spritzs, where it all clicked. This is what it means for design to be ingrained rather than applied. It’s not surface. It’s not styling. It’s decisions, stacked over time, held with intent.
Yes, there were fashion fits. Yes, there was wine. Yes, there was a slightly unhinged level of enthusiasm over chairs (no regrets). But what stayed with me was the reverence for making. The patience. The pride.
It shifted something. It still does.
The trip gave me more than access, it gave me a deeper understanding of what sits behind the pieces we specify, and a sharper lens on how I want to design. With story. With weight. With that same sense of care stitched into every decision.
Forever grateful for that experience
But also… I’m ready to go back.