Off the Guest List: Paul Ishwood's Tour of Milan Design Week

Milan All Fair No Flare (I didn't go to the fair)

by Paul Ishwood

Now that the flurry of Milan Design Week has settled—and my word, the flurry was largely due to the well-heeled dashing from Milan to Venice, as the Venice Biennale commenced simultaneously. It was a bit of a debacle for the design crowd, who, before you could say "Lake Como", had to be critiquing yet another installation at another soirée. For me, Milan has always been a highlight in the diary; who wouldn't want to spend some days in the second largest city in Italy wandering the streets, happening as you do on intriguing pop-ups by intriguing people?

Yet, a certain fatigue has crept in. This year, I left with a tinge of weariness. You see, I pen for Tat, and I’m not typically milling about with the Dezeen, Suitcase, or even T Mag contingents. To my mind, design ought to possess a certain je ne sais quoi—a soul, a joy, a craft, and a niche that I can cling onto. Many just get it and instantly enjoy the silver box in the room, whereas, for me, it takes several steps and perhaps a bit of performative nodding, and even then, I come away feeling that I have taken part in the fallacy that the king is wearing clothes.

Nevertheless, there were indeed spectacles that delighted my eyes and captured my heart, which we shall explore shortly. I’m not one for doom and gloom, after all. The illumination Loewe presented, crafted in collaboration with 24 international artists, was sublime—each piece a heartwarming revelation. One fine morning, I chanced upon Britt Moran and Emiliano Salci of Dimore Studio at their new venture, Interni Venosta. Moran and Salci describe their creations as 'Simple, honest, concise.' Their furniture, showcased in the venerable Gipsoteca Fumagalli & Dossi, was accompanied by a haunting soundtrack, leaving an indelible mark on my senses. It’s no wonder Dimore is making waves. Moreover, my pilgrimage to Alcova was well rewarded; it remains a highlight, brimming with wonders to behold—snapshots of which I’ll share below.

Now, back to the gloom, I must comment on the pervasive repetition observed; a venture capitalist once remarked that if you’ve spotted it on a bus, you’re too late to invest. I have felt like there have been trillions of silver buses flying past our noses on a daily basis, so I was surprised to find the umpteenth iteration of the same silver flat-pack design. I reiterate that I am an aesthete, not a philosopher; often, the grander concepts elude me. But indeed, the repetition was staggering. I would suggest some alternative reading, as, currently, it would seem everyone is sipping from the same poisoned chalice. Also, note to designers that hard silver furniture against lush draped fabric isn't the edgy move you think it is.

Perhaps all of this negativity I am spewing is down to the parties. Of which I was invited to none. Which, according to the social butterflies I came into contact with, is an embarrassing admission. Well, imagine living it. I felt like I was five again, and Hermes had left me off the list. While I've never graced fashion week with my presence, this must surely be a slice of that chic torment.

Given all the hubbub, I might just give next year's design fest a miss. It's time the design world had a moment to reflect—perhaps realise it's not all about strutting the catwalk of 'cool'. Let's cherish what's heartfelt rather than just hip. And who knows, maybe the queues will have untangled themselves by then!

Interni Venosta in Gipsoteca Fumagalli e Dossi