Now that we’re through the worst of the winter, I’ve been trying to get back out into the world more. I’m sure I’m not alone in thinking this, given just how cold it was, but this New York winter was more hibernation-focused than perhaps any of the other New York winters I’ve had in the five years of I’ve lived here. Now that we’ve had several glimpses of spring weather—even if we’re back in chilliness for the moment—I’m able to will myself to leave the house in a way I wasn’t back in January.

The best thing I’ve seen in New York in the past couple months was Andie Dinkin’s show at Charles Moffett, sadly only up through Saturday the 25th. In a series of paintings, drawings, and ceramics, Dinkin presents this mythological dream world composed as she dealt with the grief of her father. I was reminded of Florine Stettheimer’s colorful scenes, only to see that Dinkin directly names Stettheimer in the margins of one work. If, by some miracle, you have time in the next couple of days to get downtown, I’d really recommend seeing it.

Still, my favorite art experience of the past couple of months was in Philadelphia. I finally had an opportunity to see the Calder Gardens, which opened last fall. I wouldn’t consider myself a massive Calder fan, though I fell deeper for his work when I encountered the Calder Circus at the Whitney Museum a couple of years ago. I only knew him through his colorful mobiles and steel public sculptures, but the circus, composed of over 100 wire figures and sculptures, felt much more personal and strange. His commitment to something that feels quite offbeat, and not particularly profitable,1 drew me in.

What I liked most about the Calder Gardens was the complete absence of wall text. In the space, there’s no concern for when each work was created, any sense of the sequence of these pieces in the span of his career. Without this, you’re left only to experience the work for yourself. The purpose-built structure has a few different niches where you can perch to watch as the mobiles spin, or gaze at the imposing steel sculptures that fill up other spaces.

It felt more like being at a zoo, observing these living things and considering your life in relation to them. For all of the museums I’ve experienced that seem to contort themselves to try to engage with viewers who aren’t all that interested in what’s being presented, to make it feel less like schoolwork, the answer seems to be something closer to this—to paring back to show art as something meant to be felt instead of something you actually need even more spoon-feeding in order to understand. I could have sat there all day and watched the mobiles spin.

I’m a bit of an easy sell as far as memberships go, so I don’t know that this is saying that much, but I left thinking, “If I lived in Philly, I would get a membership and come here all the time.” With how expensive New York is, though, it’s easy to twist that thought into, “Should I move to Philly just to be a member here?”

If you go anytime soon, I’d recommend getting the combo ticket with the Barnes Foundation—saves you a little $$$$ if you wanna go to both anyway.

What else is going on….

• Jack Harlow means little to nothing to me, my strongest associations with him are hearing “What’s Poppin’” in the background of NBA 2K when my ex would play it several years ago and listening to the episode of Popcast he was interviewed on last month while I was recovering from the stomach flu. Still, my eye has been catching on the charm offensive he’s launching against New York’s book-reading public. He was interviewed for Climax Books’s IG a couple of weeks ago and bought a book for anyone who showed up to McNally Jackson between the hours of 6:30 and 8:30 on Wednesday evening. It has reached the point where it’s so plotted that I’ve circled back to thinking he hasn’t read a book in his life. Or simply, as said, “He lost a woman who didn’t think he was smart.”

• Speaking of Akosua, we went to Dolores in Bed-Stuy a couple weeks ago and the food was very good, esp for the fact that it’s almost entirely gluten free. I was obsessed with the very green bathroom as well…

• Like many people, I landed on “meh” after visiting the Whitney Biennial. There were a few pieces I quite liked, but most of it felt like it was trying and failing to make a real statement to me. I left feeling glad I had been able to get in for free with Culture Pass, rather than being out $30! (With as much Biennial hate as I’ve heard lately, I’m honestly very interested in someone making the case for it to me at this point…. Prove me wrong…)

• Over at Dwell, I edited Anjulie Rao’s piece about Sandow’s “design book for billionaires” which is only available in private jet terminals. She jumped off of that news hit to discuss the privilege of privacy enjoyed only by billionaires and what we get from looking at luxury homes even if we’ll never be able to afford them. Give it a read!

• I’m constantly on the lookout for good pump up music for the gym, but this Zack Fox set is still the best thing out there as far as I’m concerned. (I’m worried I will soon grow tired of it if I don’t find something else I like as much, though.)

• I wrote about new framing trend and what “internet interiors” look like post avant-basic for Prune. Read here!

• I didn’t stream the full Geese Coachella sets but I’m obsessed with this performance of “Trinidad.” This is when I tell you that I am pro Cameron Winter and Olivia Rodrigo dating. The way some of these people are talking about this is very Jack White/Meg White, protect-our-indie-boy-hero in a way that makes me a little nauseous.

• I’m making my triumphant return to LA soon. Let me know if there’s anything I need to see while I’m there: exhibitions, galleries, shopping, and dining too I suppose…!

Last month my Dwell colleague Jack Balderrama Morley was launching their book, Dream Facades, at Head Hi. On an especially gloomy rainy night in Brooklyn, the architecture and design bookstore was packed with people anxious to hear more about Morley’s book: a work of architectural history by way of reality TV. Inside the shop, which stocks a selective collection of books on art, design, and architecture, there’s plenty of room for people to congregate—gathering people together to engage with the ideas in the books they sell feels just as important as the books themselves.

After the discussion with Megan Reynolds, design editor and author of Like: A History of the English Language’s Most Hated (and Misunderstood) Word, I met someone new and asked what brought them to the event. They told me that they worked in the area and stop into Head Hi often for coffee, but have since become friends with the owners, Alvaro Alcocer and Alexandra Hodkowski, who told them about it. My new friend for the night isn’t particularly passionate about reality TV, but they trusted that the shop owners wouldn’t steer them wrong.

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There is perhaps nothing I’m more apathetic about than a Substack post addressing why its writer hasn’t been posting much lately. And yet, I feel compelled to write my own, after a couple of months off of the newsletter. This year has been busy in really splendid ways, but more so in ways that are stressful but also mostly just boring to read about. I had a big health scare that sucked a lot of time out of me via appointments uptown and across Brooklyn. By now, everything has been deemed just fine. It’s the better of the two outcomes, but I would have been happier to have never been robbed of the time.

Filed under “satisfying uses of my time,” though, is my new job at Dwell. I’ve been working at the magazine as a contributing editor since December and in only a few months I’ve already produced on a lot I’m excited to share. While I haven’t been on Substack much lately, I have been plenty productive. My recent stories:

• I interviewed designer Jasper Morrison and HAY cofounder Rolf Hay about the company’s new outdoor collection designed by Morrison for Dwell. If I took all of the HAY products out of my life, I’d be without a place to put my books, my toothbrush, my socks, and plenty more, so it was a personal milestone.

• I wrote a diary of my time up in the newly opened New York guesthouse of Danish design brand Vipp.

• I interviewed my colleague Jack Balderrama Morley about their new book Dream Facades, which blends architectural and reality TV criticism for a truly one of a kind book.

I’ve also, of course, been editing. The March/April issue of Dwell is on stands now. The theme is MONEY and I edited a package of light fixtures that will satisfy a range of budgets (curated by Adrian Madlener and written by Jinnie Lee) and sent writer Anh-Minh Le out to Murphys, California to check in on a colorful fixer upper.

The issue also includes a feature I wrote on Paradise Palms, a neighborhood in Las Vegas that I visited last May where residents are exceptionally passionate about maintaining the area’s midcentury modern character. I drove through the area in a vintage convertible with the top down, wilting in the heat despite the fact it wasn’t even peak summer. Then, by the wintertime, I was properly reporting the story and returning to conversations with homeowners I’d met months prior. It’s probably the longest I’ve ever spent thinking about one story, given how used to the speedy digital reporting cycles as I am. I hope you’ll pick up a copy of the magazine and read the story in print!

Other highlights since I’ve been “offline”:

• I became completely obsessed with the Superiority Burger beet salad and thought about it everyday for a week after I first ordered it. I’ve since made it using the recipe from their cookbook and I honestly think my rendition was even better than the one I had at the restaurant…

• I found Grace Horan’s work online last year but I saw it in person for the first time at Long Story Short at a show that is unfortunately now closed. I was particularly into this one that has sky photos on the shade and fields on the base and these little peeks into the center of the lamp. With its tight grid and saturated colors, it reminds me more of nature seen on screen, like the iconic Microsoft background photo or a farm land CAPTCHA test.

• I’m very into the World of Interiors’s March 2026 cover story, which is about the blue-beamed Hopkins House which allows its steel walls to double as a magnet board.

• I’m reading Rebecca Solnit’s The Beginning Comes After the End right now, which mercifully gives me reason to feel hope without feeling like that comes at the cost of being willfully ignorant of everything that’s going on around us.

Anyhow, I look forward to poking around these parts more regularly now that things seem to have settled down on the health front. I’ll be checking in here at least once every two weeks. Thanks for sticking around!

A little over a year ago now I launched Personal Space. The newsletter launched with the tagline, “Discoveries from culture, design, and life at home.” I had no idea what a turbulent year it would be for my “life at home.” By the spring, I’d gone through a breakup that propelled me out of the apartment I’d live in for three years. I spent half of the summer wading through apartment listings. Finally, by August, I’d found a new apartment with a roommate, my first time living with someone who’s not a partner in six years.

I fell for my bedroom pretty quickly, as I recounted in my last newsletter of the year, but for the rest of the apartment I was feeling rather precocious. For one thing, I felt like the bedroom was the priority, as the place I’d spend the majority of time in each day between working at my desk and, you know, sleeping. For another, I was distracted—just a few months into living here I had fallen in love with someone who lives abroad. I went to visit him for a month in the fall, stretching out the “free” in “freelance writer” to the best of my abilities. As lovely as it may be, I can’t say that it exactly helped with the nesting process.

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As the months wore on, it felt odder and odder that I hadn’t sprawled out more in the shared living space. While I was away that month, my roommate Geordon, very kindly, rearranged some things so that my belongings would feel more mixed in with theirs in the apartment they’ve been living in for years. By the time I was back, I finally felt my desire to properly decorate return. Doing so would be crucial to truly moving onward, not just from the old relationship but from the specific way my life looked within it, too.

At the top of January, Geordon and I took to the streets for an adventurous day of gathering for our nest. We went to Industry City to look for area rugs at the outlets. Truly only one single rug was both in our price range and in the color we wanted. We went to Home Depot for some hardware updates we’re hoping to make in the unit. Lastly, we popped into Ace Hardware to look at paint samples for our hallway.

Painting was the last apartment update we’d discussed before the holiday break and we’d both been chewing on it since. Geordon’s deep appreciation for a well-organized Pinterest board is unmatched in anyone else I’ve met, save for people who do this kind of thing professionally. I am the type of person who, you know, writes a newsletter about design for fun after spending 40 hours a week thinking about design for work. So the considerations were serious—true deliberations. A very kind Ace Hardware employee stopped by the section not once but twice to see if we needed any help. She soon realized there was no rushing our ludicrously intentional process.

Once we’d considered privately, each amassing a handful of something like 12 paint chips, we went through a protracted elimination process together. “Does this terracotta lean too pink?” “Are you getting too much gray out of this shade of blue?” “I wish we had a sample of the wall color our landlord put in the living room that we could compare these against.” At the outset, we’d decided we would get six paint samples—what already felt like an indulgent quantity. But then, looking at our wild card colors and numerous shades of blue, we decided we couldn’t manage without a couple more than that. Eight felt right. Why close the door on possibility if a pop of golden yellow actually ends up popping once it’s on the wall? And besides, Benjamin Moore was running a half off sale on samples. The powers that be had practically given us a permission slip.

The energy waned while we waited for our many little paint pots to be prepared, but by the time we were off the subway and almost to our apartment, we were both very eager to get to painting despite having spent the past several hours on our feet. Our energy building off of each other, within 15 minutes back at the apartment we’d slapped up the paint in four different parts of the hallway. Among the challenges of this particular hallway is that it can be rather dark, with only one light fixture in the back corner, so getting the color up in several spots, both near and far from the one light source, felt crucial. We’re planning on color drenching the entire thing, so we painted some on the trim too.

I immediately felt so much more at home in the apartment. My last apartment had a few different paint colors (I posted my cornflower blue office in the first edition of Personal Space and my orange bathroom a couple of editions later). The house I lived in LA prior to that had five different shades. I’d underestimated just how much paint helps me feel like a space is mine and not just some place I’m passing through. All that before we even actually painted the walls. Plus, having someone to do it with who is just as excited as I am only helped to further build that excitement.

By a day or two after, we’d already narrowed it down to two options—both blue. Perhaps it should have been obvious that we’d end up in that family, given that half of our samples are shades of blue. Lingering in the possibility of a terracotta hallway, or a sandy chartreuse space, was a thrill all the same. As of this morning, I picked up our cans. By the time you’re reading this, we’ll have started rolling it on the walls. It’s all reminded me of what I wanted to start Personal Space to document in the first place: there can be just as much joy in the doing as there is in living with the final product.

I can’t remember a time I felt quite as hopeful as I did my first night sleeping in my new apartment this August. With a breakup as the catalyst, I’d spent the two months prior shuttling between different friends’ apartments—mercifully empty as they enjoyed their summer travels. There were a handful of weeks where, with nowhere else to go, I had to return to my old apartment, the place I’d lived longest in adulthood until then. I had been there for three years and I’d lived with my ex for six years in total. What had once felt like the most secure place I’d ever called home suddenly felt like it was mocking me, an obnoxious reminder that housing-wise at least, things wouldn’t feel quite as secure as they had here for a long while.

So, by the time I was here, in my new apartment—a two bedroom shared with a roommate—it felt euphoric that the gap between an ending and this new beginning had finally closed. Waiting period: over. That night, it didn’t matter that my bedframe and mattress were just hand-me-downs left behind by the previous tenant, that my clothing was still living in the suitcases I’d been lugging around all summer. For that one solitary night, it didn’t even matter that I could only locate one single outlet in the entire room. (I found one more. The situation is ongoing..)

When I was leaving, I knew that the one piece of furniture I really must take was this glass-doored bookshelf I’d bought from Bedford Galleries when I first moved back to New York three years prior. It was the type of thing I’d wanted since I was a child. My aunt had a glass-doored bookshelf too and there’s something about it that just feels honorable. The curved wood on this particular one felt like a funky twist on that form, a little less stuffy than the usual design in a way that allowed it to fit in a little better with my other furniture.

It was a major relief that not only did the Bedford Galleries bookshelf fit, but the red HAY shelves I love and my Poppin desk and filing cabinet did too. My ex and I had been sharing a bizarrely spacious two-and-a-half bedroom apartment, so there was plenty I had to part with by necessity. Still, I had thought I’d be parting with a lot more so the fact that my room could actually contain quite this much was enough to coast on for a few weeks. I was starting fresh, but that didn’t mean I had to leave everything behind.

My room and I were in a honeymoon period until we weren’t. As weeks turned to months, I began to notice more of my room’s flaws. The white patches on the walls that need to be painted over. The extremely ugly radiator. The aforementioned dismal outlet situation. More than anything, though, it was the lack of space that got me. In my old apartment, I was very lucky to have a separate room as an office. A luxury in New York that’s hard to wean yourself off. Trying to balance the room feeling like a bedroom and wanting it to feel like a space that felt comfortable to spend more of the day in felt awkward. A flavor of awkward that many of my friends also contend with in their own spaces, certainly, but still: awkward.

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I decided I was going to replace that left behind bed frame with a storage bed. That way, I reasoned, I could get rid of most of the clothing storage off of the big red HAY shelves, minimize the amount of stuff in my closet, and completely dispose of the impulse to get rid of some of this furniture I’m sentimentally attached to in favor of a dresser. I shopped around, considering a few different options, including the Article Leif platform bed before deciding on Thuma’s Classic Bed1 with four of the Underbed Drawers. It was the only one of the beds I’d actually seen in person, at Thuma’s SoHo shop, so I felt relieved that I didn’t have to just trust the pictures. Plus, since the drawers are an add on, I could easily still use the bed frame in the future if I no longer need the bonus storage.

Having the extra storage was immediately a game changer, allowing my HAY shelves to breathe a sigh of relief and helping to make things look more tidy. I use the drawer with my t-shirts in it everyday and while I’d worried that I’d get tired of opening a low drawer everyday, it really hasn’t bothered me at all. I had a Componibili side table from my old office hanging around, and I decided to grab a second one to use ‘em as side tables. They’re so, so light so they’re perfect next to the storage drawers, since I can very quickly and easily move them to get into the drawers. Plus I get just a small extra squeeze of storage inside of the side tables themselves, too.

I’d had a vision in my head of my bedroom being completely “done” by the end of the year. As I prepare to send this on December 23, it’s abundantly clear that is not the case. I have yet to finish sewing my curtains. My walls need a new coat of paint. My radiator will continue to be ugly. But I’ve found a way to channel some of that hopefulness from when I first moved in. Who knows what this room will become in the coming year?

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Designer or not, we all live within certain constraints. While noticing the way a designer has created something lively out of a specific set of materials or a particular work set up can be plenty delightful, in 2025 I found myself drawn to design studio outgoing because of how out of the box their pieces are. Like the rest of us, they certainly had constraints while making their pieces, but their work feels guided first by creative excitement.

Take “Grief” for example. Ostensibly a lamp, I saw it at the Jonald Dudd exhibition during NY Design Week and it was the first piece by outgoing that I’ve encountered. it was on view . The piece looks something like an otherworldly hot air balloon, with an exposed lightbulb pointing down, underneath a net and steel ball contraption. It’s unlike any other light fixture I saw at the design fairs this year, yet not in a way that feels pretentious. It feels alive and magnetic, not to mention totally bizarre, qualities I’ve come to appreciate in much of the studio’s output.

Composed of married couple Brett Gui Xin and Del Hoyle, they work across sculpture, furniture, lighting, jewelry, textiles, music, exhibition design, and video, flitting between them and managing to create pieces that feel inventive in each category. The pieces are playful without being childish, which seems to be a result of their genuine excitement for learning about new processes and materials.

Tomorrow (Thursday, December 18), outgoing’s throwing an event at Samplehouse in Long Island City. Called “A Presentation of All Things,” visitors will have a chance to see a selection of outgoing’s pieces IRL. You can RSVP here. Ahead of that event, I talked to Brett and Del about experimentation, the challenges of this year, and their respective dream clients.

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How would you describe the Outgoing ethos to people who are unfamiliar with your work?

Brett: We started outgoing to combine and explore our shared interests, ideas and skills. Our curiosity really drives us, we want to touch everything!

Del: outgoing is a collaboration, an open studio practice, a joyful pursuit of our creative impulses. It was our second birthday last week and we have been married 7 years and counting. outgoing has felt inevitable since the beginning.

What role does experimentation play in your work? How do you approach a new idea—ie. through sketching first, or through directly playing with whatever material you’re using?

Brett: Oh wow! experimentation is huge! The studio practice is always turning something out, we are regularly trying things out, testing techniques, details, both together and also alone. Getting to grips with the fundamentals of working with a material is foundational to our experimentation.

Del: I think we like to try and show off to each other and surprise them with a new idea, sample or sketch. If I get a “fuck yeah !” or “dude!” out of Brett over some experiment I’ve shown her, I get a buzz and I know we’re onto something.

Brett: Almost everything we make is handmade by us, we both have years and years of experience working in a range of materials and we are always looking to expand on our skill sets too. There’s a shared love for maintaining a high level of craft, while pushing what we are physically able to get out of a material towards the realization of an idea.

Del: We will sketch quite a bit for some ideas, we talk a lot about every idea we are developing and then there are instances where we actually just pull lumps of materials, found objects, remnants from other projects and just go for it intuitively together in the studio. That’s what we like to call the studio gym, limited tooling, fully instinctual and mutually put together.

Each method always throws out surprises or some new trick we add to the vault of working methods. We have this accumulated knowledge building; experience, ideas, aesthetics, structure, color, needs, and galvanizes the trust and belief we have in each other.

Brett: We’re describing ourselves and our ideas towards the world through the things that we make and do. Less words, more doing, more physical things in space. The unique and consistent visual language we have developed comes from that thinking and is underpinned completely by our experimentation and skill development.

This year you relocated part time to New Hampshire from New York. How has having space away from New York (or perhaps shuttling back and forth between the city and home) shaped the work you’ve made this year?

Del: Being out of the city, living on ‘the Fox’ in New Hampshire, has been incredible. Thank you so much to Mark and Catherine for welcoming us!

Brett: It was the most time I’ve spent out of the city since moving here 15 years ago.

Del: We filled a box truck with as much of our studio as we could fit and spent 6 months in the middle of the woods, in this kind of private art residency experience. Having limited access to tools and materials really pushed our abilities to respond and adapt. We had a few projects we wanted to try, and we’re open to seeing what would happen when surrounded by all that nature and more space and the ability to work outside.

Brett: We tried cyanotype printing for the first time. Having unfettered access to outside space, direct sun and a hose was the holy trinity for this light based medium.

We ended up with this series of portraits called ‘The Party’ made with random hardware and junk we found around this barn and the woods up there. It was a party of around 40 portraits which we exhibited at Available Items in Tivoli, in September this year.

Shuttling back and forth was a time to sing Goodbye Horses while taking in the majesty of the New England nature.

Del: We have never lived anywhere so remote before and everything was so inspiring, we could see the milky way most nights and all kinds of beautiful comets and meteor showers.

I think there’s a really interesting interplay between color and a more ‘raw’ look of materials in your pieces. What guides your decisions when it comes to color?

Del: We both love colour and individually before starting outgoing, I think we had a tendency to see how far we could push our use of color - bright, bold and saturated. Some works suffered for it but we learned a lot from those times. With outgoing, what we are doing is much more pointed.

We bring brighter colour into our work through the materials we choose to use. With the inlaid plexiglass in our Genius Diner, it is a fine detail, a decoration, a means to bring attention to the joinery. Color feeds a joyful intent and there is

something about putting consecutive tones of blue plastic next to any kind of hard wood, together they sing! Really! Dark wood, light wood, get a blue in there and they become a choir!

Brett: With outgoing we rarely apply color as a coating. We have a deep appreciation for materials for all their unique qualities. The natural textures and warmth from wood, leather and textiles, there is beauty in that raw appeal that deserves to be celebrated. There’s an honesty to it we like.

Learning to lampwork Italian soft glass has brought in a whole new palette of color into the fold. It is such an inspiring and beautiful material to work with. We use our glass work in a lot of different ways; as a means to diffuse light into colorful moody hues like in our Beacons pieces or in case of our sculpture, Grief, A hand tied waxed cord net is studded with pops of colorful handmade glass beads.

This piece is actually a good example of a more collaged work… The net holds down a found mirror polished steel ball to a sheet of laminated plexiglass stripes, all of this sits on four bright orange plastic donut looking feet that Brett ripped off a crate she found in the middle of the street in Red Hook.

What material has been most exciting to you this year?

Del: Brett’s adventures with glass and lamp working has been incredibly inspiring and exciting. I enjoy being audience to her growing a new skill. It has encouraged all kinds of pursuits and new ideas, through works like Beacons and Grief alongside the incense holders and jewelry pieces that showcase the glass work as the main star of the show.

Have there been any particularly memorable challenges with a piece you’ve been working on this year?

Brett: As a studio we are ambitious to work across a lot of different fields and collaborate in interesting ways to get our work and ideas out in front of the public. As important as designing objects / things are to us and our practice, it is space and the design of space that we truly love!

Del: Yes! Space is the place! The Dept. of Transformation invited us to take part in a giant group show they were putting together at the Brooklyn Central Library. The premise being all the artworks in the show could be borrowed like Library books. Very cool idea.

Brett: After a few conversations with the DoT our role expanded into a sort exhibition design role. Developing floor plans, conceits for wayfinding, new custom exhibition furniture and these book straps strung sleigh bells to hold the artist books on show as part of the exhibition.

Del: It was our first time working in that capacity, I haven’t made a true floor plan since grad school, quite a few years ago. So it was challenging in so far as settling into working with a larger group of people and also within the safety restrictions of such a giant public city institution. It was a lot of fun and the DoT and Library team were great to work with and encouraged us to really go for it with our ideas for the aspects of the exhibition we were designing.

Do you think about who’ll live with your pieces as you’re making them?

Brett: We live with all of our work in some form before it goes out into the world. I would never put something out that I personally wouldn’t want or use. There’s nothing like living with your work to unearth faults, recognize happy accidents and other moments of success in a design.

Del: The prolonged exposure really impacts your relationship to it, you see things you wouldn’t if it hadn’t had that time at home with you. There’s no way to replicate stubbing your toe on a piece in the middle of the night. Being angry at a chair for two days straight can really change your mind on how you have designed something…

Brett: Some of our lamps started out as one off pieces we made as gifts for friends. Like our Phase Light, that was a wedding present for our friends Maya and Ben. They’re architects and lighting designers and live out in Taiwan so that whole design process was thinking about them, their vibe, our design intentions and also how to get it to them in a suitcase on a plane.

There’s also the commission work we’ve done, in those cases we really do consider the person, obviously and of course! We like to understand how they operate in the space the work is intended for, what other pieces they have in the room etc.

Del: We want to imbue our work with the power of encouragement, we think it’s important that your home encourages the best from you… the best opportunities for relaxation, concentration, sex, work, entertaining, being a piece of shit in bed for a day, whatever that might look like for the individual.

Whether a living figure or a list of qualities you’d appreciate in said person, do you have a dream client?

Brett: A collector in a worldly sense, and who is energized by the thrill of the hunt.

Del: Anyone who trusts us and understands the rigor of our sensibilities is always a dream to work with.

What are you excited about for 2026? Is there anything people should be on the lookout for from outgoing?

Looking to 2026 we are putting together a publication called Time & Space that we’re really excited about, it’s a part mythologized photo journal with some text about our time in the woods and what we got up to. We’re really excited for that and have some big ideas about how it might situate itself as a regular installment in our practice. TBD but we’re looking to release that online with some new music recordings by February 2026. On top of that, more products, events, collabs and partnerships.

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If I have anything close to a gifting philosophy, it’s that I like to emphasize practicality. I like to give things I imagine my recipients will use in their everyday lives, not just on special occasions. I believe that even gifts that look extremely simple on their surface can have a big impact, if that gift is signaling your understanding of a particular need or desire in your recipient’s life.

For this gift guide, I’ve tried to steer clear of the downright boring—the power bank is a stretch, but it’s something I’m passionate about—but for the most part, these are practical items intended to have an impact on your recipient’s routines going into 2026. I snuck in a couple of treats too because I am especially snack happy at this time of year.

Papier D’Armenie incense papers, $8

I discovered Papier d’Armenie while I was shopping around in Berlin last month. Founded in France in 1885, the company makes palm-sized scented paper booklets. You rip out a strip from the booklet, then can either light it on fire and it burns slowly to diffuse the scent or you can stuff the strips in a dresser drawer or on a bookshelf to give everything a hint of the smell.

I generally avoid scented products for myself since they can give me headaches, but I bought a few of these as gifts and sequestered them in an envelope for the journey home in my suitcase. They seem slightly hard to find in the US, but Catbird carries two of the scents, Walmart has the traditional scent, and this Colorado stationery store sells all three. I can see these being amazing stocking stuffers! The friends who received ‘em from me appeared very satisfied.

Ostrichpillow Blackout Eye Mask, $45

I’ve been sleeping with this eye mask for the past two years—its the longest one eye mask has ever stayed around for me despite the fact that I’ve relied on eye masks for my entire adult life. While its hollowed-out eye shape makes it look a bit bizarre from the outside, I find it so much more comfortable than most other eye masks that apply pressure to the eyes. (I also prefer it to the similarly priced Manta which is also dimensional like this one, but there are two distinct eye cups that make it a little less comfortable.) If I have one complaint, it’s that the dimension makes it a little hard to fit my AirPod Maxes over it comfortably when I’m wearing headphones while trying to sleep on a plane, but this is so infrequent (and still workable) that it’s really just a gripe-for-gripes-sake.

Paul Smith x Alessi Parrot Corkscrew, $70

Alessi accessories are classic gifts, but why not spice things up a little bit by nabbing something from their collaboration with Paul Smith? The brand’s signature stripes add just the right amount of refined whimsy. I’m particularly taken by the effect they have on the parrot corkscrew and the yellow on the inner shell is a nice touch too.

Cheerie Lane Popcorn of the Month Club, $19/month

Referring to popcorn as utilitarian might be a stretch, but this one does check the “gift that keeps on giving” box at least, and it’s probably the most fun gift on this list. Cheerie Lane makes popcorn “pods” that simplify the process of making stovetop popcorn—you don’t even need to add butter—and they offer a range of different flavors, too. It doesn’t hurt that their packaging is exceedingly cute, too. You can sign up for a three, six, or twelve month subscription, gifting your recipient with three nights of popcorn a month in a mix of flavors. This is particularly last minute friendly given that the popcorn will be sent directly to your recipient.

Morrow Soft Goods Carmen Bathmat, $99

I bought the Carmen bathmat for the bathroom of my new apartment and I’m completely obsessed with it. The wavy ridges distract from the weird tiling in my bathroom and the pile is so plush. It’s simple to the point of silliness, but it’s also just charming to have a bathmat that’s not a typical rectangle. It’s available in three different colors, including a butter yellow, a pale green, and this deep brown that has a slight reddish tinge, which really spoke to me for my own space. I’m thinking this would make a great gift for your roommate, if you’re looking for something to show how much you care about your shared space.

Anker Power Bank, $109.99

Believe me when I tell you this power bank completely changed my life. I got it for Hanukkah last year and it has traveled with me everywhere since. It’s slightly bigger than my palm and about an inch deep, making it small enough to pack in a purse but big enough that it carries a substantial charge. My favorite thing about it is that it plugs directly into the wall—rather than requiring a separate cord to plug into the wall to charge, like many other portable chargers. Because of this, I can use it as my regular charger for my phone, so overnight every night when it’s plugged in, it’s both packing a charge for itself and charging my phone, too.

With other portable chargers, the extra step of having to charge the portable charger separately has prevented me from actually using the portable charger all that much. It also has two USB-C ports and a regular USB port, so you can charge multiple devices at once, and it’s strong enough to charge a laptop as well. I’ve had multiple 12+ hour travel days this year and because of this power bank, I’ve never worried about a dead phone once—save for the days between when I left my first one in Switzerland and waited for my new one to arrive in the mail.

Aarke French Press, $150

I visited the very gorgeous Omnia Hotel in Zermatt, Switzerland this summer and there were so many chic stainless steel and chrome accents throughout the space. Metals have been trending for the past couple of years, but I’d never really craved bringing the trend into my own space until I experienced it there. This Aarke stainless steel french press is one particularly chic way to do so. I was recently gifted Aarke’s kettle and it immediately made me feel more satisfied with my kitchen—pair ‘em both to give your giftee a particularly major kitchen upgrade.

See’s Toffee-ettes, $32

Again, not necessarily practical, but in my experience even those with the least dictatorial sweet tooths are satisfied by these candies from See’s. As someone whose every move is controlled by their sweet tooth, I will say they are among the best chocolate treats in the world and well worth the price. I once had a very decadent weekend in Palm Springs that revolved around a can of these. If you’re in LA and See’s feels a little first thought, or you want something that just has bougier airs here in America, I just had the Swiss brand Läderach’s Praline Selection box and it was very satisfying too. (If not as totally addictive as these Toffee-ettes.)

For select items on this list, I may earn an affiliate commission if you buy something through these links.

Excuse my disappearance this past month, I’ve been traveilng and while I expected to keep writing the newsletter through my time away, I caught a cold almost immediately upon touch down and have been varying degrees of sick until about a week ago. Glad to be back in working order!

One very special pocket of my time in Europe this past month was a 48 hour trip to Paris, from Berlin, to meet up with my friend Sarah Kennedy. I’ve known Sarah for more than a decade, but we’ve never travelled together so when work brought her out to Paris and I was only a $150 flight away it seemed too good to pass up. The icing on the cake: her birthday was the week before so the entire weekend was folded under ‘birthday festivities.’ She moved to Atlanta last year and I’ve only seen her a handful of times since, so it felt extra special to reconvene in France of all places.

When I got to the museum at noon on Sunday, it turned out I wasn’t the only one excited about it: the tickets were sold out for every time slot online and there was a line snaking outside the entrance, in the rain, for the rest of us who were hoping to squeeze in anyhow. After momentarily thinking my dreams of seeing this show were dashed, then waiting out in the rain for half an hour, it felt like a major triumph to have a ticket in my hand.

My one real agenda item for the trip was the Musée des Arts Décoratifs’s massive exhibition that commemorates the 100th anniversary of the International Exhibition of Modern Decorative and Industrial Arts, the expo that gave Art Deco its name. In my role writing about art and design news for 1stDibs, I read a lot about different art and design exhibitions happening globally, so many that I have no hopes of ever actually seeing. (I would have loved to go to Amsterdam to see the recreation of Tilda Swinton’s first apartment at Eye Filmmuseum and the “At Home in the 17th Century” show at Rijksmuseum, for instance.) It was exciting to finally actually see one of the shows that I’d thought I’d only experience through pictures online.

The show presents an extremely thorough look at Art Deco, spread through multiple floors of the museum. There was jewelry, furniture, clothing, and various graphic design–related materials. The breadth of the show—over 1000 works—was what made me so intrigued by it, but I wondered how they could possibly make such a vast array digestible. Ultimately, I found the exhibit well-organized without feeling stiff. In the first section, all of these categories mingled together, but my personal favorite was the second section where groupings from specific Art Deco–obsessed collectors of the period were presented. The last section presented the work of three designers’ (Eileen Gray, Jacques-Émile Ruhlmann, and Jean-Michel Frank) in their own separate sections.

I’m most interested in Art Deco for its place as a big turning point in design from traditional styles to modernism—less because it’s like, my personal favorite style. Seeing the craftsmanship in person, particularly the many wood inlay pieces, added a lot of depth to my understanding of the period, which I feel like I mostly associated with the overall shape and form of the furniture pieces beforehand. The furniture of the period was more colorful than was possible to capture in the mostly black-and-white imagery from the time and the show displays this, and the impressive experimentation with materials in the period, splendidly. Given that Art Deco is having a major resurgence right now, it was also interesting to see what elements of the pieces resonate with today’s design trends and which elements feel firmly stuck in the past.

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After we spent an hour and a half shuttling through the extremely packed Art Deco show, Sarah waited in the lobby while I sprint through the museum to see a few of the other things I was interested in. The main highlights of this mad dash were seeing Charlotte Perriand’s kitchen design for an apartment in Le Corbusier’s Cité Radieuse in Marseille and Michael Graves’s Plaza Vanity. The latter has been the desktop background on my laptop for several years, so seeing it in person (and without the dramatic lighting) was pretty bizarre.

Other highlights from my (very) brief stay in Paris:

• After 8 Books — a lovely compact bookstore in the 10th arrondissement with ample art books, including criticism and monographs, among other titles. I went here on the recommendation of my roommate and because it was included in this list of “the best indie bookstores in the world, according to indie booksellers” from Cultured.

• I ate at Jah Jah, an Afro-vegan restaurant like 5 minutes away from After 8, immediately after landing. It was so comforting and felt like a properly nutritious meal when I knew I’d be eating a lotttt of bread and butter for the next two days.

• With so much to choose from and so little time, I’m prone to feeling like I wasted precious meals while on such a quick trip, but La Boissonnerie (recommended by a friend’s French mom) and Poulette (recommended by a friend of Sarah’s) both left me completely satisfied.

• Sarah and I watched Geese perform on From The Basement in bed while we rested between the museum and drinks… We are both total freaks for this band and I think this is a perfectly valid use of 30 minutes in Paris.

• I stayed at Hotel Massé which was very chic, but the heat wasn’t working properly on the second night… at least I’ll always have my pictures…

Other other highlights:

• The third issue of Untapped Journal launched earlier this fall and I’ve been enjoying working my way through it. Untapped publishes some of my favorite design writers working today and this issue is no exception: there’s Kate Wagner on McMansion nostalgia and Jesse Dorris on painter Jay Stern’s interior portraits. I also really enjoyed the conversation between Jeremy Bilotti and David Rosenwasser of Rarify on furniture dealing.

• I wrote a story for on refurbishing used furniture. None of my expert sources had bed bug horror stories to report!

• For Dwell, I covered the conversion of an Amsterdam brewery into a live-work space by designer couple Steven Delva and Stefan Bennebroek. I loved hearing about their intuitive approach to the redesign. “We designed the window divisions on-site with wooden slats to figure out what the proportions should be,” Bennebroek told me.

Hope everyone’s enjoying fall so far! I’m writing to share the Personal Space Fall Reading Guide with you. This season I was called to pick a few books that offer a more nuanced vision of midcentury design, plus some other books that are among the very best on my shelves.

I hope you’ll find something exciting to cozy up with this fall! Feel free to drop…

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Late last month, Los Angeles–based designer Leonard Bessemer dropped the Uncollection, an unusual smattering of furniture designs that includes a balloon-inspired stool, a Peewee’s Playhouse inspired recliner, and a bookshelf that was born from punching up an IKEA Billy bookcase. Instead of releasing this collection as Objects for Objects, the name Bessemer has been creating collectible design under for years, he debuted its new sister brand, oforo, with these pieces. With a broad material palette, seen together, the pieces look like they’d be in a home that was assembled over time, not thrown together quickly with an overly tidy moodboard.

Below, Bessemer explains what led to the creation of each piece, how he approached finding new manufacturers, and the most liberating part of making Uncollection.

There’s a wide range of materials in this collection but they all have a similar wacky spirit. Can you tell me more about the inspiration for each piece?

The AD Bookshelf: This was first made for the Architectural Digest YouTube series Custom Crafted. For this design, I made it out of solid wood, mahogany for this one, due to its deep lovely tone and light weight. I used thicker material and made it a little deeper and wider, since originally taking material off of a 12” deep bookshelf makes it pretty shallow. But other that that I didn’t change much. Honestly, limitations are a designer’s best friend.

Landlord Shelf - This was based on a design I made out of wood in 2017 or 2018 and sold at the Rosebowl flea market for $80. I didn’t think people would pay more and I was desperate just to sell something. Anyway, it evolved and the ethereal concept for the form was a mountain reflecting on the water. To hang it, rather than hide the mechanism like I’ve done in the past for a sleek looking shelf, I decided to let the hardware be apart of the design so I made the holes to resemble a smiley face and you can use as many screws as you want to hang it, leaving plenty of holes for your landlord to patch up when you leave.

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Amish Rug - This was literally a pattern from an amazing book of Amish Rugs. I just thought they would make beautiful rugs, and it’s a shame to limit them to walls in a museum or bedspread. So I came up with my own colorway, even though the original ones are amazing, and probably better, and then I carved into the rug to mimic the original stitching on the quilt. I’m totally open to custom and other colorways, this was just what I wanted for my house.

Recliner - I said I would make a recliner in 2019, and now it is finally here. The design is a combination of 60’s Italian and Chairry from Pee Wee’s Playhouse. Things can look good and be comfortable/relaxing.

Gemstone Coffee Table – I’ve been wanting to make furniture that is like a rock or a log in nature. When we are outdoors we have no problem finding a place to sit or set things on, so I kinda wanted to recreate that as well as try out a few fabrication techniques that dictate the final design.

Century Lamp - Lamp based on features of the Barney Chair, but assembled and manufactured in a way that didn’t require welding, even though tapping and screwing 40 machine screws probably takes longer than welding. Playful, yet dangerous. Kinda like a Palm tree in Minecraft or something. Ultimately I just didn’t want to see the lightbulb. I don’t hate the way light bulbs look, I just think they kinda blind you and ruin a space and make it seem even darker if the bulb is at eye level.

Mylar Stool - When I made the Trophy Barney Chair for the inaugural Alcova Miami show, the fabric did this wonderful uncontrollable puckering in the corners, which made the chair resemble an inflatable which gave me the idea to make this balloon based stool. If I sewed the fabric in a flat pattern like a mylar balloon it would act the same when filled with foam as a balloon does when filled with air. It’s simple but fascinating and a lovely statement / accent piece for any space.

I know that Oforo still has high standards as far as manufacturing goes, despite being more accessibly priced than your collectible design work. Can you tell me about finding the right craftspeople and manufacturers to collaborate with?

I think any craftsman or manufacturer can make high quality work if you request it and are willing to pay for it. Furniture doesn’t pop out of machines. Almost all furniture is “handmade”—someone is making it somewhere—we just tend to use hand-made depending on the socio-economic background of the person making it or if that person making it is the artist/designer.

Anyway, I’m a perfectionist and very detail oriented. I’m not the greatest craftsman, but I get close to perfection through a lot of extra time and labor. A better craftsman could probably get there in half the time and do an even better job. For me, the relationship with a manufacturer is about creating an environment where they can do that without needing to cut corners to meet your price requirements and letting them do what they do best.

For the Gemstone Table, I finally used a finisher in LA that I’ve been following for 5 years, but, for one reason or another, haven’t used. Getting a high gloss finish without the right skills, tools or environment is a sisyphean task. So this collection finally gave me a reason to outsource this task and I’ve never been so happy to drop something off, and in a week pick up a shiny new object and forgoing the headache of me trying to achieve that perfect finish on my own. There is a reason woodworkers and finishers are two different trades.

How did knowing you wouldn’t be hand building each piece for this collection change your approach to designing the collection?

This was very liberating for me, since I mainly make things out of wood. Now I could delve into different materials like textiles and metal. I could design things in a way where I wasn’t worried about how long it would take me to make them. And I could enjoy the process a little more knowing that I wouldn’t have to be making every single order single handedly. I love making things, but I don’t love having to make things and it’s no fun to slightly dread every order that comes in knowing you will have to find time and make it. Every order should be an exciting thing.

The rug’s colorway was designed specifically with your craftsman home in mind. Were much of the collection’s pieces designed with specific needs of your own in mind?

I started making furniture in a way that I think a lot of small designers and makers start, by making things they want and need. But to be honest, my craftsman home is so small that I probably couldn’t fit it all in a good way. I do need a couch, so that will probably come soon, but for the most part, I did have a specific need for a rug, and an idea for one, so making it for my home was the perfect impetus to get it done. I’ve always wanted a recliner that wasn’t a puffy monster, but I’m still finishing the house so we will see if it makes the cut. Nevertheless, when you are a small furniture studio, you end up living with more of your furniture than you might actually want. Right now my living room is mainly just storage for my sample pieces.

Do you have any dream customers—or dream spaces—that you envision pieces from this collection in?

My dream customer is some high school kid who saves up money just to buy one of my pieces or someone who works some administrative job at a tech company but has only bought furniture from a large retailer like West Elm or CB2. That’s who I want to buy my work.

I would love to do a whole retail store / hotel. A collaboration where its a retail clothing store but also acts a showroom for my furniture - a symbiotic relationship.

But yeah, I also need some famous person to buy it and post it on their socials. How about Bad Bunny?

Has developing pieces for Oforo changed the way you approach your work for Objects for Objects or what particular ideas you want to pursue for that side of your practice?

My ultimate plan for Objects for Objects is to be an experimental design studio and to take on diverse projects from interiors to products and just a place where I can make weird things that might not have commercial value.

Oforo is where I can develop and produce pieces, still weird, but on a larger scale and make them available to a wider audience. Occasionally when I develop something with Objects for Objects that’s a “hit”, I’ll then work on putting it into production and it can become an oforo piece that you can order online.

Is there a piece in the collection you’re most excited about?

I’m most excited about the Landlord Shelf. Partially just ‘cause I like it, but also because it’s the first piece I put into production with a manufacturer and it’s under $200, which I think most people can swing. And my first production shipment should arrive any day now, so I’ll start shipping them out by early November, just in time for the holidays.

Follow oforo on Instagram here and browse the pieces here.

“There’s a design theory that says you should have five light sources in each room,” Hem art director Cristina Poelk’s Stockholm apartment says in a tour of her apartment for Never Too Small. “I think that person must have lived in Scandinavia.” I understood that five light sources was supposed to seem like quite a lot, but I looked around me in my bedroom, counting my seven light sources and felt that the number seemed rather conservative. Now that I live in an apartment where my bedroom pulls double duty as my office, too, I’ve found myself even more obsessive about lighting.

Out of any decor type, lamps are the things I like to collect the most. They feel most tied to my daily rituals: in the morning, if I’m working from home, my desk lamp goes on and I know it’s time to start my workday. In the afternoon, by the time the sun is hidden behind the building next to mine, I turn on my floor lamp and know that I’ve made it to the tail end of the day. At night, during my last moments awake, nothing makes me feel cozier than the soft light of my bedside sconces.

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If there’s one company that has proved most dependable for me on my light collecting journey, it’s Gantri. I’ve bought four of their lamps over the years—my favorite being the Tiny table lamp, designed by Yowie, which currently sits on my desk. All of their lamps are made from their specific plant polymer blends, specifically made using non-GMO sugarcane, then 3D printed in California. The company has worked with a range of designers who’ve interpret the material in their own way. I was thrilled to see the new lamp made by RAD, the LA-based design studio led by Ryan Anderson and Russell Hill.

Known for their metal and aluminum creations, plant polymers are distinctly outside of the RAD material palette. With this lighting collection—the 15 year old company’s very first lamps—they created pieces that echo the perforation of their metal pieces but with a new softness. The result is a cozy collection that feels like an entirely unique entry to the Gantri lineup and an exciting new direction for RAD, too.

Below, I discuss the process of creating the Little Dot collection with co-founder and designer Russell Hill.

When did you first realize you wanted to work on lighting?

I’ve had daydreams about lamps and light ideas for years, but as a furniture design and manufacturing company, we always felt a certain comfort in what we knew. The simple addition of electricity and UL certification was just enough of a barrier to keep us from taking the jump. Then came Gantri - and all of a sudden, all those unknowns disappeared. You could rely on a company that had all that electrical stuff down pat. They approached us about their pilot program, Gantri Made, where they would facilitate outside designers and companies as a manufacturer and it was an instant yes.

Since it’s a new category for you, were there any particular ideas you were most excited to explore with a lighting collection?

The primary setting we wanted to focus on was the living room - warmth and personality were at the front of our minds. I wanted a light you’d turn on to read a book or simply use as a glowing object to warm up a space.

As you designed, did you consider how the lighting would coexist with other RAD designs?

Absolutely. We had a few ideas sketched out early on, and we gravitated toward something that felt like an exciting new use of one of our signature languages - perforations. We looked back in time and took inspiration from early modernist designers, using perforations in a grid style rather than the staggered pattern seen in some of our signature outdoor tables and chairs.

How did the design evolve as you went from sketching the piece to building scale models and actual prototypes?

We had a super quick turnaround - about five weeks from being approached by Gantri to having a prototype ready to preview at ICFF. We quickly sketched out some ideas after our first meeting and presented three concepts to Gantri just three days later to get their feedback on feasibility. From there, we followed two paths, making a plethora of cardboard and plywood models in-house that floated around our factory and office. After living with them for about a week, we had an epiphany - a slight tweak that brought about the friendly personality we were looking for.

What drew you to work with Gantri for the collection?

I’ve been aware of Gantri and the work Ian has been doing to build the company for a long time, through a friend, Holland Denvir. When they reached out, it was an absolute no-brainer. The things that made it an easy decision were Gantri’s experience and success in engineering a wide range of designs from different designers and their environmental approach to manufacturing. Every time we design a new product one of the biggest challenges is figuring out a way we can make something in a way that is as environmentally friendly as possible -- with Gantri that whole approach was baked in and ready to go.

How did working with Gantri’s plant-based polymers shape the process of designing the lamp?

The plant polymers were perfect because we really wanted the feeling of a single glowing object. By using the translucent plant polymer for both the shade and pedestal, we were able to achieve that dream.

What was it like approaching a material so different from RAD’s typical perforated steel and aluminum designs?

The nice thing about steel and aluminum is that they’re strong. The only real challenge with the new materiality was testing the durability of our desired form. After a few shipment tests, the Gantri team found the perfect balance between thickness and translucency to ensure both strength and beauty.

It’s been a couple of years since RAD launched direct-to-consumer. What has been the biggest change to your work in that time? Were there any particular learnings that you applied to creating this lighting collection?

It’s just more exciting to design and make things knowing that anyone can now buy and live with your work. Before D2C, it probably only made sense to design a sconce and a pendant for commercial applications. But like I mentioned, the living room was really the main inspiration here, and I think that helped bring a special feeling to our sconce and pendant lights - ones that can exist in both residential and commercial settings.

Designing and manufacturing in Los Angeles is a core part of RAD’s identity. How does the city influence your design sensibility?

Great question. For one, I think we’re constantly inspired by the wonderful and talented community of designers in LA. Beyond that, the history of industrial manufacturing and the legacy of craftsmanship, especially from our primarily born-and-bred LA-native welders and laborers, definitely seeps into everything we do in a wonderful way.

Some of the other lamps I’ve been eyeing lately, clockwise from the largest lamp:

• Toto by Fabien Capello for Hem ($239)

• Starlet Wall Lamp on Etsy ($108)

• Pavone by Viviana Degrandi for Gantri ($198)

• Finial Lamp by Cameron Lasson ($135, inquire directly)

• Deadstock Jordi Llopis Lifelight Lamps via Odd Eye ($215)

• Gelato Lamp by Carlo Nason for Established & Sons via Assembly Line ($290)

• Filigrana Lamp by Sebastian Wrong for Established & Sons via Assembly Line ($370)

• 1970’s Black Enameled Clip On Lamp with Red Clamp on Etsy ($185)

Mention Rice to Riches to a group of New Yorkers and at least one of them will likely pipe up with, “Isn’t that a drug front?” Some element of shady business: yes. Drugs: seemingly no. The New York Times reported on the mysterious grainy underbelly of Rice to Riches back in 2005. As true as founder Peter Moceo Jr.’s passion for rice pudding may be, he was also allegedly “running a $22-million-a-year gambling ring,” described as “probably one of the largest gambling operations ever in Suffolk County” by Thomas Spota, the Suffolk County district attorney at the time. His lawyers denied the allegations, but the association has stuck all these 20 years later. As you’d imagine, the New York Post had a field day with all of this too.

Still, twenty years later, the rice pudding shop that Moceo Jr. was inspired to create after spending time in gelaterias in Italy is still in operation. And in 2023, a second location opened on Rivington Street in the Lower East Side.

Earlier this year, I was killing time between shopping at Mast Books and meeting up with friends. It was cold out and I was lugging around too many books, having lost self control in the sale section at Mast. I needed a place to rest out of the cold and I found it, blinking at me in bright orange and white on the corner of Ludlow and Rivington: the second location of Rice to Riches.

I’d known of the Rice to Riches Spring Street location for more than a decade, first from seeing it as a kid visiting family in New York, then through the wave of attention it attracted after its appearance on Girls and through the dormant period following. I’d never been particularly drawn to it, or even charmed by it, irrelevant as rice pudding is to my life. That night though, seeing the shop completely empty in mid-winter, it seemed like the most ridiculous place to kill an hour, so I followed the impulse. If nothing else, they have outlets.

I’d intended to sit down and crack open the new issue of Apartamento I’d just bought, but I was distracted by staring around the space. The design is so specific, a lot of attention had clearly been put into it. It’s not so much that it looks good to me, but just that its specificity felt baffling, like a puzzle I needed to solve. Even the containers and spoons are custom-designed. The 2000s-does-Space-Age aesthetic is easier to understand in the context of the Spring Street location, which has actually been there since the early aughts, but seeing a space in this style executed to this degree in 2023 feels totally bizarre.

Rice to Riches already elicited a “who asked for this?” when it opened in 2003, if this NYT piece headlined “This Store Sells Rice Pudding. Nothing Else.” Rather than time neutralizing its existence, that reaction seems to have only grown in the 20 years since. Certainly TikTok has drummed up enough interest for bizarrely specific food shops, but rice pudding has to be one of the least photogenic foods of all time.

The 2000s sensibility comes through not only in the design, but in the overwhelming presence of one liners in the stores. The tone feels aligned with the jokes that coated magnets and graphic tees sold in the ‘00s. As you look around the shop, the odd branding decisions begin to pile up. This is a) a store that sells rice pudding exclusively b) that’s designed like a gelataria in outer space and c) that beats you over the head with its sense of humor.

Appearing on screens in the Rivington location and on hanging signs on Spring Street, many of these “jokes” pertain to diet culture—things like “Dieting is Optional” and “All calories consumed here are yours to keep.” Reading these in particular feels like falling back in time. Some pertain directly to the Rice to Riches myth: “Rice to Riches… I can explain it to you… but I can’t understand it for you.” Still plenty feel like someone just getting something off their chest, like, “If you don’t want the news you’re uninformed, if you watch the news you’re misinformed.” Less so on Rivington, but there’s a way to read into the criminal element as you look at some of them. On the pudding case on Spring Street, vinyl lettering readers “LEGALLY SIN” and “SIN LEGALLY.”

Little reporting on the shop’s design or operation exists, though there are some interesting nuggets in the aforementioned 2003 NYT piece. Founder Moceo Jr. reportedly designed the containers himself and spent months on the design of the original Spring Street location, with its grain of rice-shaped entrance. Though he left the recipe development to Jemal Edwards, Nobu’s former pastry chef, the names for each flavor were developed by Moceo Jr. too. ‘’Ask my wife,’‘ Moceo told the NYT. ‘’I don’t sleep; I’m up all night thinking about rice pudding.’‘ We can only assume that Moceo Jr.’s behind all of those other jokes, too.

Certainly part of Rice to Riches appeal is the air of mystery around it. Not only the alleged criminal aspect rings alarm bells, but also the fact that a business selling rice pudding exclusively could stay open and even expand in New York draws some to the shop.

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On my birthday, after a night out, I decided to return to Rice to Riches for the first time since January. I don’t think I can handle going more frequently. I never want to lose the feeling of bafflement I get when inside the shop, shoveling hazelnut-flavored rice pudding into my mouth with a custom spoon.1 In a city of constant change, Rice to Riches has somehow been a constant for 22 years and it’s still as strange and inscrutable as the day it opened.

In May, the MoMA Design Store’s SoHo location shut its doors for the summer. The store had looked the same since it first opened in 2001. It didn’t so much look dated as its black and white interiors were completely forgettable. For a store focused on showcasing thoughtful, playful design, the space felt rather devoid of personality. On a practical level, too, when the store was crammed with people during the holidays, the vibe could lean a little subway-at-rush-hour.

Now, as of last Saturday, September 27, the newly redesigned MoMA Design Store is here. The problems of spirit and space have both been solved by architecture firm Peterson Rich Office. The most obvious change at first glance is the new abundance of blue, specifically a pale (but not infantile) shade that’s employed on both of the store’s two floors. The shade was chosen after reviewing years of the shop’s catalogs and discovering that the tone appeared again and again.

When you step through the shop’s door, now located in the center of the front facade as opposed to off to the side, you’re met by a blue niche on either side. On the right, there’s a grouping of pieces that are also found in the museum’s collection. In the future, the left side will be used for pop ups. These blue alcoves provide a digestible mix of product before you move through to the rest of the store, where products are laid out more tightly together, though still with plenty more breathing room than in the store’s previous iteration.

The overlooked interiors of the past store design won’t do in our age of social media documentation. The most Instagrammable moment in the shop is probably the mural by Nina Chanel Abney at the very back of the shop. The work references iconic art and design, like Salvador Dalí’s melting clock and the Eames Hang-It-All which cheekily presides over a doorway at the back of the shop. New York City street names and subway icons are represented too, pulling out similar motifs as those invoked in the shop’s stock.

Wayfinding signs make it easier to navigate the store now, whether you’re a tourist from out of town looking for a souvenir or a New Yorker shopping for cookware. On a personal level, I’m most excited that the HAY mini market is back, with crates, clocks, and candles aplenty located downstairs.

Other fixations…

• I find myself watching TV less and less and YouTube and Kanopy more and more. I’m currently working my way through the V&A’s videos and loving every minute of it. This video on the history of Valentine’s cards is a good place to start.

• My music life is oriented around the new Geese album, Getting Killed, atm. This GQ profile by Grayson Haver Currin reminded me of the music journalism I loved 10 years ago. I loved this moment from Cameron Winter:

• I’m out of town visiting family for a week of Archtober so I’m trying to figure out what I’ll see while I’m here. If I had a car (and a driver’s license, lol) I’d be going on this “Modernism in Litchfield County” tour. I’ll definitely check out Head Hi in the City, the Manhattan pop up of the Fort Greene art, architecture, and design bookshop.

• I’m also looking forward to Open House New York, which is a yearly festival where hundreds of buildings open their doors for the public to peek around in. This year’s is October 17 through 19. You can can go to the DOT Sign Shop to see how the city’s street signs are made, see how donations are processed at Goodwill, go on a candlelit tour of Alexander Hamilton’s house, or take a tour of Joan Didion’s Upper East Side.

  
  While many of the buildings that participate are drop-in only, some of the tours are ticketed and ticketing opens tomorrow October 3 at 12pm. There is so much to choose from and last year I didn’t take enough time to sort through it beforehand, so I’m trying to get organized now.

• Busy month! The Architecture & Design Film Festival is in New York from October 14th through 18th and LA from the 22nd through the 27th. I’m particularly excited for Prickly Mountain, a documentary about a town in Vermont that a bunch of architects decamped to in the ‘60s and ‘70s.

• I am currently on the lookout for weeknight dinner recipe suggestions if you have any you love I would greatly appreciate the help…

Today I turn 28! It feels pretty uneventful. It’s not a big milestone, just another empty square between your mid-20s and your thirties. Still, my main goal for myself at age 27 was to travel more and to continue discovering new things that excite me in New York, rather than visiting the same three places over and over again. If nothing else, today presents an opportunity to appreciate that I made good on the goal.

All in all, I travelled to six different countries and a handful of American states in the past year. In New York and Los Angeles, the two cities where I’ve spent most of my twenties, I also checked off a lot of I-can’t-believe-I’ve-never-been-here spots, like Frank Lloyd Wright’s Hollyhock House in LA and the American Folk Art Museum in New York.

Below I detail some of my favorite moments outside of either city, from Barnard, Vermont to Berlin, Germany.

Folk art and country decor at Twin Farms in Barnard, Vermont

In November of last year I found myself on a red couch in Vermont interviewing Luca Guadagnino for this piece on the production design of Queer for AD. It felt like the most scenic Zoom backdrop I’d ever have. To be specific, I was on a trip to Twin Farms with AHNU. Originally designed by Jed Johnson, the cozy traditional style resort leans into New England traditional design standards, but with a number of unexpected antique pieces in the mix, like the dice lamp pictured at top left and tramp art pieces in the common areas. I was quite taken with the random multi-color fireplace surround.

Chicago moment

I imprinted on Chicago from the moment I landed, convincing myself I should move there within 24 hours. Though that idea has since been abandoned, I am aching for another trip back there. I did tourist-y activities pretty much exclusively, including the Art Institute of Chicago and the architecture boat tour which I loved as much as The Breakup made me think I would. As much as I’d love to see some undiscovered part of Chicago, I was plenty satisfied with the extremely well-known parts for my first time. At the AIC, I was particularly obsessed with the Thorne Miniature Rooms which I wrote about on Personal Space earlier this year. I’d heard Myopic Books was great but didn’t think I’d have a chance to stop by. Very thankfully the timing worked it and I stopped in and it quickly became one one of my favorite used bookstores ever.

Quebec City brutalism

I went to the Carnaval de Quebec a couple of times growing up and this year I returned for the first time as an adult. Everyone talks about Quebec City for its historical New France architecture—with good reason, it’s exceedingly picturesque—but on this visit to the city I was most drawn to the brutalist and modernist buildings that are peppered among them. They’ve gotta be the least comforting-looking buildings when you’re outside in the cold for hours on end, which feels a little defiant in which I appreciate.

Biedermeier in Berlin

This year I got really into Biedermeier furniture, which was made in central Europe in the early to mid 19th century. I find that the pieces have a lot of attitude, and can be quite audacious, but are still relatively quiet compared to other historical styles. I was looking for it everywhere, whether in home tours or at museums1 or what. On my trip to Berlin in April I found the Museum Knoblauchhaus which is a recreated house museum from the Biedermeier period. It’s the highest concentration of Biedermeier furniture I’ve ever seen and taking the audio guided tour I learned a lot about the period aside from the furniture, which I admittedly know only a little about.

I’m itching to go to Vienna’s Museum of Applied Arts and their Furniture Museum to see their Biedermeier collections this year…

George Sowden’s shop in Milan

I wrote about my first time at Milan Design Week on Personal Space back in April, but one of my favorite experiences that was only slightly related to the Design Week festivities was my visit to the Sowden shop in Milan. George Sowden is one of the founding members of Memphis Milano, but these days you may recognize his work for HAY best. I am a Sowden super fan and have his floor lamp, juicer, a tea pot, and a couple of other smaller things so visiting the shop was a total dream. By chance I ended up meeting Sowden himself at the shop which felt like some daydream of what happens at Milan Design Week.

Obsessing over airports

With all that travel, I found myself fixated on airports too. I was completely obsessed with the simplicity of the Copenhagen airport, along with its extensive shopping section which made my layover breeze by, loved the quilted floor tile pattern at the Burlington, Vermont airport, and snapped many a picture at the Milan airport too. The Helmut Jahn–designed terminal at the Chicago O’Hare airport, seen below, was my very favorite.

Looking down

No matter where I went, I found myself snapping pictures of the floor. I was underwhelmed by the Getty Villa, but I took tens of photos of the marble flooring. Same with in Milan and I loved the tiled flooring at the Bibliothek des Deutschen Historischen Museums in Berlin (top right) too.

One of my favorite parts of this past year has been building Personal Space. Consider sharing the newsletter with a friend or becoming a paid subscriber today!

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Now that I’m in my new apartment, I’m slowly in the process of reacquiring things I lost in the breakup. The thing that feels most pressing right now? Plates. In the past I’ve always gravitated toward the loudest, most colorful version of the thing that I’m searching for, but as I assemble my new space I’m finding myself just slightly less drawn to playfulness. My old plates were bright teal Fiestaware, and for this moment I’m craving something that is relatively subdued but still has ample personality.

I was surprised by how little I found on West Elm, CB2, and other big box retailers, so I decided that I could splurge a little on dinnerware. Here are my favorite finds from the past week of searching…

My top picks:

• While I haven’t placed an order yet, East Fork’s dinner plates in the limited edition Sepia color are my front runners right now. I’ve used East Fork dinnerware at events and friends houses and I appreciate how sturdy it is, plus I like that everything’s made in the US. Their seasonal colors really speak to me , the retired Yuzu hue which is on sale right now is calling my name, too.

• I’m attracted to Fishs Eddy’s Greenband plates primarily because buying plates at Fishs Eddy felt like a quintessential New Yorker experience to me when I was a teenage tourist here.

• iittala’s Teema dinner plate in linen is the simplest option I’m considering, but I appreciate its high lip a lot and I like the versatility of this off-white tone, even if most other entirely white plates bore me.

• The striped trim on the Bliss porcelain dinnerware via the MoMA Design Store feels like just enough pattern for everyday use. I like the Fence Edge dinner plates from Hawkins New York for the same reason.

• I’ve been entertaining two chunky options—Hay’s Barro plates (via the Finnish Design Shop or DWR) in blue and Hem’s Bronto Plate in orange—but I think they’ll take up slightly too much real estate in my kitchen cabinets.

Other fixations…

• I’m very into Mock Studio’s first foray into lighting, particularly their brushed aluminum Dot Light Plate with resin-filled circles in a variety of colors. They’ll be releasing a version in a wood frame come spring 2026. Preorders are open for the Dot Light Plate through November 28.

• You really should go see Julio Torres’s Color Theories show before it closes on October 5. Torres uses his ridiculous (but apt) beliefs about the emotional tenor of different hues to explore political and personal lunacy. It feels like watching a one man show taking place inside of a pop up book, the set design continuously evolving through the hour and a half duration.

• Can’t claim to be a massive Lynch fanatic, but I am completely obsessed with his Lloyd Wright–designed home, especially the orange/purple/green/red color combo in the living room.

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• You should check out the show of Hilma af Klint’s botanical drawings at the MoMA before it closes next Saturday.

• So into this butterfly-shaped folded timber lamp by Anton Mikkonen seen at Helsinki Design Week.

• I had a splendid day at the New York Art Book Fair over the weekend. I’m usually so stressed by the crowds at the NYABF each year but I got there for opening and I felt like I had plenty of time to linger and actually discover new things—how novel! My favorite tables were Spector Books, where I bought this book of photos from Berlin in the ‘90s, Corraini Edizioni, which published a book that presents Jason Fulford’s color photographs in conversation with Bruno Minari’s black and white pictures, and Inventory Press, which publishes a number of interesting books on design.

  

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Last Wednesday night was the press preview of Collectible, the second edition of the design fair held at WSA. “Back to school” energy was coursing through the space for the first big design event back after a sleepy summer. I didn’t have a single conversation all night that didn’t address the palpable nervous slash excited energy in the room. Everyone was inquiring about each other’s summers; some of us were wearing clothes we’d procured for a fall wardrobe refresh.

It was charming to feel everyone falling into this childlike rhythm—until, in classic first-day-back fashion, my social battery exhausted itself before I’d departed. There was a lot to see on the 39th floor of 180 Maiden Lane, and stuffed with people, it wasn’t always easy to grab a proper glimpse of everything. After making the rounds, I decided on my five favorite pieces on display.

Carl Durkow’s Portal Screen

It would happen that many of my favorite pieces at Collectible this year have some kind of metal component, but the first in the category that really grabbed me was Carl Durkow’s stainless steel Portal Screen in the Dudd Haus booth. Dudd Haus designers never disappoint, but this piece really pulled me in as the wired glass filled with light while the sun was setting. I love the way that the severe spikey legs daintily jut out. The detailing around the glass reminded me of one of my favorite artist Naudline Pierre’s flame motif.

Lucas Cambier’s Garriga

Hannah Martin’s FOLLY group show presented a lively assortment of furniture and decorative objects curated around the concept of the architectural folly, i.e. a structure that’s only purpose is what it offers visually. This resulted in a mix of playful pieces, but the piece I was most drawn to was Lucas Cambier’s Garriga. Looking at it straight on, the steel piece looks severe and futuristic, but the terracotta tiles on each side offer a sense of history and warmth.

Yuxuan Huang’s Vessel 1

Yuxuan Huang’s lighting was one of my favorite discoveries of NYCxDesign this year and I was thrilled to see this vase by her, in addition to more lamps in her own booth. Vessel 1 was on display in the Object Boutique, a group show co-curated by Huang herself and artist Mimi He. I’m always impressed by how alive the colors of her painted paper objects look—I love this video from Pale Blue Mag that shows how they’re made.

Maggie Pei’s Amphora

Also seen in The Object Boutique, Maggie Pei’s Amphora vessel felt perfectly diminutive, calling you in to get a closer look. I discovered Pei’s work at Shelter earlier this year. Her pieces feel so poetic to me, and in the case of this piece in particular, quietly beautiful in a way that I find really calming, but not without a distinct attitude.

Francesco Rosati’s Silver Tablecloth - Idea for a Table

This year’s Collectible served as my introduction to the art and design collective Playing House. Their booth had a few really strong pieces, including Francesco Rosati’s Silver Tablecloth - Idea for a Table. Glass sits atop a stainless steel base with cutouts that are both decorative and functional, allowing the plates and utensils to click into place on the underside when not resting atop the glass surface. The clamped table legs feel like they suspend the work in the moment of its creation, while providing an interesting counterpoint to the delicate vine motifs on the tabletop.

The back to school calendar brought me to the launch of Lila Allen’s at the Vitra Showroom last night. I’ve worked with Allen a lot over the years and she’s such a thoughtful, curious editor. She’s always been down to let me explore my weirder ideas—for instance, ”Is Bathroom Carpet Due for a Comeback?” which ended up as a talking point on The Drew Barrymore Show. I couldn’t be more excited about the space she’s opening up for more play within the design media space. The first issue has already brought us several pieces by some of my favorite writers in the industry, including:

• Diana Budds on the use of physical models (with insight from Sophie Collé)

• Jessie Dorris on his Prince–inspired childhood bedroom

• Sarah Archer on Trading Spaces and the rise of DIY TV

I hope you will join me in giving it a read!

It has been a hectic summer! I went through a breakup, then spent two months floating between friends' apartments while I looked for a new place to live, like a sad ghost haunting their homes while they were on vacation. Apartment tour after apartment tour ended with backdoor broker fee scams or otherwise unfavorable results, but I finally found a place with just enough time to give the dregs of my summer to the process of actually physically moving. But finally: it’s done.

To lay this draining chapter to rest, I want to call out a few of the things that have brought me pleasure this summer—from my new favorite bag to an album that I can’t quit listening to. Fingers crossed for a relatively calm fall!

The Nakagin Capsule Tower show at the MoMA

I only made it out to a museum in New York three times this summer and two of those times were to the MoMA. The first trip was for the Hilma af Klint and “Woven Histories” shows—both of which were great + are now in their final weeks. But most recently I went to catch a glimpse of the Nakagin Capsule Tower show as soon as I possibly could. Up through July 2026, the exhibition is about a now demolished Tokyo tower by architect Kisho Kurokawa. The 1972 building was composed of 140 prefabricated capsules and presented a futurist vision for city living.

Plopped in the center of the room, one of the building’s surviving capsules serves as the show’s anchor. This is what called me to the MoMA as soon as I could see it, but the rest of the show gives you a lot to sink your teeth into in just one room. The materials span the building’s construction and marketing to video and photo documentary footage of some of its final residents.

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Nakagin Capsule Tower was in a state of disrepair by its final years, but there was still so much excitement from the residents about living in this architecturally significant structure in the documentary videos. Sometimes shows like this can valorize the original architecture to the point of denying the reality of life inside of it. The footage of the final owners shows how people decorated their spaces to suit themselves—or maintained the original design certainly, too—driving home the sense of the building as a living thing, and amplifying the loss of the structure for these people who were so honored to live in it.

The show is free and open to the public without a ticket.

Baggu’s bowler bag

I really struggle with purses because of my desire to have 800 sanitizing wipes, a book, a sweater, a portable phone charger, and heaven knows what else on me at all times. The answer here isn’t for me to carry an extra large purse—I barely ever like the look of them and the line between that and a tote bag is too thin for me to justify the purchase. Anyway, I have found Baggu’s bowler bag to be a happy medium. It’s traveled everywhere with me this summer and I’m continually impressed by how much it can hold without feeling back-breakingly heavy or looking too crazy bulky. I have it in a melon-y tone that they don’t sell anymore but I’m super into the new mahogany color and I’ve been considering grabbing one of the recycled leather ones for any occasions when I’m a lil more dressed up.

Geese’s 3D Country

Two different friends hounded me to listen to Brooklyn singer-songwriter Cameron Winter at the outset of this summer. He’s best known for “Love Takes Miles,” an undeniably brilliant song that’s stuffed to the gills with quietly beautiful lines like, “we could watch the wind all night.” Gorgeous as this song is, the mumble-forward singing style on the rest of the album stood as a barrier between me and really digging into his music. Then, on a whim, I put on his band Geese and swiftly fell in love with their whole deal.

Where Winter’s solo work feels introspective—at times like he’s singing just for himself to hear—Geese is bold and brash and ridiculous and noisy. As the frontperson of the band, Winter’s voice careens from a breathy high pitched whisper to his natural baritone from moment to moment throughout the album, stretching it out like taffy as he sings, “I’ve been hit by the bus of love / that falling brick of you” on “I See Myself,” screams at us in the chorus “Mysterious Love.”

Whatever emotional release this has delivered me has given me the patience to go back to Winter’s solo album, Heavy Metal. They’ve both stayed in heavy rotation ever since. The band’s next album, Getting Killed, comes out on my birthday, September 26.

Other highlights

• I needed new summer shoes but I’m really, really not a sandals person. I’ve had bad ankle problems for the past seven years so I’m kind of mistrusting of anything that’s not a sneaker. Still I wanted to push through that resistance a little this summer. I bought Camper’s Karst flats and have found them to be perfectly comfortable and perfectly absurd looking for a pair of flats.

• I am completely obsessed with these headphones I got from the MoMA Design Store. I’ve always been doubtful about buying headphones for style reasons as opposed to sound quality, but these ones really deliver on all fronts.

• It was a big skort summer for me and I didn’t want to take this Paloma Wool one off after buying it.

• The color red: I can’t get enough of it now. My phone case is red, my new journal is red, the Baggu purse sits on the red->pink spectrum. After years of being all in on blue I’m feeling a big shift…

• I read All Fours almost exactly one calendar year after everyone I know read it. I often need to let the hype and chatter die down around a book before I can experience it for myself. I think All Fours benefited from this holding period because I totally loved it. All of the stuff about the dynamic between the main character and her husband was particularly great.
  
  I’ll leave you with this passage I can’t stop thinking about:

“I came into the house my usual way, like a thief. I turned the lock slowly and shut the door with the handle all the way to the left to avoid the click of the lock. Took off my shoes. Rolled my feet from heel to toe, which is how ninjas walk so silently.

[...]

When Harris comes in late he slams the door cheerfully behind him. He’s trying to be quiet, but not that hard. His mind is on other things, and why not? This is his house. Why behave like a thief? He doesn’t see how each moment can be made terrible if you only try. There can be a problem every second so that life is a sort of low-grade torture. Then, when you are free, like when I was eating dessert with Jordi, it feels really, really good, like a drug high. So: grit, grit, grit, then: release.”

There’s nothing that gives me quite as strong a thrill as preparing for a trip. Yes, the trip itself is plenty thrilling, but the weeks and days leading up to it, when I can meticulously research and type away in an itinerary doc and pin to my heart’s content on Google Maps feels like a way of extending the magic of vacation into regular everyday life. Once I’m there and contending with jet lag, I’m all the happier for this extra prep I put in before heading out of town.

For this reason, I was absolutely thrilled to discover that Sight Unseen’s very first book is a travel guide made by Adam Štěch, the writer and editor behind @okolo_architecture. On Instagram, Štěch has long given his followers a portal into beautifully-designed buildings the world over. In the book, The Modernist Travel Guide, he has essentially created a plug and play itinerary for architecture and design–filled trips to 30 different cities across Asia, Europe, North America, and South America. The recommendations stretch far beyond the predictable spots recommended in most design guidebooks, culled from Štěch’s decades of research, including spots he’s found in his research and those that he’s stumbled on from on his own visits to each place.

For a vacation fantasizer like myself, it’s the ideal starting point for dreaming up a next trip, whether it’s for a destination I’m already planning on visiting, or for inspiration on a city to tack onto my next journey abroad. Below, Štěch and I discuss his process in compiling The Modernist Travel Guide, his most memorable experiences photographing architecture, and his new role hosting tours in Prague.

What was your organizational process for the book?

The book is based on a very long, almost 20 years, of learning about architecture and design, because I started quite early. When I was in high school, I was fascinated by art and architecture and then design, so it's years of spending hours, days in the books, in magazines, online, gathering information.

Do you take notes for yourself as you're reading?

I always make a map in my Google Maps, and I have lots of dots over there, but of course, you find places by chance. Because I walk around cities quite a lot and it's the best to see some buildings which I would never find online or in the books. You kind of have to go there and then you explore something by chance as well. It's a mix of a lot of buildings that I’ve wanted to see for years, but also basically every day I find something new that I want to see. I would say it's a really continuous effort.

In the intro, you mentioned that you visited almost 50 countries, and obviously, there are 30 destinations included in this book. How did you narrow down what you specifically wanted to include in the guide?

I call the guide a starter pack for architecture lovers because it's just a very small portion of what I saw and what I photographed. Together with Sight Unseen, we were discussing that this guide should be really accessible for people who aren't as nerdy as me, but they like architecture, they like to travel, and they like to experience something beautiful. I was intuitively choosing cities that are popular and it's centered mostly in Europe because I live in Prague, in the center of Europe. I've visited most of Europe, but I always wanted to include South America a little bit and North America, and there is Australia, and there is some Asia too, like India and Japan.

It was kind of an intuitive selection and then each city has around 14 places. I tried to pick different typologies, so there are some house museums, public buildings, and some bars or restaurants. Also I wanted to make a diverse selection of places from different periods. It's like early modern, 1920s, something from '30s, something from '50s, something brutalist, and maybe a little bit postmodern as well. I always wanted to present each city with a very diverse selection of styles and typologies.

If someone were to pick up this book hoping to decide on a specific city to visit, are there any particular destinations that you think should be prioritized in particular for modernism lovers?

Of course, there are some favorites, but I have to say that the places I go to most often are Paris and Milan. Of course, they are super well-known cities. I've been to Paris maybe, like, 30 times or something in my life, and I always find something new and exciting. Even in Prague, I've lived in Prague for 20 years, and there are still buildings which I pass quite often, but suddenly, at some particular time I suddenly am standing in front of one, and I suddenly go, "Oh, I walk by here every day, but this building is also interesting." Prague is really, really great.

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I would say my favorite city which is not as popular as Paris or Milan that's in the book, is Buenos Aires. I really love it a lot. It has a very specific atmosphere of old fashioned times and a lot of modernism, a lot of 1930s modernism, which is quite similar to what we have in Prague, but the buildings are like five stories bigger, and it's like a metropolis. From American cities, I like San Francisco for the art deco.

Are there any particularly memorable discoveries you've made in your years of exploring architecture and design around the world?

There are so many, I am fortunate that I made this hobby or this passion of mine my job and now I travel quite a lot, and almost weekly, or every other week, I'm visiting something new. So there are many, but of course, there are some very special visits.

For me, the most important part is to find places that are completely intact, like original and preserved. So for example, I visited this crazy house near Paris. I went to Paris for a one day trip, like I flew from Prague to Paris in the morning, I photographed the house, and then I flew back to Prague on the same day. It was this crazy Art Deco villa. It was from 1937, very bizarre architecture with a lot of decoration and very crazy details. It was absolutely amazing. This was a planned visit, where I got in touch [ahead of time] and so on. I also visit houses by chance, where I just knock on the door and ask people if they will let me in because I am an architecture historian. This is a successful strategy most of the time.

For example, I got into a house in Tokyo. The homeowner was an almost 80 year old lady. She didn't speak any English, but she somehow understood what I'm interested in and she let me in the house. Then she left the house, she left me in the house for like 10 minutes alone. It was a completely authentic house by an architect who was working for Frank Lloyd Wright before. She came back with a neighbor, a younger lady, and she spoke in English and translated. We were talking and at the end, I found out that she was the housekeeper of that architect, and when he died, he left the house to her. She was so respectful that she kept the house exactly as it was. Of course [my travels are] about architecture, it's what I am going for, and I want to document these places, but another layer is meeting those people.

You also host architecture walking tours in Prague, right?

Yes, we started this quite recently. It's called modernist Prague. We have a few versions of guided tours. It's mostly for local people right now, we also have English versions, but we are just starting. In the last 10 years I've seen such progress in the public seeing architecture here, suddenly the public is more interested in it.

You were saying that you've lived in Prague for 20 years, yet there's still so much you're excited about seeing and exploring in the city. For people who've never been, what do you think sets Prague apart from other cities?

Prague is a gem. I really didn't fully understand it until COVID because COVID canceled all my travel plans and everything. Of course, I knew that there was always a big legacy of modern architecture in Prague, or in Czechoslovakia in general. Of course, I knew a lot of things about it, and I had visited a lot of places here before, but through COVID I found out about 500% more. I’ve traveled to Argentina, Morocco, Japan, Australia to see the buildings, but I have so many beautiful buildings here in Prague. It was the start of really appreciating and understanding architecture in Prague.

It's this paradox, when you live somewhere, you take it for granted somehow. Prague is amazing in how rich the architectural legacy is here. You can be on one street and have a Romanesque small church from the 12th century, then you have a gothic palace from the 14th century, then you have a renaissance palace. Then you have a baroque church from the 18th century, you have a bunch of buildings from the 19th century, which are in the eclectic historical styles, then you have a modernist building from the 30s, and maybe at the end of the street is the 1960s brutalist building. We have streets like this everywhere, almost. It's so connected together.

Buy The Modernist Travel Guide here.

“When I look out into the world, I don’t usually see a totally flat color,” Charleston-based designer Rebecca Atwood tells me. “There’s texture, there’s the way the light is hitting it, there are shadows. I really wanted to work on some fabrics that captured that feeling.”

Talking to Atwood, her extreme sensitivity to color is abundantly clear. Her passion for its elasticity and for the way that different tones speak to each other isn’t limited to her working life. For her first collection of solid designs—two woven fabrics, one fiber wallpaper, each in several different hues—Atwood sought to represent the variety of emotions and experiences that color symbolize to her. Though these fabrics appear as textured solids from afar, their magic is how they crack open when viewed up close, revealing a full spectrum of shades that combine to create the tone you see from afar. My personal favorite is the Bramble in Chroma, which reads like a dusty brownish gray at a distance, but is made of peach, pink, blue, green, cream, and black up close.

“There's something about sitting on a nice fabric that invites you to be more introspective,” Atwood explains. For Atwood, being thoughtful about color isn’t just about creating as beautiful of a fabric as possible, but about opening users to a different kind of experience with space. Below, we discuss the experiences and visions that the designer poured into three specific weaves from the collection.

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THE FABRIC: Bramble in Blue Hour

REBECCA ATWOOD: This is a reference to a feeling and a time of day that is also a color. It’s enveloping– it stops me in my tracks when I notice. End of day, maybe putting away the dishes or closing the door to my daughter’s room. It’s being in the house and looking out at a blue world.

RACHEL DAVIES: When did you realize you wanted to make something inspired by this particular time of day?

REBECCA ATWOOD: I wrote a poem maybe a couple years ago about water and creativity and how this moment of day always stops me. It doesn't happen every day that I notice it, but when you're inside and you look out the window, it just feels blue. It's really hard to capture on camera, but it's this moment [I've always thought about,] even going back to when I was at RISD. I was learning to paint and I was struggling with art school and crits. I think I was a sophomore and I was painting a kitchen still life at home. Then I went back the next night, and the sky was bright blue outside my window, so I layered blue over it, but you could see whatever I painted underneath. Everybody was like, "how did you do that?" I felt so excited. That was one of those moments that really made me recognize that that moment of day is something I always love.

My friend Charlotte and I will send each other texts about color. You can't capture this blue really, it's alive in this different way. With the fabric, I was thinking, how do I make a blue that's exciting, but still really usable? Having those neon bits, maybe that's not quite how the sky looks, but it's the feeling. It feels electric, and looking at it, it feels almost like there’s water outside your house. It has an energy to it, there's a weight to it.

THE FABRIC: Bramble in Chroma

REBECCA ATWOOD: I feel like this fabric is kind of like the city, like you're just walking around, and then these things that are maybe not what you'd put together come together in a really beautiful way. This fabric reads like a complex, warm, gritty neutral from a distance. It’s colorful and unexpected, made of small moments up close and then the overall thrumming of it as a whole.

RACHEL DAVIES: Are there any specific textures from the city that you think of in relation to the fabric?

REBECCA ATWOOD: So I lived in New York for over 12 years, and these are mostly pictures I took on trips that I was back visiting. This fabric actually reads really neutral when you upholster it and put it on, it looks like, almost like a warm gray or brown, but up close, it's so colorful. The city kind of has that vibe. The colors of the old stone buildings, I think about Union Square. I used to get off there a lot at one point in time and the farmers market, and it reminds me of those colors. Then having all these pops from people walking around or lights. So I feel like that for me, that fabric feels unexpected, and it has like a thrumming energy to it. Looking at the fabric, I was like, "Oh, this reminds me of New York. It reminds me of living there." For me New York is about walking around and seeing all of these different things coming together. I miss that like walking as a way of getting somewhere—I drive now, and I hate driving. Walking everywhere, you're almost just taking in all these images quickly and that's what the fabric feels like. It's got a speed to it, it's moving, it's blending together.

THE FABRIC: Park in Daybreak

THE REFERENCE: What color is it when the sky is first lighting up? It’s not one color, but it is a time of day I often see this subtle green in the sky. We don’t usually think of green as a sky color so I love that. I look for it.

RACHEL DAVIES: These colors feel so joyful in this fabric. Can you tell me about figuring out these pairings?

REBECCA ATWOOD: I wanted this one to feel light and not muddy, but when I look at it, I still get this moment of like, "Is it green? Is it blue? Is it pink? Is it yellow?" It almost reads like it could be a linen at some point, but like, it's more blue than that. I really, really like that. For me, it's like those liminal times where you're like, you can't really ever catch it. So this fabric is that moment where your camera can't catch the color. It's happening so quick. I think about that as that green moment in the sky. I don't even think there's actually green in the yarns, but the way the yellow and blue hit it makes it feel green. It just looks like there is light hitting it. It's just pretty.

RACHEL DAVIES: It makes me think of how much of our experience of color is flat color on screen, but these fabrics are so oriented toward creating this embodied experience of color.

REBECCA ATWOOD: I know, I think it's so interesting thinking about how people experience color on a screen and how we experience color in the world. I want people to maybe experience [deeper colors in] their life. For myself too, I'm so guilty of all of these things, but I want people to have that [experience.] That experience of color is really the world I want to live in. I would like to live there and maybe not on my phone.

The past few weeks have been intense. Amidst other personal calamities, I’ve been trying to find a new apartment. Even with the broker fee alleviation brought by the FARE Act, it feels totally impossible. The closest I’ve come to feeling like it’s not impossible is when I’ve gone through old screenshots from other apartment search periods of my life. Seeing screenshots of tens of apartments with the one that I’d eventually settle on amidst the sea of other forgotten spaces, I’m able to remind myself it’s only totally completely impossible until the moment you find something, get approved, and move on, forgetting you were ever in such an acute state of limbo.

Anyway, in the midst of this I decided to go out to Montauk. The invite came at the perfect time: what could get my mind off of my apartment search and my various other troubles better than staring out at the ocean and eating as much seafood as I could possibly fit into a 48 hour-ish period? I still had enough time to play with before really truly needing a place to live that it didn’t feel like the most irresponsible thing in the world to get on the LIRR and escape my life for a couple nights.

Montauk proved to be exactly what I was looking for. Below, I’ve highlighted a few of my favorite finds.

Accommodations

We stayed at Daunt’s Albatross, a super cute motel that’s been owned by the same family since the ‘70s. Seeing that I’m in a state of flux, living situation-wise, I’m fantasizing a lot about what my next place will look like: what colors I will paint the walls, what sofa I will buy, what bedframe I’ll spend every night on. Redesigned by Home Studios a few years ago, the rooms are bright and beachy but dotted with pops of green and blue. Several antique accent pieces appear—something I wouldn’t expect to find in a beachside motel. I was super inspired by all of the color in the hotel room, particularly the green bathroom ceiling. The room I was staying in, the Double Deluxe, had a kitchenette that made me dream of ever in the next million years being able to reno a kitchen. I love the sharp blue backsplash and dishes, but when do I ever witness a color blue and not cling to it?

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I have been traveling quite a bit in the past year, but at the Albatross was the most comfortable hotel bed I’ve slept on in a long time. I’m not the best sleeper away from home so this was a massive relief… The linens and towels were all from Parachute. I’d never tried their stuff before, but after doing so I know I’ll be placing an order from them post haste once I find a new apartment.

Best of all about Daunt’s Albatross: it was less than a five minute walk to the beach. We didn’t have the best weather after our first day, but I still started my two mornings there with a very early morning walk along the water. When I told people I was going on this trip, people kept mentioning Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and while we were short of snow on the sand, the foggy morning walk did come close as far as moodiness goes.

Food

• For my first meal in Montauk, I went straight for seafood. We went to a cafe called Joni’s and I ordered shrimp tacos. As I’d hoped for: very fresh tasting and perfectly light for a day in the sun. We went back for breakfast the next morning. Alongside my Girls rewatch I am bringing period appropriate avocado toast back into my life and the Joni’s avo toast was the first I’ve had a while that didn’t disappoint.

• Our best meal was definitely dinner at Bird On The Roof, which is located directly across from our hotel and owned by the same family. The local oysters were the highlight for me—they’re probably the best I’ve ever had—but the wagyu sando with curly fries and the charred edamame were gorgeous too. It all felt appropriate for its seaside location, but not exactly expected, and slightly elevated without feeling stuffy. My sweet spot!

• I was super impressed with the food at Navy Beach as well. My favorite thing we ate was the lobster roll starter which was a sushi hand roll instead of a bread roll and satisfied my desire for lobster without the heft of a proper lobster roll.

Activities

Especially after feeling particularly drained by the city these past few weeks, I was glad to soak in Montauk’s natural beauty as much as I could. Right after check in, we headed straight for the beach because it was our chance for some real sun before a cloudier outlook for the rest of our stay. As I mentioned, the rest of the stay was quite foggy, but I was still glad to log some hours staring at seagulls and padding through the sand.

Boat ride: On the first night we took a ride on the Mon Tiki catamaran. There was a live band playing, hors d'oeuvres, and drinks and the crew of mostly locals on board with us was particularly lively.

Shadmoor trail hike: The first morning in Montauk, we met some locals while eating at Joni’s and they recommended Shadmoor trail so we checked it out. At the start of the trail, you’re surrounded by tall trees, then it gives way to some more open fields from which you can peep some of the nearby houses, and eventually you emerge to the cliffs and can glimpse down at the ocean. There are a lot of different gorgeous landscapes packed into less than an hour and with barely any tough terrain.

Montauk Point Lighthouse: The Lighthouse is probably Montauk’s most well-known symbol, so it wouldn’t be right to make the trip out there and miss it. It was commissioned in the late 18th century by George Washington, making it one of the oldest lighthouses in the US. At the museum in the base of the lighthouse, they have all kinds of historical documents, photographs, and paraphernalia related to the lighthouse and Montauk itself. Before you make the walk upstairs, you can see a fresnel lens up close. Beyond its utility, it’s just really fascinating looking. Once upstairs, you can peek to the very top of the lighthouse and see the currently active fresnel lens as it spins and collects light to disperse.

Thank you so much to the Montauk Chamber of Commerce for having me and to Tim Monaghan for showing us around!

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