Milan Luxury Week
Why Milan Design Week no longer deserves to carry the word “Design” in its name.
Dear reader,
This is a first. For the first time, an external journalist is taking over this newsletter. Her name is Jasmin Jouhar, and she is a well-established voice in German design journalism, writing for various publications like Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Schöner Wohnen and AD. Most recently, she co-founded the Berlin-based format Currents together with journalist Laura Ewert (a leading figure in her own right).
So of course we couldn’t say no when Jasmin pitched us a text on Milan Design Week—framed as a rant. And yes, we’re always here for a good rant, especially when it comes from a place of genuine care.
Enjoy!
Anton and Nina
Milan Luxury Week: A Rant by Jasmin Jouhar
Milan Design Week (MDW) no longer deserves to carry the word “Design” in its name. What the city-wide spectacle has now become stands in stark contrast to what design once claimed to be: curious, risk-taking, experimental, at times humorous, even utopian.
Most obviously, everything around MDW is getting more and more expensive: the products, the accommodation, the exhibition spaces, the entire infrastructure required to sustain such a mega-event. And while each April seems to draw even larger crowds to Milan (who are all these people, and why are they coming?) access is increasingly controlled. Guest lists are tightly curated, invitations and accreditations are coveted like awards, and pre-registration is mandatory. Those who have surrendered their data and gained entry to brand environments often find themselves queuing not once, but two or even three times. In some places, lines wrap around entire city blocks. And since time is money, visitors invest considerable resources just to consume, and then circulate on social media, what amounts to marketing worth hundreds of thousands of euros.
For the brands, this works perfectly: scarcity increases desirability, capitalism 101. Wasn’t design once meant to be for everyone—accessible, inclusive, even universal at its best? In Milan and elsewhere, attention is firmly fixed on the gilded tip of the pyramid, where luxury reigns supreme. Even the Salone del Mobile (the main fair) now caters to the consumption habits of the “happy few” with formats like Salone Raritas, offering collectible objects that reaffirm exclusivity. If people once wondered whether they might one day afford a €10,000 Italian sofa, today they are no longer even part of the game.
Despite, or perhaps because of, its popularity, Milan Design Week has turned into a highly refined spectacle of exclusion. As the middle class continues to shrink, there is little space left between Ikea and the villa. Most visitors are left to observe from a distance how the few indulge, while being lulled by the immersive soundscapes surrounding them. In palazzi, monasteries, and industrial halls, smoke drifts, water trickles, whispers echo, and strobe lights flash. When all the senses are engaged, does the mind simply switch off? “Immersive”, the most overused buzzword, essentially asks for just that: to be overwhelmed. And when you stop thinking, you don’t notice that many of these installations are hollow at their core.
It may sound clichéd, even like a spoilsport’s complaint, but in Milan this year more than ever the rule seemed to be: the greater the spectacle, the less the substance. Of course, a little escapism is welcome—who wouldn’t want distraction in April 2026? But even moments of genuine enchantment are hard to come by. The staging machinery is simply too controlled, too calculated. Corporations from tech, fashion, automotive, food (McDonald’s!), and furniture industries operate with such precision that there is no room left for magic.
As mentioned, design (at least for me) once stood for curiosity, risk, experimentation, humour, utopia—and yes, also for failure, injustice, exploitation, and environmental damage. But without at least the promise of a better future, without any belief in the power of change, what remains is little more than cynicism and return on (capital) investment.
It is perhaps no surprise, then, that many visitors in Milan turned to the past rather than the present. Queues were often longest outside historic villas and apartments, opened to the public for the first time, and at the Triennale Museum, where a reconstruction of the Eames House drew patient crowds, hearts set on a nostalgic vision of sunny California. What they encountered were the promises of modernism, repackaged as a faithful kit for pool houses or meeting rooms.
See you not there next year?
Jasmin
I quite agree with your point of view. But the fault isn’t about Design.
I’ve been attending on and off the MDW for more than 20 years. What I’ve noticed is that the event has shifted into something other than design when Fashion brands entered the game, when it was essential to be at an event to have the perfect instagram picture, when the gadget offered was more important than the design displayed. Ever since its beginning the MDW (once Fuorisalone) was supposed to be democratic and open to everyone, but what was its strength has become its point of rupture.
For the first time this year I heard people attending it on a regular basis complaining. About the crowd, about the queues, about the events and their meanings.
I’m not sure there is a possible “get back to reality” step but I wish I could see more affordable design, more sustainable solutions. Design is supposed to be for everyone, that’s where our chairs come from, our tables and our coffee makers. we need to get it back for the sake of everyone!
This was my first MDW, so I don’t know if that is the case for it historically, but all I saw to me screamed 'form over function'. That is in itself inherently exclusive in nature, but I think the origins lay somewhere else than just pure profit seeking. I can’t help but see that design has now taken a dip in the same old art movement sinusoid that birthed post-modernism after modernism. Designers and design consumers are straying away from minimalism and form follows function narratives (which were somewhat always more utopian) mostly because it has been overdone. You won’t see designers following the preachings of Rhams of Papanek in Milan. It’s just too boring, it’s not fun, it’s not exciting anymore. Now the new trends are design as art, design as pure form, design as decoration. You will see explorations of new materials and mechanisms, just purely for aesthetics. And of course, the money is in following trends. It’s not a surprise to see most up and coming designers, who might not be wealthy themselves, catering to that need. Of course all of this is tied to upholding the spirit of exclusivity, luxury and class division, as it has always been the case with „beautiful” furniture in history of design. There is no form over function design for the middle and lower class, hence the state of 2026 MDW.