Last Monday evening—on the brink of the 64th edition of Salone del Mobile, and two days into my seventh pilgrimage to the Milanese furniture fair that has metastasized from trade show to design spectacle—I took my seat in a red silk-and-gilt box on the fourth tier at Teatro alla Scala. Even from that vertiginous perch, the excitement was palpable as the eminences of the global furniture industry filed in for the gala that kick-starts a week critical to this city’s economy.

Backed by the house philharmonic, Italian pianist Giuseppe Albanese tore through Symphony No. 40 in G minor, K. 550—a programmatic choice, according to Salone president Maria Porro, for its “lucid, almost architectural composition, capable of shaping unrest into form.” It wasn’t just the Mozart. Unrest was the subtext of this year’s Salone, with luxury brands lurking, Salieri-like, behind every velvet curtain, scheming to capitalize on the event’s arty, intellectual, and irresistibly Italian appeal.

After pouring money into designs, production, and booths that routinely run into five and six figures, the design industry—still recalibrating from the loss of Russian clientele in 2022—was bracing for fresh geopolitical headwinds. Would Middle Eastern buyers show? Would Italy recover its recently reported 13.1 percent drop in furniture exports, driven by declining demand from China and the U.S.? Would Milanese taxi drivers stop asking me about Trump? Magari.

Meanwhile, a more existential struggle was playing out as the Fuorisalone—a sprawling constellation of off-site exhibitions—continued its march across Milan, threatening to swallow the city whole. While Salone officials might have hoped design could impose order on chaos, in reality the fair is just one slice of an ever-expanding pie that now includes splashy activations by fashion houses like Louis Vuitton, Hermès, Prada, and Gucci. The result is a FOMO industrial complex flooding feeds with decadent parties, celebrity sightings (Martha Stewart! Dua Lipa!), and Gio Ponti treasures staged in improbable settings—like the bank vault at Dimorestudio’s new gallery across from the stock exchange. If you didn’t post food artist Laila Gohar’s carousel for Arket, with larger-than-life vegetables standing in for horses, did it really happen?

Seven editions in, I’ve learned one rule about Salone: The fair may open Tuesday, but the real action starts days earlier. I arrived Saturday afternoon from Carrara, where I’d been touring quarries and sculpture studios with designers like Luis Fernandez and Lillian Wu, on a trip organized by ABC Stone. My first stop in Milan was the Rubelli showroom, whose windows were veiled with white curtains patterned like delicate pinwheels—until they snapped into focus as rings of raised middle fingers. The textiles marked Chinese artist Ai Weiwei’s debut in décor. Inside, fifth-generation co-C.E.O. Nicolò Rubelli walked me through the technical feat behind the artist’s subversive silk lampas—a red-and-gold weave featuring surveillance cameras, handcuffs and chains, and Twitter birds. But don’t call your decorator, he cautioned: This is an artwork, not a product. It’s not for sale. (Or not yet, anyway.)

That evening, I went to the Triennale di Milano for a cocktail party hosted by interior designer Julie Hillman, honoring an exhibition of 1950s and 1960s photos of Chicago jazz musicians by her father, Don Bronstein. I also caught shows on British design duo Barber Osgerby and the late architect Andrea Branzi, including artifacts from his sci-fi utopia, No-Stop City.

On Sunday morning I headed to a design takeover by Uzbekistan, a country better known for repression than expression. At Palazzo Citterio, the 18th century façade was draped in giant ribbons and tassels, the handiwork of British designer Bethan Laura Wood. Inside, displays featured Uzbek bread trays reimagined by Marcin Rusak and Nifemi Marcus-Bello. A translucent courtyard yurt designed by architect Kulapat Yantrasast, of the Los Angeles firm WHY, was an impressive setting for panels and tassel-making workshops held later that week.

From there, I continued on to Alcova, the roving experimental fair that has become a must-stop on the Fuorisalone circuit. This year, curators Valentina Ciuffi and Joseph Grima returned to the decaying Baggio Military Hospital, an overgrown 1931 art deco complex, where installations unfolded across abandoned wards and tree-lined avenues. Here, Mexico City’s Sten Studio staged a “wedding” of stone totems in a former chapel, complete with live harpist. A van ferried guests to Villa Pestarini, a 1939 home by Italian rationalist architect Franco Albini, newly opened to the public.

By then, the week had dissolved into 20,000-step days and spritz-fueled nights. I paid respects to the late Giorgio Armani at Armani Casa, where greatest hits sat alongside updated designs. In the cloister of San Simpliciano, Gucci’s designer Demna planted a wildflower field and hung tapestries charting the house’s history—complete with a Tom Ford moment and a cameo by Demna himself.

As Daytona Williams, publisher of Paris-based Neptune Papers, explained while holding court at his lively aperitivo party at Tabaccheria Giacomo, the lure of Milan Design Week for fashion brands is that “if a person can spend $12 million on a Francis Bacon painting, or $150,000 on a couch, then a $4,000 handbag is just a drop in the ocean.” At Casa Milana, inside the Brera apartment of Gabriella Campagna and Mario Milana, the couple—she is an American actress turned somatic therapist, he is an Italian designer of furniture, lighting, and objects—described a design philosophy rooted in “presence.” A rotating lava-stone dining table embodied the idea. “If an object is static, it becomes dead,” Milana told me. How quintessentially Milanese.

Across town, Palazzo Donizetti became a fantasia for the brand Artemest, with spaces riffing on the Italian grand tour—from a Neapolitan dining room by Rockwell Group to leopard-carpeted salons by Charlap Hyman & Herrero. Upstairs, Artemest’s first furniture collection was displayed in a re-creation of the New York studio of its designers, Christine and John Gachot.

On Tuesday afternoon, I made the 45-minute trek to Fiera Milano Rho, the futuristic complex where Salone’s 1,900 exhibitors had opened for business. At Salone Raritas, a new collectible design section curated by Annalisa Rosso with scenography by FormaFantasma, I spotted Lalanne works at the Mitterrand booth and new designs by Job Smeets for a Dubai startup. “You never would have seen Lalannes at a fair like this before,” said R & Company’s Evan Snyderman, who seemed impressed as he wandered through the crowded booths. “It shows how many facets the design market has now. I like it.” Nearby, architect Lee F. Mindel was quietly snapping up a pair of vintage Sergio Rodrigues mirrors.

That night, I swapped sneakers for heels and headed to the unveiling of RH Milan, The Gallery on Corso Venezia, in a 75,000-square-foot former palazzo. A line snaked around the block as guests—including Margot Robbie and Zoe Saldaña—entered a full-blown bacchanal. Dinner was served beneath a glass roof in a subterranean restaurant; the French DJ HUGEL, fresh off his Coachella set with Snoop Dogg, performed Latin house music in the courtyard; and late-night negroni sbagliatos appeared on the top floor courtesy of Bar Basso.

Whether RH’s all-American formula will land in Milan remains to be seen. That evening, no one was asking. What did seem clear is that 2026 was the year we may have reached peak Salone—a perfect storm of fashion and Hollywood sidling up to an industry once better known for its Franco Albini and Vico Magistretti introductions than for Prada “symposiums” and influencer dinners. In the city where Ico Parisi and Gae Aulenti once walked, there may be no turning back.

Thank you so much, Ingrid. I really enjoyed this. I hope everyone else did, too. And if you have any burning questions about the world of design that you want answered, please reply to this email or text me at +1.917.825.1391. We’re looking forward to having Ingrid back soon.

Tomorrow, in the Inner Circle, I’ve got an interview with tech-forward landscape painter Emma Webster ahead of her New York solo show debut at Petzel. Upgrade here to read it.

Ciao,
M