Sit-down conversation
The goodwill that I feel towards London, the city where I live, has only increased since the Elizabeth Line opened last year and became my go-to transportation route from Heathrow. With its spacious, colourful seats, it’s a welcome departure from the gloomy Piccadilly Line, which also serves the airport. What does it say about a city when the first impression that visitors get of it is one of dusty and frayed metro seats? And how does tired public-transport infrastructure affect the morale of residents who come into contact with it almost every day?
Over my travels, I have fallen into the habit of gauging a city’s look and feel by the design of its metro seats. New York’s subway lines feature orange plastic seating that can withstand coffee spills and suggests a hard-and-fast lifestyle. Copenhagen has opted for a functional and conservative approach, with grey plastic seats that match the aesthetic of the concrete stations that the trains pull into. Sometimes, a city disappoints: the seats of the Paris Métro, for example, could do with an overhaul to help them live up to the grandeur of the French capital’s Haussmannian boulevards.
For me, the cheery designs of Milan’s metro seats come out on top and signpost the Italian city’s role as a centre for industrial design and the home of Salone del Mobile. The wavy red or yellow seats echo the 1960s design of the metro system, which was originally conceived by Italian architects Franco Albini and Franca Helg, in collaboration with designers Antonio Piva and Bob Noorda. Their choices continue to resonate: Milan-based homeware studio Objects Are By recently launched a collection of vases and trays inspired by the metro’s shapes and primary colours. Now there’s a Milanese souvenir for those who want to bring a piece of the design capital home.
