Issues

How to get dressed: Maria Lemos’s pearls of wisdom

Maria Lemos certainly knows how to dress the part. The Greek-born entrepreneur has been running Mouki Mou, one of the most elegant retail addresses on London’s Chiltern Street, for more than a decade. Meanwhile, her showroom Rainbowwave represents best-in-class brands from around the world, from Athens’ leading jeweller, Ileana Makri, to artisanal Spanish label Masscob. Her knowledge of craft, textiles and the best makers to watch is practically endless – for autumn, she recommends keeping an eye on Parisian brand Carven. “We just introduced Carven to Mouki Mou – it’s exactly what I want to wear now,” she says.

A sharp point of view and an appreciation for quality inform everything that Lemos does. Whether she is dressing herself, selecting new labels to stock in her boutiques or choosing a location for her next project, she’s not one to follow trends or veer away from her own aesthetic. “I don’t ever want to be anywhere other than Chiltern Street,” she says, speaking of m.ii, a new shop she opened down the road from the original Mouki Mou. “It was about evolution, not just about having a second space. I don’t believe in duplication.”

Lemos has equally strong opinions when it comes to design and, as evidence, points to her longstanding collaboration with architect William Russell. For the interiors of m.ii, the pair created “a darker, richer environment” that features cork flooring, Cornish clay plaster walls and Portland stone shelving.

Over the years, Lemos has learnt to create a separation when shopping for her customers, rather than for herself. Still, she remains her best ambassador and her impeccable taste filters through to her shopfloor. m.ii, which also marks her first foray into menswear, carries handmade shirts by Oliver Church and mountain-inspired vests by Rier, both based in Paris, as well as oversized coats by Japanese label Arts & Science. Here, she shares insights on building an ageless wardrobe.

How do you shop for yourself?
I rarely do – in fact I only shop at the end of the Mouki Mou sales. I keep saying that I want to see my mistakes. I was recently wearing a wool Lemaire dress that I picked up at the end of the season because no one else had bought it, yet I kept getting compliments on it. These clothes are ageless by nature; you can wear items from years ago and everything fits together. You’re building a wardrobe over time – but that does require a level of confidence.

How did you find that confidence in your choices?
Something happens when you hit your mid-fifties – you really know where you’re going. Until then, you’re always trying different things out. It’s about knowing yourself and bouncing things off the people around you. That’s why I like being around young, creative people.

What does luxury mean to you, especially when it comes to your fashion choices?
In the past, for many people it was about buying into [established] brands, which have become oversaturated. I felt more luxurious when I was in Marseille and visited Maison Empereur, which sells cookware. Niwaki [also on Chiltern Street] offers the most luxurious experience: buying tools in a beautiful environment. You go to [London butcher] The Ginger Pig and it’s luxurious. Buying clothes should be the same; it should feel personal.

What are some of your most treasured pieces?
I keep pieces that are more than 30 years old and it’s all about quality. They might have cost a fortune at the time but they remain in amazing condition and I still wear them.

Any recommendations for the new autumn/winter season?
I love suiting and a black dress – [New York label] Fforme has done an amazing new column shape. I’d also suggest a pair of Marsèll heeled shoes in rust – I like the idea of a surprise colour – plus, a pearl necklace. Ileana Makri has done a special one for Mouki Mou that blends pearls and antique beads. That’s about it: a great pair of shoes, a black dress, pearls and I’m done.
moukimou.com

Simone Bellotti’s uncompromising vision for Bally

Picture Switzerland and you’ll think of high-end watches, artisanal chocolate, world-class financial services and the Alps. Luxury fashion, however, hasn’t traditionally been on that list. That was particularly true in recent years, as the country’s flagship fashion label, Bally, navigated choppy waters. The 173-year-old brand had been in a state of flux while its owner, German conglomerate jab, looked for a new buyer. In May 2023, however, Italian designer Simone Bellotti took over as design director and the label has swiftly turned things around. It was one of the most lauded labels at this year’s Milan Fashion Week, found a new backer in US investment firm Regent and now has the opportunity to turn over a new leaf.

Bellotti, who joined Bally from Gucci, worked quickly and with conviction, returning the label to its Swiss roots and defining a new Mitteleuropean silhouette along the way. In his hands, Switzerland’s well-rehearsed tropes have been worked into chic wardrobe staples, piquing the interest of international retailers including Luisaviaroma and Net-a-Porter, which began investing in the brand for the first time. “Bellotti has asserted a new vision for the brand that is synonymous with Bally’s heritage,” says Katie Benson, buying director at Net-a-Porter. “We expect him to move from strength to strength, with his ability to balance fashion and function.”

By achieving this delicate balance and staying focused on the company’s roots, the designer has been able to command the attention of fashion critics and consumers alike – something that his predecessors, who had been caught in the trap of jumping on trends and resorting to the conventional marketing playbook, repeatedly failed to do. “Bally’s leather pieces, Mary Jane shoes, jackets featuring new proportions and oversized men’s totes are now filling our wardrobes,” says Marta Gramaccioni, buying director at Florentine retailer Luisaviaroma, another new partner.

Behind the scenes, the Bally team, which is now split between Milan and Caslano, is rejoicing after years of uncertainty. In 2020 a sale to Chinese textile group Shandong Ruyi fell apart in public, as did an earlier attempt to get the business back on track by hiring Los Angeles-based Rhuigi Villaseñor, founder of streetwear label Rhude. Villaseñor’s strategy for reviving Bally – riffing on streetwear, celebrity culture and 1990s fashion – was at odds with a brand built on family values, pragmatism and the craft of shoemaking. Unsurprisingly, the collaboration ended after two seasons.

Bellotti’s vision is starkly different. “I wanted to play with clichés,” he tells Monocle, while walking through Bally’s showroom in a prime corner of Milan’s Porta Venezia. He picks up one of the biggest hits from his debut collection: the Bally Belle, a handbag structured in thick leather to evoke the shape of a cowbell. It’s the clearest example of Bellotti’s playful rummage through the brand’s history and wider Helvetian culture. The collection hanging in the cavernous showroom, a former cinema, gives a first impression of cool composure, with wool coats in army green and preppy polo shirts stitched with the Bally family crest. But upon closer inspection, you’ll spot lace-up work boots and leather skirts studded with tiny shepherds and edelweiss.

Another hit is a pair of Mary Janes, a flapper-era strapped shoe that has enjoyed a surge in popularity this year. Its basic design has been in the label’s archives since 1923; Bellotti simply updated it. “Any style of shoe that you can imagine, Bally has already done it,” says the designer, who has developed an encyclopaedic knowledge of Swiss history. He cites Monte Verità, an early-20th-century commune of artists and intellectuals on the shores of Lake Maggiore, as a source of inspiration. He has also introduced the Ballyrina, a dainty shoe stamped on the sole with the image of a dancer, with the word Bally forming the shape of the tutu. The logo is also an archival find that dates back to the 1940s, when wartime import restrictions prompted the company to offer Swiss-made dancing shoes.

Focusing on footwear is a smart move, not only because it’s one of the most appealing categories for entry-level buyers but also because it’s at the heart of Bally’s history. The brand was founded in 1851 in the village of Schönenwerd by Carl Franz Bally, a ribbon manufacturer who was inspired to pivot to shoemaking after a trip to Paris. Carl Franz was a keen businessman. The company started expanding internationally as early as the 1920s, turning Schönenwerd into an industrial hub. From its founding until 2000, Bally produced more than 150 million pairs of shoes.

The brand has always riffed on its Swiss heritage. Its signature handbags and trainers usually feature a red-and-white cotton stripe that nods to the company’s origins as a ribbon-weaving factory. The trend in the wider industry of abandoning traditions, redesigning logos and switching out staff is a relatively recent phenomenon, the result of a feverish game of musical chairs between fashion houses and creative directors. But that has never appealed to Bellotti. Instead, he wanted to immerse himself in Bally’s vast archives.

The Ballyana Museum in Schönenwerd stores every shoe model that Bally has made since 1851 and, in true Swiss form, they’re all meticulously preserved and catalogued. “There’s a whole world inside,” says Bellotti. “You can see the evolution of dressing and of society at large.” The Bally family has also amassed a museum-grade shoe collection from across the globe that rivals that of any big luxury house. Bellotti has spent a lot of time here opening boxes containing Inuit shoes or ancient Roman sandals. “Of course, you have so many ideas when you’re lucky enough to be working with such an archive,” he says.

Inspired by his discoveries, he has continued to print red-and-white stripes on Bally’s leather handbags, including a popular series of satchels, while tags with the family crest are proudly sewn on the sleeves of blazers and knits. His autumn-winter 2024 collection, titled Der Wanderer, was inspired by Engadin folk myths about a double-tailed siren that lures fishermen to drown in icy lakes. Also on Bellotti’s mood board were Appenzeller folk costumes that disguise people as trees, as well as portraits of Zürich’s 1960s rebel youth. The references inform his collections in subtle and often humorous ways, from the Fair Isle patterns fashioned into a pair of knitted shorts to the subtle flaring of the hem of a winter frock.

Bellotti says that brands should be built like personalities. “There’s the more serious part of us that helps us to make sensible decisions in life,” he says. “But nobody wants to be serious all of the time. But we also have a more irrational side.” He credits this philosophy to his time working with former Gucci creative director Alessandro Michele, who also succeeded in turning around the fortunes of a heritage brand – a luxury house that was founded, as Bellotti points out, 70 years after Bally. “You can create anything with your imagination,” he says. “What emerges is an inner world.”

In fashion, convincingly capturing that world is like hitting the jackpot. Bellotti seems to be well on his way to accomplishing this. The investment from Regent and the expected appointment of a new CEO (Nicolas Girotto, who helmed the label since 2019, stepped down in September, shortly after the acquisition) will give him an even bigger boost and allow him the luxury of time when it comes to executing his turnaround strategy. Despite the warm reception to Bellotti’s collections, Bally has not embarked on a marketing blitz. Meanwhile, the brand has flagship shops in Milan, London and New York from before Bellotti’s time but, so far, he has made no effort to overhaul them. “Bellotti and Regent are paving a clear relaunch strategy, sharpening Bally’s brand image and product offering,” says Mario Ortelli, managing partner of the luxury advisory M&A firm Ortelli & Co. “Once those areas of the business are developed, they will also be able to work on distribution and translate the progress that they have been making into higher revenues and margins.”

The creative director is clearly having fun. In the showroom, he picks up the Scribe, one of Bally’s more classic styles. Max Bally, a grandson of Carl Franz, designed the slim men’s dress shoe in 1951 to celebrate the brand’s centenary. Most shoes are made in Caslano in a process that involves more than 200 steps from start to finish. That level of craft can even surprise a high-fashion veteran such as Bellotti. “The stitches are perfect,” he says, looking closely at the pinpricks of thread that hold the leather in place. “Very few factories can still make shoes this well.” The only adjustment that Bellotti has made is to widen the toes by a few millimetres.

“Can you guess what this is?” he asks, pointing to the tip of the shoe. Here, the outer edge of the sole is curved slightly inwards. Barely half a centimetre thick, the concave detail could easily go unnoticed. Bellotti explains that the feature, called the double lambris, is designed to function as a tiny rain guard that directs water away from the leather of the shoe in wet weather. Despite a 23-year career spent at Europe’s top fashion houses, Bellotti had never come across such intricate functional details until he arrived at Bally. “I’m learning things,” he says.

Bally’s collections are produced with the same precision and know-how as watches in Le Brassus or chocolates in Vevey. “They know how to make things well,” says Bellotti. “That has been the constant over all of these years.” Everyone knows what Swiss quality means. Bellotti is just bringing this into our closets.
bally.com

Three designers who are setting the industry’s agenda, from typography to spiritual architecture

1.
The typographer
Mark Gowing
Graphic designer, Sydney, Australia

Mark Gowing is an Australian artist and designer whose 30-year career has been typified by type. His explorations of letters and language has been widely deployed across a range of fonts. He’s also a graphic designer, having worked on type for Artspace Sydney, identity and branding for Hopscotch Films and poster design for Euroluce Lighting.

It’s work that has seen Gowing win a gold medal at the International Poster Biennale in Warsaw – becoming the first Australian to do so – as well as awards from type organisations in the US, Japan and Mexico. In 2013 he was welcomed into the AGI (Alliance Graphique Internationale), a global group of leading practitioners. Additionally, as an artist, Gowing’s regular pilgrimages to the edges of typographic abstraction are increasingly informing his design work.

As Gowing prepares to launch his new type practice, The Letters, Monocle visits his home and studio in Newtown, Sydney, to chat about his new company, the future of design amid constant disruption and why he no longer views himself as multidisciplinary.

When did you discover design?
When I was about 13 or 14, my grandfather showed me the typography book he made when he studied signwriting. I still have this book full of his typography. He used to catch me drawing structural things and copying logos. He explained to me what typography was and I thought, “Yeah, that’s cool.”

So being an artist was never on the cards?
Growing up in country New South Wales, becoming an artist wasn’t really an option. I got work experience at a children’s book publisher on the Central Coast and just locked into it. By 16, I was hired as an apprentice and left school to start work. It was an amazing environment and the art directors just kept throwing me into the deep end and moving me around into different roles. It’s served me so well. Just get dirty and don’t be precious about your place in it all; that matters in the end but it doesn’t matter in the beginning.

When did you start designing typefaces?
I’ve been designing typefaces since the digital boom of the late 1980s and early 1990s. The Apple Mac changed design and there was a big rift, of digital versus analogue, that was really exciting to be around. Digital font software made designing your own fonts accessible. Before that you were drawing types by hand and you couldn’t reproduce them effectively and efficiently. Suddenly you could design a font, key it in and use it in your own work.

It’s interesting, in light of the disruption facing design right now, that you saw the digital font boom as an opportunity.
The one thing that’s always defined the design industry is that it’s never been the same. Change is the only constant. I’ve never known it to be anything but that. I walked in the door as computers started happening, so I saw nothing but change from day one. It’s normal, healthy and good. What matters is thinking – and if you’re really worried about machines taking your job then I’m not sure you’re actually thinking. A generation grew up casting type out of metal but I would never have been able to make type without computers. So yes, there’ll be loss along the way but you can survive by relying on your thinking rather than your mechanical output.

You established Mark Gowing Studio in 1997. What will The Letters do differently?
I realised that I really needed to focus on the way that I practise because it has become very diverse and difficult to manage. So the entirety of my design practice will be officially typographically led. The Letters will offer retail fonts but we’ll also help customers with their trademark, their logotypes and high-level typographic problems. We’ll work on installations, posters and publications, and assist with all the normal design challenges but from a typographic point of view.

Has your expansion into fine arts changed your approach to design?
For a long time, design influenced my art but now art is starting to affect how I design things. If you look at the Bauhaus movement, they taught design as an art. Kurt Schwitters and Josef Albers didn’t say, “I’m doing design now, I’m doing art now.” They just made and didn’t really differentiate. I no longer see art and design as two things; it’s not as clear-cut to me as it once was. I don’t think of myself as wearing two hats. Instead I just feel like I’m wearing one big, weird hat.
theletters.co

2.
The craftsman
Ini Archibong
Industrial designer, Neuchâtel, Switzerland

Nigerian-American industrial designer Ini Archibong is known for work that taps into heritage and craft traditions. As part of Craft x Tech, a cross-cultural initiative that pairs craftspeople from Japan’s Tohoku region with international creators, Archibong recently collaborated with artisans who specialise in tsugaru nuri, a type of layered lacquerware. “Don’t ask me about the Karaoke nights in Japan,” he laughs. The result is Artifact #VII, a playful egg-shaped piece that emits a sound when you hover your hand over it.

You like to include spirituality in your design practice. Why is that?
Simply put, when I started on the journey to becoming a creator it was a spiritual mission. It took me out of a more mundane perspective on what I was here [on this planet] to do. For better or worse, being a designer is more than a job. I don’t necessarily design from a place of practicality. I make functional things but the way that they come about is intuitive.

Where does your inclination towards world-building come from?
Fantasy, comics, movies, cartoons. As a kid, I was in church on Sunday and reading every day. I loved books by CS Lewis and L Frank Baum. When I would read them, I was in a different world; it was my escape.

How does this translate to the project with the craftspeople of  Tohoku?
It was an amazing project to work on with the craftspeople, who went beyond lacquer: it’s the layers, the texture, all these things that give it the pattern it has. I love design that’s chaotic and that feels organic. The piece also emits sound, which reacts to your presence. It’s part of a wider series of artefacts that fit in to what I call a “mythology of the children of the diaspora”.

Which diaspora are you referring to?
That’s the question. It starts from the West African diaspora that I come from but there’s going to come a point, with a more globalised future, where everyone will be part of a diaspora. My goal with these pieces is to retell some of the mythology that has been told over the centuries in a new context, with a mentality focused on a globalised humanity. I keep it vague so people can fill in the gaps.
designbyini.com

3.
The spiritualist
Alison Brooks
Architect, London, UK

Following her graduation from Ontario’s University of Waterloo, Canadian-born, London-based architect Alison Brooks worked with Ron Arad before establishing her namesake practice in 1996. “I really wanted to work on public projects and housing, which was different to what I was working on with Ron,” she tells Monocle from the ground floor of her newly finished mixed-use building, Cadence, in Kings Cross. “Housing is the critical social and civic project of architecture because it impacts daily quality of life for its residents and the public.” It’s an ambition that she has since fulfilled, working on a host of award-winning residences and multi-residential housing projects across the globe. Here, Brooks elucidates on architectural spirituality and how best to translate the intangible – community, connection, nature – into bricks and mortar.

You established your practice in 1996. How did your early projects inform your work?
The first two commissions I had were the results of the only two letters I wrote when I first started, which is incredible. One resulted in the VXO House in London, which was the first private residence I designed. As an architect, such projects are remarkable because, when you design somebody’s private house, it must stand up to scrutiny every day from the same person – so you really have to master every detail.

Tell us about your latest project, Cadence.
It’s situated on an irregular shaped plot and has 163 apartments in the scheme. I always try to bring unexpected moments to my work and with Cadence it came in the form of its arches. It felt like a bit of a leap of faith because it sometimes feels like arches have been banished in contemporary architecture. The key thing with this design, though, is that the arches are at different heights and have different widths, which respond to the building’s structural irregularity and introduces dynamism. It means that Cadence looks it’s walking, in a kind of animal-like way, because there’s no order or rhythm to its arches. Its structure is more lyrical and organic, which helps make it feel more human.

What other methods do you use to make architecture feel more human?
The way I work is to try to respond to context in a meaningful way; context is everything in architecture. Context can be physical, cultural or even spiritual, which is something that I’ve been starting to think about more consciously. This comes partly from working in Canada and learning from its indigenous people’s worldview and way of thinking, and tapping into animism – the idea that nature is made up of beings with which we can form relationships. It also comes from spending summers in the Canadian wilderness; when you’re alone out there you really need to believe that nature is on your side.

How can this outlook relate to architecture more broadly?
We’re all trying to find ways of practising in a more sustainable and responsible way in response to the climate crisis but there’s also a crisis of meaning. We can start to address this by recalibrating our relationship with nature and bringing spirituality into our way of thinking about architecture. Architects talk about a sense of place a lot but there’s a spirit of place too. We also need to address social value and try to make places that help people feel like they belong to a community and place. Feeling at home somewhere is fundamental to human wellbeing.

How do you translate something intangible – spirituality, community and connection – into something tangible?
One of the ways this can be done is through form and materials. With Cadence, we used a particular orange-red brick which emphasised the mass of the building but also paid tribute to George Gilbert Scott and his masterful work at the nearby St Pancras Hotel and Station. A similar effect can also be achieved by tapping into both collective and personal memory. For example, by using elongated bricks and terrazzo for the public spaces in Cadence, the Venetian architecture that inspired both myself and Scott is evoked. On other projects, like Oxford’s Cohen Quad, I’ve used American black cherry, as a tribute to my mother who loved the material and sparked my interest in architecture.

Given that your focus is on residential architecture, how do you feel when a project is complete and people move in?
It’s like taking your child to their wedding; you kiss them goodbye and off they go to live their life. The building will change and you have to accept that. But if people are using it, it shows that they want to invest in the place.
alisonbrooksarchitects.com

Interview: Cecilie Manz on design with a purpose

Since founding her studio in 1998, Danish designer Cecilie Manz has contributed to the catalogues of manufacturers including Fritz Hansen, Bang & Olufsen, Kasthall, Maruni and Hermès. Considering how prolific she is, it’s peculiar that the lasting impression that she leaves is one of restraint or, rather, compelling discretion.

“I like to balance output and inspiration,” Manz tells Monocle in her studio in Sølvgade, Copenhagen. Sitting across an oak table that she designed for Fritz Hansen in 2009, she is cradling a cup of hojicha and wearing a pair of pleated black trousers by Japanese designer Issey Miyake. Surrounding us are stacks of paper weighed down by stones, cardboard prototypes and tchotchkes that she brought back from her trips across the globe, all neatly displayed on shelves.

Here, projects start as paper sketches or cardboard mock-ups before being refined in the workshop. Manz believes that function is the driving force of design, which means that all the pieces that she creates require considered examination. “I want to be involved in every step of the process, not just the part where you draw nice doodles,” she says. Manz employs two assistants to help with her work, including creating all the digital 3D models so that she can maintain her personal creative process as a strictly analogue affair. “With furniture, you can’t skip making mock-ups. You need to see how something interacts with your body.”

Born to ceramicist parents in Odsherred, about an hour’s drive from Copenhagen, Manz knew from early on that she would pursue a creative career. “I picked furniture design to do something different from my parents,” she says with a smile. “That was my crazy teenage rebellion.” Manz was admitted to the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts and went on to found her eponymous studio soon after graduating.

Grants from art foundations initially helped to keep her afloat but then her designs were picked up for production. From there, she began to receive commissions for tables, chairs, lights, glass objects and even the occasional hat stand – all crafted with perfect clean lines and a purity of purpose. Awards including the Finn Juhl Prize in 2007 followed. She was named designer of the year at Maison & Objet in 2018 and again at the Scandinavian Design Awards in 2024. Today her work can be found in the permanent collections of the Design Museum Denmark and New York’s Moma.

Manz now has an extensive back catalogue. Does she ever run out of inspiration? “No, I have never had that problem,” she says after a short pause. “It’s just work. I just get on with it. Maybe you’ll draw some bad sketches but you can always destroy those. You have to produce and, at some point, you might find something interesting that you can dig into.” With a pragmatism and straightforwardness, Manz has quietly cut through the noise of the design industry, negotiating its evolving tastes.

Her pet peeves include the word “trends”, using a material because it’s popular rather than questioning its purpose and the art world creeping into the realm of design to sell decorative pieces with little to no function. “When I entered this field, I worried and felt guilty about bringing more stuff into the world,” says Manz. “But I design functional objects that last a long time. It justifies my practice if they are at least of a good quality and have nice design – parameters that you might call old-fashioned design virtues, right?” Sometimes, it’s as simple as that.
ceciliemanz.com

Meet the creatives reinventing L’Hospitalet as Barcelona’s cultural epicentre

Can Trinxet, a textile factory built in 1890, has laid empty in L’Hospitalet de Llobregat – a city to the southwest of Barcelona – for decades. Once the largest manufacturing complex in the area, it is now a vestige of Catalonia’s industrial heyday, when people from all over Spain came to the region in search of work. Today the former factory has been given a new lease of life by Barcelona-based architecture studio Self Office. The building’s roof has been restored, while the walls have been painted white to host an installation during the Manifesta Nomadic Biennial, an art and culture festival running throughout the autumn.

In a bid to decentralise Barcelona’s art scene, the event’s 15th edition is taking place across the Catalan capital and 12 neighbouring cities, including L’Hospitalet. “The centre of Barcelona hosts most of the area’s cultural institutions but people live outside it because housing prices are too high,” says Hedwig Fijen, founder of Manifesta.

L’Hospitalet, a commuter town and one of the most densely populated places in the EU, is putting culture front and centre of its urban strategy. Over the past decade, the city council has been building a Cultural District in a bid to lure creatives to the area and revive its economy. According to officials, some 500 cultural entities – art galleries, architecture practices and dance studios – have moved here in recent years, attracted by spacious industrial buildings and low rents. Spanish singer Rosalía recently announced that she would be transforming an old office building into one of the best-equipped recording studios in Europe.

L’Hospitalet’s fragmented urban fabric consists of modern skyscrapers and warehouses, a medieval town centre and neighbourhoods with apartments built in the 1960s and 1970s. “I wanted a generous space to work in, which is hard to find in Barcelona,” says designer Jorge Suárez-Kilzi as he welcomes Monocle into his studio on the top floor of Edifici Freixas. The 1960s-era six-storey building was built for heavy industry and craftspeople. While it’s still home to a few carpenters and glassworkers, it now houses a growing number of artists. “Moving here came out of the necessity of finding an alternative to Poblenou,” says Suárez-Kilzi, referencing the trendy former industrial neighbourhood in Barcelona. That area is now “more established,” he says, as start-ups, technology companies and luxury hotels have moved in.

Uri Rivero and María Vázquez also considered setting up shop in Poblenou before stumbling across a 1970s factory near Edifici Freixas in L’Hospitalet. They have transformed the space into Industrial Akroll, a 2,000 sq m space dedicated to photography and film. The former manufacturing hub, which originally produced metal accessories, had been empty for 20 years. “The Cultural District project was a bit of a siren call for us,” says Rivero. “We knew that some art galleries had moved to the area. Plus, being here meant that we would have suppliers nearby.”

In the early 2010s, the city council created a team dedicated to helping new arrivals with paperwork and permits, as well as access to funding for projects. “We want to make people feel comfortable so that they stay,” says Mireia Mascarell, the council official responsible for L’Hospitalet Cultural District. The regional revival has attracted large, private projects too. Last December, La Caixa Foundation announced that it would convert a warehouse in L’Hospitalet into the Art Studio Caixa Forum, a new cultural facility that will host 1,039 pieces from its contemporary art collection. The Godó i Trias factory will also be turned into a centre for visual arts by Stoneweg Places and Experiences, with the help of Pritzker Prize-winning architecture studio RCR Arquitectes.

“It’s good that visibility is being given to not just Barcelona but the entire region,” says Vázquez of Manifesta. Of the eight million tourists who visit Barcelona every year, only a few venture beyond its iconic Catalan modernism buildings and urban beaches to explore its outer limits. The biennial’s inclusive approach is therefore one that officials across Europe are watching closely.

“Barcelona is attractive to tourists in a way that exceeds its capacity to welcome and respond,” says Xavier Marcé, city councillor for culture and creative industries, who was born in L’Hospitalet. “Because we have decided to crack down on short-term tourist rentals, we have to try to attract visitors in a different way. I believe that highlighting spaces across the metropolitan area and making the offering more cultural will appeal to the type of person that wants to experience the real Barcelona.”

This cultural expansion, however, has led many to question the role that it is playing in the process of gentrification. According to a study by Spanish property portal Fotocasa, rental prices in L’Hospitalet – a largely working-class area – went up by 17.5 per cent in 2023. Mascarell says that “for now, there is no gentrification”. But that could change, with visual artists already outnumbered by advertising agencies, architecture practices and recording studios. Some fear that L’Hospitalet might end up drifting from its industrial roots in the same way as Poblenou.

Despite these challenges, many are hopeful that the arrival of Manifesta and figures such as Rosalía will create a richer cultural landscape that supports newcomers and long-term residents. “It’s positive that people are moving here with new ideas,” says flamenco artist Jose Manuel Álvarez, who grew up in L’Hospitalet and returned to open dance studio La Capitana. His students, who come from towns in the metropolitan area, take classes in the same rooms where Rosalía choreographed dance routines for her 2018 album El Mal Querer. “If all these buildings are empty, why not bring them back to life?”

Walla Walla Foundry: The factory helping artists turn ideas into material reality

For some of the world’s leading contemporary artists, the path from studio concept to museum exhibition runs through a small town in southeastern Washington state. The Walla Walla Foundry specialises in metal fabrication and bronze-casting for artworks as tall as 18 metres. Founder Mark Anderson, a Walla Walla native, studied at the town’s Whitman College, a liberal-arts school, and learned metal-crafting at a small foundry focusing on American Western art. His tastes veered towards contemporary art, however, and he established his own factory in 1980.

Pop artist Jim Dine put the foundry on the map and it has since become a preferred fabricator for the likes of Matthew Barney, Yayoi Kusama and Wangechi Mutu. Anderson died in 2019 but his widow and children continue to uphold his legacy. “Success for us means focusing on contemporary art and supporting creatives,” says co-owner Jay Anderson.

Jay studied art at universities in Seattle and New York. Though he still practises his craft, he returned from the big city to the family homestead to further his father’s mission. His extensive experience is what encourages many people to make the trek to Walla Walla from far corners of the art world.

“For artists, our team is like a physical extension of the studio,” says Jay. “There are 100 technicians here who can all work as your assistant if needed.”

These factory workers translate artistic concepts into tangible works of art, whether that involves bending metal or shaping wood. The accumulated experience of the past 40 years has taught the foundry’s team how to do just about anything. “Artists have an idea but they might not know how to make it,” says Anderson. “That’s why we’re here. We help them to solve their problems.”

Interview: Embraer’s CEO on sustainable aircraft and navigating a course for success

By one estimate, an Embraer aircraft takes to the skies somewhere in the world every 10 seconds and the firm’s planes carry some 145 million passengers every year. That’s before we take stock of the Brazilian multinational’s defence and security arms, agricultural operations and R&D work.

All of which begs a question: why don’t people know more about the world’s third-largest aerospace firm and Latin America’s biggest defence business as it celebrates its 55th birthday? The man navigating a course for the aviation giant’s commercial operations, Arjan Meijer, isn’t fussed. People who know the industry know us and like the firm, he tells Monocle’s editorial director, Tyler Brûlé, at the company’s Amsterdam office, not far from Schiphol Airport.

Here’s what Meijer says when asked about what’s on the horizon, the parts of the industry that are still up in the air and the technology that’s primed for take-off.

Even though we’re sitting in your European HQ, let’s pretend we’re on an Embraer E-Jet E2. We sit down beside each other and start having a conversation. I say, ‘Nice to meet you, what do you do?’ How does Arjan Meijer introduce himself?
Oh, wow. I normally tell people that I work for Embraer. I don’t always immediately say what I do but if they keep asking, then I’ll tell them that I’m responsible for its commercial-aviation business.

And what if they say that they have never heard of the company?
Sometimes they have heard of it and sometimes they haven’t: it’s a mixed bag. If people know the aviation business well, then they’re aware that there are three big brands: Airbus, Boeing and Embraer. If you take the average person who doesn’t know much about the industry, then they will probably have an awareness of the first two brands and be interested in hearing about the third. They become even more interested when you tell them that it originated in Brazil.

How do you talk about this company that comes from the other side of the world? How do you define what it has become?
I love to discuss the business’s history. It was founded in 1969 and started off small, producing the [Embraer EMB 120] Brasilía and the [Embraer EMB 110] Bandeirante, but quickly progressed onto bigger things. People are amazed when I tell them that we build aircraft with up to 150 seats or when I mention the airlines that we operate with. I also tell them about my experience; the first time that I went to Brazil and saw what Embraer had achieved. When you go to the factory, you realise what a great business it is.

During your previous role at KLM, you had to interact with the plane-makers that are now your competitors. What makes Embraer an interesting company compared to European or American multinational players?
All of the major manufacturers are proud of what they have built. What you really notice when you go to the factory in Brazil, however, is the passion for the product and the way that people share that passion. Embraer allows guests to walk freely around the production floor. You can speak to the engineers and technicians who build the aircraft. It’s an amazing experience to talk to them directly and to feel the love that Brazilians have for constructing these products. Embraer is passionate about what it does but also about being such a hi-tech, Latin American company and bringing opportunities to young people in Brazil.

Is provenance important?
Eventually, yes. Politics plays a big role in our industry. European airlines are looking at European products and US airlines are looking at US products. Over the years, globalisation has opened up the markets. Our products are being used in aircraft around the world. We’re very big in the US, where all the main airlines are serviced by Embraer.

We’re popular in Europe and Canada too, where the E2 is now flying with Porter from Toronto. It’s hard to miss an E2 when you’re in Toronto Pearson Airport. In addition to this, we have always had a large presence in Africa, where we are the second-biggest OEM [original equipment manufacturer] after Boeing. There are more than 300 aircraft from our brand flying in the continent alone. Our numbers are also growing in Asia, China and Australia. Airlines know that Embraer builds great-quality products. The fact that the company is based in Latin America instead of, say, Europe or the US doesn’t really matter when you do business in the aviation sector.

Brazil is in an interesting position. It’s in the Americas but feels European in many ways. Does this sort of middle ground benefit Embraer?
Sometimes. But I wouldn’t say that it’s solely because the company is from Latin America. This middle ground is advantageous for us because it sets us apart from other brands. It’s in the best interest of the business world to have competition between multiple strong companies. The aviation industry has garnered a lot of attention over the years. Airlines are keen to talk to Embraer because they are aware of what it has achieved. They are aware that we not only know how to build aircraft but also how to certify them and support customers after they are built.

Does Embraer have a unique advantage because it is now a major player in executive aviation? Does its legacy in building smaller aircraft give it an edge?
Those are great questions. We have three main business units at Embraer: commercial, executive and defence. Then we have a separate unit focusing on service and support. There is hardly any overlap between our customer bases. Some clients might come to us for executive jets for their training business or narrowbody aircraft, such as the E2, for their mainline business but that’s very rare.

Our engineering and operations departments work across the three main business units and this allows us to be innovative with our work. One example that I like to give to illustrate this point is about the E2, which is now in its fourth generation. Before the E2, there was the E1. The second and the third edition of this aircraft emerged from our executive and defence branches. The creation of these models then led to a fourth, improved iteration: the E2. So you can see that engineering develops across the company, which makes for stronger products.

I’m a passenger at Zürich Airport. I’m heading across the tarmac to a plane that belongs to Helvetic or, perhaps, Porter. Does the manufacturer of the aircraft matter? Should passengers know that they’re flying in an Embraer jet?
I don’t think that it’s necessary for passengers to know about the brand that they’re flying with. But there are a couple of strong points that we market as Embraer. One of them is that we have a very spacious cabin and there are no middle seats. You have a little bit of an executive-jet experience when you travel on one of our aircraft. Frequent flyers know and like the Embraer brand.

There were a series of models in the 30- to 50-passenger territory at the Farnborough Air Show this year. Is there a the gap in the market for aircraft of this size now that sustainability is a key focal point in aviation?
The industry has committed to a net-zero CO2 output by 2050. Sustainable aviation fuel [SAF] is also under development. We know that this is one angle. It’s probably what I’d like to call the “low-hanging fruit”; something that’s achievable with our current engines.

We’re trying to reduce fuel burn in our aircraft from the beginning of the manufacturing process, and to certify SAF by the end of the decade. We want to comply with sustainability goals in new technologies, whether they’re electric, hybrid or hydrogen-based.

Is Embraer well positioned to enter this market?
We know that we’ll have to start small. It won’t be possible to build an E2 on batteries or fly purely on hydrogen any time soon. That’s why we established Energia, an experienced team of airlines, suppliers and other aviation experts that advises us on the development of sustainable aircraft. We founded the group for three reasons. First, we wanted to study the application of these new technologies. What would they look like? How would they work in practice? Second we wanted to contact partners that are active in this space. And, third, we wanted to talk to our customers to understand why smaller aircraft have disappeared from the industry over the past 40 to 50 years. Would they make a comeback if we made them more sustainable?

Though we haven’t launched anything in this space yet, we’re talking about it with our partners. It’s important for us to understand whether there’s a viable case for aircraft of this size in the future.

Why do you think that the 30- to 50-passenger aircraft disappeared?
This is a question that continues to crop up in discourse between different aviation companies. Embraer recently created an airline advisory group; some 30 different parties are involved.This segment has probably disappeared as a result of the high unit cost of smaller aircraft. Newer technology fuel requires more money to buy, so exploring this market would be relatively expensive. On the flip side, it could open airlines up to secondary networks, allowing for more point-to-point flights between cities. Some customers might even pay a premium for flying directly from A to B, therefore bypassing major hubs, all while travelling green.

Smaller aircraft represent a largely untapped market. We don’t have an answer as to where we’ll go next in this space but we have laid different scenarios out on the table. It’s something that we’re monitoring closely as we consider the possibilities.

There are very few airline CEOs left who are still visionaries (most are former accountants). How much do you, as Embraer, have to build on your dreams?
There’s always an element of building involved. It starts with concepts. We first need to figure out how an idea could take shape and be economically viable. Those are the first steps whenever we decide to launch a new product. There are many companies around the world that do this but we believe that Embraer is the best at it: we know how to build aircraft, certify products and support our partners.

This process is common when it comes to manufacturing helicopters. It’s something that we adopted when we established Eve Air Mobility, our first product of which will be a vertical takeoff machine for four to six passengers. It will fly a relatively short range – up to 100 km – and come to market in 2026.

Do you see potential for Embraer to further cement its presence in the helicopter space?
Producing more helicopters could help to satisfy the demand for more aircraft in the aviation industry. As we speak, 2,900 EVTOL [electric vertical takeoff and landing] aircraft are under lois [letters of intent] with customers. There’s a lot of interest in developing this area of the business, which is very promising.

We live in a world where nimbyism is on the rise. Do you think that an increase in the number of people objecting to aviation developments could make it difficult to get them off the ground?
EVTOLs are a very strong proposition, especially for heavily congested cities. Though they are a little noisy, there are many circumstances in which they could prove useful, including transport to events or even airports. Europeans are well known for being sensitive about noise and emissions, so we’ll have to see how something like this could work in a city such as Amsterdam.

We’ll see. Will you stick to manufacturing single-aisle aircraft or move on to widebody models for the commercial business?
There are two questions when it comes to producing widebody aircraft: one, can Embraer do it? And two, will Embraer do it? Airlines are already asking us to get involved in the sector, which is extremely flattering. Some carriers have commented on how well we are performing in terms of not only building aircraft but also delivery and reliability. Making something of this size is not for the faint-hearted but we have proven that we could do it from a technical perspective. Take the C-390 [Millennium], our biggest multipurpose mission aircraft from defence. It’s bigger than a Boeing 737 and has the width of a widebody. The first Embraer aircraft had between 20 and 30 seats, which then increased to 50, 80 and, finally, 150. Larger aircraft are a consideration but we’ll have to see what the future brings.

We’re not far from Schiphol. The airport has been a bit of a flashpoint in the past, with the Dutch government cutting back operations to limit emissions. How much of your time is focused on showing that flying can be a force for good?
It’s something that’s important to me. We need to demonstrate that we can build more sustainable, quieter aircraft. If we have proven anything by the launch of our newest E2-Jet family member, it’s exactly that. We have reduced emissions by more than 25 per cent per seat and the noise profile is about 60 per cent smaller than it used to be. I live under the approach path of Schiphol, so I can hear the aircraft coming over.

So you heard me on the 737 this morning?
[Laughs] Yes. But I also heard the improvements that we’re making as an industry. Compared to the big four-engine aircrafts of the past, the planes flying over are now noticeably quieter.

What do you think about Schiphol’s efforts to cut back operations?
The Netherlands should be proud to have Schiphol. You can’t kill transit traffic and then expect to continue travelling around the globe on a frequent basis. The airport brings huge economic value to the Netherlands, so the discussion [about limiting services] continues to amaze me. KLM says that we need to focus on improving the world by reducing the noise and emissions of aircraft. That’s the right way to go.

If you look at the tarmac right now, is any airline a potential customer for you? Or is there a deal that you would love to win?
We have a solid relationship with legacy carriers, which need a variety of aircraft sizes to operate. You need larger aircraft for long routes and smaller aircraft to feed your hub. That’s where our models fit in well. In the US, regional airlines such as Republic and Sky West feed bigger carriers, including United, Delta, American and Alaska. Other operators have a single fleet. And then there are airlines such as Azul in Brazil, which has much more of a local focus.

So does the key to improving carriers’ operations lie in diversifying their fleet?
We have 350 E-Jets flying in Europe. It’s likely that many of those will be replaced by E2s over time. They’re the bread and butter of our business. Porter’s network is solely made up of E2s. In the past, choosing to operate smaller aircraft meant that trips were cheaper but seats were more expensive. With our E2 family, trip costs are still low but seat costs are similar to other models, including Airbus A320s and Boeing 737s. Airlines are starting to see this now.

Single-fleet carriers recognise that E2s work well as a standalone aircraft, which allows them to have a competitive business plan. Porter is a great example of this, as are low-cost carriers that have traditionally leant on 737s or A320s to form the majority of their fleet. We’re coming to a point when adding a second type of aircraft to operators’ fleets could work well for them. This will be one of the biggest points of difference in the market going forward.

I know you’re not supposed to pick favourites but who impresses you? Who do you admire on the airline side?
Well, I don’t like to single out any of my customers too much but there are a couple of examples that come to mind. I have mentioned Porter already and what it is doing outside Toronto is amazing. It started small in Billy Bishop and has launched the new airline from Pearson on a new footing. It’s very successful. I also think of airlines such as Azul in Brazil, which is replacing its E-Jets with E2s. It has told many people that the E2 and A320 Neo have similar seat costs. We love carriers that not only try our models but also tell the world that they really work. It’s even better that our customers have started to recommend the E2 as a complement to widebody fleets.

You’ve highlighted two businesses that broke the mould. Is there potential for the European market to be more daring?
Europe is starting to learn that bigger, narrowbody aircraft aren’t always the most efficient to manufacture or run. The turnaround times are longer and the flying distance in Europe is a little bit shorter. If you speak to major airlines, you’ll learn that they see a lot of potential in smaller planes. Over the next couple of years, many more carriers will be operating with them in their fleets.

How do you envision this change taking place at European airlines? Is there still room for the continent to grow in terms of aviation?
Several discussions are taking place with European airlines about replacing the E-Jet fleet. Many years ago, you might have had, say, a 30:70 mix between your regional jets and E-Jets. Today it makes sense to have more of a balance between the two. That new seat-pricing paradigm shift puts E2s on more of a level playing field with the larger aircraft out there. So there’s a huge opportunity for Europe to grow and adapt to a different business model. This has been embraced with the E-Jets already but E2s will allow the airlines to play that game even better.

Our pick of the best seasonal styles, from cosy cardigans to classic coats

The Landskein
Ireland

Irish designer Anna Guerin spent 16 years honing her craft in the fashion industry before starting her label, The Landskein, in 2019. It offers a small, evolving collection of voluminous coats and blazers made in fine Donegal tweed. Every one is designed to be worn for “at least one lifetime”, says Guerin.

Researching the intangible value of heritage fabrics for her master’s degree led Guerin to the understanding that there was something very special about sourcing materials such as tweed from artisanal weavers in Ireland, rather than getting them for a lower price in other parts of the world. “People often have an emotional attachment to that sense of heritage,” she says. The Landskein tweeds are woven in lambswool by Seán and Kieran Molloy, fifth-generation weavers in County Donegal, while the jackets are cut by hand and sewn in European factories, allowing Guerin to keep a close eye on production. Longevity is always the primary goal, with silhouettes chosen for their enduring appeal rather than the latest trends and styles.

It’s the uncompromising volume of fabric that makes every coat feel so sumptuous. “To put four metres of Donegal tweed into a coat is extremely generous and it just looks so incredibly beautiful,” she says. The Landskein operates from a studio showroom in the Dublin seaside suburb of Dún Laoghaire, where customers can come in for private appointments to find the coat that is right for them. Some find that they can’t quite choose between two styles and end up coming a second time. “People are willing to make the investment if something is really good quality and feels luxurious,” says Guerin.

Switch
Italy

Florentine boutique Switch is well known as one of the most elegant addresses in the Tuscan capital. This year the shop moved to the upmarket Oltrarno district, debuting an updated look and refreshing its line-up of clothes and accessories. Owner Lorenzo Armati, an accomplished carpenter, worked on remodelling the storefront and dressing the windows, tapping in to his past experience in window design for the likes of Prada and Louis Vuitton.

Inside the shop you’ll find labels such as La Paz, Portuguese Flannel and California-based Gramicci. A selection of wetsuits and surfboards are also on offer, given Armati’s love of surfing. “I offer brands not found elsewhere, as well as items I would wear myself,” he says, pointing to Finnish trainer label Karhu and Antwerp-based womenswear brand Girls of Dust. “Switch always reflects my interests – that’s the best way to put together a shop,” he says. “You have to believe in the products that you are selling.”
switchshop.it

Ormaie
France

Marie-Lise Jonak and Baptiste Bouygues, the mother and son behind fragrance brand Ormaie, have successfully combined their professional backgrounds (Jonak’s in fragrance consulting, Bouygues’s in fashion communications) to establish a family-run label in a market typically associated with mass production. “Scents are deeply linked to memory,” says Bouygues. “All our inspirations come from people and places that we know, so it’s easy for us to work together. When I mention the smell of the soap in my grandmother’s kitchen, my mother knows exactly what I’m talking about.”

The 10 eaux de parfums in their collection are rooted in personal experiences: the memory of a childhood classroom inspired the spice-and wood-layered Papier Carbone scent, while the smell of the family garden has informed the rosy Yvonne. Each fragrance takes months to perfect, with Jonak managing the back and forth with perfumers in Grasse and Bouygues sourcing ingredients from rose plantations in Marrakech or vanilla farms in Madagascar.

What’s more, the brand’s art deco-inspired bottles are collectable objects in their own right: the glass is made by a specialist in whiskey bottles, the sculptural tops are carved by a woodworker and the labels are printed by Imprimerie du Marais in Paris. Given the amount of detail that goes into each fragrance, new releases are rare. Ormaie’s latest scent, dubbed 18-12, launched in 2023, six years after the original collection. This autumn it  has made a line of extraits de parfums based on the best-selling Yvonne and Toï Toï Toï. “These will be more opulent counterparts to our poetic fragrances,” says Bouygues.
ormaie.paris

Yoke
UK

After working as a fashion buyer for more than a decade, London-based Lucy Bacon decided to launch her own brand, Yoke, specialising in knit and loungewear. “I became well versed in how to make clothes and the art of maintaining relationships with factories, pattern cutters and mills,” says Bacon. “I get emotionally attached to clothes and with Yoke, I want to create pieces that will never age.”

Since the label’s debut in March, Bacon has released colourful, brushed mohair knitwear, as well as relaxed Cuban shirts, pale-blue and white gingham sets and cream linen utility jackets, all combining minimalist cuts with playful colour combinations or graphic patterns.

A family-run artisanal mill outside Perugia in Italy manufactures Yoke’s knitwear, while the cotton sets are cut and sewn in north London, using end-of-roll fabrics from luxury houses. “Every fabric is made from natural fibres so that, if the clothes do end up in landfill, no microplastics will be released,” says Bacon. By working with surplus fabrics, designs can only be released in limited quantities, sometimes as little as three at a time. “You won’t see many people walking down the street in the same outfit,” she says.

This autumn, Yoke will be releasing shirts and trousers cut from a “tonic cloth”, a wool-and-cotton fabric mostly used in suiting and featuring the faintest sheen. “My ambition is to build up a library of perfect pieces that can be updated in terms of fabric and colour,” she says. “Over time I’ll continue to add to the library.”
yoke-studio.com

7115 by Szeki
Denmark, China & USA

Szeki Chan began designing clothes while working as a singer in her native Hong Kong. Frustrated by the tight-fitting outfits she wore on stage, she created looser, more comfortable pieces that would become the foundation of her clothing brand, 7115 by Szeki, which made its debut in New York. “I focused on creating the kind of clothes that I had always searched for: comfortable, well-crafted and reliable,” she says.

Over the past 16 years, Chan has refined her offerings, particularly after relocating to Copenhagen, where she opened her first shop not in the US. “People here do minimalism like no one else,” she says. “This city has solidified the look of the brand.”

Drawing on the simplicity associated with both Nordic and Japanese design, Chan’s brand continues to appeal to a global audience. “With every new collection, we edit out pieces that won’t age well,” she says. For autumn, we have our eye on the boxy cotton blazers, smart ribbed-knit cardigans and corduroy sets.
7115byszeki.com

Frère
France

Paris’s favourite contemporary fashion label, Soeur, is expanding into menswear with a dedicated line appropriately named Frère. In true French fashion, founders and sisters Domitille and Angélique Brion have always blurred the lines between masculine and feminine style codes so turning their attention to their male counterparts was a natural next step for the fast-growing business, which operates 48 boutiques across France, Spain and the UK.

“We’re into men’s tailoring – details like internal buttons and linings have become strong signatures for us,” says Domitille. The Frère style is “relaxed yet refined”, with cosy knits, smart tweed coats, tailored shirts and brown gilets – ideal for autumn. “We are striving to [offer] an affordable designer brand and tapping into the longing for individuality, to have a sharper outlook and responsible manufacturing processes,” Freja Day, the brand’s ceo, tells monocle.
soeur.fr

Totes and charms
Global

Accessories trends come and go but a classic tote bag never loses relevance. The best ones are big enough to fit all your belongings, yet compact enough to carry from the office to a chic restaurant. This season there’s an array of options to choose from, including Prada’s new Belt bag, Loewe’s popular Puzzle styles and Celine’s extra large bucket bags.

Picking sturdy leather that will age well is essential – independent label Manu Atelier is known for sourcing high-quality skins for its bags, including its new Du Jour tote. We recommend adding a personal touch such as a charm.
manuatelier.com; loewe.com; prada.com; celine.com

How 1940s-era bungalows of the Mar Vista Tract are nurturing the community

When Gillian Tennant and Steven Summers started house hunting in Los Angeles for their family of four, they had the goal of any reasonable Aussie transplants: a modern home not too far from the beach. They happened to be driving past a stretch of low bungalows on Beethoven Street, just off Venice Boulevard, when they were stopped in their tracks. The houses would probably have passed unnoticed had it not been for the gathering that was taking place out front. “In someone’s yard, there was a live band playing, with people sitting on the lawn listening,” says Tennant. “That’s something you don’t see anywhere. We said to each other that this is where we want to live.”

This scene of 1950s-era neighbourhood bonhomie that Tennant and Summers had stumbled on is typical for the Mar Vista Tract. A grouping of 52 houses that runs three streets deep (Beethoven, Moore and Meier Street, from west to east), this modernist enclave is easily missed when driving through the flat suburbia that sprawls out east of Venice Beach. The main decoration on the small, colourful bungalows are slim, V-shaped trusses that hold up awnings over garage doors and entrance walkways. But when Tennant and Summers fixed their mind on living in one, they had to get in line. Mar Vista Tract residents hardly ever leave; when a house does go up for sale, bids can exceed $2m (€1.8m).

In Southern California’s modernist architectural heritage, which mostly consists of the ritzy and secluded single-family villa, the Mar Vista Tract is a misfit. So was its architect, Gregory Ain, the child of a socialist Polish émigré who grew up partly on a commune. Ain viewed architecture as a “social art” that should address the “common architectural problems of common people”. After working in the drafting room of Austrian master Richard Neutra, he opened his own office in the late 1930s. By the mid-1940s, together with associates Joseph Johnson and Alfred Day, he started planning the Mar Vista houses.

Ain himself referred to his masterplan as a tract – a term connoted with a kind of repetitive, characterless suburbia. In Ain’s design, the houses have the same basic layout and average just 98 sq m but every millimetre was carefully considered. The architect developed a plan that maximises space and flexibility using sliding doors and an open kitchen. By flipping and rotating this floorplan, and varying the position of the garage, he made every home slightly unique. Just as much thought was given to the surrounding green spaces. Ain’s frequent collaborator, Harvard-educated landscape architect Garrett Eckbo, drew up fenceless, communal gardens planted with species from six continents. Each parallel street had its own plant-lined walkway: ficus for Beethoven, melaleuca for Moore and magnolia for Meier. Backyards were dotted with loquat, mulberry, plum and guava trees to encourage fruit trading and socialising between neighbours.

The houses were completed in 1948 and christened the Modernique Homes (“Modern in design, unique in liveability!”). While keeping mum about Ain’s socialist leanings, the advertising material emphasised his innovative design solutions. “Check these features against homes twice the cost” it urged, followed by a 10-point list ticking off all that Ain had squeezed in, including folding and sliding doors that made space for one, two or three bedrooms, floor-to-ceiling windows and a dining table between the kitchen and living room that doubled as a buffet or a bar.

The design was progressive for the 1940s but prospective buyers, alas, did not take in Ain’s nuanced vision. Though the houses started at a reasonable $12,400 (just over $160,000 in today’s money), they were in a blue-collar area where homes sold for a third of that sum. The neighbouring property was a shooting range. The mainstream reaction to the development is captured in the 1949 film noir Tension, where a newlywed couple arrive in Mar Vista and the husband proudly presents the home he has picked out for them. Behind Ain’s unadorned design, barren fields stretch into the distance. “It’s 30 minutes from nowhere,” says the wife, sliding into the driver’s seat and taking off.

Though the Mar Vista Tract was a commercial failure, it attracted residents who saw the value of Ain’s design, many of them architects and designers. Early occupants included the founders of Architectural Pottery, the company that pioneered modernist ceramics in the US. The tract has also had an LA-appropriate share of intrigue (including one murder mystery) and makes several unexpected cameos in the city’s cultural history (empty pools in the tract informed early designs of skateparks).

When Amanda Seward and Hans Adamson moved in on Moore Street in 1994, they had never heard of Gregory Ain. “This was the only house that we could both agree on,” says Seward. The couple only had a lay interest in architecture: Seward, who grew up in Santa Monica, is a lawyer, while Swedish-born Adamson produces music software. But when they began work on the fixer-upper, which needed a new roof, they started digging into the neighbourhood’s history. The previous owner had left behind the tract’s original blueprints. “He had been an enthusiast of these buildings and I inherited that with the house,” says Adamson, who started researching the original planting schemes and colour palettes of the homes. “It took years of detective work.”

By that time, in the late 1990s, Mar Vista was becoming a desirable place to live in LA, and the first McMansions had started popping up in the area. Eventually somebody submitted a planning application for adding a second floor to their Ain house but the neighbours did not acquiesce.

Angela Caputo, Ken Kook & Maya Cook

“We moved from Chicago to Los Angeles and happened to cycle by here and saw a ‘for sale’ sign out front – we put a bid in and got it,” says Angela Caputo, who has lived on Moore Street since 2020. “This is a very welcoming neighbourhood. People are so warm here. It would be tough if that atmosphere were lost. Hopefully, many of the neighbours’ children will stay. We hope that our daughter will one day have this place.”

Gillian Tennant & Steven Summers

“We have been surprised by how safe this neighbourhood is, especially for this part of Los Angeles,” says Gillian Tennant, who has lived on Meier Street with her partner, Steven Summers, and their young family since 2023. “We thought we couldn’t let the children out the front door but there are kids running up and down the street. They love it here. The only odd thing is how many people take photos of the house while driving by.”

Takashi Yanai

“I made an offer on a house here 20 years ago and didn’t get it but I always thought that someday I would live in one of these houses,” says Takashi Yanai, whose vision became a reality when he bought a house on Meier Street in 2023. “I want to make it possible for more people to experience this architecture. I have hosted dance performances and art exhibitions; next up is a karate performer. I am thinking about starting an informal artist residency.”

Ruth Handel & Lloyd Scott

“Living in these houses makes you appreciate time in a different way,” says Ruth Handel, who has lived on Moore Street since 1999. “I’m working on a book about life in the tract and have been gathering stories and photos from previous residents. In one stack of photos I received, the first photo was of someone sitting in exactly the same spot I was in. It was a strange moment. You realise that you’re just passing through.”

Bonnie Jones & Anni Michaelsen

“We moved in 54 years ago, six months apart,” says Bonnie Jones, who has lived on Meier Street since 1970, with Anni Michaelsen across the street. “We both had children and became friends. In most houses at the time, the kitchen was in the back and you looked out through a tiny window. Here everything is open. We have never wanted to change our homes. The architect knew what he was doing.”

Hans Adamson & Amanda Seward

“While we were waiting for our bank to finalise the sale, the Los Angeles earthquake hit,” says Hans Adamson, who bought a place on Moore Street, with Amanda Seward, in 1994. “Buildings collapsed everywhere and we came over here to see if our home was still standing. But there was no damage anywhere in the tract. The construction is so light. We often get estate agents knocking on our door but we will never sell.”

A grassroots movement of residents including Seward and Adamson began pushing to make the Mar Vista Tract a Historic Preservation Overlay Zone, or HPOZ, which blocks outward changes to a historically significant district. The move was unprecedented – no other postwar modernist buildings were protected by the programme. In 2003, after years of campaigning, 50 of 52 homeowners voted in favour.

“These houses are small and people think that they need to live in a palace,” says Anni Michaelsen, a resident since 1970 who went door-to-door cajoling signatures in favour of the HPOZ. Danish-born Michaelsen opened her impeccably furnished home for campaign meetings and cocktail receptions. “I wanted to show what people wanted to tear up,” she said. “If we hadn’t done that, these houses would have disappeared.” Now any changes to the street-facing façades are off limits and most renovation work must pass approval of a five-person board made up of residents and at least one architect.

Mar Vista turned out to be the last large-scale housing project completed by Ain. The architect was hounded by the FBI as a suspected communist, and commissions dried up. It is a fortunate twist that the community spirit that Ain set out to create in Mar Vista is also what enabled this nook of LA to be preserved. “This architecture has a simplicity, openness and democracy to it,” says Seward. “Those are things that I am still attracted to.”

When Tennant and Summers first placed an offer for an Ain house, they were outbid; likewise with a second, a few years later. “We almost gave up,” says Tennant. But last year a house came up for sale on Meier Street and the third time proved the charm. The sunset-facing home was one of the best-kept in the neighbourhood, with welcome extra living space thanks to a tasteful 1960s expansion. The couple have created an LA-meets-Sydney idyll in warm wood and earthy tones, with pieces by mid-century designers Paul McCobb and Bror Boije.

Having settled into life in Mar Vista, the family’s first impression has held up. The tract’s residents all correspond on a reply-all email chain, where there are frequent invitations to barbecues and events. “We don’t have family here, so we really appreciate that,” says Tennant. “If anything happens, you’ll be looked after.” The Australians also feel at home thanks to the amount of wildlife that resides in Eckbo’s 75-year-old scheme. Coyotes, raccoons and squirrels all pass by the front porch, while a stately redwood in their yard hosts a family of hawks.

Across the street from Tennant and Summers is the house of Takashi Yanai, a Japanese-born architect who uses the home as a studio, salon and event space. This summer he invited an LA-based dance company to stage a show around the homes. Suddenly, his new neighbours found themselves at the centre of precisely the kind of event that had first drawn them here. “The performers moved down the street and then stopped in our front yard,” says Summers. “The whole neighbourhood came.”

Lucky escapes: The best new luxury hotels across the globe

Scorpios
Bodrum

Soho House & Co’s Scorpios beach club has opened an outpost on Turkey’s Bodrum peninsula. Alongside Med classics including lemon and courgette linguine, the menu features local favourites such as cig kofte (meatballs) and ariani (a yoghurt drink). For extended stays, there are 12 stone bungalows that riff on traditional Aegean residences, with terracotta interiors and floor-to-ceiling windows. The terrace hosts a mix of musicians, DJs and emerging artists. “This blend makes for unexpected connections,” says Scorpios’s co-CEO Thomas Heyne. “We want our guests to feel inspired.”
scorpios.com

La Roqqa
Porto Ercole

Dubbed the Portofino of Maremma, the Tuscan town of Porto Ercole on the Monte Argentario peninsula draws a discerning crowd. Here, you’ll find the 55-room La Roqqa hotel, a cliffside retreat owned by Swedish entrepreneur Conni Jonsson with floor-to-ceiling windows, an outdoor terrace and a rooftop bar. Milan-based Palomba Serafini Associati has transformed the property into an unexpected sanctuary. The interiors are fitted out with Italian design classics such as Gaetano Pesce’s Up chair, while contemporary furnishings match the sage-green and Tuscan terracotta colour scheme. The standout dish at the hotel’s Scirocco restaurant is the spaghetto otto pomodori. The Isolotto Beach Club invites patrons to linger by the sea and dip their toes in the waters of the Tyrrhenian.
laroqqa.com

Basq House
Byron Bay

Basq House, a 32-key hotel in southeastern Australia’s coastal idyll of Byron Bay, is just a five-minute walk from the beach and a short trek inland from the area’s waterfalls and forested trails. The property is brimming with Moroccan-inspired design and lush greenery, and its guest rooms are arranged around a heated pool in the courtyard. Every room’s light-filled interiors feature warm tiling, sleek wood furniture, paintings by regional artists and a minibar stocked with Australian wines.

The hotel also offers a library with an open fireplace, a living room and a lounge with snacks, cocktails and board games, which encourage guests to mingle. “We wanted the property to feel as though it was a luxury home,” says Basq House’s co-founder Matt Walsh. “The rooms are for sleeping in and the common areas are for socialising”.
basqhouse.com.au

Deos
Mykonos

Deos, The Myconian Collection’s latest opening, sits on a hill overlooking Mykonos’s old harbour. Crafted by Galal Mahmoud of Beirut-based GM Architects, the 60-key hotel blends indoor and outdoor spaces using contemporary Cycladic design and natural elements such as rocks and native plants. The whitewashed buildings sit among gardens with silver olive trees and large terracotta amphorae. “My favourite spot is the terrace by the pool,” says Vangelis Daktylides, a member of the family who runs the hospitality group. “It offers views of Mykonos Town on one side and the Aegean on the other.”
deosmykonos.gr

Dunas de Formentera
Formentera

The smallest of Spain’s Balearic islands, Formentera offers visitors a more relaxing ambience than neighbouring Ibiza, which is rightly famous for its heaving nightlife. Those seeking serenity have a new property to explore: Dunas de Formentera, a 45-key hideout that occupies a picturesque strip of land next to Migjorn beach. The hotel’s modernist-inspired interiors are decorated in a soothing palette of beige, terracotta and off-white. Patrons can choose between suites with sea views and rooms immersed in nature. The unfussy beauty of the surroundings is complemented by a casual, Mediterranean-inspired kitchen that specialises in grilled fish and pizzas prepared in a Neapolitan-style wood-fired oven. To soak up the sun, guests can stretch out on a lounger next to the hotel’s infinity pool or take a short stroll to the white-sand dunes.
dunasdeformentera.com

Hôtel Balzac
Paris

Novelist and playwright Honoré de Balzac lived in a handsome neoclassical residence off Paris’s Avenue des Champs-Élysées. Some 25 years after his death in 1850, the townhouse became a hotel celebrating his life and work. Design duo Charlotte de Tonnac and Hugo Sauzay of Festen Architecture completed a thoughtful revamp of the building this summer, updating it with neutral fabrics, subtle décor and bespoke wooden furniture.

The 58-key hotel’s subdued interior belies the grandeur of the city’s eighth arrondissement. The address is also home to the Ikoi spa, which offers ancient Japanese treatments, as well as chef Pierre Gagnaire’s traditional French restaurant.
hotelbalzac.paris