Issues

The road to Denmark’s emergence as Scandinavia’s design powerhouse

Since the turn of the 20th century, design has a been a strong export for Nordic countries. Denmark, Finland and Sweden have been particularly fruitful, producing creatives such as Arne Jacobsen, Eero Saarinen and Svenskt Tenn’s Estrid Ericson, respectively. But, in recent years, Denmark has emerged as the standout leader in the region.

In Sweden, the Stockholm Furniture Fair, the region’s industry gathering of choice, has in the words of Stockholm mayor Karin Wanngård, “had a couple of difficult years”, which has resulted in the city opting to sell the fairgrounds.

Finland, meanwhile, after exporting the likes of Alvar and Aino Aalto, is now seeing its brands and fairs actively up the ante: heritage glassware specialists Iittala recently went through a rebrand to appeal to a more international audience. Meanwhile, Helsinki’s flagship fair, Habitare, introduced a globally focused trade section at its 2023 edition in an effort to attract visitors from across the world. All of this begs the question: in a contest to determine the Nordic’s top design powerhouse, would Denmark now win?

Great Danes
The legacy names, innovative studios, visionary designers and creative agencies augmenting the country’s long-established design scene

“We understand design on so many levels in Denmark,” says Maria Bruun, one of the new and award-winning stars of Danish furniture design. “It is so deeply rooted in us through everything we are exposed to, from the cycle lanes to the signage.” Monocle meets her in her Østerbro showroom, where she’s gathering pieces to send to a new exhibition in Jutland, to discuss the rise of the new generation of Danish design. “Design has been a huge part in creating good social structures here.”

Over the past 20 years, there has been an explosion of talent and success in Denmark. Today, design permeates every aspect of Danish industry and society, significantly boosting the economy and the quality of life here. But where did the wave start? Was this the Danish equivalent of South Korea’s government-supported Hallyu?

The country’s well-documented mid-century design heritage provided a foundation. “Danes have design in their DNA,” says Signe Byrdal Terenziani, CEO of Copenhagen’s 3 Days of Design – now the Nordics’ leading design festival.

“One reason is that, long ago, our government decided to support the industry by using Danish furniture in public spaces, waiting rooms and hospitals.”

3 Days of Design
Founded in 2013, this event brings together 400 exhibitors every June, including local firms Vipp and Louis Poulsen, and global brands such as Koyori. It’s Scandinavia’s flagship design event, with furniture brands and independent creatives showing in galleries, halls shops, showrooms and churches around the Danish capital.

Wickie Meier Engström, director of textile recycling company Kvadrat Really, agrees. “My generation grew up with Arne Jacobsen chairs in our schools, Poul Kjaerholm in our banks. We are a whole nation brought up with very good design,” she says. “In the 1960s, using great designs in public buildings was a way for the expanding welfare state to show their citizens they were taken care of,” adds Henrik Taudorf Lorensen, who founded sustainable furniture brand Takt in 2018.

There are no net curtains in Denmark, so one of the great pleasures of visiting is marvelling at how well the locals live. Or, yes, snooping. You still see mid-century classics in many homes: the soft light from a Le Klint lampshade falling on a jazzy Finn Juhl sofa that cost more than a car; a PH lamp spotlighting a Børge Mogensen Sled chair for which you would gladly exchange a kidney.

Sustainability
Pushing circularity and sustainability is a shared cause across the Danish design scene, with brands actively improving their green credentials. Case in point: Takt. Founded in 2018, it makes repairable or modifiable furniture with transparency over cost. It has a mark-up of two times its production cost, instead of the typical five time increase

But you will also encounter great contemporary design elsewhere too. It’s everywhere, from the moment you land at Copenhagen’s Kastrup, cross the Hørning hardwood parquet floors of the arrivals hall and pass directly to the driverless Metro, before wafting smoothly into a city where, thanks to local urban design guru Jan Gehl, humans are prioritised over cars.

Travel beyond the capital and you can enjoy the extravagance of an elegantly lit motorway bridge, visit spectacular museums such as Henning Larsen’s Moesgaard in Aarhus, or admire the clear yet characterful typography of train platform signage. Turn on the TV, meanwhile, and prime time on dr1, you can currently catch series five of one of the most hotly discussed shows of recent years: Danmarks Naeste Klassiker (Denmark’s Next Classics), in which up-and-coming designers compete to create – you guessed it – a new chair. Danes don’t just live with great design; they discuss it, fret over it, laud and applaud it. And that makes all the difference.

Spend some time here and you will also experience less tangible forms of thorough-thought design at work: the systems and strategies that help the country function so well; the design that positions the Danes among the richest people in the world per capita even though they work the fewest hours of any OECD country; the kind of design that means this supposedly agricultural nation of 5.9 million is home to the world’s largest shipping, toy and pharmaceutical companies.

It’s big in beer, clothing, green energy, facility management and robotics too. Their pharma giant, Novo Nordisk, is the largest company of any kind in Europe in terms of share value. Novo, whose growth almost single-handedly kept Denmark out of recession last year, reportedly employs several times more designers than any of the largest design companies. This is nothing new: the great master builder Arne Jacobsen used to design its factories, its furniture and its in-house magazine. Design seemingly pervades every aspect of business and private life here.

According to public-private marketing organisation Creative Denmark, last year the combined creative industries generated a revenue of €57.1bn (total Danish GDP is €373bn). That figure has grown by 34 per cent since 2014 and more than 60 per cent is directly from design-related activities. But these days, it is more difficult than ever to properly quantify the whole contribution of design to the Danish economy because this new design boom permeates everything, from top to bottom.

Heritage brands
From the late 19th century to the 1960s, Fritz Hansen, Fredericia, Carl Hansen & Søn and Kvadrat established Denmark as a global design destination. It’s a legacy that they’re building on, with initiatives like Kvadrat Really, which turns textile waste into hardboard for furniture production, tabletops and felt.

But it wasn’t always this way. For decades those mid-century titans of design were more of a burden than an inspiration. “A discussion we had for a long time in the design community was that Arne Jacobsen was so broad that nobody could pass him,” says Bo Linnemann, founder of Kontrapunkt, arguably Denmark’s leading brand agency of the past 40 years. Monocle meets Linnemann and his son, Philip, a partner at the firm, at the former’s home (which just happens to be the house and studio that Jacobsen built for himself in Klampenborg in 1951). Linnemann, however, believes the current generation of Danish designers are finally moving beyond the legacy of Jacobsen and his peers.

One visible manifestation was the rise of furniture and homeware companies such as Hay and Muuto, which brought high-quality Danish design to the high street in the 2000s (both were subsequently bought by US furniture giants). Bjarke Ingels, now a world-renowned architect, founded his studio, BIG, in 2006, with its first iconic building, 8 House, completed in 2011. Key fashion names such as Stine Goya, Henrik Vibskov and Ganni emerged, the latter pioneering mass-market sustainable fashion. Multi-disciplinary design studios such as Norm Architects and OEO, and furniture companies like &Tradition, Frama, Mater, and Menu (now Audo) redefined contemporary Danish interior style. DesignIt, Kontrapunkt, Barkas and e-Types made huge waves internationally in strategy, brand design and typography. And a shoutout, too, to Vipp, which somehow turned a pedal bin into a lifestyle.

The great industrial designer Cecilie Manz came to prominence around this time too, as did Dorte Mandrup, one of the country’s most acclaimed architects of the past 20 years. And crucially, two new trade fairs blossomed that transformed the way their industries spoke about the world. The biannual Copenhagen Fashion Week (which runs alongside the Copenhagen International Fashion Fair) is a leader in sustainability in the industry. Meanwhile, furniture-focused 3 Days of Design shirked presentations in trade halls for sunny showcases in showrooms and galleries in the middle of Copenhagen’s summer.

There is a consensus that the one thing we are definitely not looking at here is a government-driven Danish Hallyu. “It came from industry and creativity first,” Ditte Lysgaard Vind of the Danish Design Center tells Monocle. “We are independent, for instance – and 3 Days of Design has never had government grants.”

“The government produced a growth plan for the creative industries in 2019,” says Lukas Eedes, who is responsible for fashion at the (partly government-funded) Creative Denmark. “That was a bit late, if you ask me. But the creative industries were already riding a wave by then.”

The state may not have initiated anything but it has always offered financial and advisory support for small companies and start-ups in the creative fields. “The government does a lot with export initiatives around the globe,” says Jacob Nannestad, who co-founded Umage, a furniture and lighting company with an emphasis on sustainability, in 2008. He has recently been in London and Seoul with other Danish brands as part of a government promotion. “The government helps make smaller companies stronger by bringing us together in a joint export project.”

Another key source of state support is the DKK29.4m (€3.94m) awarded to crafts and design annually by the Statens Kunstfond (the Danish Arts Foundation, part of the Ministry of Culture), as well as other money donated by charitable foundations, of which there is an extensive ecosystem in Denmark. The Danish welfare system plays its part too, of course. Not only are university tuition fees paid but students receive DKK5,500 (€740) a month. Upon graduation, there are decent unemployment benefits and other welfare provisions if need be. As Marie Grønkaer, co-founder of graphic design collective Alexis Mark tells Monocle on a visit to its street-level studio and event space on the edge of Nørrebro: “It’s a huge factor that you are paid to study – you have no loans to pay off. And you have the freedom to fail.”

In terms of the design education itself, a dramatic change in approach at the turn of the century seems to have been another catalyst behind the boom. “From 2000, we included research in education – and that was a paradigm shift,” says Mathilde Aggebo, dean of design at the Royal Danish Academy of Architecture, Design and Conservation. Design went from being a practical, craft-based education to a more rigorously academic course. “Our superpower in Denmark is the artistic,” says Aggebo. “But it needs to be combined with the latest knowledge, and now our students know what they are talking about, they know where in the design process they are and can analyse and reflect.”

This shift to a more academic-oriented design education might explain the simultaneous rise to prominence of the social sciences within design and architecture. “We think of ourselves as in the centre of the triangle of anthropological thinking, design thinking and strategic thinking,” says Louise Vang Jensen, co-CEO of Is It a Bird, a pioneering strategic design agency with ongoing partnerships with Danish giants such as Maersk, Carlsberg and Velux windows (and a very cool open-plan office in a converted garage in Valby). Is It a Bird’s work starts with the end-user – their needs, their context – using extensive social scientific research to help companies form their products. For the past decade, Is It a Bird has helped to hone Novo Nordisk’s patient-centric. “In our view, innovation doesn’t start with a great idea for a thing,” says Vang Jensen. “It starts with empathy and being curious, being aware of not knowing.”

Bo Linnemann (whose Arne Jacobsen home Monocle returns to) sees that humility as a key characteristic of the Danish approach. “Something I see when we work abroad is that our designers tend to listen more to their clients. We try to understand the challenge rather than come with a solution we believe will work.” Philip Linnemann traces this back to the 1970s. “It’s rarely talked about but the co-operative design movement that was founded here became participatory design in the USA, which became design thinking,” he tells Monocle.

New generation
Brands such as Hay, Muuto and & Tradition are producing high-quality furniture and homeware, complemented by rising talent such as Maria Bruun, who works at the intersection between art, architecture and design.

Bo Linnemann is a certified legend in Danish typography and brand design. His clients include Novo Nordisk, Lego, the Danish royal family, the government ministry identities and numerous museums and municipalities. It is he that the Danes have to thank for that wonderful train service font, Via, for instance. He also has an interesting take on what happened in Denmark to spark the new boom. “I give a lot of credit to the Dogme 95 film movement and the Noma project. Both raised awareness of creativity in Denmark and influenced the design community.”

Noma, with which Kontrapunkt also worked, has been cited by many as a major catalyst for the surge in Danish design. “That passionate group of people inspired others, like the ripples on a pond,” says 3 Days of Design’s Terenziani. “There is a symbiotic relationship between food, restaurants and interior design that Noma showcased,” agrees Kristoffer Li of Alexis Mark.

There was definitely something in the air in Denmark at the turn of the century, then. But there were seismic shifts happening globally too. In 2008, the economic crash and eurozone crisis disrupted an unprecedented period of growth and consumption. Around the same time, Denmark took up semi-permanent residence at the top of the United Nations’ World Happiness rankings. With rampant capitalism no longer so appealing either economically or environmentally, the whole world wanted to know the little nation’s secrets.

Emerging talent
Denmark’s strong social safety net inadvertently helps to nurture talent. Initiatives like Refugio, a shared studio space founded by furniture maker ReFramed and design practice Asca Studio, provide a welcome space for this young community. Designers such as US-born Cassandra Bradfield, founder of Asca Studio, and Italian-Uruguayan designer Matteo Fogale work here.

Graphics, branding and strategy
Alexis Mark produces award-winning typography, visual identity work and publications. There are also the likes of Is It A Bird, led by Louise Vang Jensen, which consults on strategy, and world-famous brand agencies such as Kontrapunkt.

Serendipitously, around this time, other Danish creative fields such as fine arts, film and gaming stepped up to play a valuable role as a shop window for the country’s design. DR’s globally successful drama series – in particular political drama Borgen and noir thriller The Bridge, a co-production with Sweden’s SVT – didn’t just depict a progressive, economic- and gender-equal society and open democracy, they also showed the world the refreshingly simple, functional, yet elegant way the Danes live. Did you happen to catch the Poul Henningsen Artichoke lamps and Mogensen sofas in fictional prime minister Birgitte Nyborg’s beautiful home and office?

The future challenge is, of course, climate change. “The sustainability focus has thrown new energy into the mix,” says Charlotte Engelund Thomsen of Creative Denmark. “Danish design is still aesthetically strong and functional but many companies are adding a new layer of sustainability.” For Terenziani, it’s imperative that the future of Danish design also involves human sustainability. “I would love designers to challenge the way we live. Be open to what scares us, because that’s how we learn and move on instead of just talking about, ‘We have this new couch in this new colour’.”

Aggebo also foresees a crucial role for designers in the green transition. “Good design can make sustainability high-status, it can seduce people to do differently.” It’s a point that Engström of Kvadrat Really agrees with. “Sustainability brings a new aesthetic and a new price point,” she says. “A new design language is emerging.”

And it’s this new design language that is being pushed not just by those in Denmark’s design industry but also the swathe of businesses – from pharmaceutical giants to shipping firms and globally renowned architecture studios – that readily employ and engage with the nation’s designers. As a result, Denmark has pulled ahead of its Nordic neighbours, helmed by a happy blend of talent, priorities and circumstances – a position that the design-obsessed Danes look set to consolidate.

The essential survival guide on how to beat the heat in the city

While people in cooler climes often can’t wait for warmer weather, many cities need to adapt to stay productive and comfortable when the heat hits. Some wisdom is age-old (channelling a breeze, blocking direct sunlight) and some is part of a growing body of newer evidence (greenery to counter the heat-island effect). All will be necessary to help cities survive hotter summers and unpredictable weather.

The good news is that there are global benchmarks to draw on. Singapore’s garden city credentials, Venice’s drinking fountains, Zürich’s lake and awnings or the whitewashing of Aegean buildings. Every little helps. So we asked visual artist Edo Brenes to take us through some of the ways in which we can all stay cool this summer.

Five-star retail experiences from across the Mediterranean

Sunny travels offer you the chance to explore new, more carefree versions of yourself – and your wardrobe. You might pick up a punchier fragrance, swap your classic watch for a bright-yellow waterproof Swatch chronograph or experiment with new patterns. But when you return home, these purchases often feel out of place. So you store them away, together with your memories of the trip.

If that scenario feels familiar, it’s probably because, until recently, most resort destinations had little to offer beyond souvenir shops stocked with everyday necessities for forgetful travellers and mass-produced beachwear. Having made enough bad shopping decisions, today’s holidaymakers are seeking more meaningful items that are unique to the place that they’re visiting but will also enrich their lives when they get back home. 

Hoteliers have spotted the opportunity and have started to put more effort into satisfying guests’ appetite for purchases on the road. Retail is no longer just an afterthought. Where once, even in the most luxurious establishments, hotel boutiques were usually confined to badly lit corners and run by third-party companies, many have now evolved into thoughtfully designed retail spaces employing in-house creative teams to curate one-of-a-kind fashion selections, home decor and locally produced beauty products. These boutiques have become an important part of the hospitality experience, helping to lure people in, just as the right restaurant atmosphere or a signature drink on a bar menu might.

Here, Monocle speaks to the creative directors, buyers and entrepreneurs who have taken up residence in sunny locations around the world, upgrading hotel boutiques in places such as the Greek isle of Paros, Italy’s Porto Ercole and the Cayman Islands.

1.
Bohemian exhibits
Montesol Experimental
Ibiza, Spain 

The Montesol Experimental hotel opened in the heart of Ibiza’s Old Town last year in a building that dates back to the early 20th century. “When we had the opportunity to get the oldest hotel in Ibiza, a Unesco World Heritage site, we were thrilled,” says Pierre-Charles Cros, co-founder of the Experimental Group, which also owns the island’s much-loved Experimental Beach club. The building was renovated by Parisian designer Dorothée Meilichzon, who used pastel colours to capture Ibiza’s sunny, bohemian spirit.

Special attention was paid to the boutique, which you’ll find by the hotel’s entrance. Cros saw a chance to use the space as a window into the Montesol experience, providing a taste of the best that Ibiza has to offer. The challenge was in creating the most interesting space possible within the compact area. “We wanted to showcase a selection of items that changes several times throughout the season and features a wide range of local talent,” says Cros, pointing to the rows of colourful kaftans lining the limewash walls, leather bags by Spanish brand Malababa, handwoven jackets by Gypsy Truck and gold jewellery crafted in nearby workshops. 

“If you make it too practical, it stops being about presenting a curation and doesn’t really inspire anybody,” says Cros. “Building a strong hotel brand extends to retail. It’s yet another dimension of the service that you offer guests to ensure that they remember you after they have gone home.”
montesolexperimental.com

2.
Heart of the country
Hôtel Crillon le Brave
Vaucluse, France

Since Hôtel Crillon le Brave was established in 1989, its owners have considered shopping to be an important part of the customer experience. “We have always had a retail corner,” says general manager Dagmar Lombard. However, it was only when fashion and property entrepreneur Patrick Pariente acquired the premises 30 years later that it introduced a dedicated boutique space filled with Made in France keepsakes. 

Overlooking the countryside of Vaucluse, 35km northeast of Avignon, the boutique offers guests glimpses of the village’s surroundings before they even step out of the 17th-century hamlet. Its rails are lined with souvenirs such as silk scarves crafted in northern France by Inoui Editions, linen dresses from Luxe Provence made between Provence and Paris, and embroidered cotton blouses from Valentina Store produced in an atelier a few kilometres away in Malaucène. 

As well as highlighting the region’s savoir-faire and skilled couturières, the in-house Hôtel Crillon le Brave collection of wicker baskets, espadrilles and outerwear has proven to be an effective communications tool, spreading the word for the luxury hotel group, which has outposts in Saint-Tropez, Paris and Méribel. Every space takes inspiration from its surroundings; in Crillon le Brave, this translates to rustic shelving, Génoise-tiled floors and luscious pots of lavender. “As a family-owned hotel, we like to tell a story through the brands that we stock,” says Lombard.
maisonspariente.com

3.
Caribbean collection
Dolores at Palm Heights
Cayman Islands

Urban fashion capitals no longer have exclusivity when it comes to brand collaborations. Today, you can find limited-edition items by the likes of Wales Bonner, Tekla and Bode even in the Caribbean. In the Cayman Islands, the founder and creative director of the Palm Heights hotel, Gabriella Khalil, regularly teams up with some of fashion’s most in-demand names for the hotel’s shop, Dolores. 

The boutique stocks exclusive items such as sarongs by Christopher John Rogers and striped pyjamas by Danish giant Tekla. New York-based Bode even adapted the hotel’s towels into smart terry jackets. “We have collaborated with Bode on our uniforms from the very beginning and, since then, we have also designed our first collection with them,” says Khalil. “Art, design and fashion has always been a part of our ethos.”

Khalil also prioritises designers and brands from the Caribbean. “I launched Dolores with [crochet knitwear specialist] Diotima because the label’s clothes are made between Jamaica and New York, and now we’re collaborating with [Jamaican-US label] Theophilio,” she says. “We want to involve people who are making waves in fashion but we’re also in the Caribbean, so we need our items to reflect that.”

The hotel’s line of merchandise, Palm Heights Athletics (PHA), consists of branded shorts, jumpers, socks and, soon, a range of pha sunglasses. “We want to provide items that people will use when they go home, not just on holiday,” says Khalil. “I was nervous about launching a hotel shop at first but I have surprised myself with how passionate I have become about Dolores.”
palmheights.store

4.
Exclusive experiences
Il Pellicano
Porto Ercole, Italy

Tuscany’s Argentario coast is best known for its clear waters and rugged cliffs. For Marie-Louise Sciò, it’s also home. Her family has been running Il Pellicano here since 1979. The hotel was opened in the 1950s by a US socialite and a UK aviator as a haunt for their glamorous friends, and has always had a certain magic associated with it.

Sciò, who took over as CEO and creative director in 2011, wanted her guests to be able to take some of that magic home with them. So she opened the Pellicano boutique and began curating collections that capture the hotel’s old-school elegance. “The boutique was born of a desire to extend the Pellicano’s charm into a shopping experience,” she tells Monocle. “I wanted a space where guests could find items that resonate with our philosophy.”

Joy is central to this – hence the bright interiors, complete with pink cabinets and sunny accents. Sciò, who is her own best customer, mixes artisanal Italian brands such as Florence-based Loretta Caponi, best known for handcrafted bedding, with more established names including Métier, a London-based leather-goods label. In 2020 she launched Issimo Corner, a dedicated space for limited-edition products designed for Il Pellicano in collaboration with Scio. The exclusivity enhances the hotel’s five-star offering.
issimoissimo.com

5.
House specialities
Loja boutique at Casa Mãe
Lagos, Portugal

When former investment banker Veronique Polaert opened Loja boutique at Casa Mãe hotel in southern Portugal, she envisioned a retail destination in its own right and wasn’t discouraged by the lack of comparable shops in the region. Polaert was born in France and has lived in London and Los Angeles. Not being native to the area allowed her to take a risk in a city where change happens slowly. “Locals said that the concept wouldn’t work because Portugal’s hotel retail industry tends to focus on items considered useful for guests staying at the hotel, while our boutique was about decor,” says Polaert, who works with artisans across the country to design exclusive items for the boutique and promote Brand Portugal. 

Loja stocks limited-edition collaborations with furniture designers, textile ateliers and marble sculptors, including stoneware pieces by Braga-based Atulipa and colourful cotton beach towels by Futah, made in the northern Douro region. Polaert’s commitment to Made in Portugal also extends to the boutique’s interiors: she worked with Algarve-based firm Alberto Rocha on the custom tiles, while weaver Teresa Gameiro created jute rugs for the entrance. As for the staff’s smart uniforms, they were designed by Porto-based label La Paz, whose maritime-inspired garments also line the shop’s rails. 

“We curate a selection that reflects our sunny aesthetics,” says Polaert, who sees value in creating a sense of place and telling the stories of the region with her wares. “The trend of promoting local craftsmanship in hotels remains a niche concept but I like to think that Loja is proof that hotel retail can go beyond a mainstream approach.”
casa-mae.com

6.
Retail romantics
Anthologist at Cosme
Paros, Greece

Andria Mitsakos has been working in the hospitality industry since the 1990s, helping to shape the communications strategies of a wide range of hotels, from Coquillade Provence and El Mangroove in Costa Rica to Phaea Blue Palace in Crete. “I remember the gift shops of the 1990s, which were stacked with things that you would never buy or necessities such as sun cream,” says Mitsakos. “We have moved through a number of different phases since then. For a while, hotel boutiques didn’t exist, then the big brands came in and started renting the retail space. Today we’re returning to authenticity.”

What does authenticity look like when it comes to resort retail? “Items that have a sense of place, are exclusive to the area and tell a story of local craft,” says Mitsakos. She recently moved to her native Athens from the US and opened her by-appointment showroom, Anthologist. The shop is brimming with such products: think leather and brass belts for cinching caftans, gold and blue enamel jewellery paying homage to the Aegean sea, vintage textiles, komboloi bracelets handmade using glass beads and customised stationery. 

This summer, Mitsakos will take Anthologist on the road with a boutique at Cosme hotel on Paros, hoping to meet travellers who share her passion for artisanal fashion. “People aren’t looking to buy the same items that they can purchase at home,” she says. “In summer resorts in particular, purchases are driven by emotion.”

Cosme is located in Naoussa, a village at the heart of the island. Mitsakos’s space is in the middle of the lobby. “It’s completely open, with no lock and key, and no opening hours,” she says. “You just pass through, rather than having to open a door and commit to spending time inside.” She points to a new trend in hotel retail that is all about creating more inviting shopping spaces. “It’s like being in someone’s closet. As you walk past, you might try on a blouse or pick up a beautiful bracelet. It’s a poetic approach that takes me back to the era of the grand hotel.” 

Because it’s in a summer outpost, the shop’s selection naturally caters for hot weather but Mitsakos also sprinkles in home decor pieces such as hand-blown vases or year-round fashion items such as kimonos to ensure that customers will still use these purchases long after they fly home with them.

Even as resort retail evolves, established luxury names will always dominate a part of the market, says Mitsakos. “Travel is aspirational. People want to spend while they’re on holiday, so this is an easy way for the big brands to gain access to a new clientele.” Yet people are now seeking out intimate experiences, creating more space for concepts such as Anthologist to pop up. “Ours is a very romantic approach to retail,” says Mitsakos. “I picture someone coming in, buying stationery and a beautiful pen, writing a letter and tucking it into their lover’s bag before leaving for the airport.”
anthologist.com

Bringing it all back home

Few things can bring back memories like a holiday purchase, however small – even a T-shirt or a cap picked up on your travels can revive moments spent in the sun if they feature, say, the logo of your favourite summer resort. “Hotel merchandise is so popular because it represents an experience,” says Francesco Sersale, head of business development and marketing at the family-run Le Sirenuse hotel on the Amalfi Coast. “It’s a marker of having been somewhere.” Given their limited availability, items such as a graphic T-shirt from Positano seafood restaurant Da Adolfo, featuring its widely recognised fish motif, or a tote bag from Les Roches Rouges hotel on the Côte d’Azur could be considered more exclusive than many designer accessories. Here are three must-have items from the Mediterranean.

Olympiapark’s success story: How it set the gold standard in architecture

When cities splash out on infrastructure to host the Olympic Games, its potential legacy often comes as an afterthought. The fates of the stadia and neighbourhoods built for the world’s largest sporting event range from disastrous, such as the ghost towns littering Rio de Janeiro and Turin, to just so-so. An exception dates to Munich 1972. The Olympiapark is a lush spot in the city’s northwest that is so beloved today, more than 50 years after it was built, that it still serves to boost the Bavarian capital’s global image. 

“We really live in a 1970s utopia,” says Stefan Niese, who meets Monocle at Nadisee, the Olympiapark’s artificial lake. It’s a hot day, and children are splashing in the shallow water against a backdrop of greenery and pale-concrete high-rises. The area feels like a world in itself; a world that Niese is used to guiding visitors around on tours. The architect – a nearly two-decade resident of Olydorf, the local nickname for the neighbourhood that is the former athlete’s village inside Olympiapark – is also a partner at Weber Auer, whose founders were involved in bringing it into being between 1966 and 1972. “The intention was to show the world an image of a happy, democratic Germany,” he says. “Or to create it.”

Munich had won the bid to host the 1972 Games with a masterplan that resulted in the construction of the Olympic Park in Oberwiesenfeld, a former airfield where rubble from the Second World War had been piled into hills. Germany had last hosted the Games in 1936 in Berlin and wanted to draw a clear contrast with the Nazi symbolism of that event. Designer Otl Aicher came up with a colour concept of bright blues, greens and pinks that earned the Games the nickname die Regenbogenspiele, or “the Rainbow Games”. The sports facilities were designed to merge with the landscape, linked by open-air walkways topped with a sinuous roof by architect Frei Otto. The athletes’ village was only a short walk north of the main stadium, aquatics centre and event hall.

Originally surrounded by fences, the Olydorf is still cordoned off from the city by high, landscaped mounds along its sides. Today, within these grassy banks, the traditional hallmarks of Bavarian life vanish. Munich prides itself on manufacturing shiny bmws but, suddenly, there is not a car in sight. Thanks to a sizeable student contingent housed in dedicated buildings, an Aperol spritz is sold for €2.50 instead of the city’s customary €10. Even the mobile phone service is inexplicably choppy.

The task of turning this former dumping ground into lodgings for up to 16,000 Olympians, which could then become a legitimate neighbourhood post-Games, was entrusted to the firm Heinle, Wischer und Partner. Its scheme proposed terraced high-rise housing with cars and pedestrians on split levels – a concept, pioneered by Le Corbusier, that was the urban plan du jour in the late 1960s. From above, the site appears as three fingers of high-rises – so-called Terrassenhäuser – that fork out from a central commercial area. Between the high-rises are scattered a variety of townhouse-type homes. South of the last row of terraced houses begins the former women’s village, which is now student housing, laid out in two opposite typologies: one thin, tall tower next to a spread of low, single-person bungalows.

Niese lives in a terraced house on Nadistrasse, the middle of Olydorf’s three main avenues, with his wife, Sandra, and two teenage daughters, whose “childhood photos are all taken against concrete or stone”, says Sandra. The home is a drive-in townhouse: stairs lead not to a basement but to a car park on the vehicle-only level that runs beneath Olydorf. The living spaces are spread across three skinny but deep floors, all with balconies overlooking a Japanese-style garden in the back. The Nieses found the house for sale through the grapevine, which is how things tend to go here. Olydorf homes almost never come on the open market, because 90 per cent of moves are internal and the rest often happen via word of mouth. “You move into a bungalow as a student, then into a townhouse with your family, and a terrace flat in old age,” says Niese. “Nobody leaves.”

Olydorf initially seemed destined for the same fate as most other Olympic villages. The neighbourhood was seen as too remote and shoddily built, and Bavarians balked at living in what they dubbed a Betonwüste, or concrete desert. The project had been built in partnership with private developers but, years after the Games, with many units still standing empty, the city had to step back in to sell them off at a steep discount. It took more than a decade – roughly the time it takes for some greenery to take over – until the neighbourhood became seen as a desirable place to live.

What sets Olympiapark apart from many 1970s housing projects – and from most other Olympic developments – is that even working at such speed and scale, the urban design is laid out with an extraordinary level of detail. A wayfinding system by Austrian architect Hans Hollein is maintained throughout the Olydorf, inserting Aicher’s Olympic colour in the streetscape. Each of the three avenues between the terraced houses has a park area with different themes: the northern Strasbergerstrasse is filled with playgrounds; the middle Nadistrasse is centred on water, with a lake and several fountains; and the southern Connollystrasse is built for sledding the hills of Olympiapark. “It’s too much sometimes,” says Niese, pointing out the fountains, sculptures and benches that can be found in every nook. “It’s almost baroque.”

Ironically, the rushed construction that made the homes undesirable at first is today also an asset. Since every apartment hosted up to five athletes, the interiors were mostly corridors and small rooms, plus cheap in-built kitchens and bathrooms. Those who moved in had almost no choice but to tear down some walls, opening up the spaces. Today the Olympiapark is heritage protected but this applies only to the exteriors; inside, residents are free to do what they want. When the Nieses moved in, they kept the original (and slightly wobbly) metal spiral staircase but put in an open kitchen and a parquet floor. “In Munich, there’s no plot of land that an architect can buy to build their own house on,” says Niese. “Here, you can at least realise your dream within these concrete shells.” Unsurprisingly, Olydorf is particularly popular with architects. “I think we have the densest population of architects in the world,” says Sandra Niese, who adds to that statistic herself.

This, in turn, helps to ensure that everything is kept in tip-top shape. Eva Lang experienced the effect first hand when Knerer und Lang, the Dresden-based practice she founded with her partner, Thomas Knerer, was awarded the commission to refurbish the student high-rise (the former women’s village). Designed by Günther Eckert in 1969, the building is unmissable on the Olydorf skyline with its jagged top that bears no functional purpose except, Lang guesses, to emulate the Alps that can be seen in the distance on clear days. When the firm took on the commission, the 801 flats were in a bad state. The building no longer met fire-safety regulations or energy-efficiency standards.

In co-ordination with the City Design Commission, Knerer and Lang developed a concept that preserved the original character of the façade, with its typical stacked balcony elements. “Of course, many members of the committee live right here,” says Lang, chuckling. The loggias were packed in a heat-insulating shell. New window elements and parapet cladding of coated metal sheets reference the materiality and façade composition of the original building, without copying it. “That was more expensive and not strictly necessary,” says Lang, who completed the project in 2013. “But the state-run student affairs organisation gave the extra money.”

Lang has also joined the Olydorf architect cabal. In 2012 she and her husband bought a third-floor flat in a terraced house on Connollystrasse. The home is sunny in more ways than one: daylight streams in from a glass-walled terrace as wide as the apartment, and the colour yellow runs through the interiors down to the wall-to-wall moquette rug. A figurine of Waldi, the striped Dachshund mascot for the 1972 Games, and other Olympic paraphernalia take pride of place on the shelves. The bathroom is tiled in yellow and blue, the hues picked out from the original Olympic colour scheme, which is even matched by Knerer and Lang’s toothbrushes. 

This visible sense of pride in being an Olydorf resident is widespread. The 1972 Olympics were an important moment for Germany’s self-perception – for the first time after two devastating wars, the country managed to show a side of itself that was cheerful and easy-going. But the terraced houses of Connollystrasse are marked by tragedy too, as the site of a terrorist attack that led to the deaths of 11 Israeli athletes. Residents know that they are living in a historical monument.

All of this begs the question: why has it proven so difficult to repeat the success story of Munich? Part of the problem might be that as budgets for hosting Olympics have ballooned, the social vision has been lost somewhere in the mix. Too often host countries focus on one-upping each other with scale and spectacle instead of presenting a broader idea of the future, which the Olydorf, for all its concrete, certainly was. “That was a time of political and social change, when architects wanted to change how people lived together,” says Lang. “Maybe it was an experiment but this was an environment built on change hope and positivity.”

The summer essentials that will elevate your wardrobe this season

Hunza G
UK

London-based swimwear label Hunza G has found success thanks to its elegant cuts and signature crinkle fabric, which is stretchy enough to fit any body shape and to see you through a lifetime of summer dips. Now the brand is expanding beyond its popular swimsuits for the first time with the Weekend capsule collection, a line of laid-back shirt-and-shorts sets. They come in blue striped cotton, as well as black-and-white linen and work both on the beach and as loungewear.

As the brand celebrates its 40th anniversary, its aim is to add even more to its offering. “The shirting capsule is just the beginning,” says creative director Georgiana Huddard.
hunzag.com

Kloke
Australia

Based in Melbourne, Kloke is a contemporary fashion label co-founded by partners in life and business, Amy Gallagher and Adam Coombes. Its spring/summer 2024 collection features eye-catching embroidered caps and lightweight seersucker shirts. We have our eye on this khaki number (pictured): it’s a smarter alternative to the classic T-shirt and highlights Gallagher and Coombes’ flair for breathable, warm weather-appropriate fabrics and loose silhouettes – ideal for long, sunny days at the beach.
kloke.com.au

Vilebrequin + Inès de la Fressange
France

Sitting on a light-filled patio in central Paris, Inès de la Fressange muses on what makes the perfect swimwear. “I just want to feel good in my skin and be able to wear my swimsuit in different kinds of circumstances,” she says. 

The 66-year-old former model created the versatile designs she had been searching for by joining forces with Vilebrequin, a label based in St Tropez known for its colourful swimming trunks for men. In 2013 it added women’s resort wear to its offer. The collection includes striped Balinese trousers and foldable sun hats – the kinds of items that De la Fressange would pack for a weekend at the beach. The collection also happens to be in the colours of the French flag – a nod to the Olympics. “The idea was to celebrate France and chic à la française,” says Roland Herlory, CEO of Vilebrequin. “Working with Inès seemed like a perfect fit.”
vilebrequin.com

Acqua di Parma
Italy

Acqua di Parma has unveiled Chapeau, candles-cum-design objects shaped, as the name suggests, like a hat. Dorothée Meilichzon, founder of Paris-based design agency Chzon, worked on the witty new design, which consists of two ceramic candle holders, both of which feature the label’s signature Luce di Colonia scent. Its citrus and floral notes instantly evoke the smell of summer.
acquadiparma.com

Get onboard
Global

Boat shoes were invented in 1935 after businessman Paul Sperry fell off his sailing boat. After observing his cocker spaniel’s foot pads, he created the famous non-slip Sperry Top-Siders, featuring incised rubber soles that mimicked his dog’s paws. Since then, his lightweight, preppy designs have become the shoe of choice for everyone from US presidents to sailing enthusiasts around the world. Sperry’s shoes were always rooted in function and comfort – he never wanted to ignite a fashion trend. Still, boat shoes are now the most in-demand style of the summer, with brands such as Miu Miu designing their own.

Boat shoes add the right amount of pep to summer looks, especially when paired with crisp cotton shorts for men or elegant midi skirts for women. We recommend reacquainting yourself with this wardrobe classic with Sebago’s Portland design in navy or a John Lobb pair in yellow (both pictured).
sebago.co.uk, miumiu.com, johnlobb.com

Valextra
Italy

To toast the Paris Olympic Games, Italian leather-goods specialist Valextra has created a capsule collection of limited-edition bag charms, inspired by the sports that will compete this summer. Think tennis balls, basketballs, golf balls and volleyballs transformed into 3D charms with long leather straps that can be added to keyrings or the handles of your favourite day bag. They look particularly good hanging from Valextra’s denim and raffia striped totes – a chic, playful way to channel your love of sport.
valextra.com

Hereu
Spain

Hereu’s new collection of leather coin purses, which come in the shape of fruit, was designed to channel the sunny spirit of the Mediterranean – and add humour to any summer outfit. The purses are made using a soft, grainy calf leather in artisanal factories across Spain in line with the label’s commitment to offer limited editions of handcrafted products and support family-owned workshops.
hereustudio.com

Jean-Marc Pontroué
CEO, Panerai, Italy & Switzerland

Swiss-Italian watchmaker Panerai is one of the younger players in a watch market dominated by storied Swiss firms. But rather than trying to play catch-up, CEO Jean-Marc Pontroué has been focusing on carving out Panerai’s niche in the world of sailing watches and all things adventure. The label has a history of supplying the Italian Royal Navy and is best known for styles such as the water-resistant Submersible, created in partnership with Luna Rossa, the sailing team under the Prada Group. But among dedicated watch collectors, it’s known for giving its most loyal customers access to money-can’t-buy-adventures, from sailing with the Luna Rossa Prada Pirelli team to rigorous military training. Here he tells us about the power of the in-person experience.

What sets Panerai apart?
Panerai only started in 1987 and took off in the early 2000s. But this is a brand based on a community of dedicated collectors who watched Panerai grow; that’s its beauty. It’s Italian, it’s masculine and it has a strong technical component. 

What are you focusing on this year?
We have one clear message and that’s our partnership with Luna Rossa and the 37th America’s Cup in Barcelona. It’s a natural playground for Panerai. 

What is your strategy when it comes to bricks-and-mortar retail?
I believe in the power of physical retail but it has to be experiential. When people come into one of our shops, they get to learn about our story and enjoy a slice of Italy. We also make sure to follow our customers wherever they go: we built a shop aboard the [cruise ship] MSC Luxury Explora and we were one of the first watch brands to open in Saudi Arabia and in summer locations such as Capri and Santorini. We love the element of surprise.
panerai.com

DJ Harvey’s recipe for the perfect nightclub

Turns out, DJing for 40 years to audiences around the world teaches you about human nature. DJ Harvey, born Harvey William Bassett in London, cut his teeth behind the decks after hearing early glimmers of hip-hop on a trip to New York. His sound has morphed and moulded over time, touching on house, disco and whatever else catches his ear, into a mélange of beautiful eclecticism.

As a drummer in his earlier musical life, rhythm and interesting percussion are often the red thread but he has a knack for finding gems, forgotten B-sides and music that requires a bit of digging. He has also earned bragging rights during his 40-year tenure: he is often referred to as “your favourite DJ’s favourite DJ” and holds residencies around the world in places such as Ibiza and Bali.

One of these longstanding relationships, with Bali’s Potato Head in Seminyak has resulted in an interesting opportunity: Harvey was asked to lead the design of an entirely new club from the ground up. The result, Klymax Discotheque, is a space made for hedonism, with an emphasis on sound and acoustics, but also created around the nuances that, according to DJ Harvey, make for a good night out, that understanding of human nature. It is a place where he’s been able to put things together the way they should be. “I like to say that my place is a machine where you feed art in one end and happy people come out the other,” he says.

When Monocle speaks to DJ Harvey, he is perched at Potato Head, embarking on a monthlong residency where he plays Saturdays – all night long. We talk about what makes a good club, either as a dancer or a DJ. “Good, well-functioning bathrooms,” he says, also citing friendly security and a well-run door. Hospitality is one of the key, unsung heroes: making people feel safe and looked after. “People pay their money on the door and they all come in,” he says. “At that point it’s on you. I actually feel personally responsible for everyone’s welfare when I’m putting on an event.”

The aesthetics of the room are essentially a byproduct of the need for the room to be acoustically treated, taming errant frequencies to build what the club calls a “sonic sweet spot” on the entire dance floor. Any look or “vibe” is a direct outcome of the obsession with sonic design. “Just by the nature of acoustics, if you do it right, it’s beautiful,” says DJ Harvey. To do this, 2,680,135 holes are perforated in the wood to diffuse the sound as it hits the walls and ceiling. Concrete walls 20cm thick are fitted with 365mm of acoustic layers in three sections: Rockwool, perforated panels of 25mm plywood and 3mm of teak veneer. And, of course, there’s a giant, glittering disco ball.

DJ Harvey’s emphasis on welfare also extends to subtle elements of feeling: the way a club is laid out, the flow of people and subconscious feng shui. He also cites the capacity of Klymax as being a particular emphasis for him: 500 people is a sweet spot. “It doesn’t shift into the sort of stadium-type stuff where you start having to lower your common denominator to reach 10,000 people. But it’s big enough to have that sort of group trance – the sort of thing when people feel stronger and braver in a mob, together.”

Some of the physical attributes are hidden and unseen, down to a sprung dance floor. Traditional ballroom dancing floors used a similar technique, says DJ Harvey. “That floor would not only give you a little push back and bounce in your step but it would also stop the hard compression and damage to your joints from stomping up and down for five or six hours at a time,” he adds.

And then there’s the sound. It’s a traditional New York-style four-stack system including Larry Levan-style Bertha bass bins, with drivers from JBL, amps from Crown and processing by Lake. The audio engineer, George Stavro, previously worked with engineer Richard Long, who was responsible for the sound at legendary venues Studio 54 and Paradise Garage. DJ Harvey jokes that there’s nothing out of he ordinary about the components, saying that you can probably “buy everything off of Amazon Prime”. Instead, “it’s about the 300 years of collective experience of the people that put it together”. The magic is in the wood, paper and transistors, assembled by people with taste and experience.

This focus also extends to the design of the DJ booth. DJ Harvey didn’t set up the controls as a place for idolatry but rather functionality and flexibility. “I’d go to nightclubs and not even see the DJ. I went to [famed London club] Heaven for five years straight and had no idea where the DJ was; they’re actually in a cage above the dance floor.” He says that DJs should be not very interesting to look at but be very interesting to listen to. As such, there’s respect for the craft: DJs at Klymax can play whatever format they want, be it vinyl, reel-to-reel or, as DJ Harvey says jokingly, “even Laserdisc”. There’s also a bathroom, bedroom and shower. “There’s a toilet in the DJ booth and an apartment behind it” he says. “You can put on a long track and go have a shower if you’re all sticky.”

Harvey is quick to dismiss overt fetishisation of components or materials when it comes to the club, speaking to an intangible atmosphere that has to be created. “I’ve been playing for 40 years on the worst sound systems known to man having the time of my life” he says. “The party will transcend that; it’s just that all of that might help a bit, give it a nudge in the right direction. But if you don’t have an intention…” His thought trails off. He’s alluding to the particular alchemy of sound, people, safety and other details that go into making a wonderful night out amid the flashing lights and bass bins.

The Monocle manifesto for collective wellbeing

As the world and global opinion turns, Monocle remains irrepressibly optimistic about cities – or at least their enduring potential to help people live well, regardless of income, outlook or industry. While no city is perfect, the best ones know how strike a balance and remain places of opportunity, discovery and excitement for all. So shouldn’t more politicians, ceos and civic leaders be concerned about making the most of the places most of the world now calls home? After all, what could be more important to our collective future than properly talking about how we build, assemble and share such spaces?

Buildings, businesses and bus routes are only small parts of the matrices that make appealing cities tick. There’s also history, style and culture to consider. There’s some software to attend to too – the ways we should behave and the rules we should all endeavour to follow. How might a graciously deployed “good morning” affect the way you feel on your street? What if we considered children more closely when designing public spaces? How could better housing and hospitals provide dignity for all? Permit us to ascend our soapbox briefly in this, our city-focused issue. Here, we offer a few ideas that we believe will help focus attentions, bind communities and create neater social contracts in cities where such things can sometimes fray. Read on for Monocle’s manifesto on how best to darn, repair and, in places, reweave the city’s social fabric.

1.
Prioritise residents

Cities should be for the people who live in them. Begin by limiting short-term home rentals and cracking down on stingy landlords who are piling people into damp, dismal homes. We also need to stop areas from becoming single-use given over exclusively to students or the elderly – a mix is usually best. Rubbing shoulders with all kinds of people engenders connections, tolerance and mutual respect.

2.
Make use of what’s there

Glossy renderings so often reimagine blocks and neighbourhoods in supposedly sustainable ways. But surely the discipline of reusing and rebuilding offers developers and architects a more interesting test. Isn’t adding to the urban patina and iterating on what works better than razing sites to the ground only to build up another trend destined to become tomorrow’s wasteland? The newest buildings are rarely the best.

3.
Waste not, want not

A well-run community should consider ways to better manage its food waste. The good stuff could be redistributed and offered to people living on the street (always in dignified settings with showers and other key facilities) – look at Massimo Bottura’s worldwide Refettorio concept for inspiration. For the waste that’s passed its sell-by date, there’s a case for community compost bins to help out nearby allotments.

4.
Sit comfortably

Rekindle stoop culture and loosen rules so that people have space to set up a table outside their home and enjoy the street and the neighbours. With its cobbled canalside lanes that fill up with picnic tables as the evening takes hold, Amsterdam excels at this. Come on, the city seems to say, join us for one.

5.
Slow down bad drivers

Register electric scooters and bikes to individuals and have them pass basic safety and proficiency tests before taking to the streets. Bad drivers should be fined and banned. This doesn’t necessarily have to mean nannying or bothering people with unnecessary bureaucracy or red tape but having a mechanism to halt persistent pests would help the authorities, should they need to hit the brakes on dangerous driving.

6.
Take safety seriously

In cities like London, street crimes such as bike and phone theft are viewed as a part of everyday life. Brassy thieves know it too and act with impunity knowing that they’re unlikely to ever be challenged. It shouldn’t be this way. Safety matters and efforts need to be made to reassure the most vulnerable in our communities that the streets still belong to us all.

7.
Don’t idle

Automobile engines should be turned off while vehicles are stationary: it’s better for emissions and the air quality of the people sauntering past. Keeping the car ticking over while you scoff a sandwich at the wheel or hum along to the radio waiting to pick up a pal isn’t very civic-minded. Cutting the engine shows consideration for those around you, as well as the planet.

8.
Hire more gardeners

Many cities are busy installing new planting schemes and greening streets. Long may the movement grow. But what about all those ambitious but now browning “green walls” that got little attention after the ribbon was snipped? Let’s not forget that parks, verges and riverbanks should be left to explore but still need tending to.

9.
Grow your own

We also need a new allotment revolution to encourage and allow people to grow their own produce. It helps keep things cool and prevents flooding, yes. But there’s also the magic of eating something that you’ve coaxed to life yourself. How about a little agricultural education – and appreciation – for the younger generation too. It’s useful for food security and to let children know that fast food doesn’t grow in corner shops. Connecting with nature is nourishing.

10.
Think laterally

The linear park movement (à la New York’s High Line) still has plenty of room to grow. These snaking routes capture the imagination, get people walking and make all-important use of what’s already there. Pity the project that involves building a new structure where an existing space would do just as well – and at a fraction of the cost and disruption too.

11.
Build beautifully

Beauty is important, even if architects don’t mention it enough. Why, then, don’t we make schools, hospitals and other civic buildings that sing, in turn making it easier to learn, to heal and to work? Implicit in this thinking is a message – to students and those convalescing or working in city hall – that where you live matters.

12.
Shake it up

Embrace gentle density. Some buildings leave people lonely, isolating them high above the streets. We need more properties of various sizes and textures that provide for people of all incomes and encourage them to rub shoulders. Keep domestic structures below five storeys, ensure that they have windows that open and can channel a breeze, affix awnings to keep the heat in check and maximise outdoor and communal areas to stimulate mingling.

13.
Play for keeps

Prioritise play and children. Cities have become too hard-cornered and adult-focused. What about pavements that bounce and blacktops that encourage children to draw with chalk? We shouldn’t just cater to boys and football either. Play is inclusive and universal, and should always be treated as such. We need fewer spikes and hard surfaces, and more places to lay down, delight and be amused.

14.
Wave from your window

Penthouses might sell for top-dollar but glassy towers are chilly, impersonal and disconnected from life on the street. Instead, we need to follow the Georgians and build better ground-floor dwellings with bigger windows that are the right distance apart to allow people to see in and out a little. Bigger windows are better for natural light and make you feel like you’re part of a community that extends beyond your own front door.

15.
Make a splash

Our waterways belong to all of us, despite the flood of private companies cashing in on them and pumping them full of nasties. Clean-ups such as that undertaken in Copenhagen demonstrate the civic value of providing people with somewhere to swim, dive and drink. Water helps to cool our cities, lure in wildlife and create spaces to unwind – purifying them is ambitious but why should that be a barrier to success?

16.
Design inclusively

Take care of people with mobility needs. Not with red tape and alarms but with gentle, intuitive curves and quiet urbanism. This isn’t about carrying out endless risk assessments and making the built environment miserable by redesigning it to meet hurried needs. Rather, people move at different speeds and some are steadier on their feet than others. So let’s leave room and try to cushion their fall if we can.

17.
Make amends

We all think that what we do is worthy but, if we’re honest, some jobs are just inalienably more crucial to society than others. So how about we fess up and foot the cost for some decent housing for teachers, nurses and carers. Part of building a better society is acknowledging that some people have spent too long being undervalued – and then making amends.

18.
Pick up rubbish

We wouldn’t want to trash the world’s waste collectors but, from Manhattan to Marylebone and Le Marais, budget cuts at city councils have left too many cities strewn with coffee cups, plastic packaging and other detritus. We need bins, street sweepers and projects that inspire community pride. The battle is lost when residents themselves walk past that newspaper on the floor and don’t stoop to pick it up and pop it in the bin.

19.
Build outside the box

Developers should evolve their repertoires and allow more types of housing to flourish. Cities’ fundamental allure is that they’re accommodating to all: shared, co-op, self-built and whatever else people will happily inhabit. We are still stuck in a one-size-fits-all model, offering expensive, derivative homes to a cadre of middle managers who can afford them. It’s time we started thinking outside the box.

20.
Cry foul

Here’s a filthy little fantasy for anyone who’s ever surveyed a soiled city pavement in despair: what about clean-up duty for frequent foulers? What about mandatory training for those who own animals to make sure they’re kept well and happy? A nominal fee for the registration could help with clean-up costs and better kennelling and care for strays and fund charities. Without such solutions, London and Paris are barking up the wrong tree.

21.
Think of the animals

Encouraging nature doesn’t just mean greenery. We should ensure that buildings have spaces for birds to nest, that parks feature flowers from which bees can collect pollen and that ponds and waterways are for frogs and dragonflies as well as bike couriers and picnickers. Green corridors that let creatures migrate without fear of being squashed under a running shoe mean that some bits of land have to be out of reach for humans – and that’s just fine.

22.
Keep the noise down

We’re not hungry for rules or finger-wagging but, while we’re passing down some decrees, why not regulate food-delivery drivers on electric bikes or noisy scooters? A clever last-mile solution done on the cyclists’ own steam would help reduce emissions.

23.
Be on brand

Have a city brand: a recognisable logo, colour scheme and crest. It might sound trite but having a symbol to rally around really can help. Zürich’s crest is fresh and simple, Lisbon’s is ornate and original, and Amsterdam’s? Well, the three-character xxx marque by Edenspiekermann (nothing to do with they city’s X-rated pastimes, thank you) delivers a message to all who see it on buildings and manhole covers. Branding carries a memo – it’s up to you what it says.

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24.
Embrace the makers

Make physical spaces in which entrepreneurs and start-ups can flourish. Not everywhere needs to be a strip-lit office or shop unit either – loosen the rules so that people who print, whittle and sculpt can be part of the streetscape too.

25.
Help social housing

Social housing needs a hand. Look at Vienna and you’ll see how successful Europe’s biggest landlord has been at offering enviable places to live at every price point. Leaving everything to the market condemns some to fall through the cracks. Rent protection and a more open application scheme (perhaps for artists too?) will help enrich our cities.

26.
Support local media

A great newspaper, TV channel or even a well-kept bulletin board can help people feel connected, represented and informed. Yes, we need fearless journalists sitting in on town-hall meetings that most people would find tedious to check that the politicians are in order – but great journalism can inspire as well as upbraid and educate.

27.
Don’t call it a night

Allow the night-time economy to flourish. Let cocktail bars keep their doors open, clubs hum and basements have bass-heavy parties. It’s a delicate balance but some cities have got it all wrong by letting mega-clubs ruin neighbourhoods in one part of town while fussy residents get small, well-meaning bars shut down for playing the jukebox at 23.01 on a Friday night. The default should be that cities can be a bit noisy and that great venues make areas more enjoyable.

28.
Trade places

Relaunch local trade guilds. Need a woodworker or winemaker? There could easily be a resource (and, yes, some well-branded signage for the window) that shows which nearby businesses are locally owned and worth patronising. Let’s not let the chains stomp out the independents.

29.
Protect and serve

Reinvent the Japanese koban police box for Western cities. Having somewhere to report incidents is one thing but a little presence on the streets is just as important. Keeping policing local rather than busing untrained recruits into hotspots is about building trust and understanding the causes of crime, not just pursuing arrest quotas.

30.
Promote digital decency

Ban loud phone calls on train carriages, noisy online games in restaurants and speakerphones, well, everywhere. Business owners and managers should be in charge and lead from the front. Ultimately, cities are big and busy, and offer some thrilling anonymity. But that shouldn’t mean that some people can retreat into selfish little worlds that deprive others of the right to a little peace and quiet now and again.

Urbidermis’s commitment to sustainable landscaping is shaping cities across the world

Barcelona is often held up as a prime example of how the Olympics can rejuvenate a city. When it was announced in 1986 that the Catalan capital would be hosting the 1992 Games, a radical urban modernisation plan was swiftly drawn up. This was the city’s big chance to present itself to the world as a future-facing metropolis, with more than just Gaudí-era charm to offer. New green spaces sprung up, the old port was refashioned as a recreational and sports area, and developers created two miles of promenade-lined beachfront using sand imported from Egypt.

It became clear that these public spaces needed to be equipped with street furniture in line with the slick new image. In 1987 city leaders tasked the development of new furnishings to Catalan lighting company Santa & Cole. The business had been founded just two years previously but had quickly won a reputation as a leading name in the design world. “It was an opportunity for the company to collaborate with architects on new products,” says Josep Maria Serra, welcoming Monocle to Parc de Belloch, on the outskirts of Barcelona.

Serra is the editor and vice-president at Urbidermis, which began as Santa & Cole’s urban division during the 1992 Olympic preparations but now operates as a separate entity. “There are various lamps, benches and rubbish bins, including the Atlántida drinking fountain, that were created specifically in anticipation of the Games and remain in our collection to this day,” he says. Today both companies are housed in the same HQ at Parc de Belloch – a former boarding school built in the mid-century, Catalan rationalist style and surrounded by some 200 hectares of dense, rolling parkland.

Though the brand was established for the Olympics, the company’s products are still deeply woven into Barcelona’s urban fabric, from the water fountains in Joan Brossa Park and bike racks on Plaça Catalunya to the benches and lighting that line newly pedestrianised swathes of the Eixample district.

Urbidermis’s reach also extends beyond Spain – its benches can be found overlooking the harbour in Hamburg, facing the Thames in central London and offering staggering views of the Manhattan skyline from Brooklyn’s Pier 26. “Today we actually sell more products in the US than the rest of the world,” says Serra. “We started selling our designs there in 2006, when we partnered with a company called Landscape Forms. It didn’t make sense to send tonnes of wood and iron to the US, so we licensed our designs to the company so that they could be manufactured there. Today you can find our products everywhere.”

Urbidermis remained part of Santa & Cole until 2018, when it was decided that, to reach its full potential, the street elements division should become a company in its own right. “Urbidermis is focused on the four verticals required to deliver the physical public realm,” says Jordi Muñoz Costin, consulting and innovation director at Urbidermis. “That’s lighting; urban furniture such as tables, planters and benches; microarchitecture, including shade structures; and plants like trees and shrubs.” Delivering these four pillars means that the brand is equipped to provide the physical components a city needs to furnish any public space. It’s something that Urbidermis has been building since separating from Santa & Cole.

However, the link with its parent company means that the first three pillars – lighting, furniture and microarchitecture – were the natural starting point for Urbidermis’s evolution into a full-scale urban furnishing firm. There’s also still some crossover in the designers working for the two companies, the most notable being Miquel Milá.

The Catalan nonagenarian is the creator of both Santa & Cole’s opal-shaped Cesta lamp and Urbidermis’s best-selling NeoRomantico seating from the 1990s; defined by its gently curving legs and seat, it’s a reinterpretation of Barcelona’s 19th-century “romántico” benches. The refined form was inspired by Milá’s experience of watching an elderly man struggle to get up from one of the benches, leading him to create a new wood and aluminium design that was higher from the ground and more upright than its predecessor.

Since its inception, Urbidermis has placed great emphasis on regional manufacturing. Today, 89 per cent of designs are produced in factories less than 200km from its offices. “We’re continually striving to be as transparent as possible when it comes to sustainability,” says Serra. “About 85 per cent of the aluminium we use is recycled and 100 per cent of it is recyclable. Our products were the first to receive cradle-to-cradle certification in Spain, which means that they must be able to be fully recycled at the end of their lifespan to create the same product again.”

When it comes to expanding the range, Serra is keen to adapt existing designs rather than arbitrarily adding new ones. “Urbidermis is focused on helping cities become better connected and more functional,” he says. A big part of this involves working with specialist engineers to create “smart” products. The company has introduced digital elements to its products that can be remotely controlled through its bespoke Urbidata platform, including planters that monitor the status of plants and dispense water from a built-in tank. These innovations not only save water but make for more efficient maintenance and healthier plants. “We’re developing products that can be used to help better manage a city,” says Serra.

It’s a sentiment that Muñoz Costin, on Urbidermis’s innovation side, agrees with and says builds on the company’s first three pillars. “We recognised that the city is at the intersection of technology and nature,” he says. Santa & Cole realised that it couldn’t only embed its lighting, benches and shade structure with smart technology, but it had to go low-tech too – and find a way to deliver on the promise of nature.

“In 2004 we launched our own forestry division,” says Serra. “Trees are such an important factor in urban design; our range wouldn’t be complete without them.” Today, Urbidermis has a 30 hectare tree nursery adjoining its offices in the Catalan countryside. The trees and shrubs grown here are cultivated in a low-impact manner – sheep are brought in on a regular basis to chew up weeds and no pesticides are applied – before being sent to city streets across Spain and southern France. The company also offers a consultancy service to assist planners in picking the right tree for a particular urban landscape. “If you take an oak tree from the Collserola park that surrounds Barcelona and move it just one kilometre into the city, it will die,” says Serra. “The soil is different. Pollution is different. The temperature is different.”

For years the company has been working with specialists to study the vegetation that works best under different kinds of urban conditions. Today the nursery grows everything from Japanese pagoda trees (a leafy variety capable of withstanding high levels of heat and dryness) to lofty London planes – a deciduous tree that has already been shading city streets across Barcelona for more than a century.

“We’ve compiled all our know-how to recommend specific trees to certain cities,” says Serra. “We believe in spreading knowledge. Good practices should be shared.” It’s an appropriate Olympic-year outlook for a brand that was founded in anticipation of a Games in its hometown – an event that’s all about sharing one’s talents with the world.

Even keel: Y Yacht’s latest sailboat balances beauty and performance

It’s a balmy day on the Balearic Islands when Monocle steps onto the pier at Pantalán del Mediterráneo marina in Palma de Mallorca. Here, Danish architect David Thulstrup is standing alongside the latest launch from German shipyard Y Yachts. “I spent my childhood on the harbour, just outside Copenhagen, so being on a marina is very, very familiar,” he says, walking along the gangway and onto the deck of the Y8, which he has just finished working on. “But I sailed small boats when I was a kid, so this type of boat is very different. It’s quite impressive.” Impressive, indeed. This 80-foot (24-metre) sailboat, constructed at Y Yachts’s manufacturing facilities on the Baltic Sea, boasts a hull made entirely from carbon fibre. It’s a lightweight construction that lessens the reliance on engines and allows easy sailing, even in the light wind conditions typical of the Mediterranean.

“On the deck, it’s all about racing: you lift off the sunroof above the outdoor banquette, pull up the windshield and unfurl the sails, and suddenly you have this machine built for speed,” says Thulstrup. The yacht can cross the Atlantic and will be used to race in regattas around the globe. “Everything has been considered with ease of performance in mind. The Y8 even has two steering wheels, so that the captain can control the yacht from the point with the best visibility.”

Despite his youth spent on the harbour and his appreciation of the performance capabilities of the Y8, Thulstrup was called in to work on its lower deck. The Copenhagen-based designer is the latest in a line of creatives, which include Denmark’s Norm Architects and Pritzker Prize winner David Chipperfield, to collaborate with Y Yachts. Thulstrup was briefed to give the interiors a sense of generosity not typically associated with the cabins of racing vessels.

“The aim was to give the yacht a residential feeling rather than a typical yacht or racing boat feeling,” says Thulstrup. “So the first step was looking at how we could lay the space out so that there was a sense of openness.” The initial move was to create an open-plan living area in the centre of the yacht: on walking down the stairs and into the cabin area, you enter a generously proportioned salon-like space rather than being squeezed into a warren of hallways that typically lead to bedrooms.

The sense of domesticity was enhanced by a decision to introduce freestanding furniture. “By having everything built-in, a yacht can become very stagnating because there’s no flexibility,” says Thulstrup. Instead of the typical banquettes and benches built into the walls of the launch, a bespoke Thulstrup-designed dining table sits proudly alongside the mast where it comes through the salon and there are also four Brdr Krüger Arv chairs are set (when the yacht is on the move, these are held in place with straps that prevent them from sliding across the floor). Two armchairs and a sofa, which sit on runners and can be fixed in place while sailing, add to the homely atmosphere, complementing Kasthall carpets and bespoke cushions in Kvadrat textiles.

“If the upper deck is all about performance, then the lower deck is all about quietness,” says Thulstrup, adding that the mix of materials was a key consideration too. Matt-finishes typically associated with domestic environments were used to complete the space, with cedar-veneer on the floor and walls, and solid mahogany on the steps and handrails. “When you’re up on the deck, everything shines and shimmers, reflecting the water, which means that, visually, there’s always something going on,” adds Thulstrup.

“We wanted to create a sense of relief for your eyes below deck. When you’re sailing across the Atlantic for three weeks, it’s extremely important that you have a space that helps you feel grounded and calm.”

The project wasn’t just about translating Thulstrup’s residential design language into a new environment – the fit-out needed to be engineered for travelling at speed too. “It means that we were always looking for a balance between material weight and strength, and beautiful design,” says Francesca Modica, leader of Y Yacht’s in-house design team. “We are always trying to make everything as light as possible.” Modica holds master’s degrees in architecture and yacht design from Politecnico di Milano and worked closely with Thulstrup on the creation of a fit-out for the Y8 that balanced aesthetics with performance. The duo developed custom cabinets, cupboards and drawers that discreetly lock when closed, so that their contents don’t fall out when jostled by the open sea. “A yacht is a home and it’s a product,” says Modica. “You need to study every detail, like it’s a product you’re developing. But you also need to be able to live in it like a home.”

The analogy is a reminder that designing a yacht really is about balance. It’s about finding an even keel between beauty and performance; between time in the marina and on the ocean; and between speed and stillness. “There’s a different relationship with time on a yacht,” says Thulstrup. “It’s all about waiting – waiting for the right weather, for food and supplies. It’s very much about coming down in tempo as a human, and even though the Y8 is a racing boat designed to go quickly, you need to have a calm space to balance that out.”

When Monocle departs, the Y8’s crew are preparing for a voyage across the Atlantic – just how quick they make the crossing depends on a host of factors beyond their control. So it’s a good thing that Thulstrup designed a space that finds a happy harmony between the need for speed and the ability to comfortably pass time too. Bon voyage.

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