Four weeks out from Salone del Mobile, I am normally full of excitement and thinking about everything I am about to see, smell and taste. From the moment I head to the airport, I feel something inside. It’s difficult to explain. A feeling of knowing my glass is about to be filled, about to spill over with inspiration, conversation and experience.
This year was different.
Four weeks out, conversations had shifted to who was still attending, who could no longer go, and how people were rerouting flights due to conflict in the Middle East. The anticipation felt heavier. It made me stop and question why I was still planning to go.
The trip itself was longer than previous years. I left Melbourne, flew to Singapore, then London, before finally arriving in Milan. Somewhere over the long overnight flight to London, the uncertainty remained strong. Even then, I was still questioning whether I had made the right decision.
I have landed at Heathrow many times before, but this arrival felt different. We flew directly over central London, looping slowly above the city as the morning light began to emerge. Soho, Tower Bridge, Big Ben and Parliament all felt impossibly close. Below us, the city was already alive with people walking to work, the rhythm of the morning rush beginning.
It reminded me why I love this trip every year. It reminded me just how far away we live and work.
Because of world events, I arrived in Milan the Tuesday before Salone officially began the following Monday. Never before had I arrived so early, and it turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve made. It allowed me to experience the calm before the storm.
The streets of Brera were quiet and peaceful. Day by day, I watched the city transform as it prepared itself for Design Week. What the extra time also allowed was something I hadn’t expected. Genuine, uninterrupted moments with brands and people before the intensity of the week began.
What surprised me most was the generosity of time people offered, even while preparing for one of the busiest weeks of their year.
Molteni&C
Spending a day with Molteni&C meant visiting both their kitchen and newly launched bathroom production facilities, followed by their furniture manufacturing compound. Between visits, we ate one of the best risottos I have ever had at their headquarters.
The team spent hours walking me through the production process, the craftsmanship, the technology and the detail that goes into fabrication. Photography was not permitted and understandably so. The leather workshop alone was one of the most impressive spaces I saw all week.
What stayed with me most, though, was the energy of the people. Their excitement about what they were about to unveil during Salone was infectious. Their passion for the brand and for where they work was something I had rarely experienced so strongly before. If I could bottle that feeling, I would.
The major launch this year was Molteni&C Bathrooms.
The day concluded with something incredibly special: walking through Palazzo Molteni before it opened to the public. Experiencing the space completely alone felt rare and intimate. What struck me most was a shift in the brand’s personality. There was a boldness I hadn’t felt in previous years. Gloss lacquers remained from last year, but now felt richer and more confident. The new furniture pieces carried a sense of nostalgia while still feeling entirely contemporary.
The new bathroom collection, however, felt unmistakably Molteni&C. Timeless, beautifully detailed and warm in materiality.
If the lights hadn’t been turned off, I may never have left.
And this was only day one.
Miller Knoll
As the weekend approached, the streets slowly became busier. I found myself walking to Triennale Milano for a talk on the legacy of Lella Vignelli and Massimo Vignelli.
The sun was shining, and for a moment, walking through the parklands, I felt strangely local. During Design Week there are moments where Milan feels unexpectedly familiar, moments where it reminds me of Melbourne — and this was one of them.
Related: The uncanny world of Luke Malaney
Over the next hour, I learnt about the fascinating story of Lella and Massimo, pioneers of a minimalist and holistic design philosophy centred on clarity, sustainability and timelessness. Through the lens of Knoll, we explored their journey from Milan to New York and the creation of the now-iconic Helvetica-based identity that shaped the brand’s global presence.
It made me reflect on how much design extends beyond furniture itself. Branding, graphics and storytelling are equally responsible for shaping the legacy of a brand. It became impossible to imagine Knoll without the boldness of the Vignellis’ work.
Laufen
Having recently designed and opened their Sydney gallery, I was eager to visit Laufen during Design Week.
I arrived at their Brera installation on the Saturday before the crowds. The experience, titled Experience Tomorrow and curated by Ferruccio Laviani, explored colour blocking and a collaboration using viteron steel and enamelled steel to create vibrant, saturated surfaces.
The first time I visited, the space felt quiet and contemplative. I ended the experience on one of the most peaceful terraces in Brera with a much-needed afternoon espresso.
When I returned only days later for the opening party, the same space had transformed completely, shoulder to shoulder with people, full of energy and passion.
That contrast perhaps captures Milan Design Week best of all.
Muuto + Rakumba + Studiopepe
It’s 8:30am and I’m arriving at one of my favourite destinations during Design Week: the Muuto Apartment.
This morning, however, was different. Breakfast was hosted by the founders of Studiopepe Arianna Lelli Mami and Chiara Di Pinto — celebrating their newly designed sofa collaboration with Muuto.
This was a moment I had genuinely looked forward to.
Studiopepe has designed some of my favourite pieces for Baxter and Tacchini, and here I was, drinking espresso while speaking with them as they sat effortlessly on their new pink sofa.
To be honest, they barely needed to speak. Their personalities, their confidence and their perspective filled the room without words. At one point, I watched Chiara gently touch the floral arrangement beside her, feeling the petals between her fingers. She said something quietly in Italian — something I will never know, nor need to know.
Moments like this remind me how special Milan can feel during this time of year.
Later that day, I visited Studiopepe’s THE INTIMACY installation with Rakumba. Travelling across Milan by subway, I found myself once again distracted by the city itself — the stations, the typography, the materiality, the unmistakable traces of 1960s through to early 1990s design.
The journey itself becomes part of the experience.
The Rakumba apartment installation sat within a residential building in suburban Milan. Every year I am amazed that residents open their homes and buildings to the design world. Walking through those staircases, imagining everyday life inside these apartments, creates a strange intimacy.
The apartment itself felt peaceful, warm and deeply inviting. Across the room sat the same Muuto sofa, now in a lighter fabric, carrying an entirely different personality.
Then I saw Jordan Fleming across the room. An old colleague and friend from Melbourne, standing beside one of the most interesting radiators I had seen in years.
We hugged.
There is something uniquely comforting about unexpectedly seeing familiar people in random apartments on the outskirts of Milan. Throughout the week we continued crossing paths, each time greeting one another with the same warmth and familiarity.
Grohe and Buster + Punch
We need to talk about one of the best parts of the week: the food and drinks.
On Wednesday I attended a lunch hosted by GROHE before visiting their installation. The lunch was held at Gloria Osteria — a restaurant I had walked past for years during Salone, always staring through its windows at the warm, glowing interiors.
It did not disappoint.
These lunches become moments of pause. Moments to reconnect and reflect. A group of around twenty Australians sat together sharing stories about what we had seen, loved and experienced so far that week.
The planned two-hour lunch somehow became three and a half.
After tiramisu and espresso, we walked to the Grohe Spa Sanctuary installation inside Piccolo Teatro Studio Melato; one of Milan’s most significant cultural buildings.
The installation explored the idea of personal sanctuary and wellbeing. Surrounded by such historic architecture, layered interiors and innovative product design, I found myself unsure where to focus. It became a moment of trying to absorb everything at once: the future, the present and the history surrounding it.
Aperitivos and dinners
Wednesday evening brought aperitivos back at the Muuto apartment.
The rooms were now crowded and warm with energy. I escaped briefly onto a tiny balcony overlooking Brera, joining Lauren Li before Melissa, Bree, David and Todd eventually joined us.
Inside, European house music echoed through the apartment while guests gathered across the Studiopepe sofa I had admired only days earlier. The installation had transformed from something observed into something fully lived in.
We stood together on that impossibly small concrete balcony overlooking the streets below. Across from us were old Brera apartments filled with dark timber furniture and softly glowing pendants.
Then, suddenly, an elderly woman stepped out onto the balcony opposite us.
She looked down toward the crowds below, seemingly just as fascinated by the spectacle as we were. We waved. She smiled and waved back.
She never spoke, but somehow I felt an entire conversation.
Minutes later, more residents emerged from neighbouring apartments to observe the streets below. It made me think about how we arrive, transform these neighbourhoods for a brief moment, and then disappear again.
I still don’t entirely know how that made me feel.
But it opened my eyes to another side of Design Week; the temporary mark we leave behind.
The Baxter Journey
By Friday afternoon, exhaustion had fully set in.
The weather had been perfect all week, around 24 degrees each day (though during Design Week it somehow feels much warmer).
We arrived at the Baxter showroom for an experience we had booked months earlier without fully understanding what it would become. Inside the showroom we sat at the bar drinking gin and tonics before departure. Fresh, cold and perfectly balanced, they somehow signalled that the next hour was going to be memorable.
Soon after, we were escorted to a waiting tram. Stepping inside felt surreal. Rich chocolate carpet, layered fabrics and leather upholstery, custom Baxter leather hand straps; every detail felt considered. We sat down, looked around and quietly took it all in.
Then I noticed the bartender.
And the polaroid camera.
As we slowly travelled through the streets of Milan, sipping gin and tonics while passing the Duomo and taking polaroid photographs, I remember thinking: Is this reality?
For the first time all week, we had nowhere else to be. No schedule to rush toward. The week was ending, and for a brief moment time slowed down.
This became one of my unexpected highlights of Salone.
Ending
So, what did Salone 2026 ultimately mean to me?
It reminded me how large, and how small, our world really is.
It reminded me why I continue returning every year. Not only for the products or installations, but for the people and the experiences.
Reflecting now, I realise Milan Design Week has become something much deeper than furniture or design launches. It is about stepping away from everyday life and immersing yourself amongst people who share the same passions, curiosity and creative energy.
This year, more than any other, I was reminded to breathe. To slow down. To be fully present in each moment.
I tried endlessly to slow time, without much success, so instead I sacrificed sleep. Perhaps the uncertainty surrounding the world before arriving in Milan made me appreciate every moment more deeply.
My journey home lasted thirty-six hours.
As I scrolled through my camera roll somewhere between flights, I noticed something unexpected. The photographs of people sat equally alongside images of furniture, lighting, joinery, carpets and rugs. And it was the people that made me stop scrolling.
To me, Milan Design Week is ultimately about experience. About connection. About temporarily stepping away from your life and being surrounded by people, ideas and places that inspire you.
Somehow, every year, Milan make you realise how impossibly large and beautifully small the world really is.