Toronto is growing at an incredible rate—spreading across the vast lakeside plain it anchors and rising in dense vertical pockets. In just a few years, its population has surpassed that of other burgeoning urban centers, making it the fourth-largest city in North America. Real estate prices are soaring. In response, downtown has become a collage of bombastic architectural statement pieces—futuristic spires contorting in all directions or stacked like offset pixels. With each structure vying for attention, a dizzying jumble of styles and scales has emerged among the few historic buildings that remain. The most successful new developments, however, are those that build upon—rather than erase—existing architecture.

Take the newly opened Nobu Residences and Hotel, a Teeple Architects–designed complex that fully incorporates the iconic façade of the Pilkington Glass building that long stood in its place. Its defining feature: glass bricks. Preserved as the skin of the original structure, these elements reappear throughout the multipronged, city-within-a-city destination. Rising from this foundation are two 45-story towers with angled window bays and gently sculpted façade fins. As they ascend, a 15,000-square-foot Nobu restaurant and surrounding retail spaces give way to 660 residential units and, above, 36 “villas in the sky” guestrooms. In between, a two-story amenities podium is carved through by a near temple-like circular void.

Responsible for the comprehensive outfitting of these spaces is Miami- and Toronto-based multidisciplinary practice Studio Munge, a firm that prides itself on crafting immersive experiences. “The dramatic opening between the 9th and 10th floors allows daylight to cascade deep into the interior spaces below,” says founding principal Alessandro Munge. “From the gym that encircles it, guests can observe natural light, rainfall, and snowfall descending, while upper-level rooms look down into this illuminated core.” It offers a more unified, calming counterpoint to the hurried streets cutting across the city beyond.

Though exclusive and limited in number, the accommodations range widely in size and features. Strategic spatial planning ensures a consistent set of priorities throughout: bed orientations that frame views; walk-in closets; generous living areas; and window-side soaking tubs. These traditional wooden elements subtly reference Nobu Hospitality’s Japanese origins.

That cultural cue informs the entirety of the interior styling. The calming, restorative qualities of ryokans—traditional Japanese inns with tatami-matted rooms—serve as a thoughtful point of departure for finishes and furnishings. It’s a deliberate counterbalance to the energy of the city outside. “Rather than interpreting the hotel through a conventional luxury lens, this cue was complemented by subtle Canadian influences,” Munge adds. In the lobby, nods to the local landscape are abstracted and rendered through traditional Japanese metalwork.

In the guestrooms, soft blue spectrums suggest serenity, referencing sky and water—Lake Ontario, just visible through the thicket of nearby towers—while also evoking escape. Framing this palette, Munge and his team employ a restrained material selection: Tundra Grey stone with a leathery finish, rift-cut white oak, hand-dyed indigo textiles, and handcrafted Kawara tiles.

The finishing touch is a carefully curated suite of furnishings from leading brands and designers, including B&B Italia, Gallotti & Radice, Henge, Piet Boon, Christophe Delcourt, The Rug Company, Apparatus, Giopato & Coombes, Holly Hunt, Karimoku Case Study, and Carl Hansen & Søn.

What: Nobu Hotel Toronto
Where: Toronto, Canada
How much: $2,700 per night
Design draws: A Japanese ryokan-style retreat high above ever-expanding Toronto outfitted with muted tones and natural materials. A residential tower hotel with a comprehensive two level amenities complex pierced by circular void with cascading natural light, rain, and snow.
Book it: Nobu Hotel Toronto

Photography by Ema Peter,

Childlike experimentation is hard to come by as an adult. A muscle we must exercise, intuition is frequently at odds with the seemingly unending flow of modern life. Unfussy, organic, and quietly delightful, Emma In Paraty for Treivas Team taps into that world of awe, exploring the nature of embroidery that founder Olga Treivas recalls from her childhood. Constructed from jatobá wood—also known as Brazilian cherry—the cabinet is finished to a lustrous glow, with bright red yarn adding welcome contrast, allowing the grain to shine.

Crafted in São Paulo, each piece is one of a kind. Expertly balanced yet perfectly imperfect, Emma in Paraty hearkens to vintage speaker cabinets, with screens allowing sound to escape in certain sections. Here, that scale is blown up in a satisfying way, the weave playing a large role in the organic nature of the handwork.

The embroidery points are rendered individually, ensuring no two pieces are alike. The joy lies in the exploratory nature of the placement—an organic, deliciously ornamental expression of boundary and subject. Stitches are missed, holes not exactly aligned, and it reminds us of our humanity—not only do we start at the same place, but we end in the same place, too.

Inherently humane and creatively complex, the tactile interaction between borders and wood over time will be a joy to witness. This piece explores details from the designer’s childhood recalling yarn tangled among construction pieces in a cupboard drawer.

She shares, “We have jokingly called these objects ‘sol na peneira.’ The name is a redefinition of a Brazilian saying, ‘tapar o sol com a peneira,’ or ‘to cover the sun with a sieve.’ It is used when a person makes an unsuccessful attempt to hide something they did wrong. Embracing the irregularity of handmade embroidery is a way to admit one’s mistakes and make imperfection the strongest feature. This approach is honest, naive, and profoundly feminine—just like the pieces, eye-catching in their sincerity.”

A shelf nestled in the bottom echoes the cheeky style of the cabinet body, extending the embroidery downwards. A perfect place to display pottery or store items for later, the bright red yarn creates a warm spot to rest objects, a physical hem of space.

To learn more about Emma in Paraty by Olga Treivas, visit treivas.team.

Photography by Ruy Teixeira.

Heritage renovations typically operate under a preservation logic—original details are restored, surfaces are sealed, and finishes are lacquered to suspend the home in an idealized past state. But at Tryon Hill, a 1929 Cape Cod in Portland, Oregon, designer Sara Gray of Pacific Northwest–based practice Grayhaus inverts this formula. Her material palette—unlacquered brass, Calacatta Viola marble, mohair, velvet, linen, aged wood, and natural stone—is chosen not for its ability to resist wear but to welcome it, treating patina and softening as active contributors in making a nearly century-old home feel hospitable rather than preciously preserved.

These are not distressed finishes performing the appearance of age, but reactive surfaces that develop character in proportion to how much the home is inhabited. Unlacquered brass hardware darkens and mottles with handling. Mohair and velvet upholstery acquire compression patterns through repeated use. Floors and walls subtly record traffic and movement with every slight dip and divot.

The tonal range of the palette reinforces this agenda. Muted jewels tones  and inky hues wrap the rooms in warmth, avoiding the crisp contrast between old architecture and new intervention that characterizes many contemporary heritage works. In select moments, the palette tightens into more concentrated, near-monochromatic expressions, giving certain spaces a subtle contemporary edge without disrupting the home’s overall cohesion.

Gray drew this color story in part from the homeowner’s wardrobe. As such, at the heart of the home, a small room tucked between the dining room and kitchen was reimagined as a dedicated salon. Burgundy walls and intentionally low, warm lighting create a space scaled for conversation.

The 18-month renovation navigated the structural idiosyncrasies typical of homes approaching their centennial, including unusual joist directions, construction limitations, and the hidden conditions that come with houses of this age. Gray’s decision to preserve original molding profiles, proportions, and symmetry, while introducing this more expressive material language, allows the home’s bones to remain legible beneath its new interior life.

The result is a residence that will look different in five years than it does today—not through deterioration, but through the gradual accumulation of the life lived within it.

To view more works by the studio, visit grayhaus.com.

Photography by Pablo Enriquez.

Any renovation project requires an understanding of the spirit of the initial design balanced with updates that consider both the site and current inhabitants, particularly if the structure is an older one with a meaningful history to the community.

An educational facility in Takoma Park, Maryland is one such place. For more than 80 years it has been a fixture in the neighborhood. So when local firm WAK TOK architects was set to reimagine the former dwelling, the key was to keep its residential charm intact. “When we were asked to modernize the schoolhouse, a beloved bungalow originally built in the 1920s, we felt it was essential to honor that legacy,” says Wakako Tokunaga, founder of WAK TOK architects.

Indeed, as an outdoor nursery school, the landscape itself becomes a center for learning, surrounded by open skies and trees. The new scheme reinforces the relationship between each child and the environment, letting the outside in. A portion of the first floor was removed to transform a neglected basement into a sun-filled, double-height room for full integration.

The mudroom is a central spot, the first point of entry where alfresco exploration easily moves to the interior. A glass wall opens to create a seamless indoor-outdoor threshold. Kids gather here and can put items on perfectly sized benches or cubbies.

Classrooms now have expansive views that provide an immersive experience for the students as they witness the change of seasons. The thoughtful placement of steps, windows, and transitional spaces fosters engagement that aligns with the curriculum, which includes an emphasis on ecological awareness.

All-natural non-toxic elements were selected with health and sustainability in mind. An oak finish adds an organic feel throughout every zone. Buffed concrete floors and sinks are durable and easy to maintain, even when wet coats and muddy boots are scattered about. Raised platforms utilized for rest or play are finished with carpet made from recycled and bio-based materials. Improved insulation and a high-efficiency HVAC system have reduced overall energy use and increased occupant well-being.

With instruction not limited to four walls, learning is effortless, wherever it unfolds. “The school has always felt like an extension of the home, both physically and emotionally,” Tokunaga notes. “Our goal was to preserve the warmth, sense of wonder, and connection to nature.”

To explore more of studio’s portfolio, visit wak-tok.com.

Photography by Stacy Zarin Goldberg

Leather is an age-old material, connecting us to a long line of ancestors who utilized this medium in much the same way as we do today. More leather objects survive from our earliest civilizations than almost any other material used for clothing, treated with oils or waxes that preserve and protect for millennia. If we allow it, leather could replace a multitude of plastic applications in our near future—naturally durable, and even waterproof under the right conditions. It was never limited to garments alone: vessels, for drinking or storage, once held food, water, and valuables, imbuing the material with an inherent reverence. Using a specialized wet-forming technique, Talia Luvaton presents TRACE Leather Vessels, showing in Milan Design Week 2026.

Translating human movement into hardened leather forms, Luvaton taps into a generational lineage of making with this collection, developed especially for the occasion. Rooted in observational drawings of the human body, TRACE begins with fluid, organic lines that are later extracted, abstracted, and transformed into three-dimensional objects. Using her grandfather’s shoemaking tools alongside custom molds, traditional techniques, and contemporary sensibilities form new relationships—a bond that both revives and sustains the craft for future makers.

Immediately recognizable, each vessel bears the curves and gestures of the human body, composed of separately formed elements that come together in an organic, almost anatomical whole. Each piece is one of a kind, beholden to the natural variations of vegetable-tanned leather—its shifts in tone, texture, and grain. Luvaton’s process is intuitive, often guided by drawing and hands-on experimentation, allowing the material itself to inform the outcome. It is a continuous dialogue between hand, body, and mind.

As these panels are stretched and shaped, a quiet tension emerges between softness and strength. When porous, the leather is open and pliable, responsive to pressure, moisture, and time—a sponge awaiting transformation. Once dried and treated, it hardens into something protective like a shield or second skin. In this way, the process becomes a kind of crystallization into something new—a metamorphosis that is perhaps not strictly chemical, but deeply material, even spiritual.

Luvaton works within the boundaries of an ancient material while pushing it beyond its conventional role as surface into something structural and expressive. The vertices of the human form are translated into leather, creating vessels that feel both intimate and enduring. Her practice is deeply rooted in a family lineage of craftsmanship—both parents jewelers, a grandfather a shoemaker—carrying forward tools, techniques, and a sensitivity to making that transcends generations. TRACE becomes an extension of that continuum: a collection that holds not only form, but memory itself.

To learn more about TRACE Leather Vessels, visit luvatonstudio.com.

Photography courtesy of Talia Luvaton.

There is no mistaking the core philosophy of the Forest Edge House, a 1,500-square-foot home nestled into the woods of the western Catskill Mountains. On the southern face of the house, a grid of solar panels absorbs the slanting rays of the sun, gleaming softly against dark pine cladding. There is a sense of quiet power to this little black box of a home—sited on a 3-acre forested parcel and set along a gentle slope—and that’s entirely by intention.

Forest Edge House is the fifth in a series of solar-powered homes designed by Marc Thorpe and built through Edifice Upstate, the design-and-build agency he cofounded with partner Claire Pijoulat. Each project in the series has been an exercise in restraint and self-reliance, offering what the team describes as a turnkey model for contemporary living that integrates sustainable technology at its core.

More than a formal language, it is a worldview—one that positions architecture as a means of reclaiming autonomy in an increasingly outsourced existence. As Thorpe puts it, “the system is eroding our individuality by outsourcing every aspect of our lives that enables our sense of purpose and ability to construct meaning.” The first step in taking that back, he argues, is energy independence.

The panels on the facade—24 monocrystalline units—along with an additional rooftop array, generate approximately 38 kWh of electricity per day. This infrastructure expressed, part of what Thorpe describes as “descriptive function,” where the building communicates its purpose through its form.

The house is oriented and shaped by the sun, its architecture a direct byproduct of environmental forces and use. “Nothing that exists on or within the building is decorative,” he notes. “Windows are positioned to frame views as well as provide cross ventilation, interior program and physical circulation are expressed on the facade, overhangs provide shade where required.” In this way, the home draws from the region’s agrarian vernacular, where form follows necessity, without slipping into campiness.

A 25-foot cantilevered deck in black steel extends into the canopy of the trees outside, a singular expression of outreach in an otherwise introspective building, dissolving into the landscape rather than imposing upon it.

Inside, the home is light-filled, airy, and deliberately composed, featuring fixtures from French brand Ligne Roset— a longtime collaborator of Thorpe and Pijoulat, aligned with the project’s environmental and design ethos. An open-plan living, kitchen, and dining area occupies the ground floor, supported by full-floor radiant heating, while private bedrooms are arranged above, establishing a clear programmatic split between collective and individual space. The starkness of white surfaces and black fixtures is alleviated by touches of natural materials—tan leather Togo chairs in the living room and wooden floors on the upper level—and, of course, framed views of the trees outside.

“The house is an exercise in Enough,” Thorpe explains. Thorpe explains. With three bedrooms, two full bathrooms, and luxurious finishes, it doesn’t stint on creature comforts despite being compact. That ethos extends beyond plan and program into daily ritual. The solar energy system—the panels, a 15K Sol-Ark inverter, and Lithium Ion LifePo battery bank—is a daily reminder of the resources it takes to sustain us and a prompt to live within the boundaries of what nature provides. This heightened awareness, Thorpe suggests, reconnects individuals to broader ecological systems: “How much energy am I producing? How much am I consuming? What is my place in this system?”

In this sense, Forest Edge House is a framework for living systemically with its environment through both passive strategies and active technologies. It reflects a belief that architecture, when aligned with natural forces, can transcend the physical to become something more enduring.

“This planet offers us a choice, to be one with nature or not,” Thorpe says. “Designing with sustainable systems is the first step. Humility is what comes after.”

To learn more about the design-build agency, visit edificeupstate.com.

Photography by Clay Banks.

The son of seminal polymath Carlo Scarpa—an experimental Italian architect and designer who marched to the beat of his own drum—Tobia Scarpa forged a career in a similarly irreverent, self-determined spirit. Together with his equally nonconformist wife and partner Afra Bianchin, he created a number of era-defining furnishings that challenged both the aesthetic and technical limits of materials. Among these enduring icons are some 30 luminaires designed for FLOS—many of the company’s earliest products.

One such emblematic, though long overshadowed, design is Seki-Han. First released in 1963 and produced for only three years, the rare linear floor lamp—a quiet revolution in material use, form, and the calibrated diffusion of symmetrical light—has recently been reissued with strategic updates. Brought up to contemporary standards in both technology and functionality, the design remains true to its original form while also evolving into a horizontal pendant. Introducing the concept to the U.S. market for the first time this month is luxury online design retailer Lumens.

The lamp’s sleek yet humble presence stems from Scarpa’s fascination with Japanese cuisine, specifically its namesake: red rice, or seki-han. “The name of the lamp comes from a symbol of good fortune: in Japan, ‘seki han’ (red rice) is a traditional dish often prepared for special occasions, such as the celebration of a birth,” he explains.

At the time, the duo loosely translated the dish’s color into comparably toned and textured wood, but the association resonates most clearly in the lamp’s extruded interpretation of the rice grain. Masters of sculptural composition, they conceived two slender blade-like forms—originally in Douglas fir—flanking a central neon tube. The re-edition replaces this with sustainably sourced ash and FLOS’s proprietary LED technology, which emits a warmer, more nuanced light that better complements the natural material.

“The reissue of the Seki-Han lamp gave us an opportunity to enhance the performance of the light source, leading to an increase in the height of the lamp, which further highlights the slender proportions of the thin wooden blades that screen the light,” Scarpa adds.

Now in his 90s, he continues to refine what was already resolved—both as a way of tracing the evolution of the duo’s creative output and of testing the enduring relevance of their ideas. In this case, a largely forgotten concept from over 60 years ago finds renewed clarity. For an iconic object to remain vital, it cannot exist as a fetishized artifact; it must adapt.

Working closely with FLOS’s research and development team, Scarpa—now working independently following Afra’s passing in 2011—determined that the blades need no longer remain fixed. They can now rotate 360 degrees, allowing users to modulate both aperture and direction of light. In doing so, the update more precisely articulates the duo’s original intent: to shape and concentrate light as an ethereal, directional force.

To shop the Seki-Han collection, visit lumens.com.

Photography by Robert Rieger.

Humans are innately talented at pattern recognition. Our ancestors memorized colors, shapes, and formations that suggested good food, safe shelter, a suitable mate, and––more often than not––life-or-death decisions. Now, with a bit more distance from that immediacy, we apply those same neurological pathways to quieter pursuits: reading texture, sensing rhythm, finding meaning in material. The Linea Collection from female-founded Australian brand Armadillo marks the company’s first true exploration of pattern—less as overt decoration and more as something that emerges through process. The launch of the collection concides with chef and food stylist Romilly Newman, interior styling debut at the brand’s new New York flagship.

Rather than drawing a hard line between past and present, Linea operates in the space between. The collection approaches traditional rug motifs with sensitivity and restraint, allowing pattern to surface gradually through touch, material, and making. Persian-inspired designs begin as mapped drawings before being translated to the loom and reinterpreted by hand with each iteration softening edges, shifting proportions, and settling color into something more lived-in.

Armadillo has long celebrated the natural variation inherent to fiber, working with the idiosyncrasies of material. Here, that philosophy deepens. Pattern is revealed, shaped by oxidization, tonal depth, and the subtle irregularities of handcraft ready to embrace modern living.

In Sonata, hand-spun Afghan wool carries the composition, its natural striations allowing pattern to appear slowly, then all at once. A lower knot count and fine pile create a supple, almost grid-like texture, where motifs fade in and out without settling into a single, fixed reading. Rendered in nuanced palettes like Plume and Wisp, the rug feels atmospheric.

Odessa, seen here in Partridge, extends this language of quiet variation. A perennial design within Armadillo’s repertoire, its surface is defined by organic striations that ensure no two pieces are exactly alike. New tonal inflections—Partridge, Banksia, and Travertine—bring renewed clarity to the form.

In Minuet, shown in Skylark, pattern gives way to surface. Linear clipping introduces a gentle ripple across the cut pile, creating movement that reads as rhythm rather than repetition. The subdued interplay of blues, greens, and warm undertones feels almost incidental as if the composition has settled into place naturally.

Latitude marks a distinct material departure as Armadillo’s first rug crafted entirely from linen. A fine flat-weave construction lends the piece a quiet dimensionality, with hand-spun yarns rising and falling in subtle relief. Derived from flax, linen introduces a lightness and refinement that feels almost architectural—its slim profile and restrained palette designed for interiors that privilege clarity as much as comfort.

The faintest echoes of tradition surface in Basilica, a contemporary meditation on the medallion rug. Hand-knotted from wool on a cotton warp, its low, lightly textured pile and nuanced green undertones reward a closer look. Neither fully historic nor entirely modern, it occupies a grounded middle space.

Across the collection, Linea resists nostalgia in favor of relevance. These rugs are pieces to be lived with carrying classic patterns forward, gently transformed, and recontextualized for how we inhabit space today.

To quote Armadillo’s sentiment, “our rugs lie lightly on this earth.” As the first Australian and American rug maker to achieve B Corporation certification, the brand approaches circularity as a holistic practice that considers material sourcing, craftsmanship, and long-term impact in equal measure. True change, as Linea suggests, happens through careful, cumulative shifts, where philosophy meets the tangible and where tradition is allowed to evolve.

To learn more about this and other collections by the brand, visit armadillo-co.com.

Photography courtesy of Armadillo.

New builds boast a certain architectural bravado, often from a place of hubris, when realized from scratch—a clean slate’s seductive promise that the future need not answer to the past. Bureau de Change would argue the opposite. With Trace, their deep retrofit residential project in London’s Euston, the firm proposes something both more difficult and more interesting: that true ingenuity lies not in erasure, but in negotiation.

Set along Drummond Street, the project reworks a tired 1980s brick building into five light-filled apartments, adding two new floors while retaining the majority of the existing structure. But this isn’t preservation in the nostalgic sense, nor is it a wholesale reinvention dressed up in heritage cues. Instead, Trace sits, deliberately, on what the architects describe as “a thin line between being religious to references of the past and completely ignoring them.”

It’s a balancing act that feels increasingly urgent. In cities like London, where demolition remains the default mode of progress, adaptive reuse can still read as compromise. Trace reframes it as authorship.

At the heart of the project is a materially literal interpretation of its name. Rather than being discarded, the existing brick facade comprises crushed and reincorporated aggregate within a new glass-reinforced concrete cladding system. The result is a textured, rusticated surface that quite literally embeds the building’s past life into its present form. It is, in every sense, a record of time, laced with lore.

This gesture operates on multiple registers. Environmentally, it significantly reduces construction waste and preserves embodied carbon—an increasingly critical metric in evaluating a building’s true footprint. Conceptually, it transforms demolition from an endpoint into a beginning, folding the act of destruction into a circular narrative of renewal. As the architects note, there’s “something beautiful about encasing the past life of the site into the new building.”

Beauty, here, is not incidental. Bureau de Change’s methodology resists the idea that sustainability must be aesthetic penance. Instead, constraint becomes a catalyst for invention. The crushed brick aggregate produces a richly varied surface, its gradients and irregularities amplifying depth and shadow. And as cities are increasingly defined by flatness—both literal and experiential—this commitment to texture reads subversively.

“Tactility is so important in new buildings,” the studio explains. “We are surrounded by more and more bland flat buildings that make our experience in the city less and less rich.” Their response is architectural seduction: facades that invite a second glance, then a third; surfaces that encourage passersby to slow down, to look up, to reach out and touch. It’s a quiet rebellion against the frictionless scroll of contemporary life.

That same ethos extends to the building’s formal language. Drawing from the surrounding context—Georgian terraces, the ghost of Euston Station, and the layered urban fabric of Tolmer’s Square—the facade reinterprets traditional arches and proportions through a contemporary lens. Openings are organized within a disciplined grid, their segmental forms stretched and scaled to accommodate larger windows, increased daylight, and cross-ventilation.

History becomes less a reference point and more a working material, as it should.

The interiors follow suit. Apartments are arranged in stepped, double-aspect layouts that subtly delineate kitchen, dining, and living zones without resorting to partitions. It’s a spatial strategy that privileges light, air, and adaptability. Winter gardens extend this logic further, occupying that ambiguous territory between inside and out, offering residents a buffer against both density and isolation.

Bureau de Change describes their process as excavation: “We treated this project as archaeologists more than anything else.” Rather than imposing a singular vision, the architects sift through layers of history—Georgian ambition, postwar decline, late-20th-century redevelopment—assembling a narrative that acknowledges what was, while speculating on what could be.

This approach reframes the role of the architect altogether. No longer just a designer of new forms, but a curator of those that exist––and above all, a steward of accumulated meaning. It’s a position that feels both humbling and more radical, particularly in an industry still enamored with spectacle.

There’s nothing timid about Trace, though. Perhaps the most quietly provocative aspect of the project is its scalability. Positioned within the broader ambitions of the Euston Area Plan, the structure demonstrates how small-scale interventions can exert outsized influence. In dense urban environments, these liminal sites—often overlooked in favor of grand masterplans—offer fertile ground for experimentation. In many ways, they offer the ideal testing sites for a more circular, materially conscious architecture.

In an era defined by both environmental urgency and cultural amnesia, adaptive reuse proves to be the most forward-thinking move of all.

To learn more about the firm’s ingenuity and ethos, or to view their portfolio, visit b-de-c.com.

Photography by Gilbert McCarragher..

A heatwave hack, a last resort—perhaps even a stand-in for traditional air conditioning—tiny fans have long hovered somewhere between novelty and quiet surrender. Dyson, unsurprisingly, has other plans. Enter the HushJet Mini Cool: a handheld, wearable, desk-friendly device that reframes personal cooling as less of a coping mechanism and more of a lifestyle accessory—one that just so happens to deliver airflow speeds up to 25 m/s (about 55 mph).

Weighing just under half a pound—roughly the heft of a smartphone—it’s engineered for the kind of constant companionship usually reserved for earbuds and iced coffee. And in a world where overheating is both literal and metaphorical—packed commutes, open-plan offices, increasingly ambitious summers—the health benefits of staying cool are no longer trivial. Regulating body temperature can help maintain cognitive performance, reduce fatigue, and keep irritability at bay, effectively turning personal cooling into a productivity tool.

Dyson, predictably, doesn’t stop at function. This is as much an aesthetic recalibration as it is a technical one. Personal fans have historically been relegated to the same kooky category as neck pillows and emergency ponchos—useful, but hardly aspirational. The HushJet Mini Cool course-corrects with a design language that feels closer to wearable tech than seasonal accessory. Three finishes—Cobalt/Ink, Carnelian/Sky, and Stone/Blush—lean into contrast, softness, and emotional resonance, turning airflow into something almost expressive.

Even the acoustics get a glow-up. Dyson’s HushJet projection system doesn’t just move air efficiently; it refines the sound profile, stripping out the high-pitched whir that has long defined the category. The result is cooling that considers ambient comfort as much as performance—present, but polite.

Then there’s the versatility. Handheld on the move, perched on a desk when focus is fleeting, or worn hands-free when your outfit—or your patience—can’t accommodate another device. Add a lanyard, travel pouch, or optional clips and mounts, and it becomes less a single object and more a system for staying composed in increasingly uncomposed conditions.

Seventeen years of airflow engineering distilled into something that fits in your palm, the HushJet Mini Cool makes a compelling case: staying cool is no longer just about survival—it’s about self-regulation, performance, and a bit of style. Because if you’re going to carry a fan, it might as well look intentional.

To shop this and other innovations by the brand, visit dyson.com.

Photography courtesy of Dyson.

Simplicity is often deceptive—seemingly straightforward (even easy) from the outside, yet incredibly difficult to get right. Working with a single material—powder-coated steel—and just two applications—sheet and tube—nonconformist French furniture producer Tiptoe has developed the multipronged PANORAMA collection. The outdoor line now includes a lounge chair, bench, low table, and stool.

With the full gamut—plus the preexisting outdoor table and chair—Tiptoe applies a consistent structural logic across six products, flexing its industrial expertise through precisely cut, folded, and formed metal. These elegantly light yet sturdy armatures may appear effortless, but they are the result of rigorous refinement: calibrating proportions, resolving ergonomic dimensions, and fully leveraging the material’s inherent properties. The finishing touch? Five new colorways: Soleil Yellow, Brick Red, Graphite Black, Forest Green, and Chalky Grey.

These “spring” tones—exuberant yet measured—are carefully attuned to a range of natural settings, complementing the hues and textures of re-emerging flowerbeds, bristling wetland grasses, pebble-strewn shores, and lengthening sunsets. The pieces blend in while subtly standing out, achieving a quiet visual balance. Lightweight and easily repositioned, they offer a high degree of versatility.

PANORAMA furnishings can be arranged in near-endless configurations. The bench supports moments of repose while encouraging social interaction, while the stool functions equally well as a side table or standalone seat. Anchoring the collection, the outdoor table is now available in 90×90, 130×80, and 160×80 cm formats. Here, the system’s defining curvature is most fully expressed—standing in for a draped tablecloth and seamlessly integrated into the object’s form.

From a sustainability standpoint, the designs are highly durable and weather-resistant, ensuring longevity. Their understated, universal language also resists the pull of passing trends. Steel itself—at least in Europe, where all Tiptoe products are manufactured—is now composed of up to 80% recycled content.

To learn more about this and other collections collection, visit tiptoe.fr.

Photography courtesy of Tiptoe.

When Pennsylvanian Barry Ginder was an architecture student at Temple University his art professor, Larry Spaid, influenced how he would eventually approach his own pieces. “He taught me a method of working the full surface repeatedly, and then refining the work until a moment of balance is achieved,” he says.

It was natural for Ginder to pursue both disciplines, which allow him to document the world around him. While rooted in his knowledge of structures, Ginder’s artwork strays from literal representation. Abstract versions of urban landscapes, which he describes as excerpts, take on geometric forms that seem to pulse with movement.

Not surprisingly, Ginder focuses on the experience of space—how people move through it, relate to it, and are connected by it. He strives to capture the energy of the Mid-Atlantic region, particularly his beloved Philadelphia. Color and layered surfaces add depth that echo the textures in the city.

Ginder puts acrylic on plexiglass, which he sands to transform the surface. Vibrant colors are paired with an array of lines, from sharp to gestural. These layers shift along with the viewer’s perspective, and add a depth that echoes the diversity in the city.

Sketchbooks are essential for Ginder as concepts take shape via his drawings. “Whether it’s a quote, song, or a building detail, I trace the idea and record it on paper,” he notes. “Over time, that process develops meaning and becomes a proposal.”

Today, Barry Ginder joins us for Friday Five!

1. Sean Scully

The intense depth of his paintings. The power of painting the same image repeatedly. The strength of both large and small works.

2. Finn Juhl — Chair 45

A revolutionary chair design, one of the first to detach the backrest and seat from the frame, creating a floating effect. An iconic organic form with meticulous joinery. A timeless design.

3. Gerhard Richter + Richard Serra 2016

At the Marian Goodman Gallery and the Gagosian Gallery in 2016, I saw a dual showing of painting and sculpture that, in my mind, had a strong resonance in the similarity of the work. Steel and stretched paint felt like parallel expressions of pure power and emotion.

4. My Son’s Hands

My son is my inspiration. Through his trials, he has risen to a level often only achieved by wise old souls. This shows up in simple, everyday ways, like the gathering of a daily harvest from his garden.

5. Sunlight on My Paintings

Light is a primary source of inspiration. I often find the best source material in cityscapes drenched in light. In my work on plexiglass, the continual layering of the surface captures subtleties of depth and transparency, resonating with surfaces saturated in light or shade. In the studio, the ultimate moment is when sunlight falls onto a completed painting, creating another composition.

Works by Barry Ginder:

B+G Residence in Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania
This is a house I designed with Suzanne Brandt as part of Brandt+Ginder Architecture. It sits on 2.5 acres and was shaped not by style, but by the experience of light, wind, exterior views, and interior relationships. It’s a modern home designed with simplicity and rigor, constructed with traditional material detail in a modern aesthetic. Handmade brick, mahogany siding, a metal roof, and oversized windows create a contemporary farmhouse. It’s a handmade object in the landscape with vista-like views, and interior framed views toward the extended landscape.

Private Residence
This project was a renovation of a historic stone building with a reddish-purple coloration. An addition was designed in copper, which over time developed a similar purplish tone, creating a modern interpretation of the original stone materiality.Copper was also carried into the kitchen, reinforcing the connection between the new intervention and the existing structure.

2026 View East no3
A zoomed-in detail from a continuing series of paintings based on a particular view of Philadelphia. Philadelphia is personal to me, as it’s where I went to school at Temple University. The view is from the 11th floor in West Philadelphia, looking east. Throughout the day, the scene changes, especially in the afternoon as the light shifts. This painting is one of many versions of that same view.

3 Squared Painting
A nine-squared composition based on the View East series. This work is part of a larger cityscape series, but more zoomed out—an actual city view rather than a graphic interpretation. It uses the same Philadelphia view that runs through the series.

Favorite Bench
A bench I designed with elegant details and minimal parts to create the maximum outcome. A simple leg structure is shaped and folded for support. Cushions allow for comfort and perching, but not lounging, a conversation bench. An extended wood seat becomes a place for objects. Two materials, walnut and textured cotton upholstery, are handcrafted into a modern bench.