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“I think I just do what I feel is good to do. Everybody can give me their suggestions, but at the end, the final risk is mine because it’s my name on the magazine. So I only do what I really feel. Everybody tries to influence you, of course: ‘Oh, this is the right moment to do this’ and ‘This is the right photographer to choose,’ and ‘This is the right model to have…’ I listen, but I must go my own way. When you take risks, it means that you know every month people are there to judge you. Some months are good; some months are bad. When you make a mistake, they call you immediately. And when you do something good, they send flowers to the stylist. So this is a way to say that I want to do it myself. I don’t care if you like it or not. I do the magazine that I think is correct. If you like this issue, I am more than happy. If you don’t like this issue, you will like the next because we do 14 issues a year. So once in a year you will love, no?”

-Franca Sozzani, editor-in-chief or Vogue Italia and editorial director of Condé Nast Italy, in an Interview interview with Livia Firth. On May 4, Sozzani will be in New York to discuss her career (and, if history is any guide, a lot more) at the Museum at the Fashion Institute of Technology. Register here to attend the free event.

(Photos: Nico Neefs)

Bound for the Milan Furniture Fair yet short on time? Focus on the work of designers named Maarten! That will keep you plenty busy. Start at Ventura Lambrate, where Maarten Baas will have a bunch of new projects on display beginning tomorrow. Among them are spidery clay stools that Louise Bourgeois would have loved, a massive tablecloth woven—in a typeface called “Font of the Loom”—with the names of the inhabitants of Amsterdam (all 780,559 of them), and a still-under-wraps “kinetic object” for Laikingland. Also on view will be his Martin Puryear-esque “Empty Chair,” a 16-foot tall ladder-back seat created for Amnesty International in honor of Nobel Peace Prize winner Liu Xiaobo.

The other Eindhoven-educated must-see Maarten is Maarten De Ceulaer, who’ll be exhibiting at three locations during the Salone del Mobile. Head to Rossana Orlandi and the Triennale di Milano to be charmed by his “Mutations” series (pictured). “The pieces in this series look like they weren’t made by hands, but have grown to their present form organically,” says the Brussels-based designer. “They might be the result of a mutation in cells, or the result of a chemical or nuclear reaction. Perhaps it’s a virus or bacteria that has grown dramatically out of scale.” In fact, De Ceulaer created the molecularly marvelous seating, a kind of deep-buttoned upholstery run amok, by carefully composing patterns with sections of foam spheres that are then applied to a structure. The final step is coating the entire piece in a rubbery or velvet-like finish. “It is largely impossible to ever recreate such a specific pattern,” he says, “so every piece is completely unique.”

Looks from the spring 2012 Jil Sander collection.

“When I was at industrial-design school, we were all expected to like the Memphis Group and Philippe Starck, but I’ve always been attracted to midcentury modernism. My favorite is the French designer Jean Royère. I love the marriage between different things in his work—the aspects of kitsch, premodernism, and modernism, along with an extreme femininity—but there’s also a robustness. Royère’s designs are very eclectic, but they all come from the world he has put together. His work has had a huge impact on me, but I’ve never bought any of it—it’s unaffordable. Recently, a Royère table came up at auction; the estimate was €12,000 to €15,000. I thought, That’s mine. Then I was on the phone with the auction house wondering if I should go up to €18,000. My God! I didn’t have time to say a thing. The thing went to €120,000!”

-Raf Simons, newly appointed artistic director of Christian Dior, in a recent interview with Alice Rawsthorn for W. Among the designer’s other favorite things, lest you want to send him a congratulatory gift: art by Sterling Ruby, Valentine Schlegel‘s ceramics, the architecture of John Lautner, the Todd Haynes film Safe, and vintage Margiela.

Copenhagen-born Jens Risom designed the first Knoll chair in 1941, which puts his age at roughly “two-hundred! Well, that’s almost right,” he said, seated in a high-backed rocking chair of his own design on a recent visit to the Stamford, Connecticut headquarters of Design Within Reach (in fact, he’ll turn 96 next month). This latest DWR Film features morsels of Risom’s chat, in which he discusses his storied career, interrupted early on by a stint in Patton’s Third Army; his creations; and that famous 1961 Playboy photo (above) in which he played musical chairs with George Nelson, Edward Wormley, Eero Saarinen, Harry Bertoia, and Charles Eames. Sure enough, he’s still the last one standing.

Ron Arad’s 1992 “Narrow Pappardelle” chair. (Photo: Bruno Scott)

“People in the art world are happy saying ‘I’m a designer’ and architects are happy saying ‘I’m an artist’ but I’m not allowed to be all of the above. If I do a sculpture it’s written about as ‘designed by Ron Arad‘ but if my friend Antony Gormley does one, no one ever says he ‘designed’ it. I thought it would get easier to escape these kinds of distinctions, but no. Frank Gehry told me he didn’t get taken seriously as an architect until he stopped designing furniture. I understand it: if you are doing these huge buildings it is difficult to accept that someone who isn’t an exclusive member of your club can do it too. Personally, I have no problem designing stuff for Vitra or Moroso that is made to be sold in shops, but I also like to do big projects or products that cause people in the bolshevik art world to be uncomfortable. But that’s a problem of their perception. I don’t want to stop doing anything. I want to do it all as seriously as I can, whether it’s industrial or a useless installation.”

-Ron Arad, in conversation with Reed Krakoff in this weekend’s Financial Times

As Chip Kidd’s crackerjack TED talk—“Designing books is no laughing matter. OK, it is.”—delights design junkies and design neophytes the world over, we asked the man himself to tell us about the challenge of distilling a career’s worth of memorable book jackets into a brief yet memorable and cohesive (and funny!) presentation—delivered whilst wearing a “Lady Gaga skanky mic,” no less; his overall TED experience; and how his distinctive sartorial flair was received by an audience that tends to view khakis as dress-up pants.

How did you approach the task of distilling what you do into a few minutes (or at least 17 minutes and 16 seconds)?
That was the hardest part, because I’m usually given anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour or more to speak, and I use it! And what I don’t use is notes or a script of any kind. But TED of course has strict time limits (which they do for very good reasons) and encourages all speakers to write out what they’re going to say, memorize it, and rehearse, edit, rehearse, edit, rehearse, etc. So that is what I did, and boy am I glad. I knew I wanted to start with the ‘Apple’ lesson (which has nothing to do with Mr. Jobs’ company, in case that was unclear) and end with 1Q84. It was what went in between that I really sweated over. I cut a lot from the first version and along the way.

What was the most exciting/surreal/strange aspect of your TED experience?
I’d say all of it. More specific: meeting and talking with Al Gore; rehearsing in the theater and finally understanding how big it was; thinking that I would not need a speaking coach but reluctantly meeting with Gina Barnett and getting 100% more confident because of her. She is amazing.
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Innovative. Refreshing. Full of ideas. Three ways to describe both TED and Chip Kidd. The charismatic graphic designer, author, editor, Batman expert, and rock star made his TED debut at the recent Full Spectrum conference in Long Beach, California, thanks to “guest curators” Chee Pearlman and David Rockwell, who organized a smashing session entitled “The Design Studio” that featured creative superstars including architect Liz Diller, Metropolitan Museum of Art director Tom Campbell, and IDEO’s David Kelley, bracketed by the whimsy of Maira Kalman‘s tapestry-cum-stage set and the wisdom of John Hodgman, who provided interstitial interrogations on design classics such as Philippe Starck‘s Juicy Salif citrus squeezer (“When you fall asleep it comes alive,” warned Hodgman. “Mr. Starck, I have revealed your terrible secret.”) In the leadoff spot was Kidd, who managed to bring the tech-heavy crowd to its feet by talking about the wonders of books: the analog kind, with dustjackets, odors, and, according to Kidd, “tradition, a sensual experience, the comfort of thingy-ness—a little bit of humanity.” Treat yourself to his freshly posted TED talk:

(Junenoire Photography)

Sure, you think you know Stefano Pilati, who last month stepped down as creative director of Yves Saint Laurent. Born in Milan, groomed at Prada (where he sourced fabrics and later designed for Miu Miu), and plucked by Tom Ford to run ready-to-wear clothing design for YSL in 2000, Pilati went on to prove himself an accessory design savant—the house beat profitability targets thanks in large part to his eminently hoardable Tribute sandals and Muse bags—and filled the runway with a daringly diverse range of critical hits (sharp suiting, epic capes, measured flounces), misses (sufficed to say he does not have a flair for the nautical), and misses-turned-hits (two words: tulip skirt). Pilati’s present “vacation” gave him the opportunity to visit New York, where last week he sat down with Pamela Golbin, chief curator of the Musée de la Mode et du Textile in Paris, as part of a series of fashionable conversations hosted by the French Institute Alliance Française. We listened carefully and picked up these ten things you (probably) didn’t know about Stefano Pilati, including what’s next for the charming designer:

10. He’s not crushed or particularly sad about that fact that his YSL contract was not renewed. “Great. Absolutely great” is how he described his state of mind. “I’m very happy, which is unusual for me,” he said, gesturing to the capacity crowd at Florence Gould Hall. “People are interested to listen to me—what more do you want?”
9. He originally wanted to be a land surveyor but quit midway through his certification courses to intern at Nino Cerruti.
8. Complex? Yes. Cool? No. He singled out “cool” as being the most overrated thing in fashion and confessed to wishing the world would up its elegance quotient. “If fashion was elegant,” he said. “It would be nicer to walk around and see people.”
7. When he interviewed for a gig designing womenswear at YSL, he didn’t show Tom Ford him any sketches. “I said I didn’t have any,” explained Pilati with a shrug. Ford later exacted a bit of revenge on his dapper new hire. “One week later, Tom told me ‘I forgot, you have to do menswear as well.’”
6. Nobody has inspired him more than Miuccia Prada, who he praised for her “exceptional, original mind.”
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The end of an era is at hand. Yesterday it was announced the New Yorker‘s longtime architecture critic, Paul Goldberger, will be leaving the magazine he’s called home for the past 15 years for greener, more ad-heavy pastures, to become a contributing editor at Vanity Fair. The two magazines are, of course, both owned by Conde Nast, meaning the move isn’t a tremendous hike, and Goldberger has a history with VF, having contributed pieces here and there over the years. Still, it’s something of a major in-house coup, which the Observer has plenty of juicy details on, including that the critic hadn’t been getting along with New Yorker editor David Remnick, who he claims made getting stories into the magazine much more difficult, and that his decision to leave was in part related to a biography of Frank Gehry he’s in the middle of working on. On the Vanity Fair side, here’s what the magazine’s triumphant editor Graydon Carter had to say:

“This is an appointment that thrills me profoundly,” Carter said. “Paul is about as gifted a commentator on architecture, urban planning, and design as anyone you’re going to find these days—in other words, he’s just a brilliant writer.”

(Photo: Sasha Arutyunova)

“Brands are like people,” Reed Krakoff has said. “They are all different and you get to know them in different ways.” The versatile designer’s observation on the diversity of brands, quoted back to him by Pamela Golbin, curator of fashion at textiles at Les Arts Décoratifs in Paris, was a fitting way to begin the first in a trio of “Fashion Talks” presented by the French Institute Alliance Francaise (the chic conversations continue tonight, when FIAF welcomes Stefano Pilati, who earlier this month stepped down from the creative helm of Yves Saint Laurent). In two short years (and five runway collections), Krakoff has created a luxury brand—an American luxury brand, no less—from scratch, which in an industry that trades on centuries-old saddlery skills and wildly embellished “heritage” narratives is no simple feat, especially considering that he’s developed his eponymous label while also maintaining posts as president of executive creative director of Coach.

“When I came to Coach [in 1996], I had never done accessories. I was a menswear designer, and what I loved more than anything was starting something that was an amazing challenge, something where I knew I could learn and be on path to discovering what I could do—or not do,” he told Golbin at last week’s sold-out event at Florence Gould Hall. “I really love the idea of learning and challenges, and after fifteen years, I felt that I wanted to do more that was in keeping with my own true aesthetic.” Influenced by everything from ultimate fighting champs and vintage football jerseys to the artful aviary of John James Audubon and design masterpieces from his own astounding collection, that aesthetic is refined but flexible, as likely to embrace a sleek clutch (in matte python) as a bold trench stamped with a painterly monochrome print that only the most eagle-eyed shopper would recognize as an abstracted version of the brand’s geometric logo. “It’s a direct reflection of the things that I love,” said Krakoff. “The aesthetic is a combination of disparate ideas—things that are quite sexy and sensual and romantic, things that are quite minimal and architectural.”
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