An Exclusive Sanctuary for Discerning Tastes
Ascending to the Pacific Design Center, it became immediately evident that Design Space—an inaugural retail experience fusing collector-grade design, contemporary art, and archival fashion—was a sanctum for the discerning connoisseur. The parking lot alone served as a runway for stealth wealth: a woman draped in The Row’s austere tailoring, another in Miu Miu’s subversive thong-boots. The semiotics were subtle yet unmistakable—this was a temple for sartorial flexing. Following these style savants to the center’s top floor, I entered a labyrinth of rooms showcasing limited-edition furniture, avant-garde housewares, and museum-caliber fashion—all meticulously staged for maximum desire.
Commerce as Spectacle
For Jesse Lee, founder of the digital design marketplace Basic Space (which orchestrated Design Space), the objective transcended mere see-and-be-seen spectacle. This was high-stakes commerce—an unapologetic celebration of acquisition. Every element, from Troye Sivan’s olfactory venture Tsu Lange Yor to Paulin Paulin’s crimson Chirac Sofa (a collaboration with Christo & Jeanne-Claude and Parley for the Oceans, displayed in a monochromatic red chamber), was available for purchase. Outside, a pièce de résistance: Jean Prouvé’s 1969 gas station, making its American debut—an architectural relic recontextualized as collectible art.
A Who’s Who of Avant-Garde Design
The exhibitor roster read like a who’s who of design’s avant-garde: Memphis Milano’s postmodernist whimsy, Gaetano Pesce’s Edizioni del Pesce, and one-of-one objets d’art like Future Perfect’s crystal-encrusted martini glasses. Vintage dealers such as Justin Reed and fashion disruptors like 424 further cemented the fair’s eclectic yet exacting curation. Lee emphasized that while many pieces were museum-worthy, Design Space was no static exhibition—it was a dynamic marketplace, pulsating with the frisson of transactional tension.
Nostalgia for the Golden Age of Retail
Navigating the space evoked the bygone glamour of luxury retail, before algorithms replaced serendipity. Crisp white carpeting offset Gufram’s Pratone lounge chair—a surrealist ode to overgrown grass—while performance art blurred commerce with theater. Enorme staged an ‘80s office vignette, complete with a period-accurate model mid-conversation on Jean Pigozzi’s 1985 telephone design. The effect was cinematic, a hyperreal diorama of desire.
Then, the revelations: A silver bean bag chair—initially mistaken for plush seating—revealed itself as Cheryl Ekstrom’s 2007 aluminum sculpture, presented by JF Chen. Such moments underscored the fair’s curatorial audacity.
A Rebellion Against Minimalist Fatigue
Lee’s vision was born from nostalgia—Barney’s Beverly Hills (RIP) in its heyday, where he once wandered as a design-obsessed youth, absorbing its unattainable allure. “What we want is obsessively curated and unapologetically commercial,” he asserted. “Barney’s wasn’t about what I could afford—it was about losing myself in the fantasy.”
Design Space also functions as a quiet rebellion against L.A.’s prevailing aesthetic—the blonde wood, sparse minimalism, and performative accessibility that have grown stale. Here, Lee declares: Luxury should intimidate.
Archival Treasures and Celebratory Moments
In the Archived section—a grail-filled showcase of vintage fashion and furniture—an editor gasped: “Alex Israel just took his glasses off.” The artist’s sunglasses, a seminal part of his persona, were shed in this context, as if the rarity on display demanded unshielded scrutiny. From a Gucci A/W 2002 shearling coat to Helmut Lang’s ‘90s leather pants (patinaed to perfection), every piece commanded reverence. Nearby, A$AP Rocky’s Hommemade studio presented a nomadic entertainment console—complete with projector, mic setup, and snack dispenser—alongside his debut Ray-Ban collection as Creative Director. His late-night appearance felt like a benediction, sealing Design Space’s status as the season’s most covetable happening.
The Right Crowd, Not the Big Crowd
Invite-only, the event assembled a rarefied cohort—those for whom niche furniture designers and archival fashion occupy adjacent mental tabs. This was neither an art fair crowd (too devoid of rizz) nor a fashion week coterie (too performative). These were disciples of Design, their lives a holistic curation—from outerwear to tableware.
In an era of digital saturation, Design Space resurrects the tactile thrill of discovery—and the delicious unease of true luxury.