Creative responsibility is woven into the very fabric of this project. How do you see your role in designing elegant environments with sustainable innovation in mind?
Sustainability should never be an afterthought; it must be embedded from the very first sketch. At Printemps, I saw a beautiful opportunity to make that philosophy visible. From Christian Pellizzari’s installation to the use of upcycled textiles, each element celebrates rebirth and resilience. As a designer, I see my role as both a creator and a curator of values. It’s about making thoughtful choices—working with artisans, reducing waste, giving new life to vintage or existing elements. But it’s also about creating spaces that spark conversations, that gently remind people that beauty and responsibility can coexist, and in fact elevate one another.
The landmark Red Room, with its Hildreth Meière mosaics concealed from public view since 2001, strikes a beautiful balance between preservation and reinvention. What was it like to resurrect such a historic space while making it relevant for the present day?
The Red Room was an emotional journey. Discovering Meière’s mosaics—silent and hidden for decades—felt like uncovering a secret treasure. There was a sacredness to that space, and I approached it with reverence. But I also knew it had to feel alive again. The challenge was to honor its history while making it resonate with today’s audience. I brought in tactile fabrics, softened the lighting, and introduced furnishings that echo the glamour of the past without being nostalgic. The result, I hope, is a room that feels timeless—grounded, but not frozen in time.
No interior—whether public or private—remains static. It’s part of an evolving discourse that extends far beyond the designer’s initial intervention. How do you embrace that sense of openness and adaptability in your work?
Interiors are like living poems—they breathe, shift, and grow. I never think of a space as finished. My job is to set a foundation of beauty and coherence, but then it must evolve with the people who use it. I design with layers: textures, patterns, stories. Over time, people add their own chapters—flowers, music, conversations. That openness is vital. I want my work to invite participation, not impose perfection. I always say: Elegance should never be intimidating. It should feel like an invitation. 