Saint Laurent Wants to Get You Into Vintage Italian Furniture
The capsule also includes books, long out of print, reissued and finally available. Founding
designer Barbara Radice’s tome Memphis, subtitled “Research, Experiences, Failures and Successes of New Design,” is printed heretwice, with another 1988 book, also titled Memphis, tracking the later years. A third title focuses on housewares: vases mostly, ceramic and glass, with one more on Sottsass. These books, like Memphis’ chairs, lamps and dressers, were available in theory, but difficult to get in the real world: reissued in small runs, they’d pop up at flea markets, with original editions commanding prices in the mid-hundreds on Amazon. They’re the best sort of reference material, packed with photos and detail that don’t seem to get uploaded to Instagram. In a frequently shallow design world, they are deep. Other designers have rubbed shoulders with art books—there’s the Margiela Cream box, made famous by Kanye, and a flotilla of gems published by Fondazione Prada—which makes the republishing here feel both pitch-perfect, and major. Memphis is everywhere, but mostly on screens. With so many of their endless designs still hidden, a permanent paper accompaniment is the most complete way to take their work in. These books make the collection, and are must-owns for design heads, real or aspiring.
In the past five years, the initial shock of Memphis has, thanks to fairly heavy exposure, become palatable. Yes, people like this stuff, and yes, they have for a while. These purposefully outré ‘80s designs now feel more kitschy and cute than difficult, which is what happens when you see a boxing ring bed for the 500th time. The aesthetic is just about everywhere. Which makes the timing of this collection notable. After Memphis’ initial groundswell in the ‘80s, the buzz wore off, and people turned back to modernism, leaving only generational geniuses like David Bowie and Karl Lagerfeld to fly the group’s flag. It might be the case that Saint Laurent’s collaboration is meant to prevent another slide into the background, or perhaps simply that Vaccarrello likes Sottsass’ work, and made the call there. It feels a bit late—unless it’s savvily so.
Memphis’ work, after all, was always as camp and light as it was experimental. Its initial jolt worn off, now feels like the perfect—or perhaps just the most Memphis—time for a collaboration.