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Design Miami 2025:
What Has Changed in Collectable World
By Olga Korotkova
BY OLGA KOROTKOVA
The Design Miami Fair was held for the 21st time, from December 3 to 7, 2025. What new insights did we gain about collectible design, and how are consumer expectations evolving?
Make. Believe.
The pavilion in Pride Park hosted 80 exhibitors from the United States, Latin America, Europe, the Middle East, and China—in other words, from all key global regions. This year, Design Miami announced its theme as Make. Believe:
“The Make. Believe. theme explores the meeting point between expert craft and bold imagination, viewing design as a space where fantasy is rooted in real-world making. Craft, in all its forms, turns imagination into reality.”
No more, no less. Put simply, design makes dreams tangible; it gives form to fantasy. It turns fairy tales into reality, play into the substance of everyday life. Homo Ludens—the playing human—is no longer merely a trend in design. “Game” as a design direction was lightly, playfully outlined back in pre-COVID Paris at Maison & Objet in 2016 as one of the future trajectories of design. Let’s Play! was the name of the Hermès Home collection, also at Maison & Objet, in 2018. At the time, the call to “live playfully” sounded more like a philosophical concept—voiced just before the pandemic, which became a turning point on the road to a new world.
The Parisian signals did not go unnoticed. Just a few years later, having lived through the pandemic, design acquired an entirely new quality: it became playful, collectible, fantastical, craft-based, and extremely individualized. One is almost tempted to say—tribal. Design Miami demonstrates these qualities in full.
The exhibition “promenade” opened with an interactive carousel placed inside a mirrored booth. The rotating attraction—an archetype of childhood, adventure, and joy—was created by Katie Stout. This booth was part of her project Gargantua’s Thumb. (The second part of the project is a series of cartoon-style sculptures that have become a permanent outdoor installation in the Miami Design District.) The carousel greeted visitors at the very beginning of their journey; people lingered for a long time by the mirrored stand, immersing themselves in a world of dreams and memories, studying the flickering reflections.
The next stand, by the American industrial giant Kohler, immersed viewers in an even deeper meditative narrative. Undelight—an original concept by Harry Nuriev and Crosby Studios — went far beyond the presentation of a pearlescent finish for sinks. It was an emotional experience in which space was created through archetypes (there is no escaping that word). The primordial elements of water and light “drew in” visitors as if to a magical ritual.
Contemporary design now “works” like psychotherapy: acting through associations and emotions, it reaches into the deep memory of humanity’s fundamental origins, removing people from the context of consumption and functionalism and returning them to realms that historically belonged to art. And this, one might think, is surprising — after all, sinks and faucets are among the most prosaic of household objects.
“The Make. Believe. theme explores the meeting point between expert craft and bold imagination, viewing design as a space where fantasy is rooted in real-world making. Craft, in all its forms, turns imagination into reality.”
No more, no less. Put simply, design makes dreams tangible; it gives form to fantasy. It turns fairy tales into reality, play into the substance of everyday life. Homo Ludens—the playing human—is no longer merely a trend in design. “Game” as a design direction was lightly, playfully outlined back in pre-COVID Paris at Maison & Objet in 2016 as one of the future trajectories of design. Let’s Play! was the name of the Hermès Home collection, also at Maison & Objet, in 2018. At the time, the call to “live playfully” sounded more like a philosophical concept—voiced just before the pandemic, which became a turning point on the road to a new world.
The Parisian signals did not go unnoticed. Just a few years later, having lived through the pandemic, design acquired an entirely new quality: it became playful, collectible, fantastical, craft-based, and extremely individualized. One is almost tempted to say—tribal. Design Miami demonstrates these qualities in full.
The exhibition “promenade” opened with an interactive carousel placed inside a mirrored booth. The rotating attraction—an archetype of childhood, adventure, and joy—was created by Katie Stout. This booth was part of her project Gargantua’s Thumb. (The second part of the project is a series of cartoon-style sculptures that have become a permanent outdoor installation in the Miami Design District.) The carousel greeted visitors at the very beginning of their journey; people lingered for a long time by the mirrored stand, immersing themselves in a world of dreams and memories, studying the flickering reflections.
The next stand, by the American industrial giant Kohler, immersed viewers in an even deeper meditative narrative. Undelight—an original concept by Harry Nuriev and Crosby Studios — went far beyond the presentation of a pearlescent finish for sinks. It was an emotional experience in which space was created through archetypes (there is no escaping that word). The primordial elements of water and light “drew in” visitors as if to a magical ritual.
Contemporary design now “works” like psychotherapy: acting through associations and emotions, it reaches into the deep memory of humanity’s fundamental origins, removing people from the context of consumption and functionalism and returning them to realms that historically belonged to art. And this, one might think, is surprising — after all, sinks and faucets are among the most prosaic of household objects.
- Katie Stout. Gargantua's Thumb. Photo credit: Design Miami
- Kohler & Crossby Studio. Photo credit: Olga Korotkova
- Marcela Cure Booth. Photo credit: Design Miami
Function Follows Narrative.
This is the defining characteristic of collectible design as an approach.
Another beautiful and engaging performance was the stand of the British company Clive Christian—once again conceived by the fantasist and dreamer Harry Nuriev. He presented the Clive Christian fragrance collection as a toy-scale cinema, complete with a stage, screen, auditorium, and miniature audience figures. Visitors peered into the hall through three small windows to see what was happening inside. The auditorium was exactly the size of the mobile fairground theaters of medieval markets. Another archetype, one might say. The collective unconscious—yes, that is precisely it. Play, entertainment, commedia dell’arte.
Katie Stout, too, did not choose the title Gargantua’s Thumb by accident. It is an homage to François Rabelais and Rabelaisianism itself—a synonym for childlike spontaneity, carnival revelry, the triumph of the body, and the unity of humanity with everything natural and wild (including animals) both within and around us.
Another beautiful and engaging performance was the stand of the British company Clive Christian—once again conceived by the fantasist and dreamer Harry Nuriev. He presented the Clive Christian fragrance collection as a toy-scale cinema, complete with a stage, screen, auditorium, and miniature audience figures. Visitors peered into the hall through three small windows to see what was happening inside. The auditorium was exactly the size of the mobile fairground theaters of medieval markets. Another archetype, one might say. The collective unconscious—yes, that is precisely it. Play, entertainment, commedia dell’arte.
Katie Stout, too, did not choose the title Gargantua’s Thumb by accident. It is an homage to François Rabelais and Rabelaisianism itself—a synonym for childlike spontaneity, carnival revelry, the triumph of the body, and the unity of humanity with everything natural and wild (including animals) both within and around us.
- "Perfume Transformism" by Harry Nuriev's Crosby studios. Photo credit: Clive Christian Perfume
- Atelier Crestani Booth. Photo credit: Olga Korotkova
- Murano glass wall lighting by Atelier Crestani. Photo credit: Olga Korotkova
Installations as a Genre.
This is another important aspect introduced into collectible design—and another rapidly strengthening trend. The stand of the young Colombian artist Marcela Cure was pure concept: an installation easily imaginable in a museum of contemporary art or an art gallery. Yet the idea was realized precisely at a fair whose primary purpose is to ensure that everything you see can be purchased and made part of your living or business environment.
Marcela also works in interior design, so she knows exactly what she is doing and why. This means that the demand for installations on the edge of an arthouse (borrowing a term from cinema) is now entering everyday interior life. The convergence of object design and fine art is becoming ever tighter; boundaries are dissolving.
Marcela Cure successfully debuted at the Collectible Design Fair in New York City in September 2025 and consolidated that success at Design Miami.
A New Life for Design Icons.
A new meaning for so-called “design icons” in the context of Design Miami was impossible to overlook. The Madrid-based gallery Arte y Ritual brought a cabinet designed by Ettore Sottsass in 1969. I stood frozen in front of it. I did not know what it was or who made it—but you can recognize a lion by its claw. And indeed: Sottsass. A cabinet with impeccable provenance (most recently owned by a private collector in Italy), an astronomical price tag, and museum-level significance.
Most importantly, it is highly relevant for contemporary interiors—as an avant-garde accent piece that sets both style and tone.
The New York Art gallery Superhouse built its entire exhibition around what might be called “historical treasures.” American Art Furniture 1980–1990 was the title of their stand, and indeed it resembled a museum display. What is interesting—and very much in the spirit of our time—is that these pieces are entirely conceivable in a signature interior, as the term is now commonly used. The museum approach is directly extending into interior practice. In this sense, the fair’s motto is strongly felt.
The number of major, established galleries from the United States, Europe, and Dubai (the latter a relatively new phenomenon in collectible design) at Design Miami is striking. Among the 80 participants, industry leaders made up a lion’s share. This fact alone indicates that Miami has become a leading global platform for collectible design.
It is no coincidence that the Design Miami brand has expanded beyond Miami: last fall, Design Miami Paris was held for the second time, and the first Design Miami Dubai has already been announced for next year.
Most importantly, it is highly relevant for contemporary interiors—as an avant-garde accent piece that sets both style and tone.
The New York Art gallery Superhouse built its entire exhibition around what might be called “historical treasures.” American Art Furniture 1980–1990 was the title of their stand, and indeed it resembled a museum display. What is interesting—and very much in the spirit of our time—is that these pieces are entirely conceivable in a signature interior, as the term is now commonly used. The museum approach is directly extending into interior practice. In this sense, the fair’s motto is strongly felt.
The number of major, established galleries from the United States, Europe, and Dubai (the latter a relatively new phenomenon in collectible design) at Design Miami is striking. Among the 80 participants, industry leaders made up a lion’s share. This fact alone indicates that Miami has become a leading global platform for collectible design.
It is no coincidence that the Design Miami brand has expanded beyond Miami: last fall, Design Miami Paris was held for the second time, and the first Design Miami Dubai has already been announced for next year.
Superhouse NYC Art gallery booth. Photo credit: Design Miami
Superhouse NYC Art gallery booth. Photo credit: Design Miami
Arte y Ritual Madrid Art Gallery booth. Photo credit: Design Miami
Collectible Design Then and Now: What Has Changed?
More than 20 years is a long time for a fair with such a strong conceptual foundation. For a fair that was once a pioneer in collectible design, it is practically a century.
Craig Robins—developer, creator of the Miami Design District, collector, and expert in 20th-century design history—launched Design Miami 20 years ago as a satellite project alongside the giant Art Basel Miami, immediately as a powerful statement. This reflected not only boldness and novelty, but also foresight.
Twenty years ago, the art-and-craft theme was respected in the design world but largely peripheral—highly niche, for a limited circle of connoisseurs of handmade objects. Art and craft were mostly associated with artistic and artisanal practice in the elevated sense. Singular objects, for a specific audience.
Today, collectible design has become an independent cultural phenomenon—and, importantly, the most sought-after content among an advanced, elite audience: gallerists, collectors, interior designers, and high-end property owners. This also includes the museum-adjacent and auction-adjacent community—curators, researchers, and educational institutions.
Art and craft have been revived and glorified largely as a reaction to the technological boom—specifically to the fact that even the most refined collections of top-tier furniture and interior brands have become easily reproducible and widely replicated. Copies and fakes are often barely distinguishable from originals. The elitism of interior luxury—especially that of established European brands—has rapidly faded. Astronomical prices have lost their justification: one can buy nearly the same thing for far less money. Exclusivity is no longer exclusive; it is editioned.
The early 20th-century designers’ dream has come true: beautiful, high-quality objects produced at accessible prices and on a mass scale. Even luxury European design has spilled beyond the confines of a “narrow circle” and entered the realm of accessibility. Brands fight this as best they can—and understandably so—but technology, in this case, does its dark work, stripping the crown from those who once deserved and wore it well.
Craig Robins—developer, creator of the Miami Design District, collector, and expert in 20th-century design history—launched Design Miami 20 years ago as a satellite project alongside the giant Art Basel Miami, immediately as a powerful statement. This reflected not only boldness and novelty, but also foresight.
Twenty years ago, the art-and-craft theme was respected in the design world but largely peripheral—highly niche, for a limited circle of connoisseurs of handmade objects. Art and craft were mostly associated with artistic and artisanal practice in the elevated sense. Singular objects, for a specific audience.
Today, collectible design has become an independent cultural phenomenon—and, importantly, the most sought-after content among an advanced, elite audience: gallerists, collectors, interior designers, and high-end property owners. This also includes the museum-adjacent and auction-adjacent community—curators, researchers, and educational institutions.
Art and craft have been revived and glorified largely as a reaction to the technological boom—specifically to the fact that even the most refined collections of top-tier furniture and interior brands have become easily reproducible and widely replicated. Copies and fakes are often barely distinguishable from originals. The elitism of interior luxury—especially that of established European brands—has rapidly faded. Astronomical prices have lost their justification: one can buy nearly the same thing for far less money. Exclusivity is no longer exclusive; it is editioned.
The early 20th-century designers’ dream has come true: beautiful, high-quality objects produced at accessible prices and on a mass scale. Even luxury European design has spilled beyond the confines of a “narrow circle” and entered the realm of accessibility. Brands fight this as best they can—and understandably so—but technology, in this case, does its dark work, stripping the crown from those who once deserved and wore it well.
- Orbit collection by Tina Frey. Photo credit: Design Miami
- Fendi installation. Photo credit: Design Miami
- Gaggenau's "Expressive Oven Series". Photo credit: Design Miami
Art and Craft as the Demand of a New Elite.
Twenty years ago, the art-and-craft theme was respected in the design world but largely peripheral—highly niche, for a limited circle of connoisseurs of handmade objects. Art and craft were mostly associated with artistic and artisanal practice in the elevated sense. Singular objects, for a specific audience.
Today, collectible design has become an independent cultural phenomenon—and, importantly, the most sought-after content among an advanced, elite audience: gallerists, collectors, interior designers, and high-end property owners. This also includes the museum-adjacent and auction-adjacent community—curators, researchers, and educational institutions.
Art and craft have been revived and glorified largely as a reaction to the technological boom—specifically to the fact that even the most refined collections of top-tier furniture and interior brands have become easily reproducible and widely replicated. Copies and fakes are often barely distinguishable from originals. The elitism of interior luxury—especially that of established European brands—has rapidly faded. Astronomical prices have lost their justification: one can buy nearly the same thing for far less money. Exclusivity is no longer exclusive; it is editioned.
The early 20th-century designers’ dream has come true: beautiful, high-quality objects produced at accessible prices and on a mass scale. Even luxury European design has spilled beyond the confines of a “narrow circle” and entered the realm of accessibility. Brands fight this as best they can—and understandably so—but technology, in this case, does its dark work, stripping the crown from those who once deserved and wore it well.
Today, collectible design has become an independent cultural phenomenon—and, importantly, the most sought-after content among an advanced, elite audience: gallerists, collectors, interior designers, and high-end property owners. This also includes the museum-adjacent and auction-adjacent community—curators, researchers, and educational institutions.
Art and craft have been revived and glorified largely as a reaction to the technological boom—specifically to the fact that even the most refined collections of top-tier furniture and interior brands have become easily reproducible and widely replicated. Copies and fakes are often barely distinguishable from originals. The elitism of interior luxury—especially that of established European brands—has rapidly faded. Astronomical prices have lost their justification: one can buy nearly the same thing for far less money. Exclusivity is no longer exclusive; it is editioned.
The early 20th-century designers’ dream has come true: beautiful, high-quality objects produced at accessible prices and on a mass scale. Even luxury European design has spilled beyond the confines of a “narrow circle” and entered the realm of accessibility. Brands fight this as best they can—and understandably so—but technology, in this case, does its dark work, stripping the crown from those who once deserved and wore it well.
- Architecture studio Arquitectonica's furniture collection. Photo credit: Design Miami
- Charles Burnand Gallery's booth. Photo credit: Design Miami
- "Crisalide" lighting by Draga&Aurel, presented by Todd Merrill Studio. Photo credit: Olga Korotkova
Who Is This Consumer?
Who is this discerning consumer, a lover of the rare and unusual, ready to purchase strange objects (and collectible design is, more often than not, strange) and live with them every day? As you wander from stand to stand at Design Miami, this question arises again and again. Who are these people for whom artists—emerging and established—sculptors and designers create singular works?
These people are, in fact, very different. Beyond Hollywood stars and other celebrities, whose lifestyles almost require eccentric, sometimes overtly performative interiors, the buyers of collectible design represent a new generation. They are driven by the idea of creating their own world, their own unique atmosphere—free from trends, fashion, standards, and bare functionality.
They seek a signature interior—spaces that express a personal view of oneself and one’s relationship with the visual environment. “Show me your home and I’ll tell you who you are,” one is tempted to paraphrase the old saying. Le Corbusier’s formula—“A house is a machine for living”—is no longer a guiding principle for this audience, let alone a way of life. The home is more like a painting of life, a concept, a philosopher’s stone, a book of being, if you will.
We live in an era of concepts, and the home itself becomes a concept—the visible embodiment of this approach.
The Interior as a Personal Museum.
It is no coincidence that the most popular films of recent years have been Harry Potter, Dune, and Stranger Things. Fairy tales, utopias, phantasmagoria, and near-horror dominate cinema today. Film both leads and mirrors our demand for narrative. It articulates for us what we have not yet fully understood about ourselves—or are only beginning to grasp.
Your planet, your secret world, your inner universe—what better way to express it in everyday life than through collectible objects? We live in an anti-collectivist, deeply personal era. We no longer believe in collective values or mass movements, but we do believe in ourselves as creators of our own lives. Our inner boundaries have expanded outward and now claim visual expression in the interior.
A strange home, unlike any other. An interior as a personal museum, as the stage set of one’s own life—a kind of upside down. Something that, if we are honest, everyone (or almost everyone) secretly wants: to return to childhood—or never to leave it at all.
Your planet, your secret world, your inner universe—what better way to express it in everyday life than through collectible objects? We live in an anti-collectivist, deeply personal era. We no longer believe in collective values or mass movements, but we do believe in ourselves as creators of our own lives. Our inner boundaries have expanded outward and now claim visual expression in the interior.
A strange home, unlike any other. An interior as a personal museum, as the stage set of one’s own life—a kind of upside down. Something that, if we are honest, everyone (or almost everyone) secretly wants: to return to childhood—or never to leave it at all.