Reflections on Salone del Mobile 2025
Satomi Yoshida-Katz, Founder & Principal Interior Designer, YZDA

Every April, Milan feels like the center of the design universe, but the 63-year-old Salone del Mobile still managed to surprise me. I arrived at Fiera Milano Rho on the first morning—jet-lagged but buzzing with curiosity—and was immediately swept into a current of energy that only 2,000-plus exhibitors from thirty-seven countries can generate. The fair has always been my professional pilgrimage, yet 2025 carried a different cadence: a confident swing from the hush of “quiet luxury” toward rooms that tell their stories out loud.

As I moved through the pavilions, velvet met walnut, ribbed glass caught low light, and almost every stand invited touch. The shift felt less like a rejection of restraint and more like a collective exhale—designers ready to layer texture, memory and wit into everyday spaces. Formal salons dedicated to conversation re-emerged, dressed in upholstery that begged guests to linger. Perhaps, after years of screens mediating our connections, we’re craving rooms that insist on face-to-face dialogue.

Colour echoed the feeling. Everywhere, muted earth tones gave way to complex, mossy greens—shades that felt simultaneously grounding and a little mysterious, as though you’d stepped into a garden at dusk. I found myself pairing those hues with antique bronze and chalky plaster in my sketchbook, imagining the calm they could bring to a city apartment or a mountain retreat.

Euroluce’s return added its own poetry. One installation lined a dark tunnel with paper-thin sconces that pulsed like bioluminescent shells; another used adaptive optics so a single fixture could shift from task beam to ambient wash with the sweep of a hand. These moments reminded me that good lighting is never just about visibility; it’s the choreography of emotion, the quiet partner to every colour choice and material detail.

Yet what stirred me most was the heartbeat of craft. Sardinian weavers demonstrated techniques older than most empires; a Kyoto studio lacquered tables in midnight urushi so deep it felt like staring into water at night. Their work proved that innovation and heritage are co-authors, not rivals. As a Japanese designer who has spent half her life practicing in the United States, I felt proud to see our philosophy of monozukuri—making with soul—standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Scandinavian joinery and Brazilian stone marquetry. The dialogue was effortless; good ideas rarely need translation.

Outside the fairgrounds, Milan’s streets extended the story. Brera’s cobblestones hosted pop-ups where experimental ceramics mingled with espresso foam and overheard critiques; Navigli’s canal towpaths became moonlit galleries. Salone is commerce, yes—but it is also communion. Maria Porro, the fair’s president, called the 302,000 visits this year “a beacon in a 2025 riddled with global challenges,” and I felt that optimism in every handshake.

What does all of this mean for YZDA’s clients? I return to New Jersey with notebooks full of partnerships to explore and palettes to test, but more importantly, with a renewed conviction that interiors must carry the fingerprints of the people who inhabit them. Expect us to integrate those moody greens, layer in artisanal hardware, and design lighting that adapts to circadian rhythms. Expect stories—yours—surfaced through heirloom objects, reclaimed timbers, maybe even that vintage crystal you inherited and never knew how to display.

Salone 2025 did not declare a single trend; it issued an invitation: make the home a canvas for personal heritage and future hope, and do it with courage. I am ready to accept, and I look forward to weaving the spirit of Milan into the spaces we create together.