LEFT: Top and pantashoes, all by BALENCIAGA, RIGHT: Jacket and trousers by DRIES VAN NOTEN, shoes by FERRAGAMO, necklace is model's own
LEFT: Bodysuit, jacket, skirt, socks, and shoes all by MIU MIU, earrings by PANCONESI, RIGHT: Coat by DRIES VAN NOTEN, shoes by SCHIAPARELLI, earrings and necklace by PANCONESI
RIGHT: Bodysuit, skirt, socks, and shoes all by MIU MIU.
What inspired your designs and the company?
Was there a gap that you felt needed to be filled? RTH was born from both industry experience and personal frustration. After spending over a decade in high-end, collectible furniture, I saw firsthand the barriers that made great design inaccessible—long lead times, high costs and the misconception that expensive always means better quality. As both a designer and a consumer, I wanted to challenge these norms and create a brand that blends designer-level aesthetics with a more approachable, ready-to-go philosophy. Beyond that, I wanted to accelerate the merging of fashion and furniture—two industries that have been slowly converging into a broader expression of personal style.
You mentioned a heavy “fashion influence.” How does that manifest in the designs?
I believe your home should be as expressive and effortless as the way you dress. In my view, furniture and clothing are the same thing. RTH takes direct inspiration from how fashion brands approach design, presentation and marketing. Like ready-to-wear collections, our furniture is conceptual and thoughtfully designed, yet more accessible. The way fashion brands play with materials, color and form is something we incorporate into our pieces—whether it’s a bold silhouette, an unexpected material combination or a finish that feels as perfect as a great outfit. We also think about seasonality and freshness, rotating designs and colorways to keep things evolving, much like in the fashion world.
Are there particular art movements, architectural styles, or fashion designers that influence your designs?
A mix of inspirations find their way into RTH’s pieces. Architecturally, I’m drawn to a wide variety of styles. I’m a life-long fan of Frank Lloyd Wright’s work, as well as other classic American architects. I also admire the works of modern masters with a completely different aesthetic, such as John Pawson or Vincent Van Duysen. In fashion, I’m inspired by brands that push boundaries while maintaining wearability—think Jacquemus and Jill Sander. We have a joke internally where if we're ever unsure about how to present something we say WWJD - of course referring to the one and only Jacquemus, not the historical figure.
How do you balance functionality with aesthetics in your designs?
For me, furniture should be both an everyday essential and an expressive object. While RTH pieces are designed with personality, we never sacrifice usability for our end customer. Every piece we create is meant to seamlessly fit into real spaces—our designs aren’t just for show, they’re made to be lived with and experienced. Material choice plays a big role in this balance; we select finishes and structures that are durable yet visually striking. The goal is to create pieces that enhance a space without overwhelming it. 5. Do you experiment with unconventional shapes or mixed materials in your designs? Absolutely. A huge part of RTH’s identity is pushing beyond traditional forms and expectations. You’ll see that in our mirrors, which go beyond basic to become sculptural elements. I also love the idea of mixing materials in unexpected ways—chrome with oak, stone with metals. There’s an interplay between hard and soft, structured and fluid.
Are there any crazy designs that you want to try? (Whether it be shape, materials, etc.) And have there been ones that you’ve tried and haven’t worked?
I have an obsession with classic details in clothing like buttons, stitching and fabric. I'd love to produce a mirror that incorporates some of these details. One concept that didn’t quite work was a mirror design inspired by Loewe's Pixel collection from SS23. We tried to create a mirror in this same vein but the samples never produced the same effect as our sketches or renderings. That said, failed experiments are part of the process. Sometimes they lead to even better ideas.
Are there current interior design/furniture design trends you see currently? What do you think will be next?
Right now, there’s a return to naturals, metals and structure which is in stark move away from the wavy design that dominated the past few years. People want pieces that feel tactile, personal and crafted rather than overly polished. Looking ahead, I think we’ll see a bigger embrace of mixed materials and unexpected textures.
What's your favorite piece of furniture in your apartment and why?
It’s hard to choose, but I’d say my dining table, which I made myself. It was a scrappy, personal project—made from leftover travertine scraps seamed together with thin white oak strips. The way the materials came together, plus the story behind it, makes it special. It embodies the idea of making something beautiful out of what’s readily available, which is a principle I try to bring into all of my work.
What was your last google search?
Most definitely something to do with Milan. We're making our European debut with 3 different installations and events during design week in April. If you combed through how many times I've googled anything Milan related this month you'd think I was moving there.
"It brought out a side of the team that I’ve never seen before" Abby recollects.
An unlikely duo, Joe & The Juice teamed up with NBA champion Kevin Durant to create this masterpiece. A unique yet harmonious mix of steak, parmesan, tomato, arugula, salt, black pepper, topped with honey mustard dressing and a surprising pickle for a bit of tang, all pressed together on Joe's Classic Bread. “The goal of this collab was simple: We got a great team together to create a great product,” says Durant “I hope my fans and fans of Joe & the Juice Enjoy.”
I have to be honest, a steak sandwich is not my go-to, I usually opt for a classic turkey or spicy tuna on a day I’m feeling frisky. But since that infamous afternoon in Iconic Magazine, I’ve had at least one Joe & The Juice Steak sandwich every day since, many times (I must confess) before 10 AM.
“I call Isabel’s!” Mitch shouted after we all finished our last bites.
(It should be noted that Isabel is the only vegetarian on our team).
After a long battle of custody Mitch emerged the reigning victor and the rest of us were left with nothing but dirty napkins to show for it.
“It’s become a problem” an anonymous insider confessed to office about the team “What started out as an innocent craving has turned into a full blown addiction”
As I pulled my half leftover sandwich out of the fridge early Friday morning for the 7th day in a row, I thought to myself “how did I get here?”
Was this Kevin’s fault? Using his superhuman abilities to create something light yet satiating? How did they pack 33 grams of protein into something so compact and delicious? Who is responsible for quantifying the delicate equilibrium between savory, sweet, and zesty flavor profiles?
With concerned friends and a slowly growing epidemic we turned to Joe & the Juice’s global VP of Brand & Communications Kasper Garnell to get some answers.
How long did it take to perfect this sandwich? Were there failed renditions?
There is a process for sure and loads of testing! We definitely nailed it in the end. We take our sandwiches very seriously.
Was Kevin Durant directly involved in the development of the sandwich, and if so, what input did he provide?
KD played a major part of the brainstorming process to bring The Steak to life, and our amazing product development team really took his vision and worked to create the most masterful premium sandwich– our first one!
Did Kevin Durant personally grow these ingredients in his garden?
Haha! Last time I saw KD in a garden, it was Madison Square Garden. But who knows—maybe there’s a secret KD farm out there somewhere. Think he can handle our supply chain too?
How did this collaboration come about?
It came about pretty naturally actually. We got to know him and his team and he felt like a great fit as the power behind our first premium product.
(RIGHT photo by Vikram Valluri)
The pickles were a risky addition … What fueled this audacious move to redefine limits?
Pickles are risky, huh? People seem to be loving this move. I guess we’ll keep them.
Does Kevin like pickles?
Let’s just say he’s not the guy hitting ‘No Pickles’ in the JOE app.
Is this item a permanent item on the menu?
It is! We’ll be running it with Kevin through June, but it will remain on the menu from there.
Should we expect more athletic collaborations in the future?
Sit back, relax and enjoy the show … or game? ;)
Where is the best place to consume this sandwich?
At any one of our 400 stores globally, of course.
Does the sandwich have any enemies?
The Tunacado’s been giving it the side eye a lot lately… we’re monitoring the situation, but HR might need to step in soon.
On a scale from “casual snack” to “legendary meal,” where does The Steak Sandwich rank in Joe & The Juice history?
The Steak by KD is the MVP right now, and I’ll leave it at that.
Available globally through June 20th, The Steak by Kevin Durant will continue to be a staple in my lunch rotation. However, with the support of concerned loved ones, I’m cutting back a little, replacing my breakfasts with other options like eggs or yogurt, paired with a cup of joe or juice, of course.
(PICTURED Eliza Douglas)
DOOM: House of Hope carries forward some conceptual undercurrents of past projects, like her celebrated exhibition and performance Faust for the German Pavilion at the 2017 Venice Biennale, for which she was awarded the Golden Lion Award. Faust drew its gravity in large part from Imhof’s repeated cast of model-esque performers, whose movements upset the dynamics of the grand, fascist-era space. DOOM follows a similar formula of inversions, but with extravagant American flair.
As a choreographer with a distinct movement vernacular, Imhof is especially sensitive to the subtle power structures at play on the body as it moves through contemporary space, all while dancing on the distinctions between disciplines, professions, and creative hierarchies. Drawing on Imhof’s signature aesthetic universe, DOOM was propelled by a squadron of about 45 performers, enacting the trappings and tropes of identity with visual cues lifted from the Berlin nightclub scene and an ostensibly 21st century-flavored malaise: beautiful, disaffected youth as Imhof’s primary media.
(LEFT Toon Lobach, Efron Danzig, and Jourdynn Sherman RIGHT Casper von Bulow (center))
The massive Armory drill hall, so soaring and dimly lit that at points you could not see its end, featured a Jumbotron at its center ticking down the three-hour run of show like a Doomsday clock, certainly lifting from Matthew Barney’s recent project Secondary. Dispersed across the floor like a fleet of black military tanks were 26 Cadillac Escalades, the American presidential vehicle of choice.
After a long wait, the back wall of the Armory parted and Imhof’s cast entered on a literal catwalk of stage risers. The Jumbotron began ticking down. Climbing atop the Escalades, performers chanted over a dark soundscape, “We hope, we’re doomed,” and “I want discipline, I won’t disappear.” The barricades were removed and audience members flooded into the hall to follow the line of performers. The unexpected free-roam offered a moment of exhilaration; where are we supposed to go? I meandered over to an arrangement on the far right wall of clothed tables clad with star-shaped balloons and silver tinsel strung across the wall, where folks were seated at tables as if at a prom. Are they the audience or part of the performance? Am I supposed to be here right now? Either way, being destabilized and disoriented is fun. From the massive SUVs to the dueling high school sports team paraphernalia, Imhof hammed up the Americana factor so hard that it brought some levity to a rather melancholic project.
(LEFT Toon Lobach RIGHT Michael de la Nuez and Devon Teuscher)
More narrative in nature than most of Imhof’s works, DOOM takes shape through the reverse unfolding of Romeo and Juliet—beginning with their double suicide— performed by rotating, gender-bending sets of actors. Certain Shakespearean lines are distinct, but interspersed with enough modern randomness that the unfolding of scenes is rendered surreal. There was certainly an occasional cringe-factor that made some moments difficult to watch. I recoiled when Talia Ryder recited Juliet’s final lines and, instead of stabbing herself, downed a nip of Fireball, then launched into a sedated rendition of Jeremih’s “Paradise,” all while nearby another actor was getting their back tattooed. But as the audience meandered around Imhof’s mise-en-scène, there were many more understated activities to see and hear. Lines from Romeo and Juliet were broken up with Arthur Rimbaud, the obituaries of dance critics Clive Barnes and Arlene Croce, sections of Jill Johnston’s The Disintegration of a Critic, and passages from infamous pieces of performance criticism across The New York Times, The New Yorker, and The Guardian.
Performers draped themselves across the Escalade roofs, whispering, vaping, and texting in statuesque posture. Dancers from American Ballet Theater, Flexn, and Line Dance communities glided across the gymnasium flooring, some moments live-streamed (but not recorded) to the Jumbotron from performers’ phones. Slowed renditions of Radiohead’s Talk Show Host and The Doors’ The End formed a moody sonic backdrop. Off to the sides of the drill hall, audience members wandered into staged locker rooms where performers enacted more intimate scenes, or changed clothes and ran with purpose to the next act, all of it dripping with voyeurism. Together we drifted in Imhof’s dark, self-contained world, at times over-the-top and trying-too-hard but often rebounding into schmaltzy, entertaining, even humorous territory.
(LEFT Jakob Eilinghoff and Lia Wang RIGHT Eliza Douglas)
Clearly DOOM is meant less to entertain than to challenge—even upset—its audience. The three-hour runtime was an endurance exercise in itself, but as durational performance goes, I witnessed many people taking breaks, sitting on the floor, slouching into chairs, ducking out of the drill hall for air or water, and coming back in for more. The format also enjoyably allowed friends to mill around and check in with each other, finding conversational pockets and small nooks in the set, inviting curiosity and exploration. Sometimes this was rewarded with a memorable scene: in my head I can still see a seated actor in a bear mascot suit cradling Eliza Douglas’ head in their lap while she vapes. Or the tinny rogue sounds of a pirate radio station heard through an open Escalade trunk.
In moments where the performances lulled, it became most interesting to watch the movement of the audience. I appreciated the migration of bodies from one theatrical point to the next; at least for shorties like me, this democratized the viewing and gave more opportunities for a decent vantage point. The evening was also an amusing theater of rich Upper East Side parents chasing around clubby, androgynous youth. Self-aware of the Instagram image archive that the project will produce, at one point a monologue ensues deriding perpetual photo-takers and the contemporary use of cameras. In that moment, funnily, everyone in the audience put their phones away, at least for a little while.
(LEFT Remy Young and Sihana Shalaj RIGHT Xavier Days)
Imhof also gives unusually high levels of agency to her performers. They are credited multiple times over in the show notes: in musical credits, quoted sources, design, and so on. They carried through the space easily, relaxed, seemingly un-demanded of. As Aruna D’Souza writes in her review, Imhof’s notes for her performers might be, “Hold a pose until you are bored with it,” or “move until the gesture is pathetic or ridiculous and then push on further past that point.” One of the performers, Lia Wang, plays her own music with a full band, and the pianist Jacob Madden performs some of his original compositions.
“It was kind of a fashion show, but that’s okay,” a friend responded when I asked for her opinion of the opening night performance. Yeah, I thought, it was okay actually, because it never purported vehemently to be anything that it isn’t. In all of its sullen melodrama, DOOM put on full display Imhof’s unique sensitivity to the shifting power dynamics of viewership. To me, the project exists fully in the realm of theater: whether it is opera, ballet, fashion show, or concert, it is most certainly dramaturgy. I heard some comments indicating that viewers felt isolated by the experience; but perhaps this is precisely the point. In contemporary moments of heightened isolation, must we always strive to be the insiders? Can we afford to simply be onlookers?
As a grand and dizzying spectacle, DOOM uniquely platforms the acts and affects of collective youth apathy and its evasive subcultures with impressive degrees of authenticity. She feels very much in intimate community with her performers. And with them, Imhof explores the darker underbellies of nostalgia and how it intertwines with the longing for a better world. DOOM is certainly punctuated with overwrought moments, but nonetheless, to me the work is ultimately an enjoyable momentary embrace of the death drive and apocalyptic turn, especially as we perform optimism and future-oriented creative work on the daily. When else do we have full permission to turn backwards towards the sometimes embarrassing but equally lovely angst of our youth?
