Sometimes I think IKEA is the end of Scandinavian Design.  If you visit the store you’ll find a number of incredibly beautiful things that were inspired by high-design (and higher-priced) Scandinavian Design originals, which make me less inclined to think about the originals anymore.

Then I walked into the Marimekko store on Madison Avenue and was jolted out of my apathy.  Their textiles, which are intended for both dressmaking and decorating, are really one of a kind.  Not even Lily Pulitzer prints have the same dense colors and happily kooky graphics.  They’re appealing and eccentric; pretty but not precious.  For a minute there I though about giving up my little black dress, and living out the rest of my days in Marimekko tunics.

At a time when our culture seems to have become largely secular, how can a religious building still be regarded with talismanic powers?

(Chapel, Valleaceron, Spain, 2001. By Sancho Madridejos Architecture Office, from Closer to God, Copyright Gestalten 2010.)

True confession: While I’ve walked by SOM’s legendary, landmarked Manufacturer’s Hanover Trust building on Fifth Avenue and Forty-third Street countless times, I never noticed sculptor Henry Bertoia’s custom-designed screen inside, whose recent removal has caused controversy.

While the building’s exterior has been landmarked its interior hasn’t, so there’s no foul play.  Right now Americans are so unabashedly enchanted by mid-century design that it seems like a crime.  Ada Louise Huxtable makes a fine and passionate defense for the reinstatement of the screen, but I don’t know if it’s essential.  When walking by the building, especially at night, it’s still glassy and classy perfection, one of midtown’s real jewels.

Aricoco’s amazing garments (they were on display at the New York Studio Gallery) are made from fabric scraps, vinyl, latex, buttons, and newspaper, stitched together by hand.  Each one is formless when unoccupied but takes shape when someone puts it on.

These pieces reminded me of crinolines, latch hook rugs, chairs by the Campana brothers, and the way homeless people sometimes dress in layers and layers of clothing.  There were looped videos in the gallery of the artist modeling them herself, but I really wanted to see a gallery-goer choose one, buy it, and wear it right out onto the streets of the Lower East Side.