Nina Magon’s Guide to Milan Design Week 2026: Where to See Art, Design, and Dine

The interior designer Nina Magon is known for her refined approach to luxury living, leading her Houston-based firm Nina Magon Studio with a personalized philosophy that marries contemporary architecture with layered textures and art. Her work in residential, hospitality, and commercial spaces is defined by a balance of expression and disciplined editing, blending timeless style with bold design elements—the same sensibilities she finds in Milan, where Magon returns often, drawn to the city’s inherent sense of composition. Particularly during Milan Design Week, its interplay of historic and modern design, and the quiet, intentional moments shape her experience in neighborhoods like Brera, in spaces like Fondazione Prada, and at Triennale di Milano.

In celebration the 2026 iteration of Milan Design Week, Whitewall spoke with Magon about her personal favorite places to gain inspiration, see art, dine, and more. 

WHITEWALL: Where in Milan do you to find inspiration? 

NINA MAGON: I start early near the Duomo, before the city wakes up—when the light is clean and you can actually see how it defines the architecture. Then I move into Brera. I walk along Via Brera and through the courtyard of Pinacoteca di Brera, where everything feels measured and composed. I usually pass through Orto Botanico di Brera—it has a quiet stillness that resets the pace.

Along Via Pontaccio and Via Palermo, the showrooms and galleries are already part of the street. That’s what makes Brera different. I always pass through Piazza del Carmine and Chiesa di Santa Maria del Carmine, where the scale opens up and everything slows down.

What draws me to Brera is that it’s not built for Milan Design Week—it already exists with intention. During the week, it doesn’t transform, it intensifies. I return to the Brera Design Apartment because it always offers a clear point of view on how we live now, and to Palazzo Litta, where contemporary work sits against historic architecture without trying to compete with it. Palazzo Cusani feels more restrained, more controlled. The courtyard at Corriere della Sera headquarters on Via Solferino is always more conceptual, less obvious.

WW: What are your favorite place to see art?

NM: At Fondazione Prada, the moment that stayed with me was inside the Haunted House. The way works by Louise Bourgeois and Robert Gober are placed is incredibly deliberate—there’s almost nothing around them. You’re forced to slow down and actually feel the work instead of moving past it. That level of restraint is what I respond to.

Architecturally, it works because everything is in dialogue but nothing competes. The Torre by Rem Koolhaas and OMA is very controlled and vertical, almost disciplined in how it rises. Then you have the gold leaf Haunted House, which is more emotional and unexpected. The courtyard sits between them and creates a pause—it gives you space to reset before moving into the next experience. That sequencing is very intentional.

It feels edited because nothing is excessive. Every decision, from the architecture to the curation, is reduced to what actually matters. You’re not overwhelmed, you’re guided. There’s a clarity to it that feels rare—the space does just enough to support the work without trying to overpower it.

I also spend time at Nilufar Gallery. What stays with me is the way Nina Yashar builds environments rather than exhibitions. At Nilufar Depot, you move through rooms where vintage and contemporary pieces sit together without hierarchy, and yet everything feels intentional. I remember a space where a sculptural metal piece was placed against something much softer and more historic, and instead of competing, they sharpened each other. That contrast, but with control, is what I always take away. This year, I’m excited to see Nilufar Grand Hotel at the Depot—a fictional luxury hotel concept featuring curated bedrooms by David/Nicolas, Filippo Carandini, and Allegra Hicks. It’s the kind of spatial narrative that Nilufar does so well.

At Triennale di Milano, I’m drawn to the temporary exhibitions during Milan Design Week more than the permanent collection. The programming shifts every year and tends to focus on ideas, systems, and behavior rather than just objects. You see exhibitions that look at material innovation, how people live, how space impacts the body, how design responds to culture in real time. It feels more like a point of view than a presentation.

What I respond to is clarity. The way exhibitions are installed is very controlled—there’s space around the work, the sequencing is intentional, and you’re guided through a narrative without it being over-explained. Even when the work is conceptual, it’s grounded in something real, whether that’s material, research, or human experience. That aligns with how I approach design. It’s never about adding more, it’s about editing down to what matters. At the Triennale, you feel that discipline. It’s not trying to impress you, it’s asking you to think.

WW: What’s your best-kept secret in Milan? 

NM: The most important spaces are never public. They’re inside palazzos in 5VIE, and you’d walk right past them if you didn’t know. It might be a 17th-century courtyard just off Via Cesare Correnti, or a private residence in Brera with a Fornasetti ceiling, where the work is placed so quietly it almost feels like it’s always been there.

Access doesn’t come from searching—it comes from relationships. Designers, gallerists, collectors who understand how you see and trust how you’ll experience the work. It’s always introduced, never requested. That’s what keeps it edited.

One moment I’ll never forget was walking into a private viewing where a single prototype chair was placed alone in the center of a room—something that had never gone into production. No label, no explanation. You had to understand it through proportion, material, and presence. It felt unfinished in the best way, like you were seeing the thinking behind it.

The room is always very specific: other designers, architects, serious collectors, a few editors. No crowd, no noise. Everyone’s there with intention. That’s where you see work before it becomes public, before it’s simplified.

That said, there are still places that feel like a secret if you know when and how to experience them. I always go back to the courtyard at Triennale early in the morning, before anything opens. It’s completely quiet, and you start to understand the architecture without distraction. Same with Orto Botanico di Brera—if you go right when it opens, it feels removed from everything happening around it.

There are also streets in Brera; most people walk past too quickly. Via Fiori Chiari and Via Fiori Oscuri, especially early morning or late afternoon when galleries are just opening or closing, feel very different. You see the neighborhood as it actually is, not just during Design Week.

And then there are places that are open but overlooked, like Nilufar Depot. It’s not hidden, but it requires time. Most people move through quickly, but if you actually stop and move through each space, you start to understand the level of curation.

But more than a place, it’s a moment. Early morning, before the city fully wakes up, or late evening, after everything starts to slow down. That’s when Milan feels the most real to me. That’s when you see what’s actually there.

WW: What’s your favorite meal in the city? 

NM: For me, it’s always Enrico Bartolini al Mudec. It’s the only three-Michelin-star restaurant in Milan, but what matters more is the discipline behind it. Bartolini’s idea of “contemporary classic” comes through in how restrained everything feels. Nothing is overworked. Nothing is there without a reason.

There are a few dishes I always go back to. The saffron risotto defines it for me. It looks simple, but the precision is exact—the texture, the depth, the balance, everything is controlled. His reinterpretation of vitello tonnato is another one. It’s familiar, but refined to the point where you start to understand the structure of the dish, not just the flavor. Even the sequencing of the tasting menu feels considered. Nothing overwhelms you—it builds quietly.

The setting inside MUDEC—Museo delle Culture—is part of why it works. The space is very architectural, very composed. It holds the experience rather than competing with it. It feels edited, which is rare. You’re not distracted, you’re focused.

WW: How would you best spend 24 hours in Milan?

NM: Morning starts early. Espresso at Marchesi 1824, then I move into Brera before it gets crowded. I stay on Via Fiori Chiari and Via Fiori Oscuri, watching the galleries open, the storefronts before they’re active, how the light hits the facades. I’ll pass through the courtyard of Pinacoteca di Brera, but it’s more about observing the rhythm of the streets than going inside.

Late morning is focused. I choose one—either Fondazione Prada or Triennale, depending on what’s showing. Both require time, so I don’t try to do both. From there, I go to Nilufar Depot, but only if I can move through it slowly.

Early afternoon is Tortona, but very edited. I start at MUDEC—Museo delle Culture—where the architecture is disciplined and holds the experience. Then Armani Silos, which is minimal and very controlled. From there, BASE Milano for something more fluid, and if needed, Superstudio Più to understand scale. Then I leave.

In the early evening, I move into 5VIE, starting at Palazzo Litta and then into smaller spaces—private viewings, gallery openings inside palazzos. That’s where the work feels more intentional.

Dinner is at Enrico Bartolini al Mudec. After, I walk back through Brera. Not Navigli. Brera at night is quieter, more composed.

Nina Magon’s Milan

1. Fondazione Prada

“The Prada Foundation presents in Milan two important interventions by Dan Flavin (1933, New York – 1996, Riverhead, New York), one of the protagonists of American Minimal Art: Untitled (1996), a permanent installation in Santa Maria Annunciata in Chiesa Rossa and an exhibition of works of historical importance, “Opere 1964-1981”, in the spaces of the Prada Foundation. The first intervention, which was also the last project conceived and designed by Flavin before his death, consists of a permanent environmental installation: a lighting system to be installed in the church’s great nave and transepts, created using fluorescent tubes of varying lengths and colors.” –Fondazione Prada

2. Nilufar Gallery

“With over 40 years of expertise, Nilufar supports creatives shaping today’s most inspiring interiors and architectural spaces. Nilufar offers a dedicated advisory program tailored to professionals in design, architecture, and curation. With privileged access to one-of-a-kind collectible pieces, customizable furnishings, and expert guidance, Nilufar stands as a unique source of insight and inspiration in the creation of refined, visionary projects. From early previews to curated tools and global logistics, the program provides a versatile yet powerful framework to elevate the creative process.” –Nilufar Gallery

3. Enrico Bartolini al Mudec

“Sophisticated gourmet works of art for the palate. A journey into the finest gastronomic culture, varying seasonally and interpreting flavors, worlds, and traditions. The balance between the elegance of the presentation and the intensity of the flavour hides a complexity designed to surprise without overturning.” –Enrico Bartolini al Mudec