Finding a comfortable spot outdoors often means moving your chair as the sun moves across the sky. A fixed canopy helps, but its shade doesn’t always stay where you’d like it. The Interactive Space Pavilion proposes reversing that arrangement, letting two occupants reposition the shelter around them. Intended for New Mexico’s high desert, this unbuilt concept puts its canopy on the move.
The retreat is conceived for a setting near Santa Fe, with two yellow lounge chairs and a matching storage pod on a circular platform. Above them, curved steel frames sweep outward in several directions, giving the structure a footprint far larger than its seating area. It’s a rather elaborate setup for two people taking a break, although the extra reach has a purpose.
Four support frames guide eight movable panel assemblies, which can slide into different positions along those curves. The flexible part isn’t a sheet of material bending like fabric, however. Each moving surface consists of rigid sections connected by hinges, allowing it to follow the frame’s changing profile. That makes the canopy something closer to an articulated shutter than a conventional roof held overhead.
The controls borrow from something considerably less exotic than the pavilion’s silhouette. Small electric motors would pull cables to move the panels, activated by a modified garage-door opener. Instead of getting up to drag a screen across the opening, occupants could change the enclosure with a button press. The proposed mechanism puts a familiar action behind a rather unfamiliar piece of outdoor architecture.
That movement is intended to change more than the outline. Bringing panels overhead could provide shade for reading, while shifting them toward the sides could interrupt views into the seating area. Leaving sections open would preserve a stronger connection to the surrounding landscape. The same retreat could feel more exposed or more enclosed without asking its occupants to relocate the furniture every time.
Those adjustments would also make the pavilion look different from one moment to the next. Where a continuous roof defines a fixed silhouette, these separate surfaces leave parts of the steel skeleton exposed. Sliding them changes the balance between silver-colored bands and open sky, along with the shadows across the platform. The yellow furniture provides a bright constant beneath the shifting canopy.
Solar panels are suggested as a possible addition to help power the structure, rather than an existing part of the design. Wind resistance and the mechanisms’ tolerance for dust would also need evaluation before treating this as an everyday shelter. Adjusting airflow is part of the proposal, but opening a gap overhead isn’t the same as demonstrating comfort in a desert climate.
There’s also an ordinary complication hiding inside this unusual architecture. Two people sharing a retreat won’t necessarily want the same amount of sunlight or the same view of the landscape. Being able to rearrange the canopy gives them more options, but even a pavilion that changes its shape might still require negotiation over who holds the remote.
Power strips tend to get the least glamorous spot in a room, usually behind furniture or underneath a desk. That’s understandable when the alternative is leaving a plastic block beside your carefully chosen furnishings. Kord and Bark Sweden offer another option with their Wooden Case for Cuboid+, wrapping the compact power strip in reclaimed elm that looks more at home beside wooden furniture.
The shape remains fairly simple, with a broad square top, softly rounded edges, and circular openings around the sides. Those openings leave the sockets accessible, while two smaller cutouts accommodate the USB-C ports and a notch clears the cable. The wood changes the surrounding surfaces rather than disguising what the object does. It still looks like somewhere to plug things in, thankfully.
The case doesn’t add any outlets or charging features, of course. The Cuboid+ underneath still supplies three sockets and two USB-C ports, letting a lamp and charging cables share one compact connection point. Kord says the shell slides on and off, so changing its appearance doesn’t require buying another power strip simply because the old one no longer suits the rest of the room.
The material has a more specific history than the usual reference to Scandinavian forests. According to Kord and Bark, the elm grew beside the River Tidan at Åreberg Farm in Sweden’s Skaraborg region. When Dutch elm disease forced the tree to be felled, Bark reclaimed the timber. Its natural variations now give the cases different patterns, despite their otherwise identical shapes.
Getting that timber around an existing electrical product takes more than carving out a rough opening. Bark uses precision woodworking and CNC machining to shape the cases, which are designed and manufactured in Sweden. The curved edges and carefully placed apertures follow the Cuboid+’s layout, leaving the elm to supply the decoration. There’s no need to print a pattern when the material already provides one.
There’s a personal connection behind the two companies, too. Kord’s co-founder and Bark’s founder studied mechanical engineering together at KTH Royal Institute of Technology in Stockholm before following their own paths in design and manufacturing. Their reunion is a fairly practical meeting of those skills, matching the existing Cuboid+ geometry with Bark’s experience in machining reclaimed hardwood into everyday accessories.
Kord’s Swedish list price is SEK 695 (about $70) starting November 14, 2026, with the Cuboid+ sold separately. For US consumers, there’s another consideration before getting attached to that grain. The Cuboid+ uses European Schuko Type F outlets, rather than the sockets found in American homes.
Of course, a wooden shell won’t untangle the leads or hide the chargers plugged into those round openings. It also adds material around a perfectly functional device, even if that material has been reclaimed. What changes is where you might be willing to leave it. Reaching beside the sofa to charge a phone sounds preferable to fishing behind it for a power strip you’ve hidden.
Forty years ago, Fujifilm launched the QuickSnap, a plastic box of film you shot, dropped off at the drugstore, and never saw again. The disposable camera became the unofficial sidekick of wedding tables, spring breaks, and summer camps in the ’90s. In 2026, a would-be spiritual successor comes from a Brooklyn mushroom farmer. Sree Krishna Pillarisetti’s Soft-pixel is a digital camera project with an enclosure made from mycelium, hemp, and PHA bioplastic, designed to keep your photos local rather than in the cloud. The proposed compostable shell gives the disposable-camera idea a more interesting question: which part should actually be disposable?
Pillarisetti first experimented with fungus-wrapped electronics in Soft-Drive, his Parsons thesis project, which enclosed a memory card and heat sink in a shell made from mycelium, hemp, and PLA. Soft-pixel trades that PLA for PHA. The European Product Design Award named it Best Eco-Design for 2026, alongside a Top Design win in digital cameras. Somewhere in a junk drawer, an old Kodak Fling is feeling very insecure.
Designer: Sree Krishna Pillarisetti
Mycelium is the threadlike network of a fungus. Soft-pixel’s award entry describes a process combining biological growth and heat-press fabrication to produce what the designer calls a lightweight, impact-absorbing enclosure. PHA is the material change worth watching here. PLA generally needs the heat and moisture of industrial composting to break down effectively; some PHAs can biodegrade in home compost, but their behavior depends on the formulation and conditions. Putting PHA in a camera shell doesn’t automatically make the finished casing ready for your garden pot.
The translucent outer layer shows off the fibrous interior, so the camera looks a bit like a granola bar that takes pictures. Around the back, there’s a square screen, four directional buttons, and orange labels for the controls, speaker, and mic, like a hobbyist dev board. The shutter label literally says “Cheese!” A microSD label hints at where your photos end up. The award entry doesn’t list the sensor, resolution, battery capacity, or storage capacity. The best tell is the image showing four screws holding the circuit board in place, with a precision driver positioned over one. Visible screws suggest someone expects you to open the thing, a spicy idea for a design borrowing the disposable-camera playbook.
The obvious comparison is Camp Snap, the screen-free digital camera that makes you wait to review your photos on another device. Soft-pixel keeps the screen and takes aim at a different villain, the cloud. The scale of that infrastructure is worth understanding: in its 2025 Energy and AI report, the International Energy Agency estimated that data centers consumed about 415 terawatt-hours of electricity in 2024, roughly 1.5% of global electricity consumption. Its base-case projection put that figure at about 945 TWh by 2030. Those totals cover far more than photo storage, though; they aren’t a measure of what this camera would save.
Soft-pixel’s award entry gives no price or release date, since it’s clearly a concept for now. That’s fine by me, because the idea already lands: keep the electronics, keep the photos, and give the shell a different end of life. Before it goes off to feed a few blades of grass, though, we need to know how the finished casing actually composts.
Solar power plants aren’t usually designed around the people who might stop by to understand them. The Solar Electric Visitors Pavilion concept gives those visitors a more inviting place to start, wrapping an exhibition space in yellow structures inspired by reflected sunlight. Intended for a Southern California desert, the unbuilt proposal combines shade, outdoor gathering space, and an elevated view of the plant.
The shape comes from the power plant’s proposed operating principle, which doesn’t involve the familiar rows of rooftop solar panels. Instead, hundreds of mirrors would direct sunlight toward a receiving tower, using the resulting heat to produce steam and generate electricity. The pavilion translates those converging paths into broad yellow bands, making an abstract energy diagram something you could actually walk beneath.
Those bands rise from the perimeter toward a shared high point, their lower ends bending upward like oversized ribbons. They aren’t intended to be decorative screens alone. The yellow structure would support the viewing platform while casting shade across the enclosed center and its surroundings. Gaps between the bands keep that outer layer open, rather than turning it into another enclosed room.
Tucked underneath is a low, rounded exhibition building where visitors could learn about the plant before heading upstairs. Large windows would face the facility, connecting the displays to the machinery outside. A shaded central skylight would bring in daylight from above, while both the windows and skylight are intended to provide natural ventilation. That doesn’t establish comfortable indoor temperatures on a desert afternoon.
The space around that enclosure has a different job, giving special events somewhere to spread out beneath the yellow framework. A visiting school group could gather there before entering the exhibits, for example, rather than crowding inside immediately. It also creates an intermediate space between the open desert and the enclosed center, although the separated bands wouldn’t provide a continuous overhead covering.
An exterior staircase would take visitors upward, separating the climb from the exhibition room below. At the top, a projecting viewing platform would let visitors look across the power plant from above. After learning how the mirrors concentrate sunlight, you could step outside and follow their arrangement across the landscape. The change in viewpoint gives the visit a clear destination beyond the displays.
Most of the structure is proposed in steel and concrete composite materials, rather than the lightweight fabric its ribbonlike outline might suggest. Electricity would come from the associated power plant, not from the yellow bands themselves. That distinction keeps the architecture’s role clear: it interprets the energy system and accommodates its visitors, while the actual generating equipment remains elsewhere on the site.
There are still practical questions behind the dramatic silhouette, including how everyone would reach that elevated platform. The published proposal identifies stairs but doesn’t explain an accessible route to the upper level. Resolving that would matter for a public visitor center, especially one built around a shared view. The lesson about solar energy shouldn’t depend on being physically able to make the climb.
Modern design is undergoing a major transformation as architects, artists, and product designers begin to see waste not as a problem, but as a valuable resource. Scrap metal, discarded wood, plastic waste, broken glass, and industrial leftovers are now becoming part of luxury interiors, sustainable architecture, furniture, fashion, and public art.
This shift reflects a larger movement toward circular design, where materials are reused, reimagined, and given a second life instead of ending up in landfills. As sustainability becomes central to contemporary creativity, let’s understand why scrap is increasingly being viewed as the new gold of modern design.
1. The Rise of Circular Design
The concept of circular design is changing how industries approach materials and production. Instead of the traditional “use and discard” model, designers now focus on reuse, repair, and regeneration. Scrap materials are collected and transformed into high-quality products with a new purpose and value. This approach reduces environmental impact while encouraging innovation and experimentation.
Reclaimed metal can become sculptural furniture, discarded wood can turn into textured interiors, and industrial waste can evolve into architectural façades. Circular design proves that sustainability and aesthetics can coexist, creating products that are both environmentally responsible and visually striking.
At ISSEY MIYAKE, the iconic pleating process has long been celebrated for transforming flat fabric into sculptural garments. But instead of focusing on the finished pieces, designer Satoshi Kondo turned attention toward the overlooked byproduct of the process: compressed rolls of protective paper used during pleating. These layered paper cylinders, typically discarded or recycled, inspired The Paper Log: Shell and Core, an exhibition presented during Milan Design Week 2026. Resembling tree trunks with ring-like patterns, the paper logs became symbols of time, process, and material memory within fashion production.
For the exhibition, Kondo collaborated with Ensamble Studio to transform the discarded material into sculptural installations and furniture prototypes. The Shell series explored delicate, folded forms, while Core focused on robust stools, tables, and chairs made from the compressed paper structures. The installation highlighted contrasts between fragility and strength, permanence and impermanence. More than a sustainability project, The Paper Log: Shell and Core reimagined industrial waste as a meaningful design material, encouraging visitors to reconsider the hidden beauty within creative processes.
2. Waste as a Creative Material
Designers are increasingly treating waste as a creative medium rather than a limitation. Scraps often carry unique textures, imperfections, and histories that make each design distinctive. Recycled materials introduce authenticity and individuality into spaces that mass-produced products often lack. From patchwork furniture to recycled terrazzo surfaces and upcycled lighting installations, waste materials are inspiring bold experimentation.
Many contemporary studios intentionally leave visible marks, welds, and raw textures to celebrate the origin of recycled materials. This design philosophy transforms imperfections into beauty and allows waste to become part of the storytelling process.
Wood has remained one of the most widely used materials in furniture and product design for centuries because of its durability, texture, and natural appeal. However, growing demand for wood-based products continues to contribute to deforestation and material waste, even when recycling methods are used. In response to these concerns, Yuma Kano of Studio Yumakano developed ForestBank, an experimental material that transforms how wood-like surfaces can be created without cutting down large trees.
Instead of traditional timber, ForestBank uses forest byproducts such as bark, leaves, seeds, branches, and discarded pruning waste combined with a mineral-based binder and water-based acrylic resin free from harmful solvents. The resulting material can be shaped using standard woodworking techniques while offering a distinctive terrazzo-like appearance filled with earthy textures and organic patterns. By transforming overlooked natural waste into functional furniture and architectural surfaces, ForestBank presents a more sustainable and visually unique alternative to conventional wood production.
3. Sustainable Architecture and Reclaimed Materials
Discarded textiles are finding a second life beyond the wardrobe. Designers are transforming worn-out jeans, fabric offcuts, and recovered fibers into decorative plates, trays, and other household objects. By shredding, compressing, and binding these materials, they create surfaces that retain traces of the original fabric while taking on new forms and functions.
The appeal lies as much in appearance as in reuse. Denim’s familiar blue-and-white fibers become distinctive patterns, allowing the material’s previous life to remain part of the finished design. These projects show how textile waste can become a starting point for expressive homeware rather than the end of a garment’s story.
Jeans are among the most commonly discarded fashion items, despite denim being an extremely durable material with long-lasting potential. Exploring new ways to reuse textile waste, Junghyun Kim developed The Denim Project, transforming discarded denim into decorative household objects. Instead of allowing worn-out jeans to end up in landfills, the project experiments with grinding and compressing denim fibers before combining them with materials such as wood glue, plaster, and resin to create functional design pieces.
The result is a series of decorative plates and trays featuring soft blue-and-white textures inspired by the familiar tones of denim. The aesthetic subtly recalls traditional Japanese wave patterns, giving the objects a handcrafted and artistic character. Available in hexagonal serving trays and smaller coaster-like forms, the pieces blur the line between utility and decoration. By turning textile waste into durable homeware, The Denim Project highlights how discarded fashion materials can be repurposed into sustainable objects with a significantly longer lifecycle.
4. Luxury Through Sustainability
Luxury design is no longer defined only by rare or expensive materials. Today, exclusivity often comes from craftsmanship, sustainability, and originality. Upcycled and recycled materials are appearing in high-end interiors, designer furniture, fashion collections, and automotive design. Handmade pieces created from reclaimed materials carry a sense of uniqueness that cannot be replicated through mass production.
Consumers, especially younger generations, are increasingly attracted to products that reflect environmental awareness and ethical values. As a result, sustainability is becoming a symbol of sophistication, transforming scrap materials into premium design elements.
Electronic waste continues to be one of the fastest-growing environmental challenges as discarded gadgets, appliances, and computer accessories increasingly end up in landfills. Responding to this issue, Joe Doucet created the OLO Table, a sculptural furniture piece made from recycled electronic waste. The project transforms discarded materials such as old refrigerators, keyboards, and computer mice into a visually striking table that combines sustainability with contemporary design.
The table is crafted using Polygood Oyster, a recycled material developed from polystyrene extracted from electronic waste by The Good Plastic Company. Through thermoforming techniques, the material is shaped into the table’s flowing monolithic form, while colorful fragments from the recycled electronics remain visible within the surface, creating a terrazzo-like texture filled with traces of its previous life. More than a functional object, the OLO Table serves as a statement on circular design, indicating how discarded electronic materials can be transformed into durable and aesthetically refined furniture pieces.
5. The Future of Waste in Design
The future of design may depend heavily on how effectively industries manage waste and resources. Technological innovation is making recycling more efficient, while designers continue to push creative boundaries using unconventional materials. Cities are beginning to view construction debris, plastic waste, and industrial leftovers as valuable urban resources rather than disposable trash.
Emerging trends in biomaterials, modular systems, and zero-waste manufacturing further reinforce this shift. As environmental concerns continue to grow, the ability to transform waste into meaningful design solutions will become increasingly important for architects, brands, and creative industries worldwide.
As rising material costs continue to impact the 3D-printing industry, Creality introduced the Filament Maker M1 and Shredder R1, a desktop system designed to recycle failed prints and produce new filament on demand. With standard PLA filament prices increasing sharply in recent months, the system offers makers and small studios a more affordable and sustainable alternative by converting discarded print waste into reusable material. The Shredder R1 breaks down failed prints, support structures, and plastic scraps into small pellets, while also drying the material internally before feeding it directly into the M1 extruder.
The Filament Maker M1 then transforms these pellets into fresh filament with controlled diameter precision and customizable material properties. Users can experiment with colors, textures, and additives such as wood dust, carbon fiber, or natural powders to create unique filament blends for specialized applications. Supporting multiple materials, including PLA, PETG, ABS, TPU, and composite filaments, the compact desktop system combines shredding, extrusion, cooling, and automatic spooling into a single workflow. Beyond reducing material waste, the project highlights how localized filament production could reshape sustainable manufacturing and lower long-term 3D-printing costs for creators and small businesses.
In many ways, scrap is becoming the material that defines the future of modern design. What was once overlooked or discarded is now being transformed into architecture, interiors, products, and artworks that reflect innovation, responsibility, and creativity. By rethinking waste as a resource, designers are reshaping the relationship between sustainability and beauty.
The growing value of reclaimed materials proves that the future of design may not come from extracting more resources, but from rediscovering the hidden potential of what already exists.
Wireless earbuds have come a long way, ever since Apple started the trend of removing the 3.5mm headphone jack from smartphones. Most sound fine or even great, but batteries both in the buds themselves as well as charging cases still pose a longevity problem. Taking a cue from its larger Fairbuds XL headphones, Fairphone’s new Fairbuds 2 make both those batteries replaceable, so that declining battery life doesn’t have to send the whole set into retirement.
On the outside, the Fairbuds 2 look fairly conventional, with rounded earpieces and short, flat stems. Forest Green offers an alternative to the familiar black, which is also an available option, and the matching case has softened corners rather than a rugged shell. The useful detail is a removable silicone sleeve around each earbud, hiding the opening that lets you reach its battery when it eventually needs replacing.
Remove that sleeve and the earbud’s battery compartment becomes accessible without tools. The charging case does require a Torx T5 screwdriver to reach its cell, but nothing you can’t get from a hardware store. Fairphone lists seven replaceable parts, including the case body and individual earbuds. Losing one earbud therefore doesn’t require buying another pair, which is reassuring if your usual storage system involves the bottom of a crowded bag.
Of course, easy repairs won’t make you enjoy a playlist if the sound doesn’t suit you. The Fairbuds 2 use 0.43-inch bio-cellulose drivers, with four presets and a five-band equalizer in the companion app. LDAC support adds a higher-bitrate option on compatible Android devices, but it isn’t a shortcut to guaranteed sound quality, and iPhone owners don’t get that particular audio codec.
Active noise cancellation handles the isolation side, with Fairphone claiming up to 45dB of reduction. Six microphones support noise management and calls, while multipoint connectivity keeps two devices connected simultaneously. You can move between a laptop and phone without pairing from scratch every time. The earbuds remember up to six devices, although that doesn’t mean six audio streams competing for your ears.
Battery life is a separate consideration from battery replacement. Fairphone claims up to eight hours of listening, or 40 hours with the charging case, with noise cancellation switched off. Turn it on, and the earbuds’ estimate drops to six hours. That could cover a commute and some desk time, but charging remains USB-C only, so a wireless charging pad won’t help here.
There’s a practical limit to the repair story, though. Seven replaceable parts don’t mean every internal component can be fixed separately, and continued use still depends on getting the right spares. Fairphone includes replaceable ear tips and silicone sleeves in that count. The IP54 rating provides dust and splash resistance for daily wear, but don’t mistake it for permission to take them swimming.
The US price is $119.99, with a November 2, 2026 release scheduled. Fairphone offers warranty coverage of up to three years, but a battery wearing out isn’t automatically a warranty claim. Fortunately, replacing it yourself doesn’t void coverage when done correctly. That leaves owners with two different ways to keep listening: support for manufacturing faults, and accessible spare parts for things that wear out.
Hoarders, I mean collectors, like me have a bag problem. Whenever I see an interestingly designed bag or an event where there are free tote bags, I can’t help but get one for myself, even though I know I have a cabinet full of barely used ones. Sometimes I think about the ecological footprint of all these bags that I own. So I tell myself my next bag purchase will be a bag made from reused materials (and that I should probably give away some of these bags that I’m not using).
Well, if I had $600 to spare, I might have found my next bag purchase. The updated Reference collection from Swiss bag brand Freitag uses upcycled truck tarpaulins as its main material, with more carefully selected colors and textures. The bags are still minimalist in design, but they have individual marks, textures, and patina, adding to the lived-in look of these items made from repurposed materials.
The redesigned collection has four models, each with important, practical details. The tarps are sourced throughout Europe, and the bags are then produced in small batches by European production partners. Aside from the tarpaulins, the interiors also use recycled polyester.
Elly is a compact essentials bag that has a magnetic closure, a zippered inner compartment for your valuables, and an adjustable shoulder strap. It can be carried by hand, on the shoulder, or crossbody. With a 1.5-liter capacity, it’s the smallest option, for days when you only need the basics.
Bates, meanwhile, is a bigger bag that is listed as fitting a 13-inch laptop. It has a zippered main compartment under a tarp flap and a three-position magnetic closure for adjustable volume. A wide shoulder strap and an additional crossbody strap give you carrying options, while inner pockets and a key docking loop help organize smaller items.
Nan is for those who prefer smaller handbags that can be carried by hand, over the elbow, or on the shoulder. It has a baguette-style design, a rear slip pocket, and a zippered main compartment. Its four-liter capacity offers more space than Elly without going up to Bates’s size.
The biggest one in the collection is Mazie, a large tote that can change shape and volume by folding its sides inward. Its capacity ranges from 26 to 40 liters, and it comes with a detachable mini-pouch. That means smaller valuables don’t have to disappear into the bottom.
Since these are made from used tarps, you can expect scratches, wrinkles, scuffs, and variations. These are traces of the material’s previous life, rather than wear added just for appearances. The collection’s design language uses trapezoidal silhouettes and outward-folded side seams, creating a consistent look across all four items. The shapes give them a family resemblance without making every bag look identical.
One of the more interesting details is the magnetic clasp with punched Freitag branding. Product designer Anne Bachmann found inspiration in an adjustment hook for heavy-duty shelving at the company’s Zurich-Oerlikon factory. It’s a small connection to the bags’ industrial origins, even as their shapes move away from the look of a traditional messenger bag.
Every bag also comes with a repair kit made from the same individual tarp. The pouch contains a piece of lining and sewing thread and is designed to be taken apart for repairs. Remove the contents, and it can also hold cards or keys. For me, including matching repair materials is a more convincing detail than simply asking buyers to think of a bag as sustainable.
Freitag’s listed US prices are $460 for Elly, $660 for Bates, $530 for Nan, and $620 for Mazie. So my hypothetical $600 budget wouldn’t quite cover every option.
Of course, buying another bag won’t magically solve my bag problem. The real test would be whether I actually use it instead of letting it join the others in that cabinet. Maybe I should clear some space first.
Most wallets don’t start out bulky. They get there one receipt, spare card, and folded bill at a time, until slipping one into a front pocket feels like packing a book. Corkor’s slim card holder asks you to carry less, then makes that decision feel less austere with a cork exterior. Its appeal lies in the material as well as its size.
Cork is something you pull from a bottle or pin notes into, not what you reach for when paying for coffee. Here, its irregular grain gives the wallet character without needing decorative hardware or branding. Stitched edges and stacked pockets keep the shape familiar, but the surface feels different from the smooth leather and synthetic finishes that dominate everyday carry.
The layout keeps your most-used cards in three slots, with an ID window and two compartments for folded bills. A small opening on the front helps you nudge a card upward rather than digging at its edge. Keep only the cards you actually use, though, because squeezing too many into those pockets would inevitably change how slim the wallet feels in your pocket.
At 4.3 inches tall, 3.2 inches wide, and 0.4 inches thick when empty, the holder takes up less room than a traditional bifold. It weighs just 0.70 ounces before you add anything. You can leave home with a payment card, an ID, and a little cash without carrying a stack of compartments you’ll never open during a long, busy day away from home.
Cork has a purpose beyond its unusual appearance. The thin, pliable material lets the holder bend gently instead of feeling like a rigid little case, and Corkor describes it as water-repellent and easy to clean. For someone who wants an animal-free alternative to leather, that makes the material choice part of the daily experience rather than a claim printed on a label.
The cork comes from Portugal, where Corkor also makes the holder in-house. That doesn’t mean a wallet can settle every question about sustainability, but it does give this one a clear material identity. Corkor says its packaging is recyclable or compostable, and the card holder is certified vegan. Those details matter most when they’re paired with something you actually want to keep using.
Of course, minimalism has limits. There’s no coin pocket, and those folded bills won’t be as quick to sort through as cash in a full-size wallet. RFID-blocking construction is included to help protect compatible cards from skimming, but it won’t prevent other kinds of theft. This is a holder for an edited pocket, not a place to stash whatever the day hands you.
Corkor prices the holder at $59, which might seem steep for something designed to carry so little. That small footprint is precisely the point. The soft, mottled cork makes a familiar stack of slots feel unexpectedly personal, while the slim layout encourages you to leave the clutter behind. Once you’ve pared things down, that front pocket might finally have room for more than your wallet.
Black holes are notoriously difficult to see, which makes designing a building around one a rather strange idea. The Black Hole Research Center, however, takes that invisible subject and gives it a place people could actually work in. Conceived for a hot, dry climate, the unbuilt research facility spreads its offices and laboratories through a spiraling structure around a dark, solar-powered center.
There is something almost mischievous about putting a black hole on a roof in a place that gets plenty of sun. Rather than swallowing light without a trace, the circular array of photovoltaic cells would turn it into electricity for most of the facility. The idea gives the central opening a practical purpose while keeping the building’s scientific subject impossible to ignore.
The solar array wouldn’t sit flush against the roof. Raising it creates a gap that would let daylight and air reach the center, preventing the black hole from making the interior feel like an actual one. Around the outer edges, shaded glass doors and windows would admit light and ventilation. It’s a sensible response to a climate where sun can be overwhelming.
From there, the building unfolds into arms that hold the offices and labs. Half of those arms rise to two stories, adding space without turning the center into a conventional block. Researchers could move between work areas and the shared interior, while the curved layout gives the building its galactic outline. The metaphor becomes the organizing principle, not a shape pasted onto the roof.
Look up from that interior, and the underside of the solar array could become a giant interactive LED display. Instead of another ceiling, people working there would have a surface for images and sounds drawn from the center’s studies. It’s the kind of feature that could turn a conversation about distant, hard-to-imagine phenomena into something you can experience without leaving the building.
The rest of the roof would have a job. Rainwater could be collected from its surface and kept in underground containers for use inside and around the facility. The lightweight concrete-composite construction is intended to make the sculptural form practical to build. Neither strategy comes with performance figures, but they show how the design tries to answer its surroundings as well as its research brief.
The Black Hole Research Center might not yet host an experiment, but it offers a way to think about scientific architecture. Its dark center would collect sunlight, its raised roof would let air move, and its outstretched arms would house the research itself. For a subject defined by what we can’t observe, the proposal gives people a tangible place to start looking.
When I was young, a lot of my stuff was pink. Not just any pink. It had to be Barbie pink. I eventually grew into other colors, but those bright, familiar shades never lost their hold on me. They still remind me of afternoons spent inventing elaborate stories for dolls who, in my imagination, had unusually busy social calendars. Even now, a flash of that pink on an ordinary object makes me stop and look.
Gomi seems to understand that kind of attachment. Its Barbie x gomi Childhood Memories Collection incorporates recycled Barbie dolls and accessories into everyday electronics. The lineup includes Bluetooth speakers, power banks, wireless chargers, and tracker tags. These aren’t just devices dressed up in colors borrowed from a toy aisle. Actual doll materials go into them, alongside other recovered plastics, so the connection to childhood runs deeper than a coat of paint.
The Brighton, England-based studio makes the limited-edition products by hand. Reclaimed plastics form marbled surfaces with patterns that vary from piece to piece. Gomi describes each design as unique, which is part of the appeal if you like objects with a little individuality. The visual variety matters, too: it lets the source material feel transformed rather than hidden inside a new product. A childhood toy becomes something you can recognize in the tech you use now.
On the Bluetooth speaker, recycled doll material is paired with an aluminum back plate and buttons. The contrast gives its playful surface a more practical, finished look. Gomi also lists fast charging and a modular, repairable design for the speaker. Those details matter because color can catch your eye, but an electronic product still has to earn its place in your routine. Repairability suggests that Gomi intends the speaker to be kept and used, not treated as a short-lived novelty.
The power bank makes the collection’s practical side even clearer. It has a 10,000 mAh capacity, USB-A and USB-C ports, and fast charging, according to Gomi. The company says it uses repurposed e-bike batteries and has a modular design that allows repairs and battery replenishment. If your phone runs low while you’re away from an outlet, that’s a problem it can help solve. Its childhood references are a bonus, not a substitute for the job it needs to do.
Wireless chargers and tracker tags broaden the idea beyond audio and backup power. Together, the devices raise a simple design question: Why should accessories we carry or leave out on a desk all look interchangeable? A charger doesn’t have to disappear into its surroundings, and a speaker doesn’t have to resemble every other black box on a shelf. The collection invites people to choose useful tech partly because they enjoy looking at it.
The reuse angle deserves attention as well. Giving discarded dolls a role in new products offers another use for their plastic, while repairable construction may help owners keep their devices longer. That doesn’t mean the electronics are impact-free, and Barbie materials aren’t the only recovered plastics in the collection. The more precise story is also the more interesting one: Gomi has found a visible, functional use for old toy materials instead of relying on nostalgia alone.
Distinctive design does come with trade-offs. If you fall for a particular pattern, you may not be able to return later and find another just like it. Gomi says only one of each power bank design is available; its listings show a $95 price, though availability can change. Anyone shopping primarily for technical performance should still compare specifications. Here, the draw is the combination of everyday function, an individual finish, and a material story you can see.
For me, the appeal starts with that familiar pink but doesn’t end there. Childhood Memories takes a material associated with make-believe and gives it an adult errand: keeping a phone charged, playing music, or adding character to a daily accessory. It doesn’t ask anyone to outgrow their affection for Barbie, and it doesn’t pretend a fond memory is enough to make good tech. Instead, it gives those memories a useful new form, ready to sit on a desk or travel in a bag.
