I have paraphrased the title of Raffaele La Capria’s most recent, poignant book, “Ai dolci amici addio” (Farwell, Sweet Friends), Nottetempo, Rome, 2016, to say goodbye to the Arab princess of architecture, Zaha Hadid. I knew her well, and we had the sort of complicity that went beyond our respective professions, even if our first meeting followed my writing an article on Peak, a competition in Hong Kong she won in 1983 after submitting powerful designs. Magazines were writing about her, and Valerio Mazzei, the owner of a blossoming Tuscan company Edra, for whom my husband, Massimo Morozzi, was the art director, had taken a liking to the sofa Hadid had in her small London apartment, and wanted to manufacture it. I called her London studio to make an appointment, referencing my article, which she had enjoyed. I went with Massimo and Valerio to London to serve as their interpreter. The sofa went to production, and was presented during the 1988 Salone del Mobile in Milan, at an epic party held at the Rolling Stone.

The crowd thinned out around midnight. Zaha was an insomniac, and asked me to go and have a drink with her. Everyone was tired and unaccustomed to speaking in English. It was up to me to accompany her during this night in Milan. We ended up in Piazza Sant’Eustorgio, drinking beer and having our tarot cards read… Our final encounters were poolside at the Ciragan Palace in Istanbul, watching the boats pass slowly in front of Bosporus. Following, we went dinner at Stefano Giovannoni’s home, seated next to eachother. She was calm and relaxed. We spoke of handbags. She was proud of her new Miu Miu clutch; fortunately, she too loved fashion. She was always an affectionate friend to Massimo and me. Mika, a singer and close friend of Zaha’s, wrote in the Corriere della Sera upon hearing about her unexpected passing, “a rose has been cut, a precious Arab rose, that was fully in bloom until the very end”. He described her as, “an affectionate and enjoyable woman, who loved to chat, share gossip and have dinner together”. Her buildings are magnificent, they charm and intimidate, casting an aura of awe on her. In some of her design objects, above all, those created for Harrods, I found another Zaha, affectionate friend and accomplice, a lover of life, food, conversation, and fashion (amongst her favourite stylists, Miyake, who she always wore, and Romeo Gigli).

Cristina Morozzi

I have paraphrased the title of Raffaele La Capria’s most recent, poignant book, “Ai dolci amici addio” (Farwell, Sweet Friends), Nottetempo, Rome, 2016, to say goodbye to the Arab princess of architecture, Zaha Hadid. I knew her well, and we had the sort of complicity that went beyond our respective professions, even if our first meeting followed my writing an article on Peak, a competition in Hong Kong she won in 1983 after submitting powerful designs.
Magazines were writing about her, and Valerio Mazzei, the owner of a blossoming Tuscan company Edra, for whom my husband, Massimo Morozzi, was the art director, had taken a liking to the sofa Hadid had in her small London apartment, and wanted to manufacture it. I called her London studio to make an appointment, referencing my article, which she had enjoyed. I went with Massimo and Valerio to London to serve as their interpreter. The sofa went to production, and was presented during the 1988 Salone del Mobile in Milan, at an epic party held at the Rolling Stone. The crowd thinned out around midnight. Zaha was an insomniac, and asked me to go and have a drink with her. Everyone was tired and unaccustomed to speaking in English. It was up to me to accompany her during this night in Milan. We ended up in Piazza Sant’Eustorgio, drinking beer and having our tarot cards read…
Our final encounters were poolside at the Ciragan Palace in Istanbul, watching the boats pass slowly in front of Bosporus. Following, we went dinner at Stefano Giovannoni’s home, seated next to eachother. She was calm and relaxed. We spoke of handbags. She was proud of her new Miu Miu clutch; fortunately, she too loved fashion. She was always an affectionate friend to Massimo and me.
Mika, a singer and close friend of Zaha’s, wrote in the Corriere della Sera upon hearing about her unexpected passing, “a rose has been cut, a precious Arab rose, that was fully in bloom until the very end”. He described her as, “an affectionate and enjoyable woman, who loved to chat, share gossip and have dinner together”.
Her buildings are magnificent, they charm and intimidate, casting an aura of awe on her. In some of her design objects, above all, those created for Harrods, I found another Zaha, affectionate friend and accomplice, a lover of life, food, conversation, and fashion (amongst her favourite stylists, Miyake, who she always wore, and Romeo Gigli).

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The Moodboarders is a glance into the design world, which, in all of its facets, captures the extraordinary even within the routine. It is a measure of the times. It is an antenna sensitive enough to pick-up on budding trends, emerging talents and neglected aesthetics. Instead of essays, we use brief tales to tune into the rhythm of our world. We travelled for a year without stopping, and seeing as the memory of this journey has not faded, we have chosen to edit a printed copy. We eliminated anything episodic, ephemeral or fading, maintaining a variety of articles that flow, without losing the element of surprise, the events caught taking place, and the creations having just bloomed.