At first glance, Ralph Lauren’s high-rise head office on Manhattan’s Madison Avenue—a great big tower of glass and steel aggressively jutting skywards—doesn’t really tally with, well, Ralph Lauren. Until that is, the lift doors slide open on the sixth floor and you’re immediately enveloped by what looks like Ralph Lauren’s flagship on Bond Street—all cosy and low-lit with wood-panelled walls, moody oil paintings, and love-worn leather sofas scattered with plaid cushions. They’ve even built a sweeping mahogany staircase into this modern skyscraper, to connect his design teams across its multiple floors.
Along a wide corridor is Lauren’s office. It’s overwhelmingly cluttered with curios, so much so you don’t know where to look first, let alone have any clue about where to set down a tall glass of water. Books are piled high on every surface; framed artworks, magazine covers and awards line the floor, propped up against all four walls. Look up and there are two ’50s plane models crafted in what looks like parchment paper, which swoop above a vintagelooking shiny black bicycle (a gift, never ridden). Silver-framed photographs of his impossibly good-looking family—his wife, Ricky, three children, Andrew, David and daughter Dylan, and five grandchildren—cover the desk, along).
