If you’ve never eaten rice off a banana leaf

Hooray, this is one of my favourite weeks: Melbourne Design Week.
And as a design nerd, I’m giddy with excitement!

Melbourne is often celebrated for its sport, food and laneway lattes. But design? Rarely gets a mention. Not because design’s missing, but because it’s everywhere. In the chairs we sit on, the trams we ride, the lights above our heads. It’s felt, not flaunted.

Once a year, that quiet design confidence takes centre stage. And we get the glorious, jam-packed, inspiring sprawl that is Melbourne Design Week (MDW). Ta dah!

MDW can feel overwhelming (300+ events!), but what draws me in each year is this:
Design, at its heart, is storytelling with purpose.

Good design solves problems.

Great design does that and keeps the human at the centre, which is why bad design is painful.

How often have you cursed at a door that you intuitively push but instead must pull? Or the baffling swipe machine in one of my city car parks. Looks like a card slot. It isn’t a card slot. You don’t swipe, tap or insert your card. You hover your card vertically over the slot. I asked their customer service rep what people complain about most. “That,” she said, without missing a beat.

It made me think, when design works, what does it feel like?

Some of my earliest answers came from growing up in India. Not from galleries or glossy catalogues, but from the humble home kitchen.

The Indian dabba (tiffin lunchbox) is genius. Fully self-contained, neatly stacked, handle to carry, clips to lock, spoon tucked in. Designed to be used, loved, and passed on.

The humble banana leaf is India’s version of biodegradable tableware used to serve meals at weddings and special occasions. Why design a plate when nature’s already given you one that’s beautiful, fragrant, and compostable? And if you’ve never eaten steaming hot rice off a banana leaf, have you even really lived?!

And my all-time favourite: the spice tin. A stainless-steel container with a snug-fitting lid that holds a set of smaller bowls, each filled with a different spice. Everything you need to cook is beautifully organised in one place. No rummaging, no clutter. Just a clever, compact design that’s functional, minimalist and elegant. I still use one today.

That same spirit, everyday beauty built with care, is what I found again at Melbourne Design Week.

One of my favourite events so far? The 100 LIGHTS exhibition. It’s a celebration of the humble light, reimagined by designers across the spectrum. There’s whimsy (like the ‘Hangman’ lamp that channels childhood nostalgia), but there’s also depth and surprise. A thoughtful use of materials, a massive nod to sustainability, and a respect for history.

What struck me is this: great design isn’t about flash. It’s about care.

Great design solves real problems, honours the user, and often brings a moment of unexpected delight. Like a spice tin that fits everything just right. Or a lamp that makes you smile before it even switches on.

If you’re keen to explore Design Week but overwhelmed by the everythingness of it all, one of our guiding groups curated a cracking shortlist. Want it? Get in touch.

And please tell me, what’s one everyday design that brings you joy?

Photo by JJ Ying on Unsplash