There’s a certain clarity to Copenhagen. Not just in the crisp winter air or the way the city seems to hum at a perfectly calibrated pace, but in how it thinks about space, form, and function.

I went to Copenhagen with a loose plan—walk a lot, see the stores of my favorite brands, soak in inspiration. What I didn’t expect was how deeply it would remind me why I care about design in the first place.

A DESIGN PHILOSOPHY YOU CAN FEEL

Walking through the city, it became obvious that Copenhagen doesn’t just design things—it considers them. Everything, from a humble streetlight to a sprawling furniture showroom, seems to be asking: How can this be better? How can this feel effortless?

‍The brands I sought out—HAY, TEKLA, NOTEM, GANNI—each embody this ethos in their own way. HAY’s store felt like a living catalog of considered living: chairs and objects in soft yet functional harmony. TEKLA, with its muted color palettes and quietly luxurious fabrics, embodied a kind of Scandinavian minimalism that isn’t cold, but deeply inviting. NOTEM’s stationery made me think about the physicality of note-taking in a world that’s constantly trying to digitize every thought.

There’s a reason Danish design is synonymous with good design. It’s not about grand gestures or overcomplication—it’s about solving problems in ways that feel both intuitive and beautiful. It’s a reminder that simplicity isn’t a lack of complexity, but the result of refining something until only the necessary remains.

ARCHITECTURE AS A LANGUAGE

Copenhagen speaks in brick, glass, and clean lines. The Louisiana Museum was a lesson in how space can shape thought. A museum where the architecture doesn’t just house art, but becomes part of it. Where light, angles, and placement invite you to slow down, to think, to notice.

I kept thinking about how different cities influence the way we move and feel. In Reykjavik, I always feel slightly detached from my surroundings, like the city is a place to exist in rather than to interact with. In Copenhagen, I felt connected to my environment in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. The city invites you in—it gives you places to rest, streets that are made for walking, buildings that don’t overpower but coexist.

It made me wonder: how much of our happiness is shaped by the spaces we live in? How much does good design, good architecture, good urban planning affect the way we experience daily life?

The Carlsberg Legacy: Brewing More Than Beer

If there’s one story that stuck with me in Copenhagen, it’s the story of the Carlsberg family—not just as beer brewers, but as patrons of art, science, and culture. The Carlsberg name is everywhere in the city, but what fascinated me was how their legacy extends far beyond their breweries.

J.C. Jacobsen, the founder of Carlsberg, wasn’t just obsessed with making great beer—he was obsessed with progress. He funded scientific research, started the Carlsberg Laboratory (where they literally advanced the science of brewing and fermentation), and established the Carlsberg Foundation, which still funds research, art, and cultural projects today. His son, Carl Jacobsen, took this even further, founding the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, an incredible museum that houses everything from ancient Egyptian artifacts to works by Rodin and Degas.

It’s a rare thing for a family business to think beyond profit—to think about knowledge, art, and cultural impact. And yet, here was a beer empire shaping the intellectual and artistic life of Denmark. It made me think about what it means to build something that lasts—not just in terms of products, but in terms of influence, in terms of giving back.

A Hostel That Redefines Hospitality

It’s rare to find a hostel that doesn’t just offer a place to sleep, but actively creates a sense of community. Next House Copenhagen, where I stayed, was probably the best hostel I’ve ever been to—not just because of the design, but because of the way it was designed for people.

‍They’ve mastered something that so many places overlook: solo travelers need more than a bed—they need connection. Every night, the hostel puts on events, creating opportunities for people to meet, talk, and share experiences. But what struck me most was the communal dinner. The chef told me that they actually lose money on it—but they do it anyway because they believe in supporting solo travelers.

That kind of decision—one that prioritizes people over profit—feels rare. It reminded me of the Carlsberg legacy in a way: an example of how a business can be about more than just the bottom line. Interestingly, Next House is owned by Carlsberg, and true to form, they were incredibly generous with their free beer.

Staying there made me think about what hospitality really means. So often, places are designed purely for efficiency—get guests in, get them out. But the best places, the ones you actually remember, are the ones that make you feel welcome. That remind you that even in a big city, even while traveling alone, you’re never truly alone.

Why This Matters to Me (And Maybe to You Too)

I’ve always been drawn to things that are both functional and beautiful. Whether it's designing brand identities, building websites, or simply appreciating a well-designed object, I love when something is made with thoughtfulness.

And maybe that’s what this newsletter will be about—design as a way of seeing the world. How brands, spaces, cities, and even small everyday objects shape the way we live and feel.

Copenhagen reminded me of something I want to carry forward: thoughtful design is an act of care. It’s about creating things that make life better, easier, more meaningful. Whether it’s a well-designed hostel, a well-planned city, or even a well-structured life.

This is something I want to explore more. If that sounds like something you’d enjoy too, I’d love for you to stick around.

Talk to you next time,
‍
Leiry.