It's her style. There is a carefree grace to everything that Cini Boeri designed. Every article of clothing she wore, the shape of a shoulder, her Strips sofa, the Lunario table, a scarf around her neck, the Gradual lounge, transmits ease.
What's funny about Strips is that it looks like a raw duvet, tufted in a grid, clumped with goose feathers. It is a covering as much as a cradle. I want to wear Cini.
Her Papero table lamp from 1971 is like a duck; its bill like the gentle folds of a nun's wimple. The black strip that runs continuously along its edge like a stylized Star Wars stormtrooper.
Frantic, her Cubotto from 1968 reads like an overgrown spice cabinet on pool ball feet.
Cini is pure gesture. Her Ghost armchair unfurls like a ribbon with a single slash down the middle. You rest on it like air.
Her work feels like movement. Nothing about it is stagnant. Lunario balances on a clip - a spinning top stopped in motion. Casa Rotonda, the home she designed for her sister, is a house in fetal position.
There is a photo of Cini with Miuccia Prada from the year before she died. They're both in black skirts and white tops with minimal loops of precious gems around their necks. Twins with twisted precision.
-Camille Okhio