Compact Milan Apartment with Disappearing Kitchen, 50sqm/538sqft
Walking through the vibrant streets between Porta Venezia and Milan Central Station, I often feel the pulse of the city—a place rich in layers and contrast. But the moment I step into my 1930s building, a classic piece of “Old Milan,” the noise fades into a sense of history. My home is only 50 square meters, but to me, it isn’t just a small apartment; it is a rich and layered narrative of who I am.
The transition begins the moment I open the door. I intentionally designed the entrance as a “color box”—an immersive space with mosaic factory cement tiles and a deep teal hue. It acts as a mental palate cleanser. To keep my living areas uncluttered, I’ve centralized everything here; a custom-made wardrobe holds my clothes, shoes, and life’s daily essentials. It’s a reflection of my need for order in an often chaotic urban world.
As you move into the living room, the urban sensibility I crave really takes shape. I chose to paint the upper part of the walls in a teal tone to create an immersive, grounding feeling while I’m sitting on the sofa. Everything here has to earn its keep. My large sofa easily becomes a guest bed by simply removing the pillows, and the low bench along the window is perhaps my favorite piece. Wrapped in a 70s-inspired radical design laminate, it’s my TV stand, a surface for my favorite objects, and extra seating for the custom metal dining table. Even the floor reflects a twist on tradition—I chose square parquet tiles instead of the classic herringbone.
One of my favorite “secrets” is the kitchen. I didn’t want my cooking space to be a focal point or feel overly utilitarian. Tucked into a corridor niche, the entire setup can be hidden behind a flip-down shelf, transforming it into a sleek sideboard. With LED strips that are virtually invisible when switched off, the telltale signs of a kitchen simply disappear. It’s a design choice that speaks to my love for minimalism and “invisible” functionality.
My bedroom, by contrast, is a sanctuary of extreme minimalism. It serves one purpose: rest. I opted for an inverse color scheme here—light above and dark below—to frame the bed in a quiet niche. To save space, the windows feature wooden shutters that slide directly into the wall cavity. Even in this curated space, I’ve kept a piece of my history: bedside tables from the late 60s that I brought from my previous home.
People often ask if living in 538 square feet feels restrictive. Honestly, it feels like a rewarding challenge. By choosing high-quality materials—like the smoked black glass of my dining table or the glossy tiles in my light-filled shower—I’ve created a space that feels luxurious rather than garish. My home proves that you don’t need vast acreage to have a life full of character; you just need a space that reflects your own design sensibility.