Imagine stepping into a time capsule of design brilliance, hidden within the unassuming confines of a Singapore HDB flat. This is no ordinary home—it’s a sanctuary where vintage Herman Miller sofas, Flos lamps, and a Zanotta bedframe coexist in perfect harmony, curated with the precision of a museum exhibit. But here’s where it gets intriguing: nestled in the heart of Boon Keng, this three-room flat stands in stark contrast to its neighbors, where laundry lines drape along common corridors. Yet, once inside, you’re transported to a world where design icons like Marc Newson and Michele De Lucchi are celebrated with the same fervor as family heirlooms, and where a Philippe Starck fly swatter doubles as both tool and conversation piece.
This is the domain of Erricson Wong, a 46-year-old design aficionado and co-founder of furniture retailer Made & Make. For the past seven years, this flat has been his canvas, but his love affair with design began over two decades ago, when he pored over pages of Abitare, an Italian design magazine, at Page One bookstore in Marina Square. And this is the part most people miss: Wong’s collection isn’t just a random assembly of high-end pieces; it’s a meticulously crafted narrative, where each item—whether a travel souvenir, an online find, or a piece aged to perfection—tells a story of rescue, recontextualization, and reverence.
Take, for instance, his vintage Herman Miller Wilkes Modular Sofa, affectionately dubbed the ‘Chiclet’ sofa. Designed in 1976, its modularity and versatility reflect Wong’s appreciation for pieces that transcend their original purpose. But here’s where it gets controversial: while many see furniture as purely functional, Wong challenges us to view it as an homage to craftsmanship, an experiment in materials, or even a whisper of a bygone era. Is a chair just a chair? Not in Wong’s world.
His living room alone is a masterclass in design evolution. The Steelcase Ganging Elysee, upholstered in black leather, isn’t just seating—it’s a transformer, rearranged periodically into configurations like a ‘Cleopatra daybed.’ And this is the part most people miss: Wong’s collection isn’t dictated by his retail business. Despite selling modern pieces from brands like Artemide and Oluce, his personal collection remains distinct, shaped by space constraints and a deliberate eye for timelessness.
One wall in his dining area remains deliberately unfinished, a textural statement that baffles visitors. ‘When will your renovation be complete?’ they ask. But Wong’s home isn’t about completion—it’s about evolution. His Driade Frate Table, designed by Enzo Mari, anchors the space with sculptural elegance, while his collection of black dining chairs—from Eames classics to modern Artek pieces—creates a cohesive yet dynamic ensemble. But here’s where it gets controversial: Wong’s advice to homeowners is refreshingly unconventional. ‘Buy what you want,’ he urges, dismissing the notion of matching styles. ‘Your home should represent you.’
From his autographed Artemide Tolomeo lamp to his E15 stool doubling as a bedside table, every piece in Wong’s home serves multiple purposes, blurring the lines between form and function. And this is the part most people miss: his collection, valued between S$40,000 to S$50,000, isn’t about monetary worth—it’s about the stories, the memories, and the quiet elegance of design that stands the test of time.
So, here’s a thought-provoking question for you: In a world obsessed with trends, is Wong’s approach to design a relic of the past, or a blueprint for the future? Let’s debate in the comments—I’m curious to hear your take.
