The Emotional Architecture of Dining: Marc Ange's Restaurant Vision

At MUSE, the reflective ceiling captures diners mid-conversation, casting a kaleidoscopic view of the scene below. It’s not just a decorative flourish—it’s a deliberate design move, one that encapsulates Marc Ange’s philosophy: a restaurant isn’t just a place to eat, it’s a place to feel.

Known for creating immersive, surrealist spaces that straddle the line between art and architecture, Marc Ange has long been a celebrated figure in the worlds of luxury design and high-concept furniture. But in recent years, he’s shifted his attention to a new canvas—the dining room. From Café Boulud to the soon-to-open rooftop of the Waldorf Astoria in Los Angeles, Marc Ange is applying his signature emotional design approach to the way we experience restaurants.

Who Is Marc Ange?

Marc Ange was born in Rome and raised in Paris, the child of an Italian family split between religion, art, and what he describes as “a touch of madness.” That tension—between reality and illusion, tradition and rebellion—has defined his creative career. After training in industrial design at France’s ESDI, Marc Ange began his career in automotive design, creating advanced concepts for global brands like Citroën, Peugeot, and Ferrari. But even as he excelled in that world, he felt constrained by its rigidity and predictability.

“I was really good,” Marc Ange says of his early career. “But after two or three years, I realized it was always the same thing. You think you’re creating something, but you’re just following rules.”

So he struck out on his own, launching a design studio in Paris at age 26. That leap eventually led to collaborations with LVMH, PRADA, and Moët & Chandon, as well as the creation of his own furniture line—most famously Le Refuge, a dreamy, pink palm-frond daybed that became the most Instagrammed piece at Milan Design Week 2017 and now lives in the MOCO Museum in Amsterdam.

His work draws from surrealism, childhood memory, and the tension between harmony and chance. Every project, from a fragrance bottle to a penthouse suite, is approached as a total experience. And increasingly, those experiences are unfolding in restaurants.

From Gallery to Dining Room: Why Restaurants?

Marc Ange’s move into hospitality design wasn’t a strategic pivot—it was an evolution. “I started working with furniture and interiors because I wanted more freedom,” he explains. “I wanted to create something emotional, something immersive. And there’s no better place for that than a restaurant.”

His first foray into restaurant design came quietly in 2016 with The Ponte, a now-shuttered Italian spot on Beverly Boulevard in Los Angeles. But it marked the beginning of a new direction. Then came Café Boulud at the Mandarin Oriental Residences in Beverly Hills, a high-profile collaboration with chef Daniel Boulud and the SHVO development group. Though delayed by the pandemic, the project set a tone: Marc Ange was no longer just making objects—he was shaping entire environments around food.

Now, with MUSE in Los Angeles and an upcoming rooftop restaurant at the Waldorf Astoria, Marc Ange is applying his surrealist vocabulary to fine dining in ways that are both theatrical and grounded. These are not Instagram-ready backdrops with little substance. They’re cohesive worlds where architecture, materials, furniture, and emotion are all in dialogue—with the cuisine at the center.

“For me, a restaurant isn’t a painting on the wall,” he says. “It’s a story that surrounds you. A dish tastes different depending on the light, the sound, the texture of the chair you’re sitting in. That’s where the magic is.”

Designing for Dining: Marc Ange’s Philosophy in Practice

For Marc Ange, designing a restaurant is not about imposing a signature style. It’s about building a world that reflects the essence of the cuisine, the chef’s vision, and the emotional rhythm of the space. “We don’t do fake realities,” he says. “We take the actual city, the history, the building, and we play with that. The architecture always speaks first.”

At MUSE in Los Angeles, that philosophy is fully realized. Working closely with the owner from the earliest conceptual stages—before the name was even chosen—Marc Ange approached the design as a narrative. He sourced cues from the space itself and from conversations about memory, culture, and favorite places. “We designed everything,” he says. “The chairs, the tables, the bar, the banquettes. We didn’t buy anything off the shelf.”

That sense of total immersion—of creating a restaurant where every material choice, every angle, every surface plays a role—extends to his collaboration with chefs. With Daniel Boulud at Café Boulud, Marc Ange studied how the chef worked, how his kitchens flowed, and what he needed to bring his dishes to life. “He let me do my job, but I needed to understand his world,” Marc Ange says.

This integration of culinary function and atmospheric storytelling is what elevates his work. He doesn’t just build dining rooms; he constructs stages for experience.

“We always try to give every space a sense,” he explains. “It’s not just about having a VIP table and everything else is an afterthought. Each corner should have its own charm. That’s what makes a restaurant unforgettable.”

The Emotional Architecture of Dining

For Marc Ange, a great restaurant design doesn’t simply look good—it feels right. That emotional response is at the core of his process. “You’re not just designing a room. You’re creating a living, breathing experience,” he says.

That begins with proportion and flow, but it extends to how diners emotionally inhabit the space. Marc Ange is obsessive about lighting—not just for aesthetics, but for how it influences mood and memory. “In Europe and New York, people understand lighting better. It’s intimate. It’s thoughtful. In L.A., it’s often just… bright,” he says with a laugh. “But lighting can change everything—the food, the face, the feeling.”

He brings the same precision to spacing, sightlines, and sound. Though he collaborates with acoustics consultants for the technical side, the emotional impact of noise—or silence—is always top of mind. Every table should feel considered. No one wants the “bad seat.”

“You have to think like a director. A restaurant is like a film set, where each moment, each angle, each scene, should have meaning,” Marc Ange explains. “Even a table in the corner should feel like the best place in the world for the person sitting there.”

It’s this attention to invisible details—ambience, emotion, memory—that separates a merely functional space from an unforgettable one.

Function Meets Fantasy: Collaborating with Chefs and Clients

Although Marc Ange’s designs often flirt with the surreal, his creative process is grounded in the pragmatic needs of a restaurant. He begins each project by deeply understanding the client’s vision—especially when that client is a chef.

His collaboration with Daniel Boulud on Café Boulud in Beverly Hills began with immersion. “I went to all of Daniel’s restaurants. I studied how he works, how he moves in the kitchen, what materials he uses, how he likes things to flow,” says Marc Ange. “Then, he gave me total freedom.”

Other projects have been more hands-on. With MUSE, the Santa Monica restaurant from a first-time owner, Marc Ange was brought in before the name was even chosen. “We started with mood boards, dinners, long conversations. I needed to know what he wanted to say—not just through food, but through space,” he recalls.

No matter the client, the approach is consistent: functionality first, then emotion, then spectacle. “We design everything—walls, furniture, lighting. But we also think about how a server enters a room. Where the chef stands. How a guest feels when they first walk in.”

In some cases, like Café Boulud and MUSE, Marc Ange and his team built nearly everything from scratch. “We made the chairs. The banquettes. The bar. Even the ceiling details,” he says. “That way, the space isn’t just a backdrop. It’s part of the story.”

Designing for Memory—and the Instagram Age

Marc Ange is no stranger to designing for visual impact. His Le Refuge daybed became the most Instagrammed piece at Milan Design Week in 2017, and he’s fully aware of how social media influences the way people interact with space.

Still, he resists the idea of designing for Instagram. “There was a time when everyone asked for something Instagrammable,” he says. “Now, it’s just part of the process—because it’s part of how we remember.” In his view, designing for the camera isn’t new. “Before Instagram, it was about memory. We’ve always wanted people to walk away with a mental image.”

At MUSE, a mirrored ceiling captures diners and their tables in a single, cinematic reflection. “It’s not just about aesthetics—it’s about storytelling,” he explains. “That ceiling lets people see themselves as part of the experience. And they want to remember it.”

Lighting plays a critical role, too. “Lighting is everything,” says Marc Ange. “It’s emotional.” He speaks about light the way a chef talks about seasoning—essential, nuanced, and too often misused. “You can ruin the entire experience with the wrong lighting.”

The Emotional Architecture of Dining

For Marc Ange, designing a restaurant is not just about beauty or function—it’s about emotion. “Each project is a new adventure,” he says. “Our job is to find the right feeling for the place, to create a story that unfolds around you as you dine.”

That means thinking in scenes, not just layouts. He compares his approach to filmmaking, where every table offers a new perspective, a new frame. “It’s not about creating one perfect spot. It’s about making every corner feel considered. There shouldn’t be ‘bad’ tables—just different experiences.”

That philosophy guided his work at MUSE and continues to shape his upcoming design for the rooftop restaurant at the Waldorf Astoria in Beverly Hills. “A restaurant isn’t just a place to eat—it’s a place where memories are made. Design has to support that. Not dominate, not distract—support.”

And while Marc Ange may have started his career designing cars, what drives him now is entirely human. “You can measure beauty,” he says, “but emotion—that’s what makes a space unforgettable.”