How food and family inspire designer Steve Leung's signature spaces

Leung's 50th-floor Swim Club at Kimpton Tsim Sha Tsui allegedly merges retro SoCal vibes with Hong Kong's skyline—because nothing says 'escape from the city' like a $50 cocktail with a view.
His 'human-centric' philosophy translates to custom bar stools and bubble lamps, proving that ergonomic seating is the true frontier of urban design.
OOAK Niseko holiday home leans heavily into Japanese minimalism, because when you've designed enough skyscrapers, you deserve a muted palette to contemplate your empire.
The family-run private kitchen on Lamma Island, OOAK Lamma, is accessible only by boat—conveniently ensuring that only guests with actual intent (and nautical skills) can sample the designer's culinary empire.
Leung insists AI won't replace the 'humanity of design'—a brave stance from a man whose portfolio includes enough beige and glass to make a robot blush.

Brief Summary

Steve Leung, Hong Kong's reigning king of chic interiors, is back with a splash—literally—via his latest vertical water feature at the Kimpton Tsim Sha Tsui. The Swim Club is a masterclass in making a hotel pool feel less like a chlorinated pit stop and more like a curated Instagram backdrop, complete with rippled glass ceilings and mosaic walls that scream 'I read Dwell magazine.' Leung's ethos of 'less over-design, more human-centric thinking' apparently means spending millions to achieve a look of effortless, weathered calm—because only the truly wealthy can afford to look this casually disheveled. Meanwhile, his personal projects, from a minimalist Niseko retreat to a boat-accessible Lamma kitchen, suggest his real passion lies in designing spaces that make his own family comfortable, which is both endearing and utterly out of reach for the average taxpayer.

Why This Matters

Here's the uncomfortable truth: Leung's design philosophy—rooted in making people feel 'at home' in public spaces—is exactly the kind of high-concept thinking that trickles down to your IKEA-budget living room. His obsession with human-centric details like lighting and texture is a reminder that good design isn't about gimmicks, it's about comfort layered with purpose, even if the price tag for that comfort in Hong Kong could buy a small island. More cynically, his talk of 'openness to the world' and finding a 'unique voice' is the kind of corporate-speak that translates to: 'we will continue to gentrify every neighborhood one reclaimed-fishing-boat at a time.' You may not afford his real estate, but his influence shapes the public lobbies, restaurant terraces, and glass towers you can't avoid, so you might as well appreciate the aesthetics while quietly resenting the economics.