The sensuously spartin grid, an echo of LA's freeways, reappears in the Beverly Center. Stepping off the escalator on to the sixth floor of one of LA's most renowned shopping malls, fashon sleuths are lured by the restrained elegance of Max Studio. Richard Lundquist, who studied at the AA with Peter Wilson, has used large sheets of glass as an elevation with only the boutique's name to intervene, high up on the ceiling in folded metal letters.

Space flows directly from the pedestrian precinct into a well-lit chamber with only a few seductive samples of monochromatic clothing. Flanking walls are of deep wooden frames with - as in some of Donald Judd's minimalist sculptures - occasionally splayed innards. With a crisply zoomorphic desk to one side and romantically large mirrors beyond, one's gaze is caught by a curvaceous armoire with spiky Medusa tentacles. This flattened steel babe controls the store and contains an intestinal vitrine for accessories.

By Raymund Ryan from Designers' Journal, May 1992