Almi

Almi is located in the Berlin district of Prenzlauer Berg — once part of East Berlin, now a leafy enclave of grown-up creatives, young families, and bicycle-lined streets. For decades, the space functioned as a neighborhood restaurant where residents from the adjacent buildings gathered at all hours. The new project preserves this inherited warmth, while reinterpreting the typology of the East-Berlin bar: a place of mismatched furniture, polished GDR wood panels, and an atmosphere that leans more toward the soft and familiar than toward the techno-austere Berlin trending on Instagram.

The interior sits entirely along the façade, defined by a continuous row of large windows that run the full length of the space. The design relies on light, floor, and a glossy ceiling to construct its character. The windows, rebuilt as slim, cream-colored guillotine frames, can drop down completely, opening the restaurant to the street. From the outside, the interior appears as a warm, glowing ribbon along the sidewalk.

Historic traces remain sparse: a fragment of an existing wall, a handful of original chairs from the former bar, and a dark brown marble slab that no designer would choose today yet becomes an essential part of ALMI’s material lineage. These elements form the starting layer of a new collage. The aim was not to recreate the past but to preserve the sensation of a place shaped gradually: something left behind, something added, something reinterpreted.

Color becomes the main architectural device. A glossy green ceiling reflects the scattered lights placed without a grid, creating a soft glow visible from the street. The floor retains its classic Berlin pine, lightly restored to preserve its reddish tone. Cherry, mustard, and sky-blue accents give the space a sense of gentle eccentricity.

At the center of the room stands a large communal table with a light fixture designed and produced by a French artist Emmanuel Hugnot: a pleated pendant that adds a touch of playful iconography. Around it, the seating remains intentionally unprecious. The old, slightly awkward, chairs were kept for the sake of continuity. Together with the preserved marble, they anchor the space in its local memory. Behind the bar, the back area adopts deeper tones — burgundy, dark teal, and midnight blue — forming a counterpoint to the brighter facade zone with its white curtains and continuous window seating.

With one large window to the street and another to the dining room, the kitchen becomes a stage in the daily life of the restaurant. Its openness reflects Berlin’s democratic approach to dining: whether ordering something simple or elaborate, guests should feel equally welcome.

In keeping with the spirit of accumulation, a group of local artists contributed hand-drawn elements on the glass panels. The result is less a statement piece and more a ‘safe space’: warm, softly lit, casual, a refuge during Berlin’s long grey months. The atmosphere balances cozy nostalgia with a hint of GDR austerity, forming what the designers jokingly named sozial chic: a blend of socialist-era honesty and contemporary comfort.

From the street at night, only the green ceiling with its scattered glints is visible. А floating, luminous field above a space that feels at once improvised and carefully considered. A local restaurant ‘without design’ that, in the end, reveals a carefully curated abundance of it.