Travel-Inspired Interior Design: A New Safari Tent Camp Redefines Luxury and Makes a Case for Restraint in Design

By Patrick Ediger

Quite a while back, I wrote about the philosophy behind Aman Resorts, a brand that has completely redefined what it means to design for place, not just for spectacle. If you missed that article, you can read it here.

Since then, Aman has become far more visible. They’ve recently opened new properties in Tokyo and New York, and there’s a new project underway here in Los Angeles, at One Beverly Hills, which will include both an Aman hotel and residences adjacent to The Beverly Hilton. 

Sidenote: I have mixed feelings about this mega development. On one hand, it’s an incredibly ambitious, thoughtfully designed project. On the other, it does feel like a kind of walled city within an already walled city, designed for a singular, rarefied audience, with a small public garden. That said, I do appreciate the sustainability of the project and the level of care being given to its integration with the surrounding landscape. It will be interesting to see how accessible it actually feels in practice. It’s also a good example of the kind of forward-thinking, vertical, higher-density approach to housing that Los Angeles desperately needs.

At the same time, this entire category of ultra-luxury, design-forward travel has found its way into the broader cultural conversation, helped along in no small part by shows like The White Lotus. It’s no longer a niche world. It’s become part of the zeitgeist.

Lately, I’ve found myself revisiting that same idea. Not just because travel has been calling my name again, but because there’s a noticeable shift happening in how these destinations are being imagined and built.

And then this crossed my radar: Anantara Tented Camp Kafue River.

The new luxury tented camp draws on the principles of African Modernism to create architecture that moves with the landscape. Photo courtesy of Anantara Resorts.

Set to open later this year, it feels like a natural continuation of that conversation—one that’s less about replicating a signature look and more about creating an experience that couldn’t exist anywhere else.

Sustainability as a foundation, not just a feature

What’s compelling about this project isn’t just the setting, but how little the architecture tries to compete with it.

The camp is elevated about 3.5 meters off the ground, allowing wildlife to move freely beneath it while also responding to seasonal flooding. It’s a straightforward move, but one that says a lot. The design adapts to the conditions of the site rather than trying to override them.

That way of thinking tends to carry through everything else.

Sustainability here isn’t something that’s added on. It’s embedded in the decisions being made from the start. Materials that will age well. Layouts that respond to the environment. Spaces that are designed to last, not just visually, but in how they’re lived in over time.

When that’s done well, it doesn’t announce itself. It just works.

The camp’s interiors showcase handcrafted details from African artisans, including woven textiles, carved wood and bespoke ceramics. Photo Courtesy of Anantara Resorts.

A new kind of luxury, defined by its setting

Perched above the Kafue River in one of the largest national parks in Africa, this project doesn’t try to reinvent the idea of a safari lodge. It simply responds to where it is.

There’s a restraint to the architecture that feels like it belongs in its surroundings. Nothing is competing with the landscape. Everything is oriented toward it, framing views, opening outward, and letting the environment carry the experience.

It’s the kind of space where the architecture steps back just enough.

That’s what makes it compelling.

So often, the instinct is to shape a space into something we’ve already decided it should be. But the projects that tend to stay with you aren’t imposed onto a place. They’re shaped by it.

The camp’s structures incorporate prefabricated steel frameworks, canvas, glass and sustainably sourced timber. Photo Courtesy of Anantara Resorts.

Architecture that moves with the land

The camp was developed in collaboration with Meg Ralph Spaces, a South African studio known for a more grounded, material-driven approach to interiors. That influence comes through in how restrained everything feels.

There’s a clarity to the material palette. Steel, canvas, glass, timber. Nothing is overly precious, but everything is considered. The interiors layer in handcrafted elements from African artisans, woven textiles, carved wood, ceramics, giving the spaces a sense of depth and humanity.

It’s luxurious, but not in the way we’ve traditionally defined it.

There’s no excess for the sake of it. No over-designed moments trying to demand attention. Instead, the experience comes from how seamlessly everything works together, the architecture, the interiors, and the environment just beyond the glass.

It’s less about what’s being added, and more about what’s been left out.

The camp's lounge reflects Meg Ralph Spaces' grounded, material-driven approach to interiors. Photo Courtesy of Anantara Resorts.

Where I look for inspiration

Projects like this are a reminder of how much more interesting design becomes when the inspiration comes from outside of itself.

More and more, I find myself looking less at other interiors and more at places like this. Travel, architecture, fashion, even landscapes. Things that aren’t trying to solve the same problems as a home, but are incredibly clear in their point of view.

There’s something about that distance that creates better work.

As a residential interior designer you’re only referencing other residential interiors, it can start to feel a bit circular. The same ideas, slightly reworked. But when the inspiration comes from something more aspirational or more grounded in a specific place, it brings in a different kind of clarity.

That’s what I respond to here.

It’s not about the individual elements, the canvas, the timber, the specific elements of decor. It’s the restraint of it all. The way everything is edited to support a singular idea. The way the design and the landscape feel aligned.

That’s the part that translates.

Not in a literal sense, but in how a project is approached from the very beginning. Starting with a clear point of view, and then making decisions that consistently reinforce it.

I’ve found that leads to spaces that feel far more personal and complete.

The dining deck at the Anantara Tented Camp Kafue River in Zambia's Kafue National Park. Photo Courtesy of Anantara Resorts.

A note on restraint in design

This is something I’ve been leaning into more and more in my own work.

A less-is-more approach, but not in a sparse or minimal way. Just enough in a room to make it feel complete, but not a single item more.

When you design responsively and with restraint, you tend to reveal what was already remarkable about a place. The luxury was there. You just had to get out of its way.

It’s what my clients are really asking for. Spaces that feel calm, considered, and easy to live in. Where every piece has a purpose.

I’ve found that’s where the magic happens. When a space feels effortless, it’s usually because the space was designed around what makes it extraordinary – the view, the history, the architecture –  and then carefully edited down to exactly what it needs.

Each Kafue Pool Villa provides an immersive and luxury experience in the splendor of the wild. Photo Courtesy of Anantara Resorts.

A Shift Toward What Actually Matters

There’s a broader shift happening right now, and it’s one I’ve been paying close attention to.

It’s a shift that feels very much in line with how I’ve been thinking about design lately.

Luxury is becoming less about how much you can add, and more about how thoughtfully you can shape a space. Less about standing out, and more about interiors belonging—to the landscape, to the architecture, to the experience itself.

In my own work, I’ve been seeing this play out in a much more personal way.

In the wake of the recent fires here in Los Angeles, several of my clients lost their homes. As I’ve started working with them on what comes next, whether they’re rebuilding or settling into a new home somewhere else, the conversations have been incredibly grounding.

There’s a clarity around what actually matters.

It’s not about filling a home or buying things for the sake of it. It’s about creating spaces that support their families and their quality of life. Designing from a place of intention. Choosing what feels personal, and letting go of what doesn’t.

In many ways, it’s the same idea you see in projects like this, design that starts with where it is, rather than what it wants to be.

And personally, this is exactly the kind of place I find myself wanting to experience firsthand.

Not because of a checklist of amenities, but because of how it’s been designed to make you feel.

For me, the most meaningful starting point is rarely another interior. It’s everything around it.

Until next time,

XO,

PE