Las Vegas, if you look carefully, is a flower show. These gladiolus, well, they tried valiantly to steal the show.
They're architectural. They're tonal. They're tightly interwoven, like girders in a skyscraper.
But they're gladiolus: they're part of the iris family but often called “sword lilies.”
At the Aria, Las Vegas, they form one part (and only one part) of a symphony of textures which never errs.
The Aria has not paid me (Amos Staff) to say this: but, texturally speaking, the Aria is a million velvets: their flowers, their lights; their walls; their floors: there is not a single surface in the Aria that is not built to speak on an aesthetic level.
It's an amazing, beautiful thing. Down to the gladiolus. Vertical, strong, robust: yellow and green and sinewy. Even the floral arrangements at the Aria obey the vertical, the horizontal, the temporal, the structural.
If you pick one casino/hotel to walk through in Las Vegas, just for beauty's sake, make it the Aria. Look at the surfaces of everything. The designers did not ignore a floor, a wall, a pillar, or a floral arrangement.
Everything is beautiful. It's an Aria. It's a song.