For 25 years, Jeff Koons has beguiled the public with flowering puppies, polychrome teddy bears and embalmed vacuum cleaners. And yet for each new work, he adopts a cherubic expression and a sincere tone to affirm the seriousness of his intentions. Intimations of irony always seem to lie just below the glossy, expensive surfaces of his sculptures. Is he mocking us even in the midst of seduction? Maybe, but I enjoy the equivocal come-on.

The three new pieces he has just installed in the Metropolitan Museum’s rooftop garden teeter on the cusp of cuteness, exuding a delirious charm. Koons may be giggling at the art world’s pretensions and the lavish gullibility of his collectors, but his mirth is infectious. The lollipop-coloured suite offers a light-hearted, nostalgic pleasure that’s just right for the Met’s panoramic eyrie.