On a recent afternoon, I found myself reading an essay in a curiously titled online publication called A Fucking Magazine (AFM). The essay’s title, “Mother, Maybe”, was so intriguing and the author’s voice so engaging that I barely noticed the QR code at the bottom of the web page, inviting me to download an app called Feeld. The magazine, it turned out, was run by a dating app.
Why, some might ask, would such an organisation publish a magazine? Companies exist to make money and periodicals are notoriously hard to profit from. Yet Feeld isn’t the only non-media company succumbing to the charm of the journalistic endeavour. In October 2025, Mozilla Foundation, which promotes an open and accessible internet and is the parent organisation of Mozilla Corporation, unveiled Nothing Personal. The online publication bills itself as a “counterculture magazine and platform for independent thinkers”. A month later, payment processing company Stripe launched the first print issue of Works in Progress – an online publication founded by four journalists in 2020, which the financial platform acquired two years after.
The furniture company Henrybuilt has been running a stellar design magazine called Untapped for some time, while co-working company The Malin has its own online journal (also named The Malin). It seems the more you look, the more you will find thoughtful publications that are funded by companies with potentially conflicting interests such as products to sell and services to promote.
Perhaps the oldest example is US manufacturing company John Deere, which launched its own excellently titled magazine, The Furrow, in 1895. The agricultural journal featured John Deere ads and advertorials but it was primarily created to educate and support farmers rather than simply to promote the company’s equipment. It was (and still is) delivered free of charge to customers, which likely contributed to its rapid growth, reaching more than four million readers by 1912. Almost a century later, in 1993, the UK supermarket chain Sainsbury’s unveiled its first food title, Sainsbury’s Magazine. Featuring British chef Delia Smith on its inaugural cover, the publication featured accessible recipes for home cooks, plus health, fashion and general household advice. It’s still being published today, both in print and online.
Since the turn of the millennium, there have been scores of company-backed publications by the likes of Airbnb, Uber, Asos, Bentley, Soho House, Away, Dollar Shave Club and many more. Some of them were digital; others were printed on glossy paper. Most of them no longer exist. To the cynic, these journals can be seen as fleeting, if clever, marketing experiments that begin with a bang and end in budget cuts. But the new crop – including Feeld, Stripe and Mozilla Foundation – feels different. For one, they offer a tantalising home for journalists as some legacy media companies struggle under the weight of declining revenues and mass layoffs. For its Nothing Personal magazine, Mozilla Foundation hired Bourree Lam, an editor with more than 15 years’ experience across publications including The Atlantic, Refinery29 and The Wall Street Journal. The magazine also partners with The Onion for a regular humour column. Meanwhile, for A Fucking Magazine’s second issue, the editors commissioned stories and visuals from heavyweights such as photographer Nan Goldin and journalist Mona Chalabi. The publication’s editorial heft is reflected in its price, £18 (€20.75) an issue, and the quality independent bookshops and magazine retailers that it is sold in around the world.
Still, the question remains: why are companies investing in the printed word? For Dayo Lamolo, who spearheaded the launch of Nothing Personal, the goal was to start a conversation around digital privacy and ethics – topics that are key to Mozilla Foundation’s work. “We’re interested in belief change,” Lamolo tells Monocle. “The intention is directed towards thinking critically.” As for the team behind Feeld, the magazine was conceived as part of what its editors call “a larger cultural reimagining of dating”. The publication features Feeld’s logo on the spine of its print edition and the web version has that QR code, but the team says the primary goal is to help build a community.
These periodicals aren’t meant to sell products. Instead, they help build cultural cachet by signalling depth, taste and a willingness to engage in larger conversations. Notably, none of them carry advertising, meaning their revenue models rely entirely on backing from their parent companies as well as reader subscriptions. (Readers need to pay for most of these new titles, including A Fucking Magazine and Works in Progress.) While that raises questions about ethical journalism, the editorial teams do have independence. When Stripe bought Works in Progress in 2022, the founding editors announced that they would avoid subjects that Stripe might have a direct interest in. The company has since remained so removed from editorial decisions that I had been reading the magazine for more than a year unaware of the connection.
The real test, of course, will be longevity. If these publications survive, they might offer a blueprint for how companies can meaningfully contribute to culture – not by exploiting it but by embracing it. That’s a future worth rooting for, even if it arrives with a logo on the spine.
Elissaveta M Brandon is a New York-based writer and Monocle contributor.
For many Ethiopians, a drive to Bishoftu – a town about an hour outside Addis Ababa – has long been a gentle escape from the capital’s frenetic pace. The climate is cool and the landscape softened by scenic crater lakes and a sweep of cultivated green. But Bishoftu’s serenity might soon be a thing of the past as the area is destined to be the site of Africa’s largest airport. A vast aviation hub, it’s designed to handle 110 million passengers a year, a number that surpasses even Atlanta, currently the world’s busiest.
The new airport, designed by Zaha Hadid Architects and scheduled to open in 2030, is intended to relieve Addis Ababa’s Bole International Airport, which prime minister Abiy Ahmed Ali says will reach capacity within the next two to three years. Hemmed in by the city’s relentless growth, Bole has no room to expand. Bishoftu, by contrast, offers space and, more importantly, the chance for Ethiopia to reposition itself as the continent’s principal aviation crossroads.
“If Ethiopian Airlines intends to compete on a global rather than continental scale, it must eventually double and even triple in size,” aviation consultant Sean Mendis tells The Monocle Minute. “That is impossible without a home base capable of supporting it.” The flag carrier already dominates Africa’s skies. Ethiopian Airlines is the continent’s largest and most profitable, serving 145 destinations across five continents with the newest and biggest fleet in Africa, more than twice the size of its nearest rival, EgyptAir. Its rise has been anything but accidental. “Despite being state-owned, the airline has consistently operated as a commercial institution rather than a political instrument,” says Mendis. “No other African flag carriers have been afforded the governance stability or long-term strategic patience required to achieve this.”
Geography, too, is on Ethiopia’s side. Addis Ababa sits neatly at the intersection of Africa, the Middle East and Asia, the world’s fastest-growing aviation markets, while remaining within easy reach of Europe. Bishoftu’s lower altitude will also allow long-haul flights to North America to operate without the payload penalties that currently limit range and profitability. New highways and a high-speed rail link will stitch the airport into the capital, turning what is now a provincial town into the nerve centre of a global network.
But will the airline’s track record and Addis Ababa’s central location be enough to make the new airport a global player? It faces little serious competition within Africa but the mega-hubs of Dubai and Doha continue to siphon off African long-haul passengers, while Saudi Arabia’s aviation push is gaining pace across the Red Sea. Istanbul, driven by Turkish Airlines’ steady march, has become a favoured gateway for African travellers who are heading to Europe and beyond. Meanwhile, Gulf carriers continue to deepen their reach through codeshare agreements with African airlines. Ethiopia, Africa’s second-most populous country and one of its fastest-growing economies, remains politically brittle and unevenly secure. Abiy’s ambitious programme of reform and state-led development has advanced in parallel with a tightening of the democratic space and periodic crackdowns on dissent. The Bishoftu project will displace some 15,000 people, with compensation still unresolved. Looming over it all is the lingering risk of renewed conflict, particularly with neighbouring Eritrea.
Still, the political and economic situation seems only to have increased the prime minister’s appetite for grand projects. “Ethiopia has a track record of delivering large-scale infrastructure,” says Mendis, pointing to the continent’s largest hydroelectric dam and Addis Ababa’s sweeping urban-renewal schemes. For Abiy, the airport is also a political wager that investment, connectivity and momentum can help steer a nation of some 130 million back towards stability after years of internal turmoil. The new airport, expected to cost at least $12.5bn (€10.5bn), will be financed largely through international capital rather than the national budget, insulating it from domestic fiscal strains. Ethiopian Airlines, which will build and operate the facility, is expected to contribute about one fifth of the total, alongside a consortium of domestic and international lenders. The airline group has been profitable for nearly two decades and last year reported record revenues of $7.6bn (€6.4bn), an 8 per cent increase year on year. Abiy is tethering his country’s success to that of its flag carrier and hoping that both will take off.
Florian Siebeck is Monocle’s Frankfurt correspondent. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.
Read next: Addis Ababa’s recently renovated Africa Hall is a symbol of the continent’s unity
Art SG, Southeast Asia’s global contemporary-art fair, has transitioned from a speculative venture into a structural anchor. The fair, which wrapped on Sunday 25 January and coincides with Singapore Art Week, no longer needs to outshout Hong Kong or Paris. It simply needs to continue doing what it does best: organising space, time and money well enough for an art scene to grow.
Singapore is frequently called the “Switzerland of Asia” and the label is increasingly apt. The city-state has successfully absorbed a massive migration of capital, now hosting roughly 2,000 single-family offices – a nearly 4 per cent increase since 2020. For this time-poor, globally mobile elite, the art market is not a bohemian pursuit but a sophisticated asset class. It requires the same stability, logistical excellence and transparent governance that Singapore provides in spades.
While older European fairs rely on legacy and bravura, Art SG succeeds through a distinctively Singaporean infrastructural confidence. The strategic consolidation of the 2026 edition – folding contemporary-art platform SEA Focus into the fair floor at Marina Bay Sands – was a masterstroke of efficiency. It offers a streamlined, high-density environment that is precisely calibrated for a demographic that values summit-like experiences over the sprawling, exhausting festival models.
Crucially, 2026 marks the moment that this wealth has moved beyond mere transaction. We are witnessing a rare synergy: a contribution from both established regional dynasties and committed global expats to build a civic legacy. This is evidenced by the inauguration of the Tanoto Art Foundation at New Bahru, alongside the expansion of the Pierre Lorinet-backed Sam Art SG Fund to S$250,000 (€166,000). These are not the consequences of “hot money” looking for a quick exit; they are the anchors of a city moving beyond offshore insulation.
Critics might argue that Singapore lacks the gritty soul of established art capitals but they’re missing the point. In an increasingly volatile global landscape, the ability to provide a secure harbour for both assets and ideas is the most radical cultural act of all. By remaining the world’s most efficient hinge between Southeast Asian growth and global capital, Singapore proves that where capital flows, culture does more than follow – it settles.
Read next: Is Singapore building the next Silicon Valley?
Under normal circumstances, the Gulf monarchies are at pains to project an image of calm, cohesion and predictability. Disputes are managed quietly and disagreements smoothed over with summitry and ritual declarations of unity. But the latest escalation between the UAE and Saudi Arabia over Yemen suggests that those conventions are breaking down. Long-standing points of friction are now out in the open – and in an unprecedented way.
The immediate flashpoint was a burst of reporting by Saudi state media after journalists were granted access to detention facilities on former UAE military bases in Yemen. The access was facilitated by the Yemeni government, which is backed by a Saudi-led coalition. It brought renewed attention to allegations that Emirati forces ran a network of secret prisons during Yemen’s decade-long civil war. Abu Dhabi has categorically denied the claims. What mattered politically was not just the reporting but the decision to allow it.
It seems that Riyadh and Abu Dhabi are now prepared to use the media as leverage. The co-ordinated nature of the coverage marked a clear break from the Gulf’s traditional instinct to keep disagreements behind closed doors. It also deepened one of the region’s sharpest rifts, raising the prospect of a fallout with consequences well beyond Yemen.
This is not really about detention centres. It is about power, primacy and diverging visions for the Middle East. Saudi Arabia and the UAE are both engaged in ambitious national projects, each determined to set the pace for the region’s economic, political and security future. As their interests have become less parallel – in Yemen, Sudan, trade policy and influence – so too has their tolerance for quiet compromise.
Media has become the chosen battleground because it is effective and deniable. It allows pressure to be applied without the risks of economic retaliation or military escalation. Carefully curated access, selective amplification and strategic silence now sit alongside diplomacy as tools of the trade. The messaging is no longer subtle.
The rivalry is also being exported. Both countries are shoring up alliances outside the Gulf, pulling external powers into what increasingly resembles a broader strategic contest. Saudi Arabia has strengthened defence and security ties with Pakistan – a nuclear-armed state – as well as with Turkey, a regional power with its own ambitions. The UAE, meanwhile, has leaned into a growing axis with India and Israel, focusing on technology, intelligence-sharing and defence co-operation.
These partnerships are not virtue signalling – they are insurance policies. As the US recalibrates its role in the Middle East, Gulf states are seeking autonomy, leverage and deterrence. That these alliances now align so neatly along Gulf faultlines suggests that the rivalry between Riyadh and Abu Dhabi is no longer contained. It is shaping relationships from South Asia to the eastern Mediterranean.
There is a final irony. Even as the two Gulf heavyweights trade blows through media exposure and diplomatic manoeuvring, both are positioning themselves as responsible custodians of regional stability. Nowhere is this more striking than in Gaza, where Saudi Arabia and the UAE are expected to sit on international boards shaping postwar governance and reconstruction. The contrast is hard to ignore: advocates of peace abroad, while relations at home remain brittle and unresolved. This is a new phase in Gulf politics – one that is more exposed, more competitive and less carefully choreographed. The age of quiet co-ordination appears to be over.
Inzamam Rashid is Monocle’s Gulf correspondent. Read his take on how the year will shape up in the region here. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.
The Paris autumn/winter 2026 menswear edition had the unenviable task of taking place while The World Economic Forum was unfolding in Davos. The US president, in attendance, was dominating the global agenda and the media’s attention as he raised the spectre of hitting countries that opposed his takeover of Greenland with tariffs. And to think that, just a year ago, brands in the midst of a round of swapping creative directors were the ones grabbing headlines in the business pages.
“The US administration’s decision to impose a 50 per cent tariff on India a few months ago has rippled through the ecosystem in ways that are both abstract and brutally specific,” said Kartik Kumra, founder of the New Delhi-based brand Kartik Research. “We can follow the money; shift focus and try to sell more in Asia to cushion a slowdown in the US. But for the fabric vendors, embroiderers, loom artists and dyers in India, their margins are thinner,” he added, explaining how tariffs impact the fashion industry.
At his show (pictured above) an emphasis on craft infused the collection with a sense of generosity and national pride in the face of a lingering industry slowdown and the persistence of single-digit sales growth – and those tariffs. Elsewhere, designers also sought a sense of normality by celebrating the mundane as a form of resistance to an economic moment that is often beyond their control.
Clothes for the work commute and the boardroom took centre stage. At Louis Vuitton (pictured below), the brand’s American creative director of menswear (and general multihyphenate), Pharrell Williams, showed his strongest collection to date. Models in ties and grey suits – rendered in technical, thermo-adaptive materials developed in the French luxury house’s atelier – evoked the Wall Street salarymen of the 1980s. Alexandre Mattiussi’s label, Ami Paris, brought a cross-section of Parisian society to the runway, from Sorbonne University students in baseball caps and wired headphones to financial consultants in oversized camel coats.
This pursuit of the everyday (and the everyman and everywoman) is particularly salient in a time when many customers are tightening their purse strings. As a result, brands are doubling down on attending to the top-spending tier of VICs (very important clients). According to global consultancy Bain & Company, this group represents 2 per cent of the customer base but accounts for 45 per cent of global luxury purchases. In other words, the high price of luxury goods is not necessarily in line with a creative director’s intent on the runway, where functionality and accessible designs are shown and lauded for their effortless ease.
For creative directors, the challenge now lies in developing their vision and sustaining interest as their luxury parent groups ride out the economic uncertainty. As the industry recalibrates and regroups after its flurry of new appointments and hirings, seeking simplicity where possible is an understandable urge.
Grace Charlton is Monocle’s associate editor of design and fashion. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.
The competition for attention is fierce in Paris, where 67 brands staged presentations and shows as part of the autumn/winter 2026 line-up. We round up the 10 that caught our eye, from the end of an era at Hermès to a masterclass in colour courtesy of Japanese brand Auralee.
1.
IM Men
Issey Miyake’s menswear line, IM Men, presented its latest collection under the stone vaulted ceilings of Collège des Bernardins, a 13th-century school located in Paris’s 5th arrondissement. The first third of the show featured ample black coats with sculptural appeal – a calling card of the Japanese brand – that would suit a modern-day monk. Then came a series of voluminous, quilted coats rendered in an optic-white recycled polyester. The show ended on outerwear with different colour gradations achieved through artisanal dip-dyeing techniques. Clean, precise and endlessly wearable, IM Men brought a welcome sense of calm to this season’s menswear edition of Paris Fashion Week.
isseymiyake.com
2.
Louis Vuitton
Louis Vuitton’s creative director of menswear, Pharrell Williams, presented an ode to the salaryman. While his appointment as creative director in 2023 caused some to question his lack of formal fashion training, this season’s collection was the strongest to date. Making their way around a set featuring a house made in collaboration with Japanese architecture firm Not A Hotel, models wore ties under double-breasted suits in thermo-adaptive and aluminium-bonded materials developed in the Louis Vuitton atelier. Raincoats were embellished with droplet crystals. The message was one of luxury – not quiet but earned – and confirmed that hard work does, indeed, pay off.
louisvuitton.com
3.
Auralee
How can winter dressing bring joy to the everyday, when the days are short and the weather bleak? For Japanese designer Ryota Iwai, founder of Auralee, the answer lies in relishing moments of seasonal joy – from the feeling of crisp air against the skin to slanted rays of sun cutting across a room. Or by using a delicate palette that might be more readily associated with spring, and wafty layers of contrasting textures, from shearling-lined jackets to cashmere jumpers. On the runway, models wore red-and-blue chequered flannel shirts tucked into mid-waist jeans, a cobalt-blue duffel coat paired with a purple scarf and a verdigris suit offset by a red vest. A masterclass in colour, Iwai’s quiet vision for brightening up the colder months affirmed why the designer is emerging as an industry darling in Paris.
auralee.jp
4.
Yoke
Making its Paris runway debut this season was Yoke, a Japanese brand founded by Norio Terada in 2018. Upon arrival, guests were given a small ceramic sculpture handmade by Terada himself – a nod to the French surrealist painter, sculptor and poet Jean Arp, who inspired the collection. “I want to blend art with everyday clothing,” said Terada backstage after the show. “My aim isn’t to shock but to provide comfort to the people who wear my clothes.” As such, silhouettes in a muted palette took on a sculptural quality, with jumpers tied around the waist and on the shoulders over jackets.
yoketokyo.com
5.
Ami Paris
For the house’s 15-year anniversary show, the founder of French label Ami Paris, Alexandre Mattiussi, presented a cross section of Parisian society – albeit a version that functions more as a Platonic ideal than a representation of reality. “It’s about everyday life on a Parisian street. When you sit at a café terrace, you see all kinds of people passing by,” said Mattiussi. “It’s never the same stories, characters or clothes: this diversity is fundamental for me.” From the city banker commuting to the office in a grey suit and baseball cap, to the Sorbonne student in a hoodie with wired headphones, and the fashion executive in a leopard-print coat, Ami Paris offered something for everyone.
amiparis.com
6.
Willy Chavarria
American designer Willy Chavarria brought dramatic flair to his show that was held in the Dojo de Paris in the south of the capital. Between (very much lip-synched) musical acts by the likes of Puerto Rican pop singer Lunay and Italian heartthrob Mahmood, models with pompadour hair wore ankle-length cigarette trousers, football jumpers (a collaboration with Adidas) and cocktail gowns. “I live in New York City, street level, corner apartment, big windows,” said Willy Chavarria in his show notes. “I watch people. I watch them rush to work while I make my coffee. I watch them meet on corners. […] I watch them fall in love. I watch them fall apart.” A tribute to the Latino experience in the US, in the aftermath of the political events that took place in Venezuela just a few weeks ago, the designer’s contribution to the Parisian calendar was high camp and highly enjoyable.
willychavarria.com
7.
Dries Van Noten
“In this second men’s collection, I wanted to explore the idea of coming of age,” said Julian Klausner, who became creative director of Dries Van Noten last year after the eponymous founder of the Belgian label stepped down from the role. “Not in a dramatic or romantic way but praising the joy of new beginnings. The unfolding of possibilities; the naivety and the honesty of experiments with self out of the comfort zone.” As such, models wore jackets worn at university that no longer fit but carry the weight of memories. Patterned knitwear and beanies that wouldn’t easily blend in in corporate environments represented the rites of passage that every young adult must go through.
driesvannoten.com
8.
Dior
Irish designer Jonathan Anderson presented his second menswear collection for Dior. A starting point for the collection came in the form of a blue plaque dedicated to the French couturier Paul Poiret, located just outside the hôtel particulier on the Avenue Montaigne where Christian Dior founded his maison in 1946. Through Anderson’s lens, Poiret’s affinity for a worldly opulence became refracted to suit the lifestyle of a modern-day flâneur. Polo shirts that feature embroidered epaulettes, shrunken Bar jackets and skinny jeans certainly wouldn’t suit the lifestyle of the average commuter but the line-up was an affirmation of esoteric ideals and the value of experimentation on the runway – the kind we have come to appreciate from Anderson.
dior.com
9.
Celine
“Character over costume,” said American designer Michael Rider’s show notes for his sophomore collection for Celine. The succinct declaration was one in favour of clothes intended to be worn, not paraded. In practice, this looked like tan lace-up shoes and boots, denim shirts worn over white turtlenecks and a return to slimline silhouettes on suit trousers. Models tucked small leather pouches into their belts or clutched large carryall bags close to their bodies. As in Rider’s first collection, how the pieces were styled mattered as much as the clothes themselves. With shirt collars and cuffs flicked out, khaki overshirt tied around the waist and blazers carried rather than worn, Rider succeeded in capturing the essence of the modern Parisian man, sauntering along the Left Bank.
celine.com
10.
Hermès
There was a unanimous standing ovation for Véronique Nichanian’s final collection as the artistic director of Hermès’ menswear. The French designer’s 38-year tenure came to an end with a show that felt like a victory lap, one that captured Nichanian’s signature approach to menswear: sleek, understated and endlessly wearable. The maison’s mastery of leather was on full display, with full-grain lambskin jackets, shearling coats and a single-breasted crocodile coat making their way down the runway. Reimagined pieces from the designer’s previous collections made appearances (if you can’t reminisce on your life’s work upon retirement, when can you?), including a leather jumpsuit from 1991 and a reversible lambskin blouson from 2000. It’s a testament to Nichanian’s steadfast vision that these clothes designed decades prior looked as contemporary today as they did then. As one era ends, Grace Wales Bonner prepares to take over the menswear reins at Hermès – although the transition will not be rushed. The British designer’s first collection for the house will take place in January 2027.
hermes.com
When Monocle Radio’s team arrived in Nuuk last Monday, anything seemed possible. Greenland’s prime minister, Jens-Frederik Nielsen, was warning his fellow citizens to prepare for the possibility of invasion by the US. Denmark, of which Greenland is a part, had deployed extra troops to the island – and so, by way of solidarity, had several Nato allies. Donald Trump was threatening a trade war with Europe and declining to rule out the prospect of an actual war over Greenland.
But by Thursday afternoon, it seemed – at the risk of tempting fate – to be over. At the World Economic Forum in Davos, Trump said that he wouldn’t seize Greenland by force and later claimed, as he so often does, to have lit upon “a concept of a deal”. Every indication is that this deal will be similar to the extant arrangements, under which the US can build military bases on Greenland anyway. In short, a classic Trump manoeuvre: create a crisis, resolve it, then claim credit. He probably thinks that Nobel Peace Prizes are awarded for ending fights that you started yourself.
For the many Greenlanders we met, none of this was academic. Monocle’s team spoke to politicians, musicians, hoteliers, curators, entrepreneurs, tour operators, designers, bartenders, shopkeepers, passing pedestrians and carvers of tupilait. These are Inuit charms whittled from whale teeth, walrus tusks or reindeer antlers, believed to possess formidable powers of deterrence vis-à-vis one’s enemies. We visited the workshop of one tupilak sculptor, Kim Kleist-Eriksen, who trades as Eriagsiaq. He said that he had created and quickly sold a tupilak depicting the vanquishing of Trump.
Yet the purchaser of that particular totem, whoever they were, seems like an outlier. Over the past week, Greenlanders took a pretty philosophical view of the diplomatic crisis – perhaps living in such a wild and unforgiving environment conditions you towards pragmatism. Everyone we met was at pains to stress that they bore no animus towards anyone: political declarations, such as the “Greenland is not for sale!” posters in the window of the Bibi Chemnitz boutique, were pro-Greenland, not anti-American. There were occasional expressions of irritation towards Denmark but, given the history, it is safe to assess that these are not new.
And we found that some Greenlanders even saw the uncertainty as an opportunity of sorts. We were told more than once that it had been a pretty good year for business. Nuuk’s hotels were heaving not only with international media but also tourists whose curiosity had been piqued by Trump’s delirious aspirations of conquest. This influx had been, by and large, cheerfully and gratefully absorbed, though the novelty of being cornered by foreign journalists pursuing the vox populi had long since ebbed. The ratio of press to locals in Nuuk when we visited was such that this correspondent was approached four times by camera crews while ambling around town. Tempting though it was to assume some atrocious facsimile of a Greenlandic accent and say something outrageous, honour compelled me to disappoint them.
Greenlanders understand that there is no returning to their previous anonymity. Whatever happens now, the strategic importance of their island has been brutally emphasised and the complications that go with that exposed. As one Greenlandic politician told us, “Nothing can be the same after this.”
Andrew Mueller is a leading Monocle contributor and the host of Monocle Radio’s ‘The Foreign Desk’. For more on Greenland and in-depth analysis of global affairs, tune in to the latest episode here.
Los Angeles-based British designer Ben Stubbington is the creative director of Veilance, a premium line of technical-wear by Canadian brand Arc’teryx. Since taking over the role in 2024, Stubbington has focused on creating high-performance clothes for everyday urban life. The label showcased its new autumn/winter 2026 collection in Paris, which featured feather-light jackets, crisp shirts made from a Japanese washi paper blend and impeccably cut trousers. Here we speak to Stubbington about his vision for the label’s future.
What is your inspiration as creative director?
Cities are part of our lives, so we focus on making products that are intuitive to the wearer. We want to create clothes that enhance people’s personality. Our pieces are minimal, stripped back to the point of true simplicity. But getting there is a complicated process. The team works meticulously on building patterns and engineering garments. We think about how customers are going to wear them. When you live in a city, you don’t always know what you’re going to do that evening. We want to create products that accompany you through different situations across your day. This is built around a layering system, with products that can be rolled up and function in different climates.
Why do you think that this approach resonates with customers?
There’s so much chaos in the world, so people want to have a sense of peace in their lives. The next phase for Veilance is to create a connection between the product and community. How we exist in people’s lives is going to become more and more important. We’re not chasing trends – our timelines are so long that we can’t feed into the normal fashion cycle. What felt modern 10 years ago, dressing like a storm trooper in sleek outfits, is now too dystopian. It’s important for us to create clothes that feel chic and not like you’re about to hike up a mountain.
This is ironic because the brand feels very much on trend. Technical-wear in fashion seems to be on an unstoppable rise.
Fashion is in a confused state. It lost focus on what it was really about: the precision of tailoring and the beauty of clothing. As logos became more prominent and cuts became oversized to the point of engulfing people’s bodies, fashion lost some of its true essence. Veilance is technical-wear but it is also a luxury brand because of the precision and purpose that goes into what we create. Our products work just as well on a 25 year old as a 65 year old. We’re focused on a mindset. We don’t design to amuse – we design for a person who is always on the move in a city environment.
Grace Charlton is Monocle’s associate editor of design and fashion. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.
It’s Wednesday afternoon at Monocle’s HQ in Zürich and our café is in full swing with the usual mix of matcha mums, family office custodians, neighbours and subscribers. It’s sunny and just a little fresh, so a few regulars have taken up seats outside to enjoy an early negroni or the last espresso hit of the day. No one notices the VW Estate that pulls up out front or the pleasant-looking gentleman who steps out. He wanders back and forth surveying the street. He makes a call. He paces around a bit more, looks up and down the road. A car slows, he nods and walks back to his vehicle and opens the back. He then returns with a stack of tiny traffic cones, like you might have found in a Fisher-Price boxset but only slightly larger. He places them perfectly along the road, a little outside the parking lines. He makes another call and then comes over to introduce himself. He’s an officer with Zürich’s Stadtpolizei (city police) and part of the security and traffic control team for movements around The World Economic Forum. “They’re 10 minutes out,” he says, consulting his phone.
Nine minutes later, there are some blue flashing lights down the street; and 45 seconds after that, a very slow-moving motorcade comes into view. There’s no screeching up to the curb in Seefeld. Goodness no. This being a city run by car-haters, 30km/h is strictly obeyed – no matter how easy it might make it for a rooftop assassin. But as we’re soon to find, the slow speeds might be for the locals to blow kisses and throw flowers. After his speech in Davos 24 hours earlier, Canada’s prime minister has the Swiss suddenly swooning and the ‘Carneyval’ is about to kick off as the PM emerges from one of the lead vehicles.
A few of us are out front to greet him while heads turn inside the café and Trunk shop. Could it be? Is it him? There are people peering down from the floors above and soon their fellow tenants shuffle down the stairs to confirm the sighting and hope of a picture.
I’ve known Mark Carney since his days at the Bank of England and have come to count him as a wise counsellor, a customer (where do you think that olive bag is from?), a calming force and, most importantly, a friend. He makes his way to Trunk with Mats alongside and he takes a read of the rails and shelves. Carney has already done much to up the image of brand Canada on the world stage and thankfully it has involved navy suits, dark ties and elegant footwear. Gone are the comedy socks and poorly cut suits of the Justin Trudeau years and, as is often the case with strong, well-turned out leaders, his personal style is starting to rub off on other members of his cabinet – albeit a bit slower than he’d probably like.
As we walk into our café there are Swissies who want photos, he gets nods and thank yous from others and stops to chat to a small contingent of Canadians who might have been tipped off about his arrival. We’ve cleared the lounge for a little chat about the past few days and land on the collapse of public discourse and decency. “Does the behaviour, the language, of US leadership on both sides of the aisle become the acceptable way to conduct yourself in the world? Were Gavin Newsom’s comments about European leadership needing kneepads necessary? What happened to taking the more elegant high ground?” I ask. At this point, it’s important to note that Prime Minister Carney is visiting Monocle while Trump took to the stage to insult his hosts. We say cheers and I ask for another round to be poured.
If the Swiss, plus much of Europe and the world in general, weren’t familiar with Carney’s themes before Tuesday, there’s a strong constituency who are not only impressed but hoping that Canada might finally take a bigger role in a G7 and global context. Back in June, Carney tried out his “if we’re not at the table, then we’re on the menu” concept on me and it stuck in an instant. At the podium in Davos, those words rang even truer. Carney might also add that if you get a seat at the table then you speak politely, charm your neighbours, ask questions of those around you, refill glasses and be the consummate host. As he made his way out to the waiting motorcade, he demonstrated just that tact with those gathered to say hello, goodbye and thank you. This is what modern leadership looks like – warm, assured, human and confident.
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In Stockholm, just south of the city centre, there’s a ski resort built on a hill of rubbish – that is, if you can call Hammarbybacken a resort. There are no chalets, no fondue fumes, no fur-lined après bars. Instead, as you descend the slopes, the skyline of Sweden’s capital stares back at you – hotels, offices and apartment blocks standing in for peaks and pine forests. No altitude sickness or hair-raising transfer roads. When I took to the pistes of this ski site in early spring last year, there was no snow on the surrounding streets – only two thin white ribbons trickling down a 93.5-metre mound towards a café and ski hire centre. Val-d’Isère it is not.
While Stockholm’s outskirts host several similar downhill runs, Hammarbybacken – operated by Skistar, which also runs more conventional resorts – is notable for its proximity to Sweden’s political heart and for its peculiar origin story. In the 1980s, construction waste raised the attraction’s height to 87.6 metres. In the late 2000s, another deposit pushed the summit to its current elevation. Stockholm quite literally piled up its leftovers and called it a ski slope. And it worked. But who visits?
Norwegians, it’s often joked, are “born with skis on their feet”. But the Swedes, it turns out, are partial to a warm up. Hammarbybacken is home to many a novice and has a convivial atmosphere that attracts families and locals. Alf Orvesten and Roger Rosenberg are both lugging rucksacks up the slope, having ditched the T-bar lift and opting to ascend the hill using cross-country equipment. “Hammarbybacken is unique,” says Orvesten, who hails from Sweden’s north. “In a month, we’re going skiing in Norway. This is a good chance for us and others to practice, particularly parents with small children.”
Locals Therese Goding and David Nordblom fit the bill, chaperoning their two children, aged four and six. “This is our first time here and I think it’s really nice,” says Goding. “It’s the perfect place to learn [to ski] before taking to the mountains.” With only a handful of runs (there are four courses for varying skill levels) you’ll start to recognise faces quickly, a novelty for anyone more familiar with the sprawling Alps. The bottom of the slope arrives in no time, after which the T-bar loops you back up past a Hollywood-style Hammarbybacken sign. At one point, a casual dog walker appeared at the summit. Try that on a Swiss black run.
Daily hire and a lift pass, collected via a machine in a wooden kiosk, came to a total of SEK749 (about €70) per person. Not bad value for a day of introducing children to the slopes or feeling accomplished by skiing the entire resort before lunch.
