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.
Are you a man under 150cm in height, who’s never molested a child and can wiggle your bottom in time to the music? If so, things are looking up for you today (well, at this height, perhaps looking up is always a given). On Thursday in Madrid, I sat next to a man – we’ll call him Nicholas – who told me about some marketing work that he had once done in Florida that involved hiring people to slip themselves into mascot costumes and parade around trade fairs.
Locating potential human innards proved quite the task. While the costumes were often petite, they were also heavy; and if there were going to be children in the room, the person being, say, a rabbit or giant tortilla, needed a special licence to prove that they had been police vetted. Plus, this was Florida, where demand was high because of the likes of Walt Disney World being in the state and offering premium gigs to potential Goofys and Plutos.
Oh, and then there are all the organisations that take care of mascot-worker rights, such as the National Mascot Association (NAM), which I have now looked up and see that it has the motto: Fuzzier Together, Safer Together. Can you imagine how much fun the annual general meeting must be? “I’ll take one final question from Pauline the Pineapple but then over to you Mr Chunk-o-Cheese.”
Anyway, it meant, explained Nicholas, that many of the mascots were raking it in. The minimum fee is apparently $100 an hour and let’s just say that some of these small, sturdy, bottom-wiggling performers insist on being paid in cash. It begs the question: how would a tax official ever track down any miscreant? You could hardly put out an alert to all your agents for anyone that they happened to see dressed as a hot dog or bottle of tequila.
I was in Madrid because we were hosting a cocktail party at the Mandarin Oriental Ritz for Fitur, the international tourism fair (where there were apparently lots of Spanish mascots running amok – I even saw a giant gorilla on Gran Vía). The party was a lot of fun and various attendees told me about why I should visit Angola, Guatemala’s push to attract visitors beyond the Spanish-speaking world and why I need to spend more time in Menorca (all ears). But I was also brought up to speed on Boro.
Sunday’s high-speed train crash in southern Spain saw 45 people lose their lives and even though the investigation into what happened is ongoing, it has already become a political blame game. Rightly, there’s intense anger. Amid all of this, one small story had, it seemed, gained an incredible following throughout the week: the story of a woman on the train, Ana García, who had escaped bruised and battered from the wreckage but minus one important thing: her dog, Boro. García’s plea to help find her hound took off in the media and as people anxiously awaited news, animal rescue organisations stepped in and the police promised to assist. Then, on Thursday, Boro was found and, judging from video clips shown of him reuniting with his owner, was rather surprised at all the fuss.
Also at dinner on Thursday was our Adelaide-born Madrid correspondent Liam Aldous, who revealed that, in his youth, he had a successful stint in marketing, including dressing up as a detective as part of a shop promotion. It didn’t go well – people thought that he was accusing them of shoplifting. He also told us about a job that involved dressing up as a huge, to use his term, “satisfier”. He insisted that this was a stimulating gig taken by “a friend”. Whoever it was, I hope they get invited to NAM’s AGM. “Whoever’s making that buzzing sound, can they stop now please.”
It’s been some week, some month, in which our leaders have sported all sorts of guises – strongman, diplomat, Canadian – as they try to navigate a wobbling world order. But I don’t know many who have triumphed on the satisfier front. The smiles, as they often are in times of great upheaval and grief, have been left for the small stories of triumph – tiny moments when good things come to pass – such as when Boro came home.
And me? I’m thinking that life inside a mascot suit might be a comforting place to be. So, when Tyler asks for volunteers to don Monocle’s Monochan outfit at the next Christmas Market, I might just accept (as long as he agrees to my Mascot Union’s demands).
“The bistros and cafés of France are the guardians of time,” said Emmanuel Macron earlier this month when he threw his weight behind a national campaign to add bistros to Unesco’s intangible cultural heritage list. The plea is telling. The institution appears to be in steady decline: where a century ago France boasted about 500,000 bistros, now only some 40,000 remain.
Leisurely lunches are giving way to delivery apps, produce costs are soaring and gallic gastronomy seems increasingly at odds with modern-day dining. And yet, in Paris at least, a new generation of restaurateurs is quietly proving that the bistro’s greatest strength lies precisely in its predictability.
“We think of the bistro as a living space for the neighbourhood,” says Colombian entrepreneur and restaurateur Carina Soto Velásquez, who took over bistro-café A La Renaissance with American business partner Josh Fontaine in September 2025. The duo also runs the popular Mexican taquería Candelaria in Le Marais.
“Domestic spaces in Paris are small, so residents tend not to host at home,” says Soto Velásquez. “The bistros that sit below their apartments become an extension of their homes.” That’s why the revived establishment in the 11th arrondissement is open from 08.00 until 01.00, seven days a week, carrying its patrons through their morning espresso to their evening digestif. Crucially, prices are modest: the set lunch menu comes in at €23.
But it’s not just the unwavering dependability of the bistro that, in Macron’s eyes, deems it worthy of Unesco’s lofty ranks. The recognisable zinc counters, upholstered banquettes and bentwood chairs that make these establishments a comforting proposition. Predictable, yes, but this is arguably the key to its staying power. “A La Renaissance has been a bistro since 1919,” says Soto Velásquez. “We see the same locals here two to three times a week.”
In Montmartre young restaurateurs Benjamin Moréel and Christopher Prêchez are committed to preservation over innovation. The pair took over Paris’s oldest bistro, Le Bon Bock, in June 2025. Established in 1879, the traditional decor stops just short of cliché: there is antique woodwork, stained-glass windows and red curtains at the entrance for discretion. “The drawers only close halfway and the shelves are wonky,” says the restaurant’s 27-year-old manager, Adrien Chiche. “We decided to leave them be.” The same rustic spirit extends to the menu. “We stick to accessible recipes,” says Chiche. “You’ll find œufs mimosa, pâté, tarte tatin – dishes that our parents made for us growing up.”
A relic of belle époque Paris, it is said that the likes of Toulouse-Lautrec, Picasso and Van Gogh frequented this eccentric watering hole for a glass of absinthe. “Patrons would pay in the form of a painting,” he says, motioning to the walls laden with the bistro’s healthy profits. It’s this laid-back approach that makes Le Bon Bock a leveller. “During service, I look around the room and see young people on dates, families, elderly people, tourists and, of course, lots of Parisians,” says Chiche, the latter being an important barometer for the bistro. “We want to retain this mixité; the bistro doesn’t discriminate.” It’s a credo established by the previous owner of 15 years, who would invite the city’s homeless into the building on Christmas Day for a hot meal.
In the 20th century, as the artistic elite moved from Montmartre to Montparnasse, Rosebud cocktail bar became a new bohemian hangout. “It’s a slice of old Paris,” says co-founder Lionel Guy-Bremond, who took over the Rosebud in January 2025 with six creatives. Established in 1962, Samuel Beckett, Jean-Paul Sartre and Marguerite Duras would frequent this speakeasy-style, art deco watering hole, which stayed in the same family for six generations. There is even a portrait of Duras on the wall as if to validate its literary heritage. “We did a lot of renovations but you can’t tell,” says Guy-Bremond. “We have clients who have been coming for 60 years, who say they that can’t tell the difference – that’s the highest praise.”
Inside the modestly lit, mysterious interiors, the lighting, chairs and tables remain identical to the original Rosebud. The retro Citizen Kane cocktail (a nod to the film in which the last word is “rosebud”) contains champagne, gin, crème de rose and lemon juice, while bar snacks include popular classics such as œufs mayonnaise and foie gras. “We’re not into mixology or natural wines,” says Guy-Bremond. “We’re an old-fashioned cocktail bar.”
Unesco’s intangible cultural heritage status is a coveted accolade that was awarded to Italian gastronomy in December. Whether Macron’s plea for the same constitutes an admission of his own malaise or a genuine coincidence is unclear. But one thing is for sure: Unesco’s blessing would be a balm for France’s fragile political ego. “In turbulent times, the bistro is a tonic,” says Soto Velásquez. Maybe Macron has a point.
87 Rue de la Roquette, 75011; 2 Rue Dancourt, 75018; 11 Bis Rue Delambre, 75014
