It has been a bit of an odyssey – partly of the Italian variety, partly on-screen. You might recall that last week I was bound for Forte dei Marmi, and I’m pleased to report that all was tasty as ever at Bagno Bruno, though some of the Russian guests had lips so XXXL that it was hard to determine if they’d asked their clinic for “A380 escape slide” or “super-size asylum seeker dinghy” proportions. Quite a sight.
Post-lunch, it was non-stop to Il Pellicano near Porto Ercole, and despite the volume of drivers heading south it was a smooth-ish cruise until the toll autostrada ended and we were suddenly thumping and swerving along an underfunded stretch of road to Grosseto. Here are a few highlights from the week.
Il Pellicano
The Italian resort classic was much as I remembered it, aside from the very big order that Kettal landed for much of the outdoor furniture. We were introduced to a fine wine from Sicily and I took note of the bar staff’s burgundy uniforms. There was some good tailoring on the service team that just might inform a future brief for Monocle’s front-line crew. Keep an eye out.
Alessio’s big ‘gommone’
It’s not quite as it sounds. Then again? … Anyway, on Monday evening we embarked with friends Alessio and Juliet on their large rigid inflatable boat (RIB), which, thankfully, had more balanced proportions than the lips of those ladies further up the Tuscan coast. Along for the ride was journalist Riccardo Orizio, author of Lost White Tribes, which is also not quite as it sounds and a very good read. We gunned it up the coast, dropped anchor and dived into the rolling sea. Gin and tonics were waiting on deck, the sky was clear and the sunset was perfect – dipping behind Elba.
Ruthie’s Retreat
On Tuesday morning we hit the road early-ish. Juliet arranged a little pit stop in a nearby village for some bakery bites and then we programmed the Land Cruiser to head for Pienza. After about 30 kilometres, the roads became impossibly narrow, the forests dense and I worried that we would be late for lunch. The car promised a journey just shy of two hours but 100 minutes later we were crunching up the gravel track, concerned only that we were those guests with Swiss licence plates arriving unsocially early. Ruthie was on fine form, the house filled with wonderful guests (a head of state here, a talented actor there), the parmigiana di melanzane was in the oven and for the next 48 hours we were treated to the best food and drink; “Singing Scrabble”; a side trip up to the rather amazing village of Castiglioncello del Trinoro and its wonderful Monteverdi hotel; a stormy eclipse and a geopolitical briefing or two. Headline: Europe needs to pull its thumb out – and fast.
Fill her up
Ruthie took us wine shopping in Pienza on Thursday morning. Should you be in the region, a visit to Enoteca di Ghino is highly recommended. Thankfully, the wheels were parked right out front, so adding an extra box or two didn’t involve breaking a sweat. And if you do end up spending too much time at Ghino’s, La Bandita Townhouse is a cosy joint nearby to rest your head.
Another odyssey
What do you do when, after a zippy eight days on the highways of Italy, you’re settled back at your apartment in St Moritz? First, you check in with your colleagues Logan and Iulian at The Monocle Shop and say hello to all the visitors from Kuwait and the UAE. Next, you go for a dip in the lake, dinner, and then, because it’s Friday and you haven’t been to the cinema in ages, you buy tickets for The Odyssey. I have five things to say:
1.
By now you will know that the film is a casting jumble sale that pays little attention to plausible geographies for the period and a lot of attention to the right stars for box office success and potential inclusion flashpoints. Oddly, there’s not a Greek in sight. Wouldn’t Theo James have been a better call for Odysseus? I love Matt Damon but …
2.
On the topic of inclusion, shouldn’t the DEI crowd be paying more attention to accents and not just skin tones? Why did everyone have to sound as though they were from a mid-Atlantic state or southern Ontario? Tom Holland sounds like a tech bro throughout. Annoying. I wanted some chic French people to comment on the rubbish-looking food on the banquet tables. Also, who would venture out to sea without a proper Filipino crew? Impossible.
3.
Do you remember the wispy, gauzy 1980s fashion brand CP Shades? Watch for its comeback. If the company was still trading, you’d think it was responsible for all of Charlize Theron’s perfectly lit, sandy, bronzy scenes.
4.
Why was the cyclops so dry and scratchy looking? Given that he lived with a massive flock of sheep, one would have thought that he would’ve been a bit more glistening with all that lanolin around.
5.
Finally, one of the better bits of casting was Odysseus’s dog. In this role, they went for a wiry podengo. It does raise a question about why Odysseus didn’t take the dog with him. As the breed is Portuguese, and clearly has navigation in its genes, our hero would have no doubt made it home sooner. Speaking of, he would surely have allowed for one last detour – to our Quality of Life Conference in Lisbon.
Enjoying life in ‘The Faster Lane’? Click here to browse all of Tyler’s past columns.
It’s 05.00 when soldiers at the Austrian Armed Forces’ Alpine base in Hochfilzen rise for a morning routine that might look rather old-fashioned. They muck out the stables, lay down fresh bedding and feed their 50 Haflinger horses and eight serving donkeys. Four of the horses and a donkey are fitted with pack saddles that are capable of carrying up to about 120kg of ammunition, weapons or supplies. The morning trek to the Römersattel, a mountain pass linking the Austrian states of Tyrol and Salzburg, is a traditional military exercise with a modern significance. The drill has drawn attention from international special forces seeking to firm up supply lines and add resilience in the context of the war in Ukraine.
“On the trek, we train our conscripts to lead animals through rugged terrain, cross a riverbed and defend positions under enemy fire,” Staff Sergeant Florian Manzl, who oversees pack-animal training in Hochfilzen, tells Monocle. Four pack-animal units were merged in 2007 and now form a component of the larger base.
Given Austria’s constitutional neutrality and its reliance on a conscript army, Manzl’s main job is to train a fresh batch of about 40 soldiers every four months. “Most arrive with little experience with animals or endurance training,” he says. “But, by the end of their time, they can walk 80km a week with horses and donkeys, have good physical fitness and are well versed in leading pack animals.”
This focus on training novices is one of the key aspects of the pack-animal centre. Another is its use of donkeys, which were introduced in 2016. “Our special forces requested the donkeys because they are easily available in many countries, so knowing how to work with them can be useful on missions abroad,” says Colonel Wilfried Tassenbacher, the centre’s commander. As word of conscripts training with donkeys in the Austrian Alps spread among European armies, many began sending select members of their own special forces here, usually for three-week training sessions.
“When we introduce new soldiers to the animals, we begin with horses,” says Manzl, as he starts the 8km trek. As herd animals, horses instinctively follow a leader, whereas donkeys think more independently. “A donkey only works with a leader that it trusts, which requires more experience,” says Manzl. “Furthermore, donkeys evolved in difficult terrain where they learnt to kick in multiple directions, which can be painful for inexperienced conscripts.”
The main virtues of both horses and donkeys are resilience and stealth. “Unlike lorries or helicopters, they operate in any weather, be it the current heat, deep Alpine snow or heavy rain and fog,” says Manzl. They also require no fuel or specialised spare parts, are immune to electronic warfare and are considerably harder to detect than motorised vehicles that emit heat and sound, as well as radio and electromagnetic signatures. “That stealth allows pack animals to evade detection by drones and other surveillance more easily, which is a vital tactical advantage,” adds Manzl. Polish soldiers use horses to supply and patrol muddy, forested parts of the Belarusian border. “They seem upbeat about it,” says Manzl. “They just invited us to an upcoming international gathering to share our experiences, since they plan to build three army centres for horses.”
As the conscripts return to base, they finish their day by grooming, washing and even stretching some of the horses for a cool down. The animals’ rest is much deserved in the summer heat. But it might be short-lived. The weight of expectation on these animals’ capabilities is continuing to grow.
Breeds apart
Alpine nations such as Austria, Germany and Switzerland maintain pack-animal centres because horses and donkeys are particularly useful on mountainous terrain. But the three armies differ in their approach. While Germany’s consists of professionals, Austria’s and Switzerland’s primarily train conscripts and reservists. Each country also selects its animals strategically. The Swiss use Freiberger horses, the last native breed. Germany relies on mules that combine the agility of a donkey with the strength of a horse. Mules, however, are tricky to procure because they are infertile and rarely bred. Tasked with training novice conscripts, the Austrians rely on the widely available Haflinger. They also train with donkeys – useful for special forces because they’re easier to source in foreign lands.
This article is from Monocle’s Med, Mountains & More newspaper, on sale from 31 July. Subscribers will receive a printed edition including a magazine supplement as part of their subscription. Not a subscriber yet? Purchase a copy of the newspaper here.
1.
On the Iberia hopper flight from Palma to Mahón in Menorca, there is a guy in his thirties, wearing a low-key outfit of T-shirt, shorts and sneakers but carrying perhaps the nicest carry-on bag that I’ve ever seen. A black leather beauty. I spot the mark of the luxury house that made it. I do a nosey Google. It’s yours for €72,000. Meanwhile, on the tarmac, he has a platoon of suitcases lined up, all from the same maker. I have a momentary flash of desire (for the bags, not the bag carrier). Then I remember the time that I left my suitcase on a train, another where it arrived on the carousel looking like it had been punched in the face by Mike Tyson. Suddenly his collection seems like anxiety on wheels. I’d better stick with ribbed and metal.
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Oh, yes, after all these years of life in Palma, I finally lost my Menorca virginity this week. And thank you for asking, it all went very nicely. I am definitely going back for more.
3.
We stayed on the west of the island in the town of Ciutadella in the Faustino Gran hotel. It’s French-owned, part of the Relais & Châteaux collection. It feels at ease with itself and you don’t sense that staff are following a script. It also has a brilliant concierge service – tables were booked, quiet beaches marked on paper maps. And, no, they didn’t have a clue that I was from Monocle. Just good service and a GM who went out of her way to say hello to everyone.
4.
I am happy with my nationality but on holiday I prefer not to be surrounded by Brits. Over breakfast, by the pool, I don’t want to tune in to conversations about the banalities of my fellow countrymen’s lives (and I definitely don’t want them to hear mine). I want to feel that I am away. Luckily, in Menorca, it seems as though every visitor is French, Italian or American. It’s a safe space.
5.
Friends from Madrid invite us for drinks at their apartment on the north coast, sitting on a bay not far from the town of Fornells. They book a nearby chiringuito for dinner but just after the starters arrive, the power goes out. And stays out. The kitchen will have to close. It doesn’t seem to faze anyone. Candles are produced, wine drunk, children continue playing. Our hosts nip home and return with a tub of ice-cream and a Santa & Cole table lamp. We just carry on laughing and talking in the dark.
6.
You know that you’re hitched to the right person when it’s 36C and, while you could be going for a swim, your partner agrees that it would be fun to visit Lithica, an abandoned stone quarry that’s now also part artwork, complete with a huge stone maze. We bake in the heat and agree that it’s one of the trip’s highlights, even if we exit feeling cooked to perfection.
7.
Late to the party, perhaps, we also got to visit Isla del Rey, the island in Mahón harbour that was once a naval hospital but is now home to a Hauser & Wirth gallery and its Cantina restaurant. Is it bad that I enjoyed the Piet Oudolf-designed garden more than the art?
8.
Friends’ recommendations. My chiringuito host Pablo gave us a great list of Menorca places to visit and so did my Madrid pals Ale and Moy. In their concise lists there are so many gems. I might have to enlist all of them when we add Menorca to our travel guides. That’s the vibe we are going for at Monocle – telling you about the sort of places that a friend would take you to.
9.
So many nice spots to eat at, shops and galleries to see. I’ll share one. A table for two at Ulisses, which is next to the market in Ciutadella. Sublime sushi, fish caught that morning by the restaurant’s boat. A night slips slowly by.
10.
We got back to Palma in time to see the eclipse and it was worth it. There were so many stories about the island going into lockdown, about how Mallorca would be overcrowded with eclipse watchers. We ended up on a beach, sitting on a rock, surrounded by nice people. And at the moment of totality, people clapped and cheered. The universe amazed us. Or was it just the power going out again?
When the owner of Munich’s Arabellahaus announced in 2018 that the building would have to come down, residents were furious. Completed in 1969, the enormous, skinny, rectangular structure long functioned as a miniature city, earning comparisons with Le Corbusier’s L’Unité d’Habitation in Marseille. There were leather-clad lift doors, a 24-hour concierge, a hotel, two clinics and even an in-house catering service. But infrastructure ages. The reinforced-concrete frame began to corrode, the façade started to fail and water damage spread. Real-estate developer Bayerische Hausbau, the owner, declared the building technically exhausted. Demolition, it said, was unavoidable.
Now, in a surprising reversal, the owner has changed course. The Arabellahaus will stay. The trick is to make it fatter. The proposal, drawn up by Munich-based architect Andreas Hild, is deceptively simple: the ageing façades and balconies will be stripped away and a new, roughly 2.4-metre-deep structure will be wrapped around the building’s long sides. This new layer will accommodate lifts, staircases and services, relieve pressure on the existing structure and, crucially, create additional interior space. On the roof, a publicly accessible garden is planned, reached by an enormous outdoor escalator roughly four times the length of the one at Paris’s Centre Pompidou.
If the project succeeds – and with residents, developer and city broadly behind it, the odds are unusually good – Arabellahaus could become a model for one of Germany’s most urgent architectural problems. The country is full of large housing blocks from the 1960s and 1970s whose façades, pipes, roofs and concrete structures are reaching the end of their useful lives. At the same time, Germany is short of roughly two million homes. In that context, demolishing thousands of structures only to spend years rebuilding them is hard to justify.
A better approach would be to treat these buildings as raw material: keep what still works, replace what does not and add whatever is missing. But that only works with a change in regulation. Much of Germany’s building code is still shaped by the logic of the postwar construction boom, when the priority was to build as many homes as possible, as quickly as possible. Today, even a carefully refurbished old building can’t be expected to meet standards devised for an entirely new one, making adaptations especially expensive. Planning rules should do the opposite: make it simpler to retain a sound structure, not penalise those willing to work with what is already there.
The environmental argument alone is compelling: the carbon and materials already invested in a building are retained rather than crushed, hauled away and replaced. But there is a social argument too. Residents keep a place that has become part of their identity. Buildings acquire meaning through use; people grow attached to them, neighbourhoods form in their vicinity. And if a refurbishment can improve a building rather than merely preserve it – as with Arabellahaus’s free public roof garden – even better. A city that learns how to deal with its building stock not only saves more of its architecture, it builds much less of what it doesn’t need.
Florian Siebeck is Monocle’s Frankfurt correspondent. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.
More on Munich: There’s a host of outstanding mid-century architectural projects in Munich, not least the city’s Olympiapark. Click here to read the full report on how its 1972 athletes’ village is a rare example of Olympics infrastructure that remains admired today.
The UK’s Frasers Group – owner of discount sportswear chain Sports Direct – has announced the acquisition of British department store Harvey Nichols from administrators. Frasers paid a measly £40m (€46.8m) for the retailer’s six shops across the UK, as well as its e-commerce platform and international franchises.
Unsurprisingly, many are concerned about the acquisition, including Harvey Nichols’ some 1,000 employees, luxury brand partners and the industry at large. Frasers founder Mike Ashley has a long track record of buying troubled fashion companies at low prices without a solid plan on how to revive them. Frasers has always specialised in discounting or high-street businesses and any attempts to dabble in luxury have so far failed. Department store chain Flannels opened an Oxford Street flagship in 2019 with big ambitions to create a luxury shop for a new generation. Yet it hasn’t managed to sustain interest, despite the area’s high foot traffic, or convince labels to get on board. The group also bought Matches Fashion, which entered administration a mere three months later. The collapse of Matches pushed many independent brand partners, which were left unpaid for large orders, to the brink of bankruptcy.
Now there are industry-wide concerns that history might repeat itself, especially because Harvey Nichols has racked up pre-tax losses of £190m (€222m) over the past six years. Ashley has even admitted to the Financial Times that the business is on “a death spiral”.
The difference here is that Frasers is inheriting a history that spans nearly 200 years (Harvey Nichols started as a linen shop in 1831), as well as one of London’s most coveted retail locations between Sloane Street and Knightsbridge. In its heyday in the 1980s and 1990s, the retailer was firmly established in pop culture – with references in the beloved Absolutely Fabulous series – and managed to strike a fine balance between the grandeur of a department store and the intimacy of a neighbourhood shop. Luxury brands, from Loewe and Valentino to Gucci, have also continued to see value in maintaining presence on Harvey Nichols shop floors across the country.
Over the years, the company has failed to keep up with changes in luxury retail. Selfridges has mastered the art of retail theatre, while Harrods has targeted high-net-worth customers, particularly from the Middle East, with private shopping suites and exclusive collections. CEO Julia Goddard (who joined in 2024 from Alexander McQueen) and creative director Kate Phelan, have been rebuilding momentum, with revamped jewellery and interiors concepts on the ground floor of the London flagship, refreshed campaigns and one-of-a-kind partnerships with the likes of Los Angeles-based beauty retailer Violet Grey. Now there is an opportunity to form more partnerships with international brands looking to increase their London presence and serve the mid-tier luxury customer. But it will take time and investment – two of the most important ingredients in any business model.
To return to profitability, consolidation and closures of some of the regional shops will also be inevitable: Frasers CEO Michael Murray already spoke of the “tough choices” that he is willing to make. But if Murray plays it smart and keeps experts such as Goddard and Phelan close, he might be able to restore the reputation of this historic British retailer – and finally gain the luxury industry access that he and Ashley have long hoped for.
Unesco’s decision to inscribe Aalto Works – a series spanning 13 landmark Alvar Aalto-designed sites across Finland – on the World Heritage List has been widely celebrated in the late-modernist architect’s homeland. Many locals believe the designation will act as a catalyst for tourism and regional investment, cementing Finland’s reputation as the spiritual home of human-centred modern design. Though the decision brings these architectural marvels onto Unesco’s ledger, it’s not entirely clear whether freeze-drying evolving spaces is what Alvar Aalto, or his co-designers and partners Aino and Elissa Aalto, would have wanted for their legacy.
Firstly, there is the glaring question of upkeep, considering that so many of the sites are in a precarious state of repair. Take the National Pensions Institute Headquarters in Helsinki. My recent walk through its red-brick and copper-clad halls confirmed that it requires far more than a cosmetic touch-up. Official estimates indicate that restoration will cost between €130m and €170m. In Imatra, the Church of the Three Crosses has suffered such severe moisture damage that sections have been cordoned off for safety reasons. The problem is not unique to Aalto’s buildings but their new status does make the question harder to sidestep.
Signing the World Heritage Convention legally commits Finland to protect and maintain these sites in good condition. But Unesco supplies global prestige, not cash. Meanwhile, Finland’s austerity-minded government has introduced sizeable cuts to public-sector funding and is unlikely to foot the bill. The hope is that private foundations will step in, though relying on philanthropy to cover a multi-million-euro shortfall is always a gamble.
Then comes the tricky question of access. Civic accessibility was a core tenet of the Aalto studio’s philosophy, yet several newly listed sites remain off-limits to everyday visitors. The Kela headquarters remains an active administrative workspace for Finland’s social insurance institution, meaning that its interior is closed to the public (unless you happen to be a Monocle journalist pulling strings for a private tour). The Sunila Pulp Mill residential area in Kotka (which Monocle visited in Issue 166) is a neighbourhood of private homes, and residents can hardly be expected to welcome tourists peering through their windows, even in the world’s happiest nation. Meanwhile, the Muuratsalo Experimental House on an island near Jyväskylä is reachable only via guided boat tours during a brief summer window.
Now, Unesco does not mandate open-door policies for all heritage properties, it only requires host countries to “present and promote” them. In Finnish policy circles, this has been pragmatically interpreted as ensuring that people can physically reach the grounds and gawk at the exteriors. That might satisfy those penning the fine print but does a view from the outside truly do justice to Aalto’s legacy? Alvar, Aino, and Elissa designed total environments. Buildings such as Villa Mairea in Noormarkku are just as extraordinary on the inside, where tailored lighting and bespoke furniture prove just as inviting as the surrounding lawns and swimming pool.
Beyond the logistical concerns, there’s a philosophical dilemma: is institutional preservation really what Aalto would have desired? The Aaltos designed their buildings to evolve alongside society. While Unesco has grown more flexible regarding adaptive reuse, its guidelines still stipulate that listed structures must retain their original materials, craftsmanship and composition. This creates an awkward tension for buildings conceived to respond to changing circumstances. Forward-thinking studios are working to navigate this fine line between Aalto’s ambitions and today’s regulations —most notably Snøhetta, whose ambitious masterplan for the Paimio Sanatorium balances wellness with conservation. Still, it will be difficult to ensure that rules do not turn these once-revolutionary living spaces into architectural relics.
Ultimately, Unesco’s nod is a mandate for active, imaginative civic stewardship. And yes, that requires financial resources and a more democratic approach to access. If Finland treats these 13 sites merely as museum pieces preserved behind velvet ropes, it risks betraying the very pragmatism that made Aalto’s architecture revolutionary in the first place.
Petri Burtsoff is Monocle’s Helsinki correspondent. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.
Further reading:
– Snøhetta unveils plan to transform Alvar Aalto’s Paimio Sanatorium into ‘Finnish Camp David’
– Collector by chance: How Pertti Männistö became one of the world’s most accomplished Alvar Aalto archivists
– Inside the restoration of Alvar Aalto’s Sunila housing estate
Update 13 August 2026: Donald Trump has announced that Karoline Leavitt will step down from her role as White House press secretary. Trump wrote in a social media post that Leavitt will be “departing her role at the end of the month so she can spend more time with her beautiful young children and family. Karoline will now be one of my top outside advisors, and an influential voice within the Republican Party, as we work to defy History, and conclusively win the Midterm Elections.”
Leavitt commented that her time in the role has been “the honor and adventure of a lifetime”, saying “It has been a privilege to serve alongside so many accomplished and impressive people, and I look forward to cheering them on over the next two and a half years.”
When asked a tricky question related to the US cost-of-living crisis by a reporter last year, president Donald Trump knew exactly who to turn to: his press secretary, Karoline Leavitt, who happily obliged with a full-throttle defence of the president’s economic record. So devoted did she seem to her boss’s cause that Trump’s visiting dignitary that day – the now former Hungarian prime minister Viktor Orbán – quipped that he would like to hire her. In the intervening months, even as Trump’s rhetoric has tipped towards the genocidal and messianic, Leavitt’s dedication to her boss has not wavered, earning her both praise and scorn.
With Maga-blonde locks and an angelic face that can instantly transform into the glare of a loyal attack dog, Leavitt has become one of the most recognisable figures of Trump’s second administration. Utterly committed to the Make America Great Again cause, the 28-year-old is the youngest person in US history to step up to the White House press podium – and is arguably one of its best. She is quick-witted with a pitch-perfect grasp of her commander-in-chief’s messaging and appears to share his deep disdain for many of the reporters who she goes into daily battle with.
White House press secretaries have always held a higher profile than their counterparts in other countries, which is unsurprising given the fact that their boss is often considered the most powerful person on the planet. But there is also something uniquely American about the performative nature of the job, with telegenic personalities relishing combative back-and-forths with an equally ego-heavy press corps. Try to name any other press secretary in the world and you might be able to conjure up Alastair Campbell – the spokesperson and communications chief of former British prime minister Tony Blair between 1997 and 2003 – who took a similarly combative approach. After which, you would likely be stumped.
I was a member of the Brussels press corps for five years, and the EU had a host of spokespeople, all of whom were picked for their blandness and inability to create anything resembling news. In the many other countries where I have reported as a journalist, press secretaries exist as conduits for public statements, regurgitating sound bites while keeping the media at arm’s length from those in positions of power. Trump’s approach is different. He speaks to the press regularly, whether it be in the back of Air Force One for an informal chat with travelling media or fielding questions during Oval Office sit-downs. He even picks up the phone for chats with reporters, with the roster of journalists with his personal mobile number growing by the day. So, Leavitt’s job is not so much to act as a gatekeeper for the president but as an amplifier of his message. And for that, she is the perfect pick.
A lifelong conservative, Leavitt began writing pro-Trump op-eds for a student newspaper in 2016 when she was 19, already laying into the “unjust” and “unfair” liberal media. As a university student pursuing a degree in communications and political science, she interned at Fox News and then at the White House, before joining Trump’s press team as a full-time staff member in 2019. After Trump lost the 2020 election, she unsuccessfully ran for US Congress – but her stardom in the Maga world continued to rise.
In January 2024, she was appointed as Trump’s campaign press secretary and landed the government’s top communications perch soon after his re-election. Now she has crafted an image as a highly effective operator – albeit a deeply divisive one. To conservatives, she is an icon: a whip-smart, beautiful Christian woman who is both a devoted wife and mother. (Leavitt gave birth to her first child in July 2024, three days after the assassination attempt on Trump in Butler, Pennsylvania. She often brings her child to work.) To liberals, she embodies the worst of the Trump regime, spouting propaganda and parroting the president’s many false claims while bad-mouthing journalists.
She has come in for particular criticism as she seeks to justify Trump’s incendiary rhetoric over the war with Iran. When he posted on Truth Social on 7 April that, a “whole civilisation will die tonight”, if Iran didn’t reach a deal, Leavitt insisted the president, “absolutely has the moral high ground”, despite claims he was threatening a genocide. Asked about other extreme rhetoric in the past, she has insisted that the public appreciates Trump’s “frankness” and that his approach gets results. Leavitt has not commented so far on Trump’s rage-baiting (and since deleted) social media post portraying himself as Jesus, but she clearly worships the man.
And Trump? He appears equally smitten. During his first term, the president went through five press secretaries: the most famous of whom, Anthony Scaramucci, lasted only 10 days. But Trump told reporters last year that, “I don’t think anybody has ever had a better press secretary that Karoline.” The big question now is what happens when Leavitt has her second child, a baby girl due in May. There has been no official announcement of a temporary replacement, leading to speculation that she has no intention of relinquishing her podium, and will be back on the job within days of giving birth. That would certainly suit her boss.
With a press secretary who seems to relish forging herself in his own image, it looks like he has found his perfect match.
In a short film released in May by Christie’s, Nicole Kidman strides purposefully into the foyer of the auction house’s Manhattan headquarters at Rockefeller Center. An elevator whisks her to another floor where she pushes her way through a heavy white curtain, as if entering a crime scene. Inside, on a plinth, is a gilt head by Romanian sculptor Brâncuși, an artwork from the collection of late media magnate Si Newhouse. Within moments, Kidman is dancing seductively around the artwork to David Bowie’s “Golden Years”. In May the Brâncuși sold for just shy of $108m (€94.19m).
I always feel that it’s something of a gloomy harbinger when celebrities get involved. It smacks of desperation, as if the thing or the message being sold isn’t good enough on its own merits. Though recent reports of an art market collapse might have been greatly exaggerated – and there are few other markets in which hyperbole is as integral or as prevalent – lately there have been incontrovertible signs of a correction.
While big-ticket items such as the Brâncuși are still selling for big numbers at auction, galleries are struggling. Profits are down across the board: mega-gallery Pace has dropped 50 artists and cut 20 per cent of its staff worldwide. Over the past few years, market stalwarts, including Marlborough and Simon Lee, have shuttered, while younger, mid-tier galleries such as Clearing closed their doors, too.
For too long, the art world has expanded while the art market has narrowed. The dinners, parties and biennales carried on, while the clattering soundtrack of gallery closures played in the background like the Titanic’s string quartet. Gone are the halcyon days of buyers schlepping to the outskirts of London or New York to an exciting project space in a former morgue; galleries these days often have the feel of an opulent spa. The global profusion of art fairs has made collectors lazy and gallerists unadventurous. They are also prohibitively expensive – a couple of bad fairs in a row can be the kiss of death for smaller galleries.
Even though the outlook might seem bleak, there are reasons for optimism. A contraction at the top could result in a market that is less reliant on art fairs and digital interaction. Galleries big and small will then be able to focus on developing closer relationships with artists and collectors on home turf. In too many instances, art and the way it is sold have become indistinguishable from luxury goods. At times it can feel as though the market has forgotten what elevates art and why people want to own it. In my experience as a gallerist, buyers were seeking human connection as much as they were looking to build a collection.
In his 2015 book, The Utopia of Rules, David Graeber wrote, “The ultimate, hidden truth of the world is that it is something that we make and could just as easily make differently.” The art world of today was made by yesterday’s market. I, for one, am hopeful that it will foster a generation of better, more adventurous art and artists with more sustainable careers. In London, several smaller galleries are punching far above their weight: Ginny on Frederick in Clerkenwell; Soft Opening in Bethnal Green (the gallery started life in Piccadilly Circus station); and William Hines in Camberwell. The art world is like a cruise ship – it might take a long time to turn it around – but galleries such as these give me faith that it’s moving in the right direction.
Orlando Whitfield is the author of the book ‘All That Glitters: A Story of Friendship, Fraud and Fine Art’. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.
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Jayden Ali
Age: 37
Profession: Architect and artist
Location: New York
Location: I spend my time between New York and London. I’m in the former now because I have been teaching at Columbia University. We have also just opened a show at the Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum, as well as a small office [an offshoot of the practice’s base in London].
Summer uniform: When I was much younger, I would spend March to November in shorts. Now that I’m getting older, I prioritise comfort. My look today works whether I’m in the house or at my desk. These woollen pinstripe shorts are from Assembly, a multibrand shop on Ludlow Street in New York, which is great for staples. I’m also wearing a white vest and a silky Acne Studios shirt on top because the heat in NYC can be intense. I have this shirt in multiple colours. Long sleeves mean that I can be inside or outside; I can be at dinner or in the park. I like flexibility – and neatness too, as I’m not a scruffy person. I also wear a gold chain from Hatton Garden in London and a wedding band as a pendant. I bought mine in Santa Fe en route to getting married last year in Las Vegas. I purchased it at the last minute and it doesn’t really fit me but I love it. I wore this outfit the other day with Valentino shoes but, for everyday use, trainers are the best.
Fabrics and brands of choice: I love Tumbao, a Latin American store in New York. I often go there and shop for myself and my wife. I also enjoy Ron David Studio for brighter colours – I bought an amazing green shirt there. I’m living out of a suitcase at the moment because I’m travelling for the summer, so I have packed three different Sunspel T-shirts that are made from really fine-grain cotton. I love a subtle pinstripe shirt too. I have a few of those in my suitcase. The one from UK label Martine Rose is blue with fine pinstripes; another is from Gucci. I always opt for subtle pinstripes. The look is a bit basic but it does the job.
Tips on staying cool: In New York, ensure that you get on the right subway carriage. If you feel that the air-con isn’t working, change carriages – that’s important. But I’m not trying to avoid the sun so much. I grew up in London and it wasn’t so warm. When I get the chance, I walk in the sun with my shades.
Travel plans: My wife [set decorator Lotty Sanna] is making a film in Berlin so I’m looking forward to spending some time there over the summer. I hear that they have a beautiful lake culture. I’m also going to a wedding near Beijing, so I’m going to spend a few days walking along the Great Wall of China.
ja-projects.com
2.
Stefani Stoyanof
Age: 41
Profession: Jewellery designer and founder of Swim to the Moon
Location: Athens
Summer uniform: My summer uniform usually consists of a one-piece bathing suit, such as a navy Lido one, and a pareo, which I try to collect from every island that I visit. I snagged my newest pareo from a shop on Hydra on a girls’ trip. Otherwise, I wear a comfortable pair of Bermuda shorts, with a button-down shirt layered on top of a cotton bralette, a great pair of sunnies from Thistles, jelly shoes from Maison Empereur in Marseille and a straw hat from a shop in Paros where an old man and his wife weave the simple designs. And, of course, jewellery to tie it all together. I’m wearing sterling silver jewellery from Swim to the Moon. My straw bag has survived for 11 years and is in perfect condition. I bought it at a market in Morocco when my husband [photographer Marco Argüello] and I were backpacking around the world.
Fabrics and brands of choice: My go-to fabrics would have to be linen and cotton in the summer, so you can survive the heat. My favourite brands include Lido for swimsuits; It’s a Shirt for buttondowns; By Malene Birger for shorts; Flore Flore for basics; and, of course, anything vintage.
Go-to drink for sunset hour: Campari spritz.
Summer travel plans: A girl’s trip to Hydra, a romantic getaway with my husband to Antiparos, a family trip with my son and grandparents to Camogli in Italy and a roadtrip to the Peloponnese.
swimtothemoonjewelry.com
3.
Patrick Johnson
Age: 45
Profession: Fashion designer and founder of P Johnson
Location: Sydney
Summer uniform: I wear P Johnson’s unstructured jackets and trousers in light linens and silk blends. They’re great for travelling and you can mix them as separates too. I combine these with a pair of loafers from New York-based Belgian Shoes, often with a white shirt in a lightweight poplin.
Fabrics and brands of choice: I love linen – it’s a really diverse fibre and we weave a beautiful one with Loro Piana that has an amazing drape and doesn’t crease too much. I also wear a lot of silk blends. The silk linens that I use are lightweight and the blend gives you great colour depth. We develop these pieces with specialist weavers on Lake Como. Apart from that, I like wearing jeans. We make ours in Italy. I love the ultra-light wash indigo; I cut off their bases so that they fray a bit and feel summery. For accessories I love belts. My go-to is the custom crocodile-skin belt that was made by an artisan in Melbourne. It’s beautiful and it just gets better with age.
Tips on staying cool: Wear lightweight garments and ensure that you stick to natural fibres.
Go-to drink for sunset hour: A vermouth and soda with a slice of lemon.
Summer travel plans: We’ll mostly be on the smaller islands in the Cyclades. We love the food in Sifnos, the water of Folegandros and Hydra’s convenience.
pjt.com
4.
Duda Lopes
Age: 30
Profession: Designer and founder of ready-to-wear label Sage
Location: Barcelona
Summer uniform: My Thomaz shirt, which was inspired by my dear grandfather, Odino Thomaz. It’s a white linen style and I pair it with matching linen trousers and a leather belt – everything is from my brand, Sage. I also pair linen trousers with my swimsuits and tend to stick to a sandy colour palette – it feels very Barcelona.
Fabrics and brands of choice: If I’m not wearing an all-linen look, I’m usually in swimwear. Growing up in Angra dos Reis, in the state of Rio de Janeiro, I used to wear a bikini at least 300 days a year. I also love Tag Heuer watches. I have three from the brand but I usually opt for the Ayrton Senna model. I finish my look with a pair of Havaianas – an iconic Brazilian brand.
Tips on staying cool: Always wear a swimsuit with shorts, even if you’re not going to the beach.
Favourite holiday destinations: Menorca and Angra dos Reis – I know every beach there, even the secret ones.
Go-to drink for sunset hour: A negroni.
Summer plans: I’m very excited about presenting Sage’s new collection at Copenhagen Fashion Week for the first time this August. We will showcase 50 pieces and plan to take over a boat. There will be a bossa-nova vibe to it.
sagebrazil.com
A little piece of Shibuya has landed right in the heart of Copenhagen. Its name is Hikari and it is the new, Japanese-themed zone in Denmark’s historic amusement park, Tivoli Gardens.
“It was a part of the park underneath our Dæmon rollercoaster that really needed a refurbishment,” Tivoli’s CEO, Susanne Mørch Koch, tells Monocle during an exclusive pre-opening tour. “It had an Asian theme but was selling fish and chips, and coffee. The Japanese pagoda was already there but it all needed a narrative to bring it together.”
That narrative cannily focuses on Japan’s highly commodified contemporary culture, so Hikari features a konbini store selling mochi, banana Kitkats, Pocky chocolate and seaweed snacks; a branch of Copenhagen’s much-loved Comé Rice Kitchen onigiri shop; vending machines selling Pokémon figures; and a taiyaki stall. An accent of “high” culture, which Tivoli is also well known for in Denmark, comes by way of an original Takashi Murakami sculpture on the main “street”.
It is all quite brilliantly packaged within just 2,000 sq m, without feeling cramped. Tivoli is calling Hikari its “most ambitious architectural and spatial investment in nearly 200 years”. Sixty tonnes of ceramic tiles were imported from Japan to build it, along with reclaimed wooden doors and signage for that jolt of Shibuya-style visual energy. The zone also features two new visitor attractions: a wall-of-death-type experience, The Typhoon’s Eye, “inspired by the immense power of Japan’s typhoons” (hmm, wonder how Japanese people will feel about that?), and Hotel Hikari, a discombobulating (though not particularly Japanese) funhouse.
Though Copenhagen is experiencing an inbound-tourist boom, Hikari is designed primarily by Danes for Danes. “Around 65 per cent of our visitors are Danish and in recent years we’ve seen an increasing interest in Japanese food, culture and the number of Danes visiting Japan,” Mørch Koch tells Monocle. Danish travel to Japan increased by more than 23 per cent from 2024 to 2025. “But we aren’t jumping on any bandwagon. This will be here at least while I am alive,” he adds.
Tivoli, which first opened in 1843, does not take such redecoration lightly. Hikari, which was unveiled in mid-August (it means “light” in Japanese), has taken more than five years to develop and involved visits by designers, staff and gardeners to Japan, seeking inspiration for everything from the signage to the materials and plants.
Of the budget, CEO Susanne Mørch Koch would only say that it was “three-digit million kroner” (€10m-plus) but this is clearly her flagship initiative: she started as CEO six years ago and has led the park’s charge for tech-free fun with record-breaking visitor numbers.
The amusement park industry is characterised by the ever-expanding scale of the parks themselves and on rides based on existing IP such as Harry Potter, Star Wars, Marvel and the like. But Tivoli doesn’t have the budget to buy those rights and it can never grow beyond its original 80,000 sq m, hemmed in as it is on all four sides by roads and the Central Station, hence the ingenious IP-free, space-busting approach of Hikari.
But was the park worried about accusations of cultural appropriation in attempting to create its own interpretation of Japanese pop culture? When Tivoli opened its architects felt at liberty to design buildings vaguely inspired by “Arabian” or “Oriental” styles that would probably provoke an outcry today. “We are doing this with dedication, love and respect, and we have Japanese consultants involved and Japanese products on sale,” says Mørch Koch. “We have taken so much care with our selection.”
I visited with a Japanese friend who was actually quite touched by the efforts and commitment of Tivoli’s designers and gardeners. The signage was maybe a little busy, she said, but otherwise she pronounced it pretty authentic.
Further reading: Tivoli Gardens’ CEO on how Denmark’s most renowned theme park has stayed tech-free and relevant for 182 years
