The bright blue sky of a perfect autumn day hung over the white tents at Frieze this week. On Wednesday, the opening of the UK’s most important art fair was so packed with invite-onlys that it made you wonder where so many very important people had been hiding for the rest of the year. The art market, we are told time and again, is not what it once was – but is there hope for it to be found in Regent’s Park? Or just the opportunity for some excellent people watching?
At one end of Regent’s Park, Frieze Masters – the section of the fair dedicated to works created before 2000 – tells a fascinating story of craft and creation. There are some wonderful things to see: meteorite fragments, dinosaur skulls and historic weaponry among them. “You could say that we’re telling the story of our universe – not just of mankind and of human creativity,” Emanuela Tarizzo, the director of Frieze Masters, tells Monocle. “We see more people collecting art alongside natural history and it reflects a way of collecting that was already in existence at least 500 years ago – the so-called Kunstkammer [cabinet of curiosities]. It’s fun to see it come back today with different generations.”
What makes Frieze Masters such a unique proposal – and what has been masterfully realised this year – is the savvy curatorial approach that underpins it. At the booth of rare books dealer Daniel Crouch is a set of 10,000 satirical prints from the collection of the late British restaurateur Andrew Edmunds. The single lot is esoteric, yes, but extraordinary and shown alongside a 17th-century French printing press. It’s a steal at £45,000 (€53,000). Elsewhere, a 17th-century still life by Jan Brueghel the Elder (which led early sales at about £5m, or €5.9m) hangs alongside an artwork by star British artist Flora Yukhnovich, creating the chance to see both in a new light.
Across the park at Frieze London, which is focused on contemporary work made after 2000, many of the booths belong to familiar names. For those debuting, the fair has been a North Star. “Frieze London has been my favourite fair internationally for as long as I’ve been in this industry,” says Jennifer Carvalho of New York-based Carvalho gallery, which joins the fair for the first time this year. Carvalho is presenting new works by Corinna Gosmaro, Guillaume Linard Osorio and Rachel Mica Weiss, with sculptures, paintings and installations that make use of unusual materials – marble, thread and polycarbonate among them. Carvalho seems content with her sales so far, including of two works by Mica Weiss (who has a waitlist in the US), which sold in the fair’s first hour for £22,000 (€26,000) each. “I wasn’t necessarily expecting that,” says Carvalho. “I have always found the US market to be the most resilient but I see now that the strongest works will find their collectors wherever they are.”
Carvalho’s peppy sentiment is echoed by the energy across Frieze this year – and in the healthy sales sheets. Highlights include the sale of three paintings by Alice Neel for a combined $5m (€4.5m), a new painting by Michaël Borremans for $1.5m (€1.3m) and a second-century mottled red sandstone sculpture going for just over $1m (€890,000).
It seems that great works, as Carvalho contends, will find their buyers and, at both Frieze London and Frieze Masters, galleries have brought their best. In turn, collectors are putting their hands in their pockets – whether for a bronze William Turnbull sculpture or a prehistoric sabre-cat skull. Those blue skies might have been something of a portent and Frieze is painting London in a good light.
Carles Puigdemont has spent almost nine years away from Spain. With a warrant out for his arrest, he risked prison if he set foot inside the country. Holed up in Brussels after a failed Catalan independence bid in 2017, he couldn’t go home when his parents died and missed both of their funerals. Last week, however, the Supreme Court gave the president of the Together for Catalonia (Junts) party a path back when it decided to provisionally lift the warrant against him. But the Catalonia that he left behind is a far cry from the one to which he might soon return.
A stroll through downtown Barcelona offers a glimpse of the region’s changes. The Estelada – Catalonia’s starred flag, which became a fixture on balconies in the run up to the 2017 referendum – is not as prominent as it once was. The mix of languages heard on the streets reflects a population with increasingly diverse backgrounds. Today more than a third of the city’s residents were born abroad, up from about a fifth in 2016.
The demographic changes put pressure on Catalan, a language that has long served as a cornerstone of the region’s national identity. Children are still compelled to learn it at school but it can feel increasingly disconnected from everyday life. Of course, Catalonia extends far beyond its capital and, in many of its smaller towns, symbols of national identity remain prominent. But even here, the fervour for independence appears to have cooled and Madrid is no longer cast as the demon that it once was.
The focus of conversations has changed too. Only a few years ago, a night out often led to a discussion with a stranger about the merits of Catalan independence. Later the conversations turned to Brexit and the parallels – and differences – between the two movements. These days, such comparisons rarely arise. Independence hasn’t disappeared from the political landscape but it seems to have lost its place as a subject of everyday conversation.
It’s not that grievances have disappeared: Rodalies de Catalunya commuter trains still run late and the argument about Madrid’s investment in Catalonia remains unresolved. What has changed is the political response. While these failures once helped to draw hundreds of thousands to the streets under the banner of Catalan self-determination, discontent today is focused elsewhere.
A key reason for this is the dominance of concerns other than abstract questions of identity or constitutional status: the cost of living and rising rent prices. Puigdemont’s party chose not to back the recent housing bill put forward by the embattled socialist prime minister, Pedro Sánchez – a decision that hardly suggests attunement with the concerns of ordinary Catalans. Meanwhile, the cause for independence has become more fragmented. Puigdemont might still command the loyalty of committed supporters but he can no longer rely on the movement to unite behind a shared vision.
The former Catalan government leader is yet to announce a date for his return. It will likely be less dramatic than his sneaky 2024 appearance in Barcelona, which was followed by a swift departure before the police caught up with him. Coming back before the snap election on 29 November would give Junts supporters a rallying point, while waiting until afterwards would help him to reach beyond the party’s traditional base and reconnect with a Catalan society whose priorities have changed.
There is little to suggest that Puigdemont’s political views have shifted. He faces the challenge of not only reviving the independence movement but finding a place for it in a Catalonia that has changed since 2017. If he is to lead a new chapter for the cause, he will have to show how it speaks to Catalans today – not just to the ambitions that defined their identity almost a decade ago.
Tokyo’s creative scene is in full swing this autumn. Monocle stops by three galleries to peruse a graphic design survey, sample an immersible audio visual installation and explore a fresh take on a literary classic from 13th-century Japan.
‘Ryuichi Sakamoto + Shiro Takatani: Ambient Kyoto’
Azabudai Hills Gallery
Azabudai Hills Gallery is the setting for the latest presentation of a site-specific work by the late musician and composer Ryuichi Sakamoto and visual artist Shiro Takatani. Based on Sakamoto’s 2017 release Async, the “Async Immersion” installation builds on his concept of secchi-ongaku (installed music), the spatial experience of sound that he envisaged during the album’s production.
Sakamoto’s 14-track album is accompanied by a 26.4 metre-wide screen that shows Takatani’s visuals. The imagery includes pianos, equipment from Sakamoto’s studio and landscapes that unfurl across the screen while remaining out of sync with the soundtrack. The result is a spatial experience that feels a world away from life beyond the gallery’s walls.
“Experiencing the work within the flow of the ever-changing interplay of sound and image is like watching waves or ripples in the rain,” writes Takatani. It’s “an experience that, while repetitive, never happens in the same way twice.”
‘Ambient Kyoto’ is on view until 25 October 2026; ambientkyoto.com
‘Yoshihisa Tanaka: Archive / Achieve’
Ginza Graphic Gallery
The work of prolific 46-year-old art director Yoshihisa Tanaka takes centre stage at Ginza Graphic Gallery this month. Over the past two decades, Tanaka’s work across contemporary art, architecture, photography and fashion has expanded to include explorations in paper as material and medium. In recent years, he has experimented with creating paper trainers with New Balance and designed an installation using pleated and folded Japanese washi paper to create undulating forms for Issey Miyake’s spring/summer 2024 show in Paris.
Tanaka’s enquiries into the possibilities of paper as not only a medium for print but a material in its own right appear throughout this survey. The basement gallery is filled with publications, posters and invitations spanning the past two decades. Meanwhile the ground-floor space presents design materials from the archives of businesses and universities in containers, display fixtures and other storage designed by Tanaka and made with washi. By reimagining the archive, he considers the cultural value of preserving graphic design and passing it on to future generations.
‘Archive / Achieve’ is on view through 21 October 2026; dnpfcp.jp
‘Learning from “Hojoki”: Tiny Architecture Reweaves Life’
21_21 Design Sight
The celebrated 13th-century essay “Hojoki” (“The Ten Foot Square Hut”) has long inspired people from various walks of life. The nonfiction essay, written by Kamo no Chomei, details the political and environmental situations that moved him to live in a secluded hut in Hino in the Kyoto mountains. Eight centuries after Chomei left society behind, his musings on living in an impermanent world have informed the latest show at 21_21 Design Sight in Roppongi.
Directed by Atelier Bow Wow co-founder Yoshiharu Tsukamoto, the exhibition uses Chomei’s work as a lens for examining the essence of architecture. The exhibition asked designers, builders, artists and architects to create interpretations of Chomei’s 10-foot-square dwelling, drawing from their own tools, materials and perspectives on contemporary life. Yusuke Obuchi and Jun Nakamura refashioned an abandoned feed silo into “walking architecture”, while Yusuke Omuro and Kawacho-Gumi created a storage shed based on the writings of the late novelist Chotaro Kawasaki.
Each tiny dwelling explores ideas around society and architecture in light of the challenges of contemporary life. “In order to overcome such dilemmas and anxieties, we would do well to fundamentally rethink the lifestyles to which we have become so accustomed,” writes Tsukamoto.
‘Learning from “Hojoki”: Tiny Architecture Reweaves Life’ is open until 11 January 2027; 2121designsight.jp
Paris Motor Show, the Mondial de l’Auto, is an important showcase for French car manufacturing. French president Emmanuel Macron likes to tour the halls when the exhibition, which prominently features homegrown brands such as Renault and Citroën, comes around every other year (this edition was no exception). But when the show opened earlier this week, all anyone could talk about was the Chinese marques fanned out across the Paris Expo Porte de Versailles. The Asian powerhouse showcased a new confidence that includes technological advancements in the electric-vehicle space, at a price that has already proven attractive to cash-strapped European consumers.
But China might not be racing ahead entirely. This year’s show opened with a potential get-out-of-jail-free card for European carmakers, as negotiations between the EU and China led Beijing to agree to export quotas for Chinese hybrid vehicles, which have been flooding the European market. The news was cautiously welcomed by the Europeans who Monocle spoke to on the ground at the show. “Anyone embraces fair competition,” said the CEO of Renault-owned Romanian brand Dacia, Katrin Adt. “But it’s difficult to compete against competition that might not be fair.”
Fairness is in the eye of the beholder. A decade ago, it was China that sought to limit access to its domestic market and to force Western companies to partner with local players. Now the tables have turned: overproduction and an increasingly sluggish domestic market is prompting China to push its cars abroad. Europe, which once profited from selling cars in China, is now the one protecting its own market. As he toured the Motor Show, Macron emphasised the importance of Made in Europe and welcomed the EU deal that limits the number of Chinese hybrids entering the continent.
But Made in Europe (or China) is also a fluid concept these days. German designer Stefan Sielaff shaped the luxury cars that Chinese brand Zeekr had on its stand near Mercedes-Benz, which is itself approximately 20 per cent Chinese owned. Mercedes-Benz’s Chinese stake is so large that it could be barred from selling in the US under newly proposed legislation that would cap Chinese ownership at 15 per cent.
China’s agreement to – at least partially – level the playing field is good for Europe but it only goes so far. The continent also needs to put up a fight and prove that it can compete with Beijing on price and innovation. In France, Renault and Citroën have taken a step forward, rewiring their heritage for the 21st century. Citroën, for example, has brought back its decades-old 2CV in a playful, affordable new style. “We always want to be a bit experimental, a bit weird,” said chief designer Pierre Leclercq about the car, which comes with a ready-made picnic basket. Renault, meanwhile, is bringing back its Twingo model and Dacia brand – laying claim to some of the most affordable electric vehicles on the European market.
What’s clear is that Chinese marques are not going away, as they increasingly partner with European names and expand their manufacturing hubs into the vieux continent. The Chinese are eager to tap into long-standing European heritage and expertise, outperforming legacy brands in the process. European rivals will have to lean on more than just their own history – and government intervention – to respond.
Listen to ‘The Monocle Daily’ from our Paris studio on Tuesday.
Following last weekend’s Houthi attacks on its airports, Saudi Arabia is seeking US defence support. The appeal comes a year after the kingdom gave its military a historic cash injection, making it the world’s eighth-largest defence spender – and is a test of the alliances that it has cultivated.
Last weekend’s attack on Riyadh’s King Khalid International Airport killed at least 12 people and wounded more than 300. King Fahd International Airport in Dammam has also been targeted by the Iran-backed Houthis, who have claimed responsibility as Saudi Arabia steps up airstrikes supporting a Yemeni government counteroffensive. A conflict that Riyadh had hoped to leave behind is again reaching its passenger terminals, raising the question: why are the country’s principal gateways still so vulnerable?
It’s tempting to wonder whether fewer mirrored Giga-Projects and more attention to national security might have helped but Saudi Arabia has hardly starved its military of money. (The 170km-long megacity, The Line, has been scaled back, along with other projects.) To be fair to the kingdom, Saudi Arabia covers more than two million square kilometres, with its airports, cities and oil installations so spread out that even sophisticated Patriot and Thaad systems cannot provide an impenetrable canopy.
The Houthis have established themselves as formidable adversaries. Once a localised guerilla movement, they’re now a highly capable hybrid military force with stockpiles of missiles and sophisticated drones. And they have geography on their side, operating out of northern Yemen’s rugged mountains.
The Iran war has consumed large quantities of interceptors, putting Saudi supplies and those of its partners under strain. Replenishment could take more than a year. A large defence budget is useful but it can’t instantly conjure extra missiles off a production line that’s already serving a queue of anxious customers.
Riyadh’s allies are providing help, with the US, Turkey and Pakistan sending defensive and technical support and troops. But the Saudi government’s appeal suggests that what is available is insufficient. The kingdom has spent years cultivating these key partnerships; now it needs to determine how much practical protection those alliances provide.
Donald Trump has said that he is considering joining strikes against the Houthis but he finds himself in a difficult position. A ceasefire agreed between the Houthis and the US, brokered by Oman in May 2025, gives him reason to hesitate. The upcoming midterm elections in the US could also temper his enthusiasm.
Benjamin Netanyahu has strongly condemned the Riyadh airport attack – which is noteworthy, given that Israel doesn’t have formal diplomatic ties with Saudi Arabia. There’s ongoing talk of the US encouraging Saudi Arabia to join the Abraham Accords. Meanwhile, if the kingdom’s security needs become urgent enough, it might seek access to Israel’s Iron Dome system – a move that would have far-reaching implications for regional alliances.
In the wake of the weekend’s attacks, Anwar Gargash, a senior adviser to the UAE’s president, Mohamed bin Zayed Al Nahyan, called for renewed defence co-operation across the region. While a Gulf Cooperation Council defence agreement already exists, political trust remains hard to cement. Saudi Arabia and the UAE have backed rival factions in Yemen and competition for investment gives neighbours further cause to guard their interests. But practical co-operation need not wait for perfect harmony.
The damage caused by this latest spate of Houthi aggression reaches well beyond the Gulf. Anu-Eerika Viljanen, Finland’s former ambassador to Saudi Arabia who is now back in Helsinki, told Monocle that a delegation didn’t consider using a Gulf airport in its planning for a forthcoming trip to Southeast Asia. That should trouble Dubai, Doha and Abu Dhabi.
Saudi Arabia’s hefty defence spending makes it hard to argue that it has spent too little on security. But it is fair to ask whether military readiness has received the same attention lavished on a mirrored linear city or a cliff-edge stadium in the mountains. Achieving the goals outlined in the country’s Vision 2030 plan depends on getting the security basics right. For now, keeping existing airports safely open would be a more persuasive advert for the kingdom than unveiling another futuristic destination.
If you’re Spanish, today’s Fiesta Nacional de España celebrations might be defined by how you feel about the national flag – or your willingness to wear a nifty red-and-yellow bracelet. A brief history lesson before we start accessorising: while the holiday is meant to be dedicated to national unity, its origin has become a point of contention thanks to Cristóbal Colón (Christopher Columbus), whose arrival in the Caribbean on 12 October was christened Hispanic Day. But the holiday’s imperialist roots are only part of the debate.
Brash displays of nationalism have long been a touchy subject for Spain. In the years that followed the end of the Franco dictatorship, flag waving and other displays of red-and-yellow nationalism were mainly left to former regime apologists. For many, the flag remains a right-wing relic. The event’s centrepiece is a military parade overseen by the royal family and government officials, which predictably causes polarised fervour from the sidelines. But this is no ordinary year: Spain is in the early stages of a heated election campaign.
Not everyone who loves España, however, needs to be lumped in with a clan of ancient extremists. Enter the pulsera de España – or the diminutive pulserita – which has, since the 1990s, established itself as the ultimate sartorial signifier. What do wearers of these red-and-yellow bracelets want you to know? Any sweeping interpretation is admittedly highly subjective and probably reductive. But the basic message is that they love their country, that their country is the best and that they are protagonists in their country’s success story. You know, that standard patriotic schtick.
Most of those who sport hints of patriotism around their wrists are conservative but not extremist. For many, it’s a material expression of moderate love, though the rise of Spain’s far-right party, Vox, has been recolouring the political conversation. The party’s penchant for overstated exhibitions of old-hat nationalism has meant that wrapping the country’s colours around any part of your body has once again become politically charged. In the current climate, brandishing one of these bracelets, however subtle, is now a way of thumping your chest about the parts of the country that you love, while raising your clenched fist at the parts – or people – you don’t.
Even in sport – one of the few battlegrounds where euphoric flag waving is permissible – not everyone is singing from the same hymn sheet. If you watched last summer’s Fifa World Cup, you might have wondered why Spanish players stood tight-lipped before each match. This wasn’t a silent protest or a collective spell of amnesia. Spain’s national anthem remains lyric-free simply because the country’s 17 regions haven’t reached a consensus on a unifying verse.
Ahead of the country’s November elections, various versions of España are being tabled, exaggerated, argued over, compared or cautioned about. Some of these national visions are simplified portraits of a past that never really existed, while others attempt to stride towards a future that reconciles the country’s complex present. Everyone can probably agree that they want the best for their nation but they just have different ways of showing it.
Spain’s fraught relationship with its pulseritas suggests that the country has a lot of work to do. But as a fashion choice, these little bracelets are still a more prudent alternative to other national-dress choices. Perhaps all Spaniards can agree that wearing the flag as a cape is a thread too far.
Sweden’s media market, whose influence lies in a small, concentrated group of commercial media houses such as Bauer Group, Viaplay, Bonnier News and Schibsted, is undergoing a transformation. What’s making things interesting, however, is that within these organisations, individual outlets are growing and diversifying to reach an audience base that gets their media through a variety of platforms.
About a third of Swedes are willing to pay for online news, according to the Reuters Institute for the Study of Journalism. They represent among the highest percentage of paying news readers in Europe – second only to Norway – which means that the market is not only ripe for engagement but is potentially lucrative too. And the major corporations are taking notice.
This summer Schibsted-owned tabloid newspaper Aftonbladet, which has been in publication since 1830, launched a radio station. The new venture is emblematic of where Swedish media is headed: established brands are spreading their content across various platforms to leverage their resources and talent.
Radio Aftonbladet is positioning itself as a serious commercial competitor to the public-service broadcaster, Swedish Radio, which has had a near monopoly on newscasting over the country’s airwaves for the past century. In the hopes that the newcomer would help to diversify the media landscape, the Swedish Press and Broadcasting Authority awarded Radio Aftonbladet an FM licence that was previously held by a music station with a million listeners. Known for the speed at which it deploys reporters upon breaking news, the radio station can pull from a pool of Aftonbladet’s 200 journalists to fill its airwaves with news, entertainment, sports and podcasts faster than any of its competition.
As global audiences increasingly turn to a wide variety of sources, journalists – as well as the companies that employ them – understand that testing new ground is the only way to survive long term and Sweden is no different. My journalism colleagues in the industry tell me how they are dabbling in different formats, and becoming good at it too.
Aftonbladet’s entry into the radio sphere marks the first time that a commercial broadcaster is attempting to give the public-service behemoth a run for its assured audience, which is admittedly an uphill task. Swedish Radio has been on air for the better part of a century and reaches more than seven million listeners every week (out of a population of 10 million). Radio Aftonbladet might be small in comparison, reaching less than 200,000 listeners per week in its first month, but it is agile and moves quickly. It has also poached some big names from Swedish Radio, such as presenter Henrik Johnsson, suggesting that, in terms of high-quality output, its continued development is likely to be a success.
Though it’s still early days in the race, Radio Aftonbladet makes a compelling case that Swedish media companies are doing it right. I, for one, will be tuning in.
Alejandro González Iñárritu’s new film, Digger, has been critically panned all over the world. The Boston Globe gave it 0 stars; The Guardian called it “shallow, laborious” and “the most disappointing film of the year”. So far, it is also a commercial disaster: having cost more than $250m (€223m) to make and market, it only took $8m (€7.1m) domestically during its first week in cinemas. Some are predicting that it will be the greatest flop of all time.
This must be prompting some reflection for the Mexican director whose previous films (The Revenant and Birdman) were universally adored by critics, showered with awards and did good business. In contrast, Digger’s star, Tom Cruise, has had to live with the cognitive dissonance of (mostly) scathing reviews versus billion-dollar box office for his entire career. He doesn’t help matters by being so weird, having such a messy private life and all that Scientology nonsense. Perhaps Digger might have been judged less harshly with, say, Gary Oldman in the lead?
Then this happened: I am at dinner with friends in Copenhagen and mention the mauling that Digger has received around the world. An art director whose judgement I usually trust on these matters looks perplexed. “What do you mean? It’s a masterpiece! Politiken gave it six stars.” Others round the table agree. “The Danish critics loved it!” says another guest. She likens it to Citizen Kane and Dr Strangelove. Now it is my turn for a dose of discombobulating dissonance. Had I stumbled into an Invasion of the Body Snatchers-type scenario? Were my friends secret Scientologists?
I had been out of Denmark for a few days, so had only seen the UK and US reviews, but my friends were right. And it wasn’t just the left-wing broadsheet Politiken that gave it full marks; so did the right-leaning Jyllands-Posten. Nearly all other Danish media platforms gave Digger a maximum score, calling it the “film of the year”, “Cruise’s best performance ever” and so on. Global media told me it was a turkey; Danish reviewers called it a work of genius. Who to believe?
Leaving this film aside, I wondered whether this kind of extreme critical schism had ever happened before. I have heard that London theatre critics used to meet after previews to make sure that they were roughly in agreement about whether a production was awful or brilliant. Having attended film critic screenings as a journalist, I can attest that there is some discussion after film previews too. This can’t work internationally, of course, but the response to Digger still seemed extraordinarily polarised. It turns out that there are precedents: the Internet tells me that Kevin Costner’s notorious 1995 flop, Waterworld, was huge in Japan. Scandinavian audiences will probably be the only ones to recall Antonio Banderas’s 1999 disaster, The 13th Warrior (they liked it because there were Vikings in it, apparently). German critics actually said good things about the Angelina Jolie and Johnny Depp snorefest, The Tourist, while French cineastes famously worshipped Jerry Lewis as an artistic genius, much to the confusion of Americans. More recently, French critics also praised Ella McCay, last year’s already-forgotten James L Brooks political comedy, which has a dismal 23 per cent on Rotten Tomatoes.
I went to see Digger for myself. The cinema was fuller than usual: another indication beyond my friends’ responses that film critics still have some power. It wasn’t awful, just very on the nose and exhausting, with highly strung performances and a plot that meanders down strange dead-ends. Not since Bradley Cooper in Maestro has an actor targeted an Oscar so strenuously but I fear that Cruise has little chance of getting to deliver his presumably much-polished Best Actor lecture. One does sympathise with Sandra Hüller though. Such a brilliant, nuanced actor, required here merely to scream and gurn.
But that’s just my opinion.
Good morning, bom dia from sunny, balmy Lisbon, where the parrots have returned for their early morning coffee visit, the banana trees at either end of the terrace are looking a bit sad and I’m about to start packing for a little jaunt to São Paulo.
If you missed last week’s column, it was autumn quiz time. First, I want to say thank you to all the participants who obediently observed the Monday deadline. Second, who knew that there were so many clever, funny Greeks who read this newsletter and also did very well with their answers? While no one nailed all 10 questions, a few came very close and a couple of others deserve high marks for simply being so darn witty. Here’s a recap of the quiz, with the winners’ answers beneath each question.
1.
You’re in a restaurant with colleagues in the US and you’re really thirsty and hungry. There are a lot of people weaving around the restaurant who very much look like they work there and you’re doing amateur acrobatics to get someone’s attention. Finally someone in an apron approaches your group and offers up something between a wince and a smile. What’s the most annoying thing that they can say to you?
“I’m not your server.” Ideally followed by absolutely no attempt to find whoever is. [Elīza, Riga]
2.
You’re still in the US and you arrive at the reception of a big tech company with a woman who pretends that she’s all smiles and cookies but is, in fact, a distant Californian cousin of one of those bad-ass French riot officers. What is the most grating thing about being “welcomed” at a US corporate HQ these days?
The airport-security welcome. ID, photograph, tablet, badge, NDA – all delivered with a Californian smile beneath a sign saying “Welcome”. I’ve come for a meeting, not to defect. [Maximin, Paris]
3.
You’ll notice that barrel-leg trousers continue to be all the rage on the rails of certain retailers. While this voluminous look is fine if you have long pins, it also makes those who are shorter than 165cm (5ft 5in) look like circus acts. How many more weeks, months or years will this silhouette endure?
The trend will continue until the precise moment I have given in and purchased a pair. [Rebecca, Auckland]
4.
As it’s Paris Fashion Week, can you name the next big maison that’s going to define a whole new space at the top end of the luxury market?
Matthieu Blazy at Chanel. [Theodoros, Patras]
5.
Can you name the most bothersome and overused term in the English language, which should have disappeared from everyday conversation long ago but is still kicking around? Here’s a hint: it comes at an angle.
I will lean in on this one and circle back. [John, Philadelphia]
“Lean in.” And now, “lean into.” Can we please stand upright and get on with it? [Maximin, Paris]
6.
Were the men who wrestled and restrained the rogue, likely radicalised co-pilot on that Flydubai flight this week really random civilian heroes – or were they rather more professional? Or extras from Fauda?
Off-duty pilots, a plumber, a dentist and plenty of adrenaline. Not quite Fauda, but a cast everyone would want on their next flight. [Lala, Taipei]
Like my country – Greece – Israel has military service. Whatever one thinks of this, what’s undeniable is how it provides young people with (sometimes lifesaving) skills and a sense of purpose for themselves and those around them. [Dimitrios, Athens]
7.
Why has China, despite all its purchasing muscle and production prowess, not yet managed to create a global luxury brand? Or has it?
One of its car brands is about to. [Mal, Sydney]
8.
Where will Monocle’s next café be opening? And when?
Toronto. [Noor, London]
Toronto, before the end of 2026. [Theodoros, Patras]
9.
Name the European automotive group that is ramping up production to meet demand for its surprise four-wheel success story. Hint: the vehicle lives across two of the group’s brands.
Not a close automotive follower but I’ll say Stellantis – due to my wife’s top two vehicular desires: the Topolino and the Amis. If these get roadworthy badges in the States, she’ll be top of the pre-order list. [John, Philadelphia]
10.
What is going to be the hottest hotel opening of Q4? Bonus question if you also name the designer and can pronounce their last name properly.
JNcQUOI House. Vincent Van Duysen. [Noor, London]
All winners will receive a copy of Sophie Grove’s new book, Konfekt: A Guide to Generous Hosting. The next quiz will be just in time for Christmas.
Enjoying life in ‘The Faster Lane’? Click here to browse all of Tyler’s past columns.
At the start of this year my brother-in-law, Phil, placed a bet with our dog Macy. I allowed this to proceed knowing that our dog had no cash of her own, so could lose little more than a chewed toy. The gambling moment had been prompted by the news that both hound and human now had incurable cancers that were at a stage when it was time to stop treatment and allow the disease to do its worst (don’t stop reading – there are life-changing moments ahead and some humour).
Macy lost badly – thank goodness she never discovered blackjack – and departed in March. Phil has now gone too; the funeral is this week. This column, however, isn’t really about either of them. It’s about the age-old question, “But what does it all mean?” Because when Phil placed that bet, he added a couple of powerful caveats. He was not going to die before 5 September, when he and my sister were planning to throw a party to celebrate her milestone birthday and a big wedding anniversary. And he would pop his clogs in the hospice that he had selected, not at home.
I headed to the big shindig straight from The Monocle Quality of Life Conference. My partner picked me up from Heathrow and I changed in the car as we tried not to be too late. It was an amazing night, even though I knew that this would be the final time all three of my sisters, their partners and mine would be together in one room.
In the days after holding court at the party, Phil’s health declined. He was taken to the hospice but on the first night, after his family had left, he died. I’ve talked about this with my sister: how that date in the calendar kept him going, how even his determination to make it to the hospice kept him alive for one final day. He had a purpose, a plan.
Last week, while I was with the Monocle crew at the Livex liveability summit in Abu Dhabi, I hosted a panel about how we create healthy cities. I quizzed three amazing people on the topic: Dan Buettner, the writer who has popularised the research around blue zones (places with high clusters of centenarians); Max Lugavere, a hugely successful writer and podcaster who focuses on nutrition; and Khaled Ghattass, an author and human-behaviour expert who brought an Arabic perspective. We talked about diet and exercise – but something that also surfaced was the importance of your life having meaning.
Ghattass gave some stark examples. If your partner dies, you are 60 per cent more likely to die too in the next year. I hope that my sister doesn’t get any ideas – there’s a limit to how many days I can take off work. He also talked about why, when people retire, they so often succumb to illness and cognitive decline. He told the story of how his father’s mental health diminished after he stopped work and how, by adding purpose back into his dad’s life, he reversed this. He put his father in charge of the family’s finances and he flourished.
Buettner’s research also supports this idea. He explained that long-lived people tend to have social circles that reinforce healthy behaviour, with strong family ties, faith and friends who they can call on when needed. Buettner also flagged that people who volunteer tend to have lower BMIs than those who don’t. And in Okinawa, they don’t even have a word for “retire”.
So if you want to keep going, to stay healthy and keep your brain alert, you need to be able to answer that simple question: what am I here for? And before you’ve had your wholegrain toast please. It also looks like I might end up shuffling around Midori House as a nonagenarian. Perhaps I can oversee the drinks trolley. I’d be good at that.
