It has been a somber start to the new year in Switzerland. Some 40 people are dead and more than 115 are injured after a fire tore through Le Constellation bar in the Alpine resort of Crans-Montana as New Year celebrations took place early Thursday morning.

The severity of the event has triggered a major emergency response. Thirteen helicopters, 42 ambulances and 150 emergency responders were deployed after the Valais State Council declared a special situation to allow authorities to mobilise all necessary resources without delay. With many foreign nationals among the victims – and Switzerland’s hospitals overwhelmed by the number of injuries – the response has extended beyond the country’s borders.

Monocle’s editorial director, Tyler Brûlé, joined Monocle Radio’s The Globalist from St Moritz and The Briefing from Zurich to comment on the mood in Switzerland.

This conversation has been edited for length and clarity. Listen to the full broadcasts on Monocle Radio.

The fire seems to have started from champagne-bottle sparklers that were held close to the ceiling and ignited the sound-proofing. How has Switzerland reacted?
In papers such as NZZ, graphics have helped to provide an accurate picture of how the bar would have ignited. We know that there is tight legislation around so many things in Switzerland but it seems that there could have been insulation that was not up to code. This is still speculation, of course, but speculation that is appearing in much of the Swiss press.

The first thing that the Swiss authorities called for on Thursday, both at a cantonal and at a federal level, was solidarity. Immediately, there was a call for people to be sensible on the slopes, on the highways and in daily life because the medical system has been overwhelmed. We’re talking about some 115 people injured, 80 of them critically, and people in comas.

This is a small country, with a population of about 9 million. There are hundreds of thousands of other people in the country for the holiday as well. Switzerland has some of the most respected medical centres in the world but it only has two major burns units and they were immediately overwhelmed. The Burns Unit at the Children’s Hospital in Zürich has also been admitting adults because the system is overwhelmed by the number of injuries.

The helicopter rescue system here means that you should never be more than 10 minutes away from a hospital and that kicked in yesterday.

You have been travelling around Switzerland from St Moritz to Zürich. What’s the mood like across the country?
We’re in a period where there is a little bit of disbelief and and quite a measured tone. People are asking, ‘How could this happen in Switzerland, the country that is famous for its building codes, for its safety, for its risk aversion?’ But I think there’s something else, another dynamic, which is that this country can’t cope with this.

The other aspect is the press. I would say that the Swiss press, like everywhere, can be very quick to start pointing fingers. There is a search for answers. But that search is often rather accusatory. That is not the case right now. I think that there is a real sense of shock.

On Thursday, his first day in the job, Swiss president Guy Parmelin had to go to Crans-Montana to tour the scene and be part of the second press conference in Sian for what is being described as one of the worst disasters in the country’s history.

What does this mean more broadly for Switzerland, for a small nation that prides itself on alpine life, hospitality and safety? So many eyes are on the country right now.
There has certainly been lot of focus on the speed and the swiftness of the organisation and all of these Swiss values around the recovery operation. This is a nation that generally gets on very well with its neighbours and is often a unifying force diplomatically.

France announced that it has 20 burns unit beds on standby and people were also evacuated to Italy and Germany. Israel was quick to send part of its rescue team to the scene, which is highly skilled in identification and rapid DNA testing. It was airborne by late yesterday morning as there might be Israeli victims among the dead and injured. Poland has just said that it will take up to 14 burns victims. So that’s one part of the story.

The flip side of it, though, is this that this country relies on people filling its slopes, valleys, hotels, restaurants and bars during their cross country skiing trips. This is a period when these places need to make money. You could argue that the ski season is not as stable as it used to be, so there is a bit of a feast or famine.

When you think about Switzerland, you imagine about a law-abiding, rule-abiding nation. We will have to ask whether the building codes were adhered to, was a blind eye turned to anything, was this place supposed to be renovated this coming July or 24 months from now?

I’m speaking to you from one of the other big alpine resorts in this country. There are ways that things happen in mountain regions all over the world, in closed valleys, and oftentimes it’s not so above board.

Listen to the full comments from Tyler Brûlé on ‘The Globalist’ and ‘The Briefing’ from Monocle Radio.

What comes after a major industry shakeout? The dust settles, energy shifts and creativity blossoms – at least that’s my wish for the year ahead. After one too many high-profile firings and hirings inside the most revered design studios in Paris and Milan – Loewe, Dior, Chanel, Gucci, Jil Sander and Bottega Veneta are among the brands that reviewed their leadership teams this year – a new generation of designers and executives is now installed in leadership positions. Some have already teased their new strategies with debut runway shows, films and ambitious campaigns. There’s been a lot of excitement and heated debates among fashion professionals about the results but the market in 2026 will give the real verdict in the form of shop-floor sales. 

Which brand is worth keeping an eye on – or buying shares in – come the new year? Whether you are interested in stock or leather goods that will retain their value, Hermès makes for a safe investment. The company has continued to grow despite macro-economic headwinds and it maintains cultural relevance, even while refusing to engage in trend cycles, celebrity tie-ins and other predictable marketing tricks. The appointment of its new men’s creative director, Grace Wales Bonner – who is known for designing everything from best-selling Adidas trainers to artisanal tailoring – will raise its stock even further.

I’ll also be looking closely at Versace, which has been bought by the Prada Group for $1.38bn (€1.2bn) and given a full facelift. It might take more than a year to turn the business around and find a new creative lead but this is a success story in the making: its new collections, shifting the focus to daywear and joyful colour palettes, will soon translate to profit.

The many HR changes taking place raised a lot of questions about who our era-defining designers are. Is it possible for modern-day fashion brands – many of which now turn over close to €20bn per year – to still nurture the next Coco Chanel and take creative risks? 

Interestingly, the house of Chanel seems to be setting the agenda today as much as it did in the 1920s when its founder started reworking men’s silhouettes and using jersey materials for the first time. Its newly appointed artistic director, Matthieu Blazy, is defining the uniform of today by reworking the house’s codes, from the tweed jacket to the classic cotton shirt and the quilted leather bag. He makes a compelling case that creative talent can still thrive in today’s corporatised fashion landscape – and after a successful debut, 2026 will no doubt be his year.  

The very definition of luxury is also being questioned: beyond a logo and price tag, it is becoming more closely tied to quality or personal memory. It’s why an Ascot Chang shirt, customised during a trip to Hong Kong, or a well-cut trench coat by Japanese label A.Presse now hold as much (if not more) value as an item with a recognisable logo. 

The independents are set to influence how we get dressed as much as the mega brands but it’s our job to seek them out and look beyond our screens for new discoveries and inspiration. I keep returning to a conversation with Canadian-born designer Erdem Moralioglu, whose eponymous brand has remained independent for the past two decades: every Friday, he locks his phone away and goes to the library to sketch, read and flip through magazines. As online noise reaches a crescendo, that might be the most revolutionary action you can take in the new year – both for your taste and your mind. 

Natalie Theodosi is Monocle’s fashion director. Keen for more? Listen to her interview with Erdem Moralioglu here.

Read next: Fashion’s 2026 reset: What the industry leaders are forecasting for the year ahead

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I recently made a radical change in my grocery shopping: I stopped using the self-checkout scanner. No Luddite, I had initially embraced the technology as it trickled into shops. Shorter queues, no waiting behind other customers as they fumble for their payment. But I have soured. On a purely functional level, self-checkout machines are wanting. There are the hectoring prompts and clamouring warning sounds. There is the routine failure of the scanner to read a bar code (smudged glass, a wrinkled label). The tedious scrolling through menus to identify your purchase as a Bartlett pear or a concord grape. Inevitably, something will go wrong and the whole system will malfunction, requiring the assistance of a human supervisor to whom you sheepishly explain the possible reasons you have failed.  

But there is also something more deeply problematic about them. They represent another erosive step in the gradual withering away of public interaction in favour of a world of “frictionless”, machine-guided transactions. The very fact that I am in the shop rather than ordering from my couch might seem like some archaic ritual; indeed the aisles, where I once might have encountered a neighbour gathering supplies for dinner and had a brief chat, are now besieged by “e-shoppers” doing someone else’s grocery run, identifiable by the badges around their necks and the ruthless way that they move through the shop.

Certainly, a surfeit of small talk can be an annoyance, especially in a city. As the sociologist Erving Goffman famously observed, urbanites tend to live by a strategy of “civil inattention”, whereby we subtly acknowledge each other’s presence but then avert our gaze to preserve a sense of privacy in public. And yet think of how many of these small moments, this social glue, that we are losing. The newsstand where we could communally glance at the headlines and chat with the proprietor is replaced by the private screen; the record shop with the opinionated clerk is replaced by anonymously curated “for you” streams. The entertaining conversation with the quirky cab driver (I once had one tell me about his personal philosophy called “superhumanism”) replaced by an Uber driver who already knows where you are going and who you can request to be silent (then there are the driverless taxis, where the only chat is a recorded safety announcement). Returning to Goffman, we often don’t even have that initial acknowledgement – we’re staring instead at a glowing screen.

The urbanist Greg Lindsay, after stating that Americans now spend an hour and a half more at home (and presumably on screens) than they did in pre-smartphone days, and noting the rise of so-called “ghost kitchens” and “dark stores” – with no footfall, just web traffic – argued that “the physical world has become increasingly vestigial to the digital one”. And in the same way that AI, as studies imply, might impinge upon our cognitive abilities, the technologically mediated urban environment might be weakening our civil muscles: our ability to simply be with other people in public.

It sounds like a small thing but I am here to reclaim the joy of a life with social friction. I have made it a New Year’s resolution to always choose engagement. At the food shop recently, the clerk, noting that I had Scotch bonnet peppers in my cart, queried what I will be making. She was, it turned out, originally from Jamaica and what might have otherwise been a cold exchange of electrons became two strangers finding common ground – in this case, over the delights of jerk chicken.

Tom Vanderbilt is a regular Monocle contributor. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.

Read next: It’s time to bring the literary café back to the heart of European society

Over the past year, many art institutions have refreshed their look or even given themselves a new name, to varying degrees of public approval. Short and snappy is evidently in vogue: The Courtauld Gallery in London, for example, has adopted a Madonna-style mononym, Courtauld. The Museum of London, which reopens in late 2026, has been slowly relocating from its former London Wall site to the old Smithfield market in Farringdon; along the way, it has shed a preposition and become the London Museum. 

Prepositions seem to be falling out of favour across the Atlantic too. In a subtle change, the Philadelphia Museum of Art became the Philadelphia Art Museum in October. The switch was met with some derision and there was speculation that it might have played a role in the sacking of the museum’s director less than a month later. Was the rebrand worth all the fuss? And was the old one even that bad?

Such changes are often accompanied by new typefaces, logos and websites. “Art institutions are following the same de-branding trajectory that we have seen with corporate logos,” says Matt Johnson, the author of Branding That Means Business. “The move towards simplified names, reduced visual identity and stripped-down typography serves the same function that removing logos does for Birkin bags: creating insider knowledge that builds community through recognition.”

Indeed, scrolling the social-media pages of these museums, I’m surprised by how many of them use sleek monochrome profile pictures that don’t give away what these institutions are. If you’re not already in the know, this kind of branding won’t point you in the right direction. At first glance, the simplified griffin badge of the Philadelphia Art Museum (or Pham, apparently) resembles the logo of a sports team. Sure, online mystique might help to draw in a cool and curious new crowd – but museums should be for everyone. They aren’t a litmus test of taste. 

Refreshing your look is sometimes necessary. And, yes, we are reminded time and time again of the financial and political challenges that these organisations are up against. So, as we head into 2026, here are three things that museums should do to entice more visitors through their doors and keep them coming back.

1.
Open the archives
Many museums only display a small portion of the artefacts in their possession. While researchers might have the privilege of going behind the scenes to survey the rest, this isn’t something that’s typically available to the public. As Monocle reported earlier this year, some institutions are forging a new path – and the V&A East Storehouse is a great example of an organisation attempting to let everyone into its archives. 

2. 
Stay open later
Even museums that run late-night events still often get everyone out by 21.00 (as Monocle bemoaned in August). A late-night programme with interesting events and closing times that border on the ignoble would turn museums into cultural venues with a wider remit, expanding their reach and bringing in new crowds. 

3. 
Make ticket prices more flexible
Thanks to a private donor, the Jenny Saville exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery this summer was free for anyone aged 25 and under. The show was a favourite of mine this year and it was made even more special by the teenagers sketching in front of (and, at times, giggling at) Saville’s big, fleshy self-portraits. When making changes at museums, ticket prices should always be at the top of the list of considerations.

Sophie Monaghan-Coombs is Monocle’s associate editor of culture. To read more from Sophie, click here.

Upstate New York has quietly become the state’s hottest area, luring New Yorkers north in numbers that would have seemed unthinkable a decade ago. Once a sleepy agricultural region with a smattering of farms and quaint towns, the area was formerly earmarked for weekend getaways from the city. Speckled with holiday homes, few lived here full-time. As remote-working options have increased over the past few years, the open spaces of the Hudson Valley have seen an influx of approximately 80,000 New York residents moving upstate between 2019 and 2021, and urbanites continue to decamp north.

Local entrepreneur Erin Winter and her business partner, Taavo Somer, are behind some of the region’s most inviting hospitality spots. “The area has changed dramatically,” says Winter, with her establishments having no small part to play in its transformation. 

Sprawled across 89 hectares of pristine woodland, Innes is a Scandinavian-inspired country retreat that Winter and Somer opened in 2021 in the foothills of the Catskill Mountains. In nearby Kingston, the pair’s pizza restaurant, Lola, is a popular choice for dinner and drinks. Their most recent venture, Little Goat, a bakery, pantry and all-day café, opened in May 2025 inside a restored 18th-century townhouse in the village of Rhinebeck across the Hudson River. The establishment was born out of “selfish reasons,” says Somer. Co-founder of cult Manhattan restaurant Freemans and a former architect, Somer relocated upstate in 2016. “Being here mid-week, there were things I was missing from the city,” he says. “I wanted somewhere to grab a cup of coffee.” 

Finding a good stop for a brew or lunch in Upstate New York isn’t difficult these days. In the hamlet of Pine Plains, chef Clare de Boer runs Stissing House. Co-founder of King, one of New York’s chicest dining spots, De Boer’s upstate restaurant is a wood-clad tavern with low-slung ceilings and giant fireplaces. Expect a menu replete with hearty country dishes such as roasted halibut with chanterelles or steak-and-ale pie. For some lighter fare, head to Eliza in Kingston to sample oysters and steelhead trout in a snug dining room. Looking to while away an afternoon? Try the family-owned Tenmile Distillery. Offering fine whiskey, vodka and gin made with local ingredients by master distiller and Scotsman Shane Fraser, the distillery offers tours and tastings as well as the occasional restaurant pop-up. 

The town of Hudson is still by far one of the ritziest points in the valley. Its high street is a tour of independent brands and artisanal produce. For American-made denim, stop by B Sides Jeans, while Talbott & Arding offers a choice selection of produce, cheeses and baked goods. If you’re looking for a bite, try Hudson Diner: a veteran of the town’s food scene. Recently renovated and refreshed, it still fields a menu with comforting classics, from burgers to patty melts. 

For those looking to stay a little longer, boutique hotel The Henson serves as a trusty base. A 16-room lodge where historic guestrooms are softened by big rugs and beds dressed with patterned comforters, the property also hosts restaurant Matilda. Another good choice is the countryside inn The Six Bells, a recent arrival that mixes a cottage-core aesthetic with liberal doses of Americana. Big brands have moved in too, including luxury hospitality group Auberge Collection, which opened its 65-key Wildflower Farms on a 140-acre piece of land complete with meadows, woodlands and orchards.

Despite all the openings, there hasn’t been an issue with filling seats. Back at Little Goat, Somer and Winter are eager to extend the opening hours so customers can swing by any day of the week. “There’s [so much] demand from the people,” says Somer. “They just want more.” 

This magazine is called The Escapist for a simple reason. When we plan a holiday, close our suitcase, put passport in pocket and head for the door, there’s usually a part of us that aches to get away from our usual routines, have the chance to see things afresh and feel different – to escape. Well, if that’s you, I think that we can help.

For this outing of our annual travel magazine, we dispatched writers to destinations far off the tourist trail, as well as to an old favourite that can be discovered anew if you just wait until its summer swell of visitors has abated. We also told our design editor to hit the road (in the nicest possible way).

As they returned to Midori House with tales of their adventures, it was nice to see how their excursions had left them a little giddy with joy, how they all wanted to show you pictures of the extraordinary places that they had been to and the people whose stories they had heard. Just a few days in a good hotel or a remote lodge, walking a trail to a lonely beach, can have this effect on any of us.

I’ll be honest: I began wondering why I hadn’t dispatched myself on one of these life-affirming missions. We sent Sophie Monaghan-Coombs, who runs Monocle’s culture pages, to the African island of Príncipe, a former Portuguese colony that sits 240km off the coast of Gabon. It took her almost three days to reach this tropical outpost from London but her report reveals why it’s worth making the trek.

Simpler to get to was Florence but our reporter Grace Charlton found a city of quiet restaurants and easy-to-explore neighbourhoods that is, in its own way, just as surprising as any remote island. In Japan, our Asia bureau chief, Fiona Wilson, made the journey from Tokyo to the Gora Kadan Fuji ryokan, stepping into a world of perfection, precision and beauty that transported her from the everyday to somewhere close to heaven.

Sometimes you just need the guidance of someone who can see things afresh to make you realise what you are missing. Liam Aldous’s report on Tangier unpacks the city in a way that immediately had me plotting a visit. Meanwhile, in Bulgaria, Chiara Rimella explored Sofia and discovered a place where young hospitality players and brand owners are busy making a hometown that they want to live in, not waiting for city hall or some global player to do the work for them.

Even if you aren’t straying far from home for the next few months, I hope that you will enjoy hearing from some key hospitality players in our interview series and discovering everything from the latest in pet travel to why there’s a luxury hotel boom in Baghdad. Come on, let’s escape while we can.

Tap here to buy your copy of The Escapist.

1.
One hour in…
The Abrahamic Family House
Abu Dhabi

The trade show was packing up and the Monocle Radio team was dismantling our pop-up studio, coiling cables like snake handlers. I was, all agreed, superfluous. “Let’s meet again for dinner,” they said. So I slipped away and into the back seat of an Abu Dhabi rideshare. I’d done the calculations and, traffic permitting, I’d have one hour to take in the Abrahamic Family House on Saadiyat Island before it closed. It was somewhere that I’d long hankered to see.

Designed by British-Ghanaian architect David Adjaye, the Abrahamic Family House contains three places of worship: a mosque, a synagogue and a church. Opened in 2023, it encourages interfaith dialogue by, in part, focusing on a simple shared connection: Islam, Christianity and Judaism all revere Abraham as a spiritual figure. There was a security checkpoint to negotiate but within minutes I was wandering around Adjaye’s masterpiece. All three places of worship are given equal weight and stature (each rises to 30 metres); the use of the same simple materials binds them together.

In the church, with its soaring ceilings, two South Asians were lost in prayer; in the synagogue there were also two worshippers. In the mosque, I saw just one man kneeling, his white robe dappled by light rippling through the mashrabiya screen. I am someone of limited and rusty faith but here there was something spiritual that overwhelmed a little and made emotions soar.

As closing time approached and a cat found a place in the cool of the welcome centre to doze, I tried to take it all in one last time – to fix it in my mind as a mental keepsake. A lot can happen in an hour.
abrahamicfamilyhouse.ae

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2.
A morning at…
Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian
Lisbon

If you only have a morning in Lisbon, the Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian is your best bet. It was started by the eponymous Armenian philanthropist in 1956 to make space for one of Portugal’s most impressive art collations and to improve quality of life through art, science and charitable work.

While the Gulbenkian Museum reopens in July 2026, after a much-anticipated revamp, the real hidden gem of this complex is the gardens. A late-1960s milestone of modernist landscape design, it’s an urban oasis where the verdant green plays against the coolness of the brutalist buildings. The carefully landscaped lawns offer quiet corners and shade – much needed in the Portuguese capital’s warm mornings. These gardens serve as a true public living room, with locals spreading a blanket by the lake, watching a performance in the open-air amphitheatre or wandering along the paths in between meetings.

Once you reach the wooden canopy designed by Japanese architect Kengo Kuma in 2024, you have arrived at the Centro de Arte Moderna (CAM). Head in to explore the Portuguese modern art collection before breaking for lunch at CAM’s Table, where stunning views bring nature and architecture together once again.
gulbenkian.pt

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3.
A day in…
Rabat
Morrocco

Rabat is often overlooked by tourists in favour of Marrakech, Tangier or the blue waters of Essaouira. But there are few sights like that of the capital’s morning lights reflected in the Bou Regreg river after you touch down at Rabat-Salé airport. First, check in to the new 200-key Four Seasons At Kasr Al Bahr. Set in an 18th-century former royal residence in the Océan neighbourhood, the hotel was designed by Roger Nazarian.

From here, a short taxi ride along the coast takes you to the Kasbah des Oudayas. Inside this citadel – with whitewashed walls and engraved doors painted deep blue – is the Café des Oudayas. Formerly the Café Maure, this historic bolthole offers a fine view of the sea to go with your mint tea and Moroccan pastries, including delicious sugar-dusted “gazelle horns” with fragrant orange blossom.

Next door is the Oudayas Museum, inside the former pavilions of the sultan Moulay Ismaïl. The space underwent renovations a few years ago and now houses the National Museum of Jewellery. It features Amazigh jewels, tbourida (traditional Moroccan equestrian art) and other examples of the country’s crafts and heritage.

Take a late lunch in the Hassan neighbourhood. Next to the beautiful art deco Saint-Pierre Cathedral is Ty Potes, a quaint restaurant on the ground floor of a 1930s building. It serves simple but delicious French-inspired dishes with seasonal ingredients, such as the Eliana toast with goat’s cheese, honey and caramelised nuts.

Next, there’s the nearby Mohammed VI Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art. Opened 10 years ago, it was the first large-scale national museum to be built after the country gained independence and has since become one of the continent’s most important contemporary-art spaces. Built in a Moorish-revival style by architect Karim Chakor, its white façade is adorned with double arches and intricate motifs.

Take a detour to the Jardin d’Essais Botaniques, especially the Andalusian Gardens. Later, the sunset over Rabat is best admired from the Corniche Qbibate, a tranquil promenade by the shore of the Atlantic. You’ll be on time to dine at the new Flamme restaurant within the Four Seasons. If there’s time for a final nightcap, the hotel also hosts the moodily lit, Laila Lounge in the oldest part of the building.

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4.
A weekend in…
Taipei
Taiwan

With just two days to soak up this busy city, you’ll need to be disciplined about your timings. Base yourself at OrigInn Space, a design-forward hotel in a century-old shophouse with rooms that mix terrazzo floors and contemporary Taiwanese craft. The capital wakes up slowly and doesn’t hit its stride until mid-morning. Start with brunch at Shih Chia Big Rice Ball, a 65-year-old stalwart known for savoury sticky-rice balls packed with pork and vegetables. Then meander along Dihua Street, Taipei’s oldest commercial thoroughfare.

Continue past Beimen North Gate Square, once a main entry into the fortified city. From here, stroll to the Red House in Ximen. Built in 1908 as a market hall, the octagonal landmark hosts tours, exhibitions and a warren of studios and souvenir shops that showcase local designers. Step outside and you’ll be in Taipei’s nightlife district among a cluster of cafés, galleries and bars.

Grab dinner nearby at Niu Dian Beef Noodles for clean, spicy broths and tender cuts of tendon. Finish the day at Yongfu Ice Cream, an 80-year mainstay that creates light, sorbet-like scoops in flavours such as taro, longan and preserved plum.

On day two, wander your way to Nanmen Market. The rebuilt complex stays true to its roots: a mix of produce stalls, butchers, dried-goods vendors and a food court. A short walk away, the National Taiwan Museum’s permanent exhibitions are an elegant primer on Taiwan’s nature and cultures, in a restored neoclassical hall.

Pause at the Taiwan Provincial City God Temple, which was rebuilt in 1945 to honour Taipei’s traditional guardian deity. Incense curls through painted beams and worshippers come to petition the City God for protection. Next is the Presidential Office Building, home of Taiwan’s government. Completed in 1919, it has survived every chapter of the island’s modern history and offers guided tours.

Reserve dinner at Huang Long Zhuang, a local institution known for plump handmade soup dumplings. Service is brisk and the cooking unfussy and reliable. As evening falls, head through Liberty Square to the National Theater and Concert Hall at Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall. Performances here show how Taipei uses its grandest plaza as a cultural commons rather than a monument. End at Taihu Gyoza Bar, in restored 19th-century government dormitories, with reliably cold beers and crisp pan-fried dumplings.

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5.
Three days in…
Rio de Janeiro
Brazil

You’ll need a good base for a three-day exploration and location is everything if you don’t want to spend hours in taxis. The iconic Copacabana Palace is never bad but there’s also the Rio branch of the Fasano group. To feel like a Carioca on day one, start with swimwear shopping. For men, keep it simple with a pair of cheeky Sungas from the Blueman shop at Shopping Leblon. Women should try Haight (by Marcella Franklin and Philippe Perdigão) in the same complex.

Now you’re dressed for it, head to Ipanema for a cold maté tea or a caipirinha (it’s never too early) from one of the many kiosks by the beach. Now relax. For lunch, try one of the classics: Braseiro da Gávea restaurant or a feijoada (the national dish of Brazil) at Academia da Cachaça. After a lazy meal and exploring the bohemian Gávea neighbourhood, take in the sunset at Bar Urca – and make sure to sample their exquisite shrimp pastel (pastry) with a cold glass of chopp (beer).

Day two should start with a tropical juice at one of the branches of BB Lanches, which also serves sandwiches and açaí, if you’re peckish. Rio isn’t all about beaches – it’s also a paradise for fans of Brazilian modernist architecture. In 2025 the Capanema Palace in Downtown reopened for public visits. Built in the 1930s and 1940s by architect Lúcio Costa, it’s a must-visit.

Fans of Brazilian music should visit Tropicália in Botafogo. If you want the latest releases from Evinha, Caetano Veloso or Marcos Valle, this is the spot for it. It’s also not far from the best newsstand Banca Cinza, which stocks everything from independent zines to the city’s main newspaper, O Globo. While you’re in Botafogo, stop for a cocktail at Quartinho Bar. For dinner, Lasai in the same neighbourhood is considered one of the top restaurants in Brazil. Proof that Rio can do laid-back but chic, the Basque-inspired restaurant is run by Rafa Costa e Silva and his wife, Malena Cardiel.

Make a gentle start to day three with shopping at the city’s best and most traditional bookshop, Livraria da Travessa in Ipanema (there are other branches). Now for a leisurely walk in the Jardim Botânico district. In the gardens, you’ll spy toucans and if you’re thirsty stop for a drink at the scenic Parque Lage. Next, see which exhibitions are on at the Banco do Brasil Cultural Center (CCBB) downtown or peruse the selection of arthouse films at the Estação Net Botafogo cinema.

Rio is one of the few cities in the world where people will clap the sunset. So enjoy your last evening at Arpoador, a peninsula between Ipanema and Copacabana beaches, to see what all the fuss is about.

Perched patiently on a bar stool, a black cat is silently negotiating a spot of lunch from Ray Charly’s smoky grill. The cheeky feline is wedged between locals tucking into chicken-and-foie-gras sandwiches but isn’t raising any eyebrows until a passing tourist squeals at the social-media opportunity, takes a picture and vanishes. In Tangier, people tend to see what they want to. To some, the city is a place of eccentricity and exile, of exported goods, imported ills and exoticism on the Med. To others, it’s home – and everyone needs their lunch. Residents’ default mode seems to be to carry on as though they have seen it all before.

That said, if you haven’t visited, the sartorial codes of the Tanjawis (locals) and tourists offer a lively primer for what to expect. People in boxy djellabas stroll alongside those in slim-fit tracksuits. Many here are second-generation Moroccans returning for family visits or holidays. There are tarboosh hats and baseball caps, hijabs and bouffant hairstyles. Children peek playfully around the corners of old buildings while wrinkled elders smoke cigarettes on terraces, the image only slightly spoiled by the presence of smartphones playing tinny symphonies.

But let’s get orientated. The Rue Siaghine is a good place to start: it snakes its way up into the city from the old customs gate, Porte de la Douane. It’s a well-trodden path, shaped by Phoenicians, Romans and, in later centuries, various rival European powers. Depending on who you ask, Tangier (or Tánger or Tanjah – even the name changes depending on the speaker) has long been buffeted by different perspectives on its place in the world.

Between 1923 and 1956, the so-called “international zone” saw the city jointly administered by no fewer than nine countries (France, Spain, the UK, Portugal, Italy, Belgium, the Netherlands, Sweden and the US). The strange yet strategic arrangement was overseen by the Moroccan sultan. Tangier sat at the vanguard of Mediterranean espionage and statecraft. Many outsiders arrived hoping to lose themselves in the tight maze of streets and markets. One of them, William S Burroughs, holed up in the Hotel El-Muniria to write his 1959 novel Naked Lunch, the paranoid plot of which features duplicitous agents of Interzone Incorporated. A stream of (often oddball) authors followed and Tangier was recently designated a Creative City of Literature by Unesco. Yet another accolade for people to disagree about.

As a host for other powers and a place onto which people were keen to project their own image, it became a city whose architecture, language and culture occupied a bewildering in-between space, drawing both from the rest of Morocco and Europe. Some locals in their thirties and forties tell Monocle about how they used to switch on their TVs in the 2000s and watch the extravagances of Spanish TV channel Telecinco (controlled by Italy’s Berlusconi family) or Andalucía’s Canal Sur. At the time, Morocco’s national broadcasters still hadn’t bothered to direct their signals to Tangier in the country’s north. As such, Spanish accidentally became the language of entertainment, shaping the fashion tastes and aspirations of an entire generation that looked northward. Today, though, Tanjawis are increasingly tiring of their story being told from the outside looking in.

“We try not to cling to nostalgia,” says Kenza Bennani, the founder and creative director of ready-to-wear kaftan brand New Tangier, sitting in its showroom. Tonight she is hosting a get-together for friends, all of whom seem to be confidently reimagining their city. “The popular idea of Morocco always seemed to miss the mark when it came to expressing who we really are,” she says, placing plates of boquerones (anchovies) and Moroccan pastries on the table, before pouring the first of the night’s many negroni sbagliatos. “All of that orientalism and exoticism helped to romanticise Tangier for some but the younger generation born here no longer feels the need to live up to imported fever dreams. Reflection has resulted in a new way of seeing the city and where we want to go.”

The evening’s chatter isn’t idle. The sentiment circling the sofas is backed by stories of imminent openings and works in progress. Graphic and interactive designer Malak Khattabi is nearing completion of her creative residency, Telegraph Studio. She describes the acquisition of the Tetris-block-like building in the Kasbah as “a small but proud act of resistance” to the waves of overseas capital that have washed over the city centre. Creative director and curator Hicham Bouzid stops by with Amina Mourid. The pair co-founded a think tank-turned-art and urban regeneration venture, Think Tangier, in 2016 after working together in Marrakech. Planned as a one-year experiment, it’s now about to celebrate its 10th anniversary with a future-focused symposium and a new café soon to join its cultural space and gallery, Kiosk. Monocle also meets art publicist Zora El Hajji and jewellery designer Lamiae Skalli, both of whom are opening new restaurants in the coming months.

“What’s beautiful about Tangier is that we build each other up,” says Bennani. “Seeing the city’s changing face as a long-distance race, rather than a sprint, keeps us anchored, not competitive.” Having studied in Spain and worked in the film and TV industries, Bennani built her brand from her mother’s living room until she had enough money to hire in-house seamstresses for her atelier. She now counts high-profile Moroccan artists as clients. “I’m someone who grew up in colour: I can’t see fashion in terms of black and white. Like everyone else here tonight, I found my own way by rebuilding production chains on my own terms and repaving the path to success.”

In 2026, Morocco will have its first pavilion at the Venice Biennale, a milestone that coincides with France’s pavilion being represented by French-Moroccan artist Yto Barrada. The artists and delegation members will wear bespoke garments designed by Bennani, she tells us.

The next day, Skalli invites Monocle to meet at Alma, a restaurant that she runs with her husband, Seif Kousmate, who is also a celebrated photographer. “When we opened in 2022, customers kept asking us where the owners were from, incredulous that such a contemporary, Mediterranean-style eatery came from Moroccans,” says Skalli. “It’s important that they see more models of homegrown success,” she says.

The couple are working on their second restaurant, Soli, in the Medina. It’s a venture that aims to expand people’s perceptions of Moroccan cuisine. “So many restaurants in the old part of the city have French owners who simplify menus based on what they think tourists want,” she says, pointing to the standard offering of only six options of shlayed (assorted salads and vegetables that accompany bigger dishes). “At home, we eat up to 20 varieties. These are the small stories that we want to share.” The new space will open once the refurbishment of a dilapidated textile workshop is complete; this will be followed by a coffee shop next door, then a Moroccan pantry selling everything from spices to cheese. “It’s all about inviting people to have a happy Moroccan experience, not just immersing them in an outdated postcard image.”

Shortly after leaving Skalli, we drive through the hills just outside the city proper in an area that locals call “California” to visit The Mothership. Set over three hectares, the former home of Scottish painter James McBey was taken over by artist Barrada and her husband, Sean Gullette, more than 20 years ago. Today it collaborates with art collectives and artisans through a sought-after art residency. Sprightly US-Moroccan Mounia Yasmine recently became the project’s manager. Today she leads us through the garden with her beloved pooch Mimosa in tow.

The focus here is on textiles. Interiors are colourful and cluttered, and we spy a giant raft-shaped treehouse outside, atop a gnarled and wide-leaved fig. A dye garden is being protected from the donkey by faithful gardener Ba Mjido. The view across the Strait offers a glimpse of the Spanish coastline, lightly blurred by a flicker of sea mist. “Though she spends most of her time abroad, Yto has a strong connection to her hometown,” says Yasmine, who is impressed by Tangier’s expansion, which she says has increased threefold in size since she was a child here. “Artists are leading efforts to ensure that historic gems aren’t lost.” In 2004, Barrada rescued the Cinema Rif, reviving it as the Cinémathèque de Tanger. The arthouse picture house includes a café, an exhibition space and a film archive.

Tangier has its share of elaborate estates and extravagant villas, many of which were built for diplomats and dignitaries or housed spies and foreign correspondents. The repair or otherwise of these magnificent structures has always followed the city’s tides of influence. Today several cultural institutions are stepping in too. UK designer Jasper Conran purchased Yves Saint Laurent and Pierre Bergé’s private home in 2019, which is now the 12-key Villa Mabrouka. His re-glorification effort involved scouring the globe for original pieces from the late designer’s scattered estate. Curious visitors can see the stunning gardens by making a booking at the restaurant but a strict no-photography policy keeps high-profile hotel guests’ privacy intact. Another palatial mansion on the other side of town is Villa Harris, which was bequeathed to the city by a British journalist and is a museum of modern art.

Murmurs about the city’s future often focus on 2030, when Tangier will host part of the joint Spain-Portugal-Morocco football World Cup. When Monocle visits, the 75,000-seat Ibn Batouta Stadium’s upgrade has just been completed on schedule, just in time for the African Cup of Nations, which Morocco is hosting until January 2026. All of this investment in stadiums, their surrounding roads and tourist-related infrastructure, however, is fuelling frustration. In September 2025 an unprecedented nationwide wave of youth-led protests resulted in a wave of arrests. Some welcome budget allocations towards health and education have ensued but the conversation will continue.

In Tangier, the development that has tongues wagging the most is the modernisation of the old port, which has made way for a new marina that will soon fill up with yachts, residents of sea-view apartments and luxury retail. Backed by Emirati developer Eagle Hills, the project’s full cost hasn’t been made public but, as it nears completion, it’s clear that work still needs to be done to win over sceptical residents. On the other side of the Plage Municipale, there are more concrete-hoisting cranes stacking the skyline with hastily erected high-rises that show another, slightly less charming, vision of the future.

That projection of Tangier is mercifully far away as we arrive at Kiosk, where Bouzid and Mourid are joined by younger members of their team (Kamal Daghmoumi, 23, and Amine Houari, 25) to discuss the implications of a recent tourism-board grant that will help fund a café. “It took a while but the authorities finally understand and appreciate what we’re doing,” says Bouzid. “Many of our events and urban installations invite large swaths of society.” One upcoming project, for instance, consists of building seating areas for workers in a neglected industrial zone. “We’re always encouraging younger audiences to rewrite, recalibrate and celebrate their heritage, which is how we embrace new narratives,” he says. “This is good for Morocco. It’s great for Tangier.”

Later that night, on the terrace of the Cinémathèque de Tanger, the conversation continues – and, as always, so do polite disagreements. There are familiar faces and several new ones too. Some have arrived from a screen-printing workshop at the Tangier Print Club, another of Bouzid and Mourid’s initiatives. “The creative scene hasn’t been this alive for a long time,” says Bouzid, the aperitivi adding some gusto to conversations in the humid night air. “The good news is that today the people leading this era of exciting change are all Moroccans.”