He might have made his name as a real-estate player but Donald Trump has once again made some attendees nervous at Mipim, the world’s largest event for the sector. Last year they were cautiously readying themselves for his “Liberation Day” and its barrage of trade tariffs. This time everyone from hotel operators to investors are wondering how much the conflict with Iran will affect their businesses – and profits.

“A few weeks ago, preparing for Mipim, we were feeling upbeat: we could see some clarity in the direction of interest rates and debt,” says Anthony Duggan, chair of Knight Frank Europe, one of the world’s biggest independent real-estate consultancies. “But everything that has happened in recent days has just added an air of confusion into the market.”

This industry, however, is used to dealing with life’s ups and downs, economic cycles and even the occasional pandemic. It can sit out short market shocks and seek new opportunities. And Trump, along with his rupturing of the old US-Europe relationship, has had one positive impact.

“The German government has realised that it needs to step into the space created by the US moving away from Europe,” says Duggan. “It’s considering what that looks like from an infrastructure and investment perspective. Is Germany the future of automotive manufacturing? Maybe it isn’t,” he adds. “But some of those automotive sites are now being transformed into defence sites because the skill sets are the same. It has been coming. In the first quarter of this year, Germany will be the top destination for investment capital.”

There are many others at Mipim who are still looking at the world with a sunny (or sunny-ish) outlook. Felicity Black-Roberts, senior vice-president of development for Hyatt EAME, says that tourism oversaturation in places such as Barcelona and Amsterdam is making second and third-tier cities such as Seville increasingly popular with astute travellers. That’s where Hyatt is investing hard, with some 70 projects in the pipeline in her region.

Hubert Rhomberg, the fourth-generation director of his family’s Austrian property business, is excited about the potential of AI to transform development, predicting that drones will be able to record a site’s construction work in real time and detect anywhere that the project is going astray – in costs or time management.

But perhaps the biggest dreamer is Emin Agalarov, an Azerbaijani pop singer and developer who is overseeing the construction of Sea Breeze on the Caspian Sea. He describes the complex as the largest construction site in Europe, which is set to include a new F1 track, casino, luxury hotels and residences. With its gleaming towers, marina and man-made island, it looks as though it has taken inspiration from Dubai. “There’s no need to try to invent a bicycle,” says Agalarov. “My job as the master developer of this project is to find the best-case scenarios and adapt them to my market.” Indeed he’s also opening a ski-resort modelled on Badrutt’s Palace in St Moritz as part of his Mountain Breeze portfolio. 

At the end of the interview, we ask Agalarov to recommend one of his songs for us to listen to and he chooses a track that speaks to the long-term – perhaps a good Mipim anthem for 2026. “I have been building Sea Breeze for exactly 20 years and it has been the same amount of time since I released my first album. It’s called ‘Still’. [The song of the same name] is one of the best that I have ever written. Check it out.”

Monocle is at Mipim all week. We have a Monocle Radio booth at P-1, D51. Please visit the team if you are in town.

Andrew Tuck is Monocle’s editor in chief. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe today.

Monocle’s editorial director and chairman, Tyler Brûlé, interviews Canada’s prime minister, Mark Carney, at the Embassy of Canada to Japan in Tokyo. Carney outlines how investments into defence not only protect Canadians from growing threats in the Arctic but also benefit the country’s economy at large. Plus: how to cultivate the appeal of brand Canada.

It’s a sunny March morning when Monocle’s editorial director and chairman, Tyler Brûlé, sits down with the Canadian prime minister, Mark Carney, at his country’s Tokyo embassy. Designed by Japanese-Canadian architect Raymond Moriyama and opened in 1991, the embassy and residence is one of Canada’s finest diplomatic missions and is a fitting setting for an interview focusing on Carney’s reset of his nation’s presence on the world stage. 

This is the final stop on a tour that has taken him to India and Australia, and comes less than two months after he made a widely lauded speech at the World Economic Forum in Davos, in which he spoke of the need for “middle powers” to work more closely together. It has been a decade since a Canadian prime minister has made a bilateral visit to Japan and Carney, who worked in Tokyo in the early 1990s for Goldman Sachs, spoke a few lines of Japanese during a speech in which he announced co-operation agreements in areas such as defence, trade and energy. He is the first world leader to visit Japan’s prime minister, Sanae Takaichi, since her landslide election victory in February.

Carney tells us about that Davos speech, how to navigate the new world order, resetting relationships and more. During a 40-minute sit down, he does not once discuss the United States. Surprising? Read on.

Prime Minister, we’re two months on from Davos. How is the message getting through? How are you feeling?
I feel good about it because the message did get through – and more broadly than I would have anticipated. It’s the popular take-up of it. Whether it’s on the streets of Japan, Australia or Canada, a number of people will come up to me and will have heard the speech and agreed with the message. That tells me one thing: that people were already there; they had already figured it out themselves. It just hadn’t been expressed by someone like me – as usual, politicians being behind the people.

The second thing is that at the core of that speech, the pivot in the middle was towards a positive agenda. We face these challenges; integration is being weaponised. What do you do about it? Well, you find countries that share your values on specific issues, even if they don’t agree on everything. Then you build together. At the same time, you must recognise that you can’t be truly sovereign or independent just by yourself. If you pair up with somebody who will use that relationship against you, then, of course, you’re not truly sovereign or independent. Two months on, there has been a lot of engagement – like-minded nations in the Nordics on specific issues, for example. There’s a range of aspects to this: Arctic security, co-operation with what’s called the Nordic Baltic gate. We’ll be doing more with them under the broader umbrella of Nato; specifically, co-operation with Australia on critical minerals, for example, and a variety of other areas as well as defence. It’s about diversifying your partnerships at a time when the nature of defence is changing pretty rapidly. Crucially, what you do on defence can also help to build peacetime capabilities. Artificial intelligence and quantum computing are two of many examples. So there’s very intense engagement. Obviously, you need to prioritise and you need to execute.

How much does that need to be formalised, this notion of an M10 (middle 10)? Does it need a framework?
I don’t think so. And that’s not what we are pursuing. This is not “Middle powers of the world unite”, with a T-shirt. You won’t agree with everybody on everything or with the same intensity and prioritisation. The Coalition of the Willing, which is backstopping Ukraine, is quite broad. But it’s not everybody. And that’s different from who will come together on critical minerals, for example. And it’s different from what we are working on with the Australians and others, which is to bring together the CPTPP [Comprehensive and Progressive Agreement for Trans-Pacific Partnership] and the EU as one connected trading bloc of one and a half billion people. It would be far and away the biggest trading bloc in the world. And that’s what you can do when you search for issues where you have common ground.

A last point, if I may, Tyler. One of the things that I think is necessary is speed. We’re in what we have called a “rupture”, a big shift in the way that the world operates. To use an old analogy, the kaleidoscope has been shaken. How will the pieces come together? Now is the time to be engaged, to put together a web of connections – a group of these coalitions that will help to improve the situation.

Here we are in Tokyo. From an Ottawa perspective, there’s a lot of looking across the Atlantic – but should there be a bigger focus across the Pacific?
Without question, there is now a bigger focus on them. It started with repairing relations that were deeply damaged. We needed to re-establish our engagement with China and India and we have accomplished that. 

There is a bigger overlap in terms of shared interests and values between two democracies in the case of Canada and India, of course, than there is with Canada and China. The Chinese understand that. It was an element of the early discussions I had with president Xi Jinping about where the guardrails are in this relationship, where would we develop, where would we not necessarily and where we would agree to disagree. And so we start there.

More broadly, there are a host of deep relationships. With South Korea, for example, the overlap between our two countries is enormous. The areas for our co-operation include everything from defence – we’re talking with them, alongside the Germans and the Norwegians, trying to decide on submarine perspectives – to space, satellite communications and critical minerals. They have some of the most important automotive companies in Canada and there are the cultural connections between roughly similar-sized economies: K-pop and, of course, the culture beyond it. South Korea is one of many examples. I’m going to throw out a few others, if I may. We’re negotiating a free-trade agreement with the Philippines. We have launched negotiations with Thailand. The Asean group of countries are in what we hope this year will be the final stages of that free-trade negotiation.

I’m coming here from Australia, where we have really stepped up our relationship. Canada and Australia have deep ties but it could be far deeper. That’s something that we, prime minister Anthony Albanese and I, and our cabinets have agreed on.

Our relationship with India is also deepening. And we have deep ties with Europe, deep institutional ties. The Comprehensive Economic and Trade Agreement [Ceta] is one example – the free-trade agreement with the EU. We’re taking that to another level through a broad strategic-partnership arrangement that is being negotiated. We are basically treated as a domestic producer, as part of the European defence-procurement process. So all of that is there. I think that you can sense, maybe from my list, the importance of this region in relative terms.

Let’s talk about Japan within all of this.
Japan is one of Canada’s biggest foreign investors. The auto sector is a great place to start: 70 per cent of the vehicles produced in Canada are by Japanese companies. We provide 10 per cent of the calories to Japan in terms of our food and agrifood but at both levels, we have CA$40bn [€25.6bn] worth of two-way trade every year. There is a huge opportunity for that to deepen across these strategic sectors.

Even defence?
Yes. In fact, what we have with this visit is a deepening in defence co-operation, information sharing, joint exercises – those elements. Canada is the second most present of the G7 in defence. It’s not quite 365 days a year but it’s pretty close in terms of maritime exercises, air exercises and the physical presence of troops because the security of the Indo-Pacific is fundamental. We’re a Pacific nation and Japan is one of our deepest allies here. And so, the co-operation is there. I expect it to continue to build. Related to that, we’re both increasing our defence spend. 

To put some numbers to it, over the next decade, Canada will invest about CA$500bn [€319bn]. It’s a huge number. A significant proportion of that, as you would expect, is in defence – submarines, aircraft, drones and materiel that are necessary, particularly to protect the Arctic, which is where the threats are rising. But just as much, if not more, is spent on what is called “dual use”. Think new ports, AI, quantum computing – all of which are necessary to move forward. Some of the developments on the resource side are directly tied to the military side but have broader economic benefits for the country.

How do you make joining the Canadian  forces attractive?
Obviously, salaries are important. Let me give you an example of our shift in focus. Since June, when we began to put in place our new defence strategy, recruitment has gone up 13 per cent. People want to join the Canadian forces because they know that they will be well-resourced. They believe in the mission of protecting Canadians and the combination of those two things attracts the best and brightest women and men. 

But what does well-resourced mean in the Canadian forces? What does it mean in the media? What does it mean in government? It will increasingly mean that you are technologically empowered, that you’re using unmanned systems, machine learning, AI, robots and other things, so that you’re doing the higher-value add, the more interesting parts of your job. The key is to build the skills to get the most out of that and this will be the case with the forces. And it’s part of the reason, Tyler, why that scale of spend is necessary to ensure that we are protecting Canadians. That’s our job with the forces.

Big change in the world necessitates a big response. As technology is changing, I would rather have it in that order, all coming together, because it means that we’re not locked into old systems and we’re just pouring money into tanks, because that’s what we did in the Second World War. It made sense then but it doesn’t make sense now. 

And just remind our readers: what is that CA$500bn in GDP terms?
Right now, it’s about a sixth of our GDP – 16 per cent or so. But this is half a trillion spread over a decade. So, it’s 1.6 per cent – that is the full multiplier. We have got our defence spending to 2 per cent of GDP this year. So we have reached our Nato commitment. 

Is it morally important?
It’s important, first and foremost, to protect Canadians. When we came into government, we were in a situation where our ships and planes were functioning less than 50 per cent of the time. You can’t have that. You never get them to 100 per cent because you want to constantly be retooling them and repairing them but we didn’t have enough basic equipment, including ammunition for troops. We weren’t paying our women and men properly.

The basics had to be done. Almost in and of itself, righting that started to move us towards that 2 per cent. But then, on top of that, we have much bigger threats – and this is the downside of technological change – from interballistic and hypersonic missiles. So one of the things that we were doing in Australia, one of the first decisions we took as a government, was to start to build what is called an over-the-horizon radar system. The Australians are world leaders in this. Basically, what it means for Canadians is that we will have a system that can see over the North Pole before missiles and hypersonic missiles come in. The fact that we can defend ourselves against that makes it less likely to happen. Now those are big systems; the first phase of that costs more than CA$6bn [€3.8bn].

First and foremost, our job is to protect Canadians. It is also important to support our allies in the defence of freedom, sovereignty and territorial integrity. That is what being a member of Nato means. And the need to do that with a more aggressive Russia, with persistent state sponsors of terrorism such as Iran and with the risks of nuclear proliferation means that we need to do more collectively.

If I can make two points, one is this: what we and our Nordic partners have been arguing is that Nato needs to spend more time on its western flank, meaning the Arctic. We have to spend money to defend Canadians and defend the Canadian Arctic. Even a few years ago, that would have been totally discounted by Nato, which was fixated on the eastern front. Risks come more broadly and [Canada’s] Article 5 and other obligations extend there. 

And then the other point that I want to make concerns the commitments for Nato. The new commitments go beyond 2 per cent, so we’ll continue to build. We’re not going to spend more money than we need to in order to protect ourselves but we can see that this would be consistent with further increasing the defence spend and that’s what we’re planning to do. That’s where that CA$500bn [€320bn] comes from. But at the same time, under Nato commitments, there is something called the Defence Industrial Pledge. What that means is you should spend about 1.5 per cent of GDP on your resilience. That can mean your ports, your AI systems, cyber defences – those aspects. 

Canada is one of the world’s leaders in cyber. One of the important agreements that we struck yesterday with Japan is about further cyber co-operation. We need to continue to invest in that. Quantum computing is very relevant to the future of cyber protection and information protection, so we will invest heavily in that. Canada will continue to have a lead and we’re going to build those industries as a consequence. 

I’m curious about presence. You have been out on the road. We’re at this amazing mission here. How does Canada show up? It’s great that you’re flying around but how do you sustain this?
The first thing is engagement in the run-up to my arrival. Let me take the example of India. We had five ministers who had a series of meetings since the time when Prime Minister Narendra Modi and I met at the G7 last June, which was when we restarted the relationship. We had five separate ministerial meetings with Canadians going to India. There was some reciprocation with Indian ministers coming to Canada and that’s apart from meeting on the sidelines of Apec and elsewhere. So that begins to establish the groundwork and the engagement. There has been more engagement in the past year than in the previous 20 years put together.

The next thing is to ensure that our stakeholders are engaged. So, again, in India, our business groups have now reformed and are re-energised. So you get that cross-pollination. Importantly, we had two sets of visits from our universities. We had 20 show up and there was a series of partnerships being struck with Indian universities. When I was there last week, another four of our top universities showed up again, reinforcing these partnership scholarships. You have to establish these connections at multiple levels and have very clear deliverables and timetables. In the example of India, Prime Minister Modi and I have set the deadline of the end of this year to complete the cepa [comprehensive economic partnership agreement] between the two of us. It’s hard to overstate the importance of people-to-people cultural ties and getting that going too.

What about the importance of proper embassies and having proper representation? A lot of people have said that Canada became ‘Canada by Marriott’ for a while: ‘Let’s meet the ambassador at the hotel because the embassy is not so great.’
I’ll give you an example about this embassy. I was visiting when I was a central bank governor in 2010 or 2011; it was a G7 or G20 in Tokyo. And the emperor and the empress were planning to go to Canada. Prior to their visit, they were coming to visit the ambassador but his hospitality budget had run out in the first three months. The ambassador at the time wasn’t flamboyant; the budget was just so small. But he was going to host the emperor of Japan! So, I was helping them with our funds so that they could buy some tea and so on.

That is a false economy so there has been a reset. You have to be prudent because it’s taxpayers’ money but you also have to be effective. 

And let me give you another example from the past 24 hours. Last night was the eve of Prime Minister Takaichi’s birthday. So, with the embassy, we arranged for a Canadian cake, which featured elements of the country. Yes, it had some maple but it had Canadian strawberries too – it was a unique concoction. And it had a beautiful sakura with a maple leaf in the middle of it. I thought that it was beautiful. And to her surprise, we presented this cake. These things matter. It matters that you remember somebody’s birthday, that the connection has something to do with both countries. It’s an element of diplomacy but I put it deeper than that. It’s friendship, right? 

From a brand perspective, what would you like to reset about Canada’s image? What needs fixing? 
“Canada Strong” – that’s our brand. We are a strong, confident, ambitious country. We’re taking control of our destiny. We are known not just for the strength of our values but the value of our strength. There is an understanding that we are in control of our destiny, that we have big ambitions. We’re building – and we’ll build with partners. 

The other element of the Canadian character is that we’re generous people. We care about the vulnerable and support them, and we’re reliable in a world that’s anything but. When I was proposed as the governor of the Bank of England, [the British prime minister at the time] David Cameron told me that when he went to see the Queen [Elizabeth II] to inform her that one of her subjects, albeit from a different country, would be governor, she said, “Oh good, a Canadian. They’re very reliable.” It had nothing to do with me. It was the reputation of the country. 

So, on Canada Strong, I’m curious. We’re in this time of specific interests – everybody has their own week, their own month, because they represent a community. Does Canada need to come together more as a nation?
The nation is very much united. We’re united not because of blood, soil, specific ethnicity or religion. In fact, it’s very much the contrary. We’re a country that recognises differences, celebrates those differences and has allowed a diverse public square. We don’t seek unity in uniformity. That diversity is a fundamental strength of Canada. It’s something that has been built gradually. You think of our history: it was two cultures ignoring the Indigenous culture that was there and, over time, that structure became more formal, then became multiculturalism.

Now we’re really in this process of reconciliation but it’s with a common set of values, with responsibilities to each other alongside the rights of individuals. Our civic nationalism – because that’s what it is – is very strong. I don’t want to say that it’s unique because others are moving in that direction but it’s relatively rare in this world.

A country is built on great infrastructure. What’s happening right now in terms of connectivity?
A lot needs investing in. Let me take rail. We are building, finally. In Europe, certainly during my whole adult life, high-speed rail has been discussed. We are one of the pioneers of the technology. For a while, we were one of the largest builders, just not in Canada. We have now started the process for establishing high-speed rail from Québec City all the way through to Windsor. When we came into government, we chopped four years off the timeline for that process. So that’s tremendously exciting – that is core connectivity, not just for the big urban centres but a series of the rural areas in between. 

We flagged in our most recent budget that we’ll look for strategic options for airports. That will require additional capital. As we go around the world, we hear a lot from airport operators about what they could help to do with our major airports and serve Canadians better and get better value for money.

We’re also talking people-to-people connectivity. One of the crucial things is that we have what the world wants. We need to build out some new ports. Some will be in the Arctic. Some will be dual use with the military and some will be expansion of our existing ports. And for connectivity, we need to build from where the product or the commodity is being developed, to those ports with strategic trade corridors. You have seen components of that and we’re about to see a lot more over the next year.

Are enough people coming to Canada? Is Canada attractive from an education point of view but also for a long weekend? 
From an education point of view, four times as many Indians study in Canada compared to the UK and twice as many as in the US. We have a lot of people coming to Canada to study. In fact, and not surprisingly, on most metrics, we have the most educated population in the world. But we only have so much capacity, so one of the things that we need to do – and are beginning to do – is have satellite campuses and better hybrid connectivity.

As for people coming for a long weekend: every country that I go to wants more flights into Canada, whether it’s in the Gulf, Asia or elsewhere. We’re starting a process of granting those requests more quickly. Obviously, that will lead to follow-on in terms of tourism and hospitality. I will take this opportunity to reinforce that we are co-hosts of the Fifa World Cup in June and we look forward to welcoming the world to Canada.

———

Restaurateur Jeremy King OBE has launched some of London’s most enduring dining spots, including The Wolseley, Brasserie Zédel and, more recently, The Park and Arlington. 

For the past 15 years, King’s longtime creative collaborator Shayne Brady has helped to bring these spaces to life. The duo’s latest project, Simpson’s in the Strand, carries a legacy stretching back nearly two centuries. The chess-club-turned-restaurant first opened in 1828 and, since 1904, has been known for dishing out roast meats and Yorkshire puddings on silver trolleys. The Edwardian venue closed in March 2020 due to the coronavirus pandemic and has been undergoing extensive renovations since King purchased it in 2022. 

This month, Simpson’s opens its doors once again. There are several distinct venues under one roof: the traditional Grand Divan, theatrical Romano’s, the classic Simpson’s Bar, the seductive Nellie’s bar and a small ballroom. 

In 1862, Simpson’s former owner Edward William Cathie insisted that the restaurant serve only British food, christening its menu the “Bill of Fare”. More than a century on, King upholds the tradition with dishes that remain “English to the core”. This includes carvers wheeling silvery trolleys of Devonshire beef between tables in the Grand Divan. Romano’s, which is more intimate and convivial, offers lighter plates beneath portraits of 20-century playwrights who once gathered here. Throughout the vast institution, Brady’s design honours Simpson’s legacy with walnut shutters, chandeliers and leather booths. 

Jeremy King and Shayne Brady joined Monocle’s Hassan Anderson at Midori House in London to discuss the reopening of Simpson’s, their 15-year creative partnership and how diners’ tastes are evolving.

This conversation has been edited for length and clarity. Listen to the full interview on The Monocle Weekly from Monocle Radio.

How do you take something as historic as Simpson’s in the Strand and turn it into something fresh and new?
Jeremy King: It’s that notion of ‘fresh and new’ that has been troubling us because I, for many years, was averse to publicity and social media. [People] feel like a new restaurant has to have a slogan. The people I work with kept saying that it was a ‘reawakening’, which I banned. ‘Rediscovering’ was better. This site has been close to my heart for more than 25 years. We first looked at acquiring it in 2000 and finally bought it in 2022. Four years later, the beauty of it is that Shayne and I have had almost too much time to think about it. While the delay was punitive financially, we’ve created a better restaurant for it. 

Was there a moment that reassured you that the project was worth all the work?
JK: About 18 months ago I toured my friend, who is a hotelier, around the restaurant. We got to the end and I thought, he’s going to tell me that I’m mad and say, ‘What are you going to do with it? How are you going to fill these rooms?’ But to my surprise, he said, ‘Jeremy, this is fucking fantastic. There is nothing like this. There never will be.’ I think Shayne and I both had to remind ourselves that it is, excuse me, fucking fantastic.

Shayne, what went through your head when you first saw the restaurant?
Shayne Brady: When we walked the site, Jeremy made a point that really struck me: that this should feel like it has been loved by every owner that has had it over the past 120-odd years. The building [in the way that we recognise it] was built in 1904. We’re not ripping it out. We’re not creating something modern and new within it, nor should we, because I think it is, to use Jeremy’s phrase, ‘the grand dame of restaurants in the city’. 

What have you learned about how to design a space and what details do you look for from a designer? 
JK: The most important thing is practicality. So often, restaurant designers don’t understand that. There needs to be a simplicity of design. My oft-repeated phrase is ‘Great design should never shout for attention but should withstand scrutiny.’ That’s the essence of it and that’s why Shayne and I work so well together. Sometimes I’ll say ‘TTH’ (‘trying too hard’). Restraint is so important and you garner much more authority through restraint. Shayne understands that. 

What details do you focus on when it comes to designing a space? 
SB: The one thing that Jeremy taught me early in my career was to sit in every seat on the floorplan. How does that seat feel? What is that guest looking at? The other thing is lighting. All of Jeremy’s restaurants are famous for being able to take you from breakfast to dinner. That’s [due to] the lighting. Lighting gives that feeling in the air – that intangible thing that makes you feel if it’s right or not. 

JK: I would echo what Shayne says about lighting. It’s the single most important thing. The person I learned the most about lighting from was the great Peter Langan, who said, ‘Great lighting is about shadow.’

What are some of your favourite spaces to entertain or eat in and what do they have in common?
JK: I have always loved The River Cafe and there are other places – both in London and around the world – where the unifying aspect is the spirit. I often get asked what the most important ingredients are in terms of how a restaurant appeals to a diner and I always say they are heart and soul. This is a frustrating answer because how do you define heart and soul? That’s the whole point. Just as with literature or music, there is no formula. 

SB: I like restaurants run by people that you see on the floor. Wildflowers with Laura [Hart] and her husband [Aaron Potter] is incredible – it almost feels like being invited into her home. 

How are people’s tastes changing and what is staying the same?
JK: They’re more sophisticated. We are starting to appreciate restaurants more and there’s no ignominy in working in a restaurant. There was a massive class structure when I first came into the business. In the early 1980s, there was a survey about how often people eat out at what we would call a ‘white-tablecloth restaurant’ across the country. It was less than once a year. If you did that survey now, I think that figure would be very different. 

SB: I struggle with restaurants that are designed to scream for attention. Designing for photography or Instagram is my pet peeve. However, I think that the younger generation – I hope – are starting to buy into restaurants that have a long lineage of heritage as opposed to the all-singing, all-dancing new restaurants. 

We’re told people drink less and go to bed earlier. How optimistic are you about London as a place to go out, eat well and have fun?
JK: Fashion dictates what people follow. I would like to feel that we can turn that around. We have a very late licence at Simpson’s. The whole point of living in the city is to embrace it.

Finally, for both of you, what are you like to work with?
JK: I used to think that I could never be seen making a mistake because that would weaken my authority. Now, Shayne and I are both people who readily admit our mistakes and are happy to admit [when] we’re wrong but at the same time argue it. 

SB: I always remember when I first met Jeremy at a presentation for The Delaunay and he said, ‘We’ll be talking a lot.’ I thought that meant nine months. I didn’t realise he meant 15 years. What I enjoy about working with Jeremy is that he will sit and ponder something. He’ll look at something and have his reservations but it’s not a complete no. There’s no shouting. It’s a safe space to have an open forum. That’s what gives rise to us designing something great together. 
simpsonsinthestrand.co.uk

Everyone looked up when the first crack split the sky last week, the concussive snap ricocheted off the façades of King Abdullah Financial District before rolling across Riyadh’s vast, sand-hued residential quarters. But the next time thunder struck – or missiles and drones breached Saudi airspace – people glanced at their phones and carried on. If tremors from the ongoing regional war are being felt in Riyadh, they are not coming from the city itself. The kingdom’s habitual escape routes over the King Fahd Causeway to Bahrain and elsewhere across the Gulf as far as Dubai are front of mind. 

Over the past decade, Saudi Arabia’s capital has been transformed from an austere administrative seat – once patrolled by the mutawa, religious police who swept through malls at prayer time – into a hyper-kinetic metropolis home to festivals, heavyweight-boxing bouts, Formula 1 showpieces and Cristiano Ronaldo.

But for decades, Bahrain and Dubai have served as getaways for Saudi locals and expats alike. Dubai’s Palm Jumeirah – the city’s famous island packed with beachfront towers, extravagant brunch spots and unapologetically louche party hotels – has long drawn a younger, more affluent Khaleeji crowd. When news broke of a missile-debris fire near Five Palm Jumeirah, a hotel on the island famed for its pool parties and nightlife, many were particularly concerned.

In Bahrain, the Juffair district – a strip of neon-lit bars, sports lounges and late-night shawarma joints – usually swells each Thursday with Saudi number plates as the weekend begins. Yet it is also home to the US Navy’s Fifth Fleet headquarters, an unusual arrangement in a region where military bases are usually pushed far from city centres. On weekend nights, a curfew announcement cuts through the music in local bars, reminding young American sailors that they have 15 minutes to return to base or face disciplinary sanctions.

For Saudis, the tiny island – connected to the kingdom by a 25km bridge and about a four-hour drive from Riyadh – occupies a more nostalgic place in recent memory. During the decades when there were no cinemas in the country, men heading across King Fahd Causeway would often tell their wives that they were “going to watch a film” – a phrase elastic enough to cover a multitude of weekend diversions. When theatres reopened in Saudi Arabia in 2018 after a more than 35-year hiatus, the excuse evaporated. Going to Bahrain was never really about going to watch a film, of course. It was about being elsewhere – and now elsewhere feels brittle.

Back in Riyadh, there has been a noticeable uptick in SUVs driving into the city from the UAE and beyond, full of travellers choosing to depart from Dubai via Saudi Arabia as regional airspace reroutes. The city once caricatured as insular has, momentarily, become a place of reassurance. There is a sense of irony in that inversion. Dubai built its global brand on the promise of insulation. Yet as air-defence systems are deployed and missile arcs dominate screens there, Riyadh feels, for now, among the region’s most grounded capital cities.

Grounded, however, does not mean untouched. The defence ministry announced that two drones struck the US embassy in Riyadh on 3 March, causing a fire and minor damage but no injuries, while debris from intercepted drones sparked a small blaze at Aramco’s Ras Tanura refinery in the Eastern Province. The next day, Saudi air defences downed 10 drones and two cruise missiles in three separate incidents. On Thursday, three more cruise missiles and drones were destroyed near Al-Kharj, the city southeast of Riyadh nearest to the Prince Sultan Air Base. 

Geography, according to security experts, helps to explain why Riyadh has been largely spared. Saudi Arabia stretches roughly 2,100km from the Red Sea to the Gulf and its capital sits deep in its interior, about 600km from Iran’s coastline. In contrast, Dubai and Doha lie a fraction of that distance away, perched much closer to the Gulf’s narrow shipping lanes and, by extension, Iran’s launch points. That extra depth gives Saudi air-defence systems precious minutes to detect and intercept incoming drones or missiles before they reach the capital. It also explains why attacks have instead concentrated on the Eastern Province – home to energy infrastructure such as Ras Tanura – where disruption carries far greater economic risk. In Riyadh, for now, daily life continues largely uninterrupted.

Saudi Arabia has spent recent years building its own leisure ecosystem. Cinemas now anchor every major mall, music festivals illuminate desert plateaus and beach clubs edge along the Red Sea coast. The pleasures that were once outsourced to Bahrain and Dubai are increasingly available at home. Yet the Gulf remains a tightly braided geography of work and escape, of sober weekdays and rowdy weekends. When one strand frays, the tension reverberates across the others.

Scott Campbell is a Riyadh-based travel writer. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.

Further reading? 
– A look inside Riyadh’s Diplomatic Quarter: A community of political transients

– Saudi Arabia’s latest alcohol policy shift lowers the bar for raising a glass

– Gulf states project an image of unity but a proxy media war tells a different story

In times of war, there are stories that never get told. But there are also stories that are shared yet never heard. This is true in Ukraine, where Ukrainian-led narratives about the country don’t always find a wider audience. Since Russia launched its full-scale invasion in February 2022, many of the nation’s authors have joined the armed forces or have begun working as journalists on the front line, sharing distinctly Ukrainian stories.

“You get insight into [the] Ukrainian mentality”, says Kate Tsurkan, a reporter at The Kyiv Independent who writes about the nation’s culture and history. In addition to her journalistic work, Tsurkan is a translator who has brought numerous books and essays to Western publications and international audiences. Much of Tsurkan’s work has centred on spotlighting the country’s literature scene.

Tsurkan joined Monocle’s Georgina Godwin to talk about what literature reveals about her country’s past and present, why culture still matters in wartime and three book recommendations that reveal the spirit of Ukraine’s people.

This conversation has been edited for clarity and length. To listen to the full interview, tune in to Monocle on Saturday on Monocle Radio. 

What has changed most in how Ukrainian literature is seen abroad since the war began?
It’s impossible not to write about the war, about what is happening. Many authors are serving in the armed forces and those who are not are either volunteering or working in some capacity as a journalist [on the front lines] to make sure that the stories that need to be told are being [shared]. Not just for Ukrainian audiences but for the world as well.

Ukrainian literature has been deeply shaped by history – not just at present but for centuries. What perspectives does literature give us that we don’t get from the news?
You get insight into [the] Ukrainian mentality, into the motivations that we have. The full-scale war started in 2022 but Russian aggression against [our country] has been going on for many years – centuries even. We have a project at The Kyiv Independent called The Hidden Canon. One of the authors we talked about was Panteleimon Kulish, who wrote a historical novel set in the 19th century called The Black Council, which is about when the Cossacks – Ukrainian warriors – were trying to elect a new leader. Russia tried to interfere and, unfortunately, it succeeded. In the 19th century, authors in Ukraine were trying to understand what would cause them to fail and how they could try to avoid these mistakes. Even today, Ukrainian writers are reading [the works of] all of those authors [and] reflecting on very similar themes. It’s not just related to Ukraine – it’s about universal questions of human dignity, freedom and the right to choose your own future.

You’ve described the Ukrainian literary scene as ‘healthy’, even during wartime. What does that mean in practice?
There is a great push to speak only about themes – that you should not be afraid to have discussions. It’s quite different from Russia, where people risk arrest for saying something that might be seen as against the state. You can and should talk about everything because the goal is to have a healthy and functioning democracy.

People are continuing to create art despite the war. There are poetry readings, theatre [productions], festivals. Tell us more about these platforms and about the Ukrainian writers who you’ve helped to bring to major Western outlets.
It’s great that there is a continuing interest in [our nation’s] literature, not only within the country but abroad. In October [last year], I was at the Frankfurt Book Fair and we held panels about wartime non-fiction and how it’s perceived in Ukraine. We also spoke about how it’s perceived abroad, the purpose of writing non-fiction about the war and how it offers something different from news, which is quite immediate. One very important example is the book Bakhmut by Myroslav Laiuk, which is available in Ukrainian and English. Myroslav is a very famous writer and professor of creative literature but since 2022, he has been reporting from the frontlines. During the worst battles for Bakhmut in 2023, he was there talking to soldiers, volunteers, civilians and even Russian prisoners of war who were stuck there to try to paint a human portrait of the horrible things that were happening.

You were close to Victoria Amelina, the journalist, novelist and war-crimes researcher, who was killed following a Russian missile attack in July 2023. When you think about her legacy, what matters most?
Unfortunately, our [relationship] was just beginning when Russia killed her and we didn’t have a chance to build our friendship. But what I can say about Victoria in the short time that I knew her is that she was an incredibly brave and passionate person who was as delicate as she was fierce. She could inspire trust in so many people. That’s what makes a great storyteller, even more so during wartime. Her desire to see justice is very important. Others believe that war-crimes researchers should not get too close to their subjects but she told me privately, and I believe [she also wrote] in her posthumous book, Looking at Women Looking at War, that she was against that. She wanted to build deep connections with these people. This is very important – do not forget this humanity in the face of such suffering.

As the war moves into yet another year, what do you want readers abroad to understand about Ukrainian culture?
There is a lot of debate now about the word “resilience” and whether it’s demeaning or not. More than four years into the full-scale conflict, I think the proper term is “realistic” – that Ukrainians are realistic about what is going on. They do not let the weight of this war crush them because you can’t [let it]. We published a great op-ed at The Kyiv Independent by writer Andriy Lyubka. He is another author who has joined the Armed Forces and he talks about the need to “Ukrainise” Europe and that Europeans can learn from this kind of vitality. Ukrainians have to want to make their country better; they want to protect their homes and not give in to fear and uncertainty. This is one of the most important messages about the Ukrainian mentality and [it is] something that everyone can learn from.

There is a moment every March when Austin stops being a mid-sized Texan city and becomes, briefly, a kind of secular Davos with better music. South by Southwest (SXSW to everyone who has ever worn the lanyard) has been running since 1987, several years before the term “soft power” entered the civic vocabulary. But that is precisely what the festival has become: the most effective urban-branding exercise in American life and one that most cities would spend decades and considerable public funds trying to replicate.

The mechanism is elegant in its simplicity. Rather than sending delegations abroad, Austin simply opens the door. For 10 days the city hosts a rotating cast of technologists, filmmakers, indie musicians, investors, journalists, policy thinkers and the kind of ambitious young professionals who will be running things in 15 years’ time. They eat tacos with handmade flour tortillas at Veracruz All Natural. They walk Sixth Street and grab freshly shucked shellfish at Clark’s Oyster Bar. They overhear conversations over a cold Topo Chico mineral water on the patio at the Hotel San José – conversations that recalibrate their understanding of what American creative culture looks like. Then they carry Austin home with them. 

This is how soft power actually works. Not through text-heavy press releases or sunny, slogan driven tourism campaigns but through lived experience at a moment of professional excitement. A founder from Seoul who closes a deal at SXSW does not remember the vast convention centre, she remembers the atmosphere of the city. A policy director from Brussels who catches a set at Stubb’s Bar-B-Q does not file that under “conference”. He files it under “Austin”. The city becomes inseparable from the possibility of the encounter.

What is underappreciated is how intentional this has become. The City of Austin, alongside a network of local stakeholders, has grown increasingly sophisticated about leveraging the festival’s gravity. International delegations now arrive with structured agendas. Trade missions from Sweden, South Korea and the Netherlands use SXSW as a backchannel for economic diplomacy that would otherwise require formal frameworks and months of scheduling. The warm and unstructured joy of the festival provides the social lubricant that official meetings rarely can. Add a few cans of the local Shiner Bock beer and you’re off to the races.

There is also something specific about Texas in this equation. Austin’s brand benefits from a productive tension: the state’s reputation for stubborn independence and vast scale makes international visitors curious; while the city’s “blue dot in a red state” progressive creative culture makes them comfortable. That combination – big and bold but unexpectedly cosmopolitan – does not exist in the same form in San Francisco or New York, where the global is simply expected. In Austin it still feels like discovery for the person that arrives from Antwerp. 

The festival has not been without its complications. The scaling of SXSW over the past decade has introduced the familiar tensions of success: corporate saturation, accessibility concerns, cost of lodging, traffic. Plus the creeping sense that the programming has perhaps become safer as the stakes have grown higher. Critics are not wrong to notice but these are the growing pains of relevance, not necessarily a sign of decline.

What no one can dispute is the cumulative effect. Austin has been in the conscious mind of the global creative and technology class for nearly four decades now – a run that most cities, and most nations, would envy. SXSW did not make Austin; Austin had its own wild, internal creative momentum. But the festival focused that momentum into something coherent and repeatable, year after year, a standing invitation that the world has consistently accepted.

In an era when urban competition for talent, investment and influence has never been more intense, the question for other cities is not how to host their own festival. It is whether they have the patience to build something that takes 37 years to fully become what it always was capable of being. Austin did and that – as much as the barbecue, straw hats and Landman-style cowboy shirts – is worth understanding.

SXSW runs from 12 to 18 March. Colin Nagy is a Los Angeles-based journalist and Monocle contributor. 

Further reading? 
– How big-sky thinking is spurring a ranch revival out West

– The bold redesign that put Austin’s Blanton Museum on the global map

– The great American road trip is back – but this time it’s on rails

Carrie Solomon is the American founder and head chef of Chez Carrie, a bright new brasserie on Rue Léopold-Bellan in Paris’s 2nd arrondissement. What started as a leap of faith has quickly become one of the most talked-about spots in the city. While the cooking and inviting atmosphere are what people clamour to, Solomon’s journey to opening the restaurant is equally notable. 

Though Solomon first came to Paris to study photography, she found herself drawn to the city’s kitchens. She carved a unique path through the French culinary scene, moving from recipe writing and food photography to consulting for restaurants and even cooking at the Olympics. But it wasn’t until a deeply personal loss that Solomon began to envision something entirely her own.

After her husband suddenly passed away, Solomon stepped away from work, taking time to grieve and reflect. It was returning to the kitchen that helped her to start piecing her life back together. That momentum, coupled with advice from mentors and friends in the business, eventually led her to taking an audacious step: opening her own brasserie as an outsider in one of the world’s most tradition-bound culinary capitals.

Despite now having lived in France for decades, Solomon faced hurdles. French bureaucracy is notoriously complex and being an American navigating bank loans, permits and regulations added another layer of difficulty. Yet, Solomon persevered and opened Chez Carrie as a space to host events with fellow chefs and cookbook authors, creating a sense of community in the heart of Paris.

Solomon joined Monocle to discuss the twists and turns of her unconventional career, the resilience required to build something from the ground up and how the kitchen can be a place of healing.

This conversation has been edited for clarity and length. 

You’re originally from Michigan. What brought you to France and, eventually, Paris’s kitchens?
When I was 14, I met a girl whose mom worked at the cool restaurant in town. She was a pastry chef [who made] really amazing desserts and she got us both jobs there. So, from an early age, I was always working in restaurants on weekends, holidays and summer break. 

When I came to Paris, I thought, ‘I’ll do something different,’ and I first went towards political science and then photography. Within six months, I knew that I wasn’t going to be a fashion photographer and I wanted to be in the food business. But I realised that the French food industry, especially 20-something years ago, was notoriously closed to outsiders. Through image-making and recipe writing, I got a spot in different kitchens where I [worked] next to chefs doing mise en place and thinking up recipes. I had this [nontraditional] way of arriving on the food scene in Paris. Sometimes it’s hard for people to accept the way that I came to this business.

At what point did the entrepreneurial bug take over? When did you decide to open up your own bistro in Paris?
Oddly, it started when I had children. I knew that the years ahead were going to be focused on [my] children but I remember thinking, ‘What should I plan for [my own] future?’ I knew that being in kitchens made me happy. So, in addition to recipe writing for my own cookbooks, I consulted for restaurants and hotels, worked at the Olympics and cooked gold menus for the Le Gallo Stadium. I knew that I was building towards something without being completely sure what that was. Then an amazing residency fell into my lap at the beginning of 2023. I was running the kitchen and I thought to myself, ‘If you do this, you’ll know whether you’re ready for your own place.’

Then my husband died suddenly and I stopped working for a while. I was in shock for weeks. There was a lot to figure out about how to go forward with my life and the thing that ended up saving me was getting back into the kitchen. I returned to the restaurant that I had been cooking at a few days a week and the team was really supportive. At the end of that residency, I needed to take some more time. Then one day, someone [in the business] who was giving me a lot of advice [said], ‘You’re ready, just go for it now and start looking for your place.’ And I thought, ‘Well, what’s it going to hurt?’ 

The French are known for their love of bureaucracy. Is it especially difficult to navigate if you are not originally from France?I count myself lucky because I have friends in the business and I have been coached. I had a great real-estate agent but banks and brokers are still really hesitant to work with profiles that they’re less sure about. I’ve been [in Paris] for 20-something years but I still don’t have French nationality. I realised that not being a citizen was going to be tricky – and it indeed was. One thing that helped my dossier was the fact that I was going to be the owner [and] the chef. I was the front line and in the team.

You’ve been open since late September [2025]. What are you looking forward to in the year ahead?
I knew when I opened a restaurant that I wanted it to be a place for other chefs, and I had a lot of female chef friends and cookbook authors in mind that could do events with me. I put together a calendar for the next two months, where I have invited different [female authors] to sign their books and to do demonstrations. The idea was: if I have events planned, it will help us to get through the Paris winter. It’s something that people can look forward to. 

What advice would you give to someone who wants to start a business?
For those who might have gone through something [horrible or] had their life shattered at some point, it is possible to to pick up the pieces – not all, but some of them – and to build something. I feel that if I can share that a bit, it might give a bit of hope to people.

Listen to the full conversation with Carrie Solomon on ‘The Entrepreneurs’ podcast.

This week The Faster Lane touched down in Hong Kong, Taipei and Tokyo for a bit of market surveillance, cocktailing with subscribers and friends, and even some rapid retail immersion in Aoyama with a colleague who’d never before set foot in Japan. Here are the past five days told in 10 discoveries.

EVA Air
Who knew? Yes, I was aware that they’re a “five-star airline” (I’ve never quite understood what exactly that means) and that they famously had aircraft featuring Hello Kitty-themed liveries but somehow my itineraries have never allowed for much in the way of direct travel or connections through Taipei. Till now most flights in and out have been with Cathay Pacific or ANA. But after the pleasure of departing from the tiny Songshan Airport (located in the heart of Taipei) and sampling EVA’s sleek chocolate brown and dark grey business class on its Boeing 787, it has become a new favourite. From service to amenities to mushy yet firm pillows, it was all excellent. Now I know.

Kavalan
A tasty addition to your bar while also stepping up your highball offer, this Taiwanese single malt producer also ranks as one of the world’s largest whisky brands by volume.

Miaodong
This lean, modern wine bar played host to Monocle’s Taipei subscribers on Thursday evening and it’s the type of establishment that you wish was a five-minute walk from your home or office. Superb food and an excellent selection of wine from established and emerging producers, Taiwanese included.

Groovy
In a retail landscape where fiercely independent multi-brand fashion stores are increasingly difficult to find, Groovy is worth a trip to Taipei. Spend an hour trying on its wares from a mostly Japanese base of designers. The service is also outstanding.

TCS
The Conran Shop might be streamlining its retail operations in Europe but it continues to reinvent itself in Japan. It has become more akin to a mini department store with a fashion section, fragrances and beauty, and a solid line-up of furniture and home accessories. Sir Terence would be proud.

Hereness
Tired of your running and workout gear? Not gathering enough glances in the gym? Japanese brand Hereness can definitely sort you out with its mix of luxury and tech fabrics and sharp styling.

Marbot
And if you feel that there are simply too many friends running around in Paraboots then check out the fine footwear being produced in France by Marbot. Of course, it’s one of those brands that the Japanese are fast making their own.

Bowte
This newish womenswear label knows its way around a knitting factory with thick sweater-style T-shirts and a good-looking selection of smartly spare pieces at Tokyo’s Estnation. This has the right foundation to become the next Auralee.

Torchin
Japanese lamp maker Torchin’s range of battery-powered lanterns continues to light the way for better looking nooks and dining tables. If you’re in search of a new solution for the library or the entry hall, the brand likely has a shade to suit.

Mai Tai
What better name for Tomorrowland’s in-house range of resortwear? The collection features jaunty interpretations of trucker caps, thin cork-sole suede slides and a sparky approach to graphics on its T-shirts, knits and accessories designed for poolside pleasure. The gold-finished dice are particularly handsome.

Enjoying life in ‘The Faster Lane’? Click here to browse all of Tyler’s past columns.

From a rocky ridge on the northern tip of Oman’s Musandam Peninsula, the Strait of Hormuz appears almost serene. The water glints turquoise under the morning sun and wooden dhow boats drift lazily. Farther out, a scattering of large cargo vessels sit motionless on the horizon. Beyond the haze lies the faint outline of Iran’s coast. Between these two shores sits one of the most critical chokepoints in the global economy – a narrow maritime corridor through which roughly a fifth of the world’s oil and a significant share of its liquefied natural gas flows. At this moment, everything is still.

In the days since the US-Israel strikes on Iranian targets, Tehran has shifted the conflict onto a new front: the global economy. Iran’s Revolutionary Guard Corps says that it now has complete control over shipping in the Strait of Hormuz, warning vessels not to cross and threatening to burn any ship that attempts to pass. They have vowed not to let a single drop of oil leave the region. This has resulted in an extraordinary standstill. Some 200 oil tankers and cargo ships are now anchored on either side of the waterway, waiting for the risk to subside. Oil prices have already jumped sharply since the conflict began but the impact of the standoff extends far beyond the barrels of crude trapped in the strait.

“You don’t even need complete control,” says Cauvery Ganapathy, a fellow at the Observer Research Foundation Middle East. “Just the suggestion that cargo cannot move triggers stress in global energy security.” In many ways, the ships themselves are enforcing the blockade. Faced with missile attacks, drone threats and rapidly escalating insurance costs, shipping companies have simply chosen not to move. Tankers have dropped their anchors and captains are waiting, unwilling to risk their crews or cargo. Even a disruption of a few days can send shockwaves through global markets. Countries across Asia and Europe are already scrambling to secure alternative supplies and expand their strategic petroleum reserves. “Oil flows through the strait have crashed from about 22 million barrels a day to roughly 3 million – and backup routes can’t fill the gap,” says Ganapathy. 

The waters are becoming increasingly volatile. Over the past few days multiple vessels have been targeted in attacks attributed to Iran. Oman’s navy recently rescued 24 crew members from a Maltese-flagged cargo ship struck by two missiles near the strait. The sailors were unharmed but the incident underscored just how unsafe the corridor has become. “This is far more dangerous than it has ever been – [it’s] effectively a full-blown war at sea,” adds Ganapathy. Crucially, she says, Iran does not appear concerned about the nationality of the ships moving through these waters. “They are not particularly concerned about which flag the tankers are moving under,” she says. “All bets are off.”

The disruption has implications far beyond energy markets. The ships waiting in the strait are not only carrying oil and gas but fertilisers, industrial materials and consumer goods. If the standoff continues, supply chains, from agriculture to manufacturing, could feel the effects. Washington has proposed sending US Navy vessels to escort tankers through the strait – a strategy used during the Iran-Iraq Tanker War of the 1980s, when attacks on shipping threatened the same stretch of water. But analysts warn that the situation today is far more complex. “It has been done before,” says Ganapathy. “But the threat surface now is much larger.” Iran could deploy mines, drones or small vessels to disrupt traffic with minimal cost or effort. “They can use various sea boats to lay mines,” she adds. “It takes very little on their part to shut everything down.” Even if naval escorts succeed in moving some cargo, sustaining such operations in the middle of a wider regional war would stretch military resources and potentially turn the escort vessels themselves into targets.

The deeper problem is structural. Despite decades of warnings about the vulnerability of the Strait of Hormuz, meaningful alternatives are limited. Pipelines in Saudi Arabia and the UAE can bypass the waterway but their capacity is only a fraction of the roughly 20 million barrels of oil that normally transit the strait each day. For now, the global economy remains dependent on this narrow corridor between Oman and Iran.

Iran is also heavily dependent on oil exports that travel through this same waterway – much of the country’s crude is sold to China, its most important economic partner. By choking off the Strait of Hormuz, Tehran is not only squeezing global energy markets but potentially damaging its own economy. For years, analysts assumed that economic reality would prevent Iran from ever seriously closing the strait – that it would never damage a route so vital to its own survival. That assumption might no longer hold.

For now, the ships remain anchored in the Gulf, their journeys paused in one of the world’s most strategic waterways, a silent queue stretching across the horizon. Missiles continue to fly in and out of Iran but it is here, in this narrow strip of water, where the conflict could hit the wider world hardest, turning a regional conflict into a wave that crashes into the global economy.