You’ll no doubt have heard a fair bit about Greenland lately and that publicity, thanks in no small part to the US president’s public yearning for the island, has led to a surge in tourism. And yet planning a visit to the country, especially without the help of White House staffers and Air Force Two, has always proved tricky. But last week Greenland celebrated a major milestone in its quest to expand and improve its transport infrastructure with the opening of a new airport in Qaqortoq, the largest town in South Greenland, which was previously only reachable by scheduled helicopter or boat. It is the second of three airport openings to reach completion, with the main hub at Nuuk opening in 2024 and the new airfield for tourist-magnet Ilulissat due this autumn. Aside from benefiting locals, the hope is that this addition can now become an appealing new gateway for tourists heading to the less-visited southern part of the country.
 
One of the airline’s classic red Dash 8’s operated the inaugural flight from Nuuk, most of the seats filled by a who’s who of Greenlandic politics, tourism and aviation, including the current prime minister and two of his predecessors. We touched down about an hour and a half later in the colourful town of 3,000 inhabitants. Greenland flags were handed out and speeches were given (in both Greenlandic and Danish) by Captain René and First Officer Peter, the latter of whom grew up in Qaqortoq.

After a low flyby of the town, the first-ever commercial landing on the runway cut from rocky terrain was greeted by locals perched on hillsides. This project has been in the works for more than a decade and the excitement was palpable. The new terminal is modelled after Nuuk, with big windows and high-angled ceilings in light wood. For the moment there is no café and the vending machines are empty, so do bring snacks.
 
In this corner of the world where few roads connect communities, air travel is crucial. As Greenland seeks to grow its economy, being able to attract more tourists is a significant part of its strategy. Every incoming narrow-body flight from the US brings about $200,000 (€172,000) in local spending. 
 
The new hub at Nuuk has seen its fair share of teething issues since opening. “Baby steps,” said one Air Greenland pilot of the progress. One major factor isn’t going away: the weather. Nuuk’s coastal location means highly changeable weather and frequent storms, in comparison to the old inland gateway for Air Greenland’s sole wide-body jet at Kangerlussuaq, which had relatively stable conditions. Diversions have been closely watched. When a jet can’t land at Nuuk, it will often head back to Reykjavík or Copenhagen. The knock-on effects and disruption are painful, though Flightradar24 data shows that since December 2024, the A330neo has made 337 flights to Nuuk and diverted 11 times, or about 3 per cent of the time. Not insignificant but hardly a weekly occurrence either. Pilots might have a tougher day at the office than before but it is by no means unsafe. And now larger cargo can arrive in Nuuk by air – not possible in the days when everything had to be transferred to a small prop plane. 
 
There have also been some high-profile issues, such as the brief removal of Nuuk’s security certification by Danish authorities and a much-talked-about multi-hour delay due to security staff being out hunting. There have been problems sourcing de-icing fluid and other key materials, and delays still happen due to staff shortages. But these are the realities of Greenland, where different rules apply, availability of goods is never guaranteed and sticking to strict schedules is not always possible. 
 
And yet, Greenland Airports, the company tasked with building, developing and operating the new terminals, is working hard to improve things. “Nuuk being the first airport that we opened has definitely been a very, very steep learning curve,” says Jens Lauridsen, the CEO of Greenland Airports. “If we had to open it again, we would do things differently. Last summer was not the brightest of moments in Greenland’s aviation history but we have definitely learnt a lot and trained all winter to make sure that things should be better next summer. We’re getting there.”
 
After about an hour of speeches and celebrations at the new airport, people began returning to town for a celebratory kaffemik (coffee and cakes for all) at the local community centre. At a moment when Greenland is in the public eye more than ever, the weathering of snowstorms and blowhard politicians is becoming second nature. Perhaps it’s worth a visit to see for yourself. 

Gabriel Leigh is Monocle’s transport correspondent. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.

Further reading? 
– If Greenland wants more visitors, it must fix its airports

– If Trump’s threats have made anything clear, it’s that Danes don’t care about Greenland

As the fashion capital of the world, Paris has always had a healthy supply of skilled tailors and cobblers. Preserving these businesses is a citywide effort: local authorities offer them lower rents and last autumn the government also introduced new legislation to incentivise Parisians to visit their local workshops more frequently. Since 2023, people have been able to claim back up to €25 of the cost of mending clothes and shoes in workshops that have joined a repair bonus scheme run by eco-organisation Refashion.

All this is a reflection of the city’s commitment to preserving its craft traditions and many Parisians’ desire to keep the fast-fashion cycle that has plagued the industry at arm’s length. Here, Monocle meets some of Paris’s experts, both new and well-established, who can bring your clothes back to life.

---

1.
Veja General Store
After successfully launching repair services in Bordeaux, Berlin, Madrid, New York and London, trainer brand Veja recently added an outpost in Paris, the city where it was founded by Sebastien Kopp and François Ghislain Morillon. In line with its commitment to minimising fashion-industry waste, the label is now offering its customers the possibility to come into its new Rue de Marseille shop and have any trainers repaired (no matter the brand) instead of buying new ones.

Billed as a trainer repair “temple”, Veja General Store is home to cobblers who are trained in the specific techniques required to mend trainers, as well as a tailor who can give a new lease of life to clothing. There’s also a selection of high-quality products to encourage customers to keep their favourite shoes in mint condition, from laces, brushes and shoe creams to polishes. This one-stop shop ensures a smooth retail experience.
11 Rue de Marseille, 75010 Paris

---

2.
Superstich MFG
After developing an interest in denim as a teenager, Arthur Leclercq set out in search of rare sewing machines, which he salvaged from defunct factories across the city that operated between the 192os and 197os, a period considered to be a golden age for denim.

One of the biggest highlights during his treasure hunt was getting his hands on a Singer 47w70, a vintage machine for repairing and reweaving denim, which can make any restitching almost invisible. “Every single machine you see here has been taken apart and put back together again,” says Leclercq, as he shows Monocle around Superstitch, his Left Bank shop on Rue Racine.

Superstitch started five years ago by offering to mend even the rarest vintage denim. Leclercq’s expertise has since led him to start creating his own designs, mostly oversized jackets and trousers inspired by 197os Levi’s designs and made with high-quality Japanese fabrics. He also stocks a special washing powder and denim detergent, ensuring that you can extend the lifecycle of your jeans.
13 Rue Racine, 75006

---

3.
L’Atelier d’Antoine
The profession of cordonnier (cobbler) is still alive and well in Paris, and L’Atelier d’Antoine is a case in point. Nantes-born Antoine Rondeau’s passion for footwear has made him one of the most sought-after cobblers here. The loyal customers stepping through the door of his bright-yellow shopfront have included many famous Parisians committed to extending the lifespans of their footwear.

After training under a master bootmaker and then honing his craft in Spain and the UK – where he discovered that, unlike shoes, languages were not his forte – Rondeau returned to Paris and worked for renowned footwear labels John Lobb and Berluti.

In 1996 he opened his own shop on Rue de Miromesnil and built a reputation as one of the city’s most skilled cobblers, particularly when it comes to reassembly. Rondeau can take shoes apart and restore them piece by piece.

The bigger the challenge, he says, the better. “I’m quite meticulous, I like everything that involves finishing,” he says. “Precision is something I enjoy and people recognise that.” He also offers free postal delivery – a rare and valuable service that is appreciated by his busy clients.
75 Rue de Miromesnil, 75008

---

4.
Le Bon Marché Rive Gauche
Le Bon Marché, the historic Left Bank department store, has dedicated much of its third floor to repair services. Here, a team of tailors works on bringing items back to life, from fixing a button to adjusting a suit or dress to fit perfectly. Simple fixes on items bought at Le Bon Marché are free for holders of the shop’s sought-after membership card.

Alongside the repair counter, Parisian shoemaker Malfroid, a specialist in shoe patination and care, offers cobbler services within the men’s fashion deparnnent, working on everything from boots and trainers to leather accessories.

Meanwhile, L’Atelier Horloger takes care of watch repairs of all kinds, from adjusting a metal bracelet to a full restoration. It’s a bold statement from the LVMH-owned retailer, which chose to make the space a home for the city’s craftspeople and encourage its clients to shop more mindfully.
24 Rue de Sevres, 75007

---

5.
Frais Pressing
Jocelyn Pracca launched his dry cleaning company, Colporteur, in 2014. Demand for clothing care services had been growing exponentially, yet he noticed that family-run businesses in Paris were closing down as their owners retired.

He launched Frais in 2020 to answer Parisians’ demand for repair services. It’s a one-stop shop for clothing care, with laundry services, a dry cleaner, cobbler and alterations services all under the same roof. Customers can bring sheets to be whitened a dress that needs adjusting or shoes in need of a polish. “Our mission is to extend the lifespan of clothes,” says Pracca.

After the success of the first Frais outpost, located on the outskirts of Paris, he opened a second shop near the Canal Saint-Martin, which also stocks its own range of laundry products that are made in France using natural ingredients.
50 Rue de Lancry 75o1o

Read next: Monocle’s Paris City Guide

Walking up a steep, cobbled street rising out of Istanbul’s Karaköy neighbourhood, I noticed a pedestrian dropping something – a shoeshine brush, it turned out – to my left. My feet were moving faster than my brain, however, and in that brief window of inaction a passing couple retrieved the brush. Behind me, I could hear the grateful exhortations of the shoeshine man.
         
A day later, on another street nearby, I was surprised when another man dropped his brush. This time it seemed almost flung in my direction. My urban “spidey sense” began to tingle – what were the chances of encountering a second clumsy-fingered shoeshiner within 24 hours? Intuiting that something was afoot, I walked on.
         
Later, research confirmed the existence of a cunning con on the streets of Istanbul. The hapless mark retrieves the brush, hands it to the exuberantly thankful shoeshine man, who then insists on demonstrating his gratitude with a complimentary – and, by all accounts, mediocre – polish. With a captive audience, the man unspools a tale of woe, concluding with a request for a donation. Like most grifts, it plays more on human emotion than deception, as we bathe in the warm afterglow of having helped this man (who we might imagine as a plucky, hard-working character out of a Vittorio de Sica film). “The best confidence artist makes us feel not like we’re being taken for a ride,” writes Maria Konnikova in The Confidence Game, “but like we are genuinely wonderful human beings.”

The experience made me curiously nostalgic, thinking back to all the street hustles that I had fallen victim to, almost as a rite of initiation. There was the man who I thought that I had bumped into in a subway tunnel in 1990s New York (actually, he had bumped into me) – an act that resulted in a pair of broken glasses and my withdrawal of cash from an ATM. There were the supposed tradesmen who pulled up to me (on several occasions) on the street in a van, claiming that they had stumbled upon some high-quality speakers “on a job”. There were elaborate tales of misfortune and, sometimes, just petty crime (that camera that was sliced out of my backpack years ago in Madrid’s El Rastro market).

These memories made me nostalgic not only because they were moments from my past but because the whole idea of street scams now seems so antiquated. These days, scams tend to come via our digital devices. Looking at the “cons and scams” section of the website of the National Association of Bunco Investigators (“bunco” being an archaic term for fraud in US law enforcement), I found that most seem to involve computers or smartphones – think the “Venmo scam”, “Sim swapping” or the “Jamaican-lottery scam”. There are the text messages that begin with a chatty, seemingly misdirected question – “Did you end up going to Andrew’s party?” – an opening gambit in a “pig-butchering” campaign conducted by trafficked workers in some Cambodian border town. Recently, authors (like me) have been targeted by AI-assisted emails from fake marketers or proprietors of phantom “book clubs”, who claim that they can help generate attention for our wonderful but unjustly overlooked works. 
 
So encountering this picaresque street theatre (of a sort) was almost refreshing, particularly given the energy and brio required to turn in the performance, when it might be easier to simply ask for money or more lucrative to just snatch iPhones. The street con requires a violation of sociologist Erving Goffman’s concept of “civil inattention”, that delicate dance consisting of at once being cognisant of our fellow inhabitants of crowded urban spaces and ignoring them. 

The confidence man thrived in the great wave of 19^th-century industrialisation, as naive newcomers flooded burgeoning metropolises. These days this process is re-enacted in tourist-thronged cities such as Istanbul, where visitors – jet-lagged, distracted, open to experience – are seen as potential marks. Hence the figure who caught me looking unsurely for the entrance to the Basilica Cistern and helpfully pointed me to the right spot, without forgetting to squeeze in a short pitch: “Are you looking for a rug, my friend?” In my time in Istanbul, I never did get an unwanted shoeshine but if I had, the small amount that I would have coughed up would have been worth it – a price of entry to the great and timeless spectacle of urbanism.

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

Want to read more by Vanderbilt? Try these: 

– Used with consideration, smartphones can deepen our connection to the present

– Throwing shade: The dark secret of cities that know how to stay cool

– What I gained from replacing the self-checkout with small talk

In late February the 111 artists invited to participate in the main exhibition of the 61st Venice Biennale – themed “In Minor Keys” – were announced. The selection was led by Koyo Kouoh, who will posthumously make history as the first African woman appointed as artistic director of the contemporary arts festival. Following her untimely passing in May 2025, her curatorial team has committed itself to honouring and realising her vision.

The Venice Biennale opens on 9 May and will remain on view until 22 November. Among the invited artists, a significant proportion are African or of African descent. This pronounced representation reflects a broader, evolving trend that has steadily reshaped the global art landscape in the past decade. Across Africa, cultural production and infrastructure are expanding in unprecedented ways. The continent’s art, with its historically centrifugal energies, is exerting a palpable influence on the centre. The 2026 edition of the Investec Cape Town Art Fair (ICTAF), produced by Fiera Milano Exhibitions Africa and held annually in February, reinforced this perspective. As Africa’s largest and most significant international art fair, ICTAF continues to assert the continent’s creative prominence.

The theme for this year’s fair, “Listen”, anticipated the 61st Venice Biennale’s forthcoming “In Minor Keys” iteration. Minor keys in music do not proclaim – they move subtly, changing the mood from within. The musical scale is associated with introspection, tonal subtlety and a layered emotional register. “The theme, ‘Listen’, functions as both a curatorial framework and a working principle guiding the fair,” says ICTAF director Laura Vincenti. “It is an invitation to slow down the process of engagement in favour of deeper connection and more considered reflection.”

It is unusual for a commercial art fair to adopt a theme, a strategy typically reserved for biennales. Art fairs are oriented more toward market acceleration and consumption. To title the ICTAF edition “Listen” is thus both provocative and somewhat paradoxical. The theme also trickled down into the talks programme and a new series of workshops, another unusual addition to an art trade fair. With these decisions, ICTAF foregrounded the idea of exchange rather than simple commerce, fostering the sharing of knowledge between attendees.

What the organisers proposed was an invitation to engage with artistic systems that fall outside the normative boundaries of what an art fair typically makes visible. While African art occupied the sector’s margins for decades, the fair’s curation – in line with Kouoh’s conviction that art is a transmitter of knowledge – has contributed to situating African art within the global conversation. In the past decade, a new wave of African art institutions has taken shape: including contemporary art museums such as Macaal in Marrakech and Cape Town’s Zeitz Mocaa, as well as Guest Artists Space Foundation in Lagos, a non-profit founded by artist Yinka Shonibare. These developments signal the continent’s growing presence in the world’s art landscape and the crucial role of institutions in supporting cultural organisations where resources remain limited.

While art fairs play an important role in building capacity within Africa’s developing cultural ecosystem, they can face criticism for prioritising commercial interests over community engagement. ICTAF, Vincenti insists, seeks a more meaningful approach. “In this context a fair can provide infrastructure: a professionally managed environment where galleries, artists, curators, collectors and institutions converge,” she says. “As the leading international contemporary art fair on the African continent, we act as a meeting point for global exchange.”

As the art world increasingly looks to Africa for direction, the artists, cultural practitioners and professionals committed to nurturing the continent’s creative future are driving the conversation. Africa’s youthful population, coupled with a rapid embrace of technology, fuels a remarkable surge of innovation. The continent’s art crowd is responding in kind, and the global community is beginning to recognise Africa as a place of creative innovation. African artists have long known this truth; now, the rest of the world is finally catching up.

The founder of Aman Resorts, Adrian Zecha, likes to say that he isn’t a hotelier but a journalist who stumbled into the hospitality business at the age of 39 and never quite left. It’s a detail that’s often treated as a bit of biographical colour but it’s fundamental to his success. After all, journalism is the business of noticing things – and that skill has defined what he has built.

Zecha reported for Time magazine from Tokyo. He launched The Asia Magazine, the continent’s first regional colour supplement, when he was 28 years old. Then he ran Orientations, an arts journal, from Hong Kong. By the time he built Amanpuri hotel in Phuket – which was first envisioned as a private residence, then expanded on a coconut plantation in 1988 – he had spent nearly 20 years doing what good reporters do: watching carefully, forming judgements and resisting the urge to impose a thesis on what he was seeing.

That discipline is what has made Aman Resorts so special. The original properties weren’t designed to satisfy a market segment but rather to appeal to Zecha and a small circle of people whose tastes he fully understood. A founding board member once described the goal as building a hotel for the life that they wanted for themselves. Zecha is said to have spotted the exact area where the pool would wrap around a rocky outcrop in the earliest days of the Amangiri resort in Utah. He was also patient: it took time to get the plot of land that he wanted. His stubbornness ended up yielding something profound that has stood the test of time.

Since Vladislav Doronin acquired Aman in 2014, the brand has expanded into clothing, skincare, fragrance, leather goods, private-jet itineraries and a yacht concept. It’s a competent luxury-goods platform. It is also a different enterprise from the one that made the brand’s name.

The 93-year-old Zecha opens his latest project this week in partnership with Tokyo-based hotel developers Naru Developments. The new Azuma Farm Koiwai is a Japanese joint venture that sits within the grounds of Koiwai Farm in Iwate prefecture. The 3,000-hectare estate was founded more than 130 years ago on what was once barren volcanic land at the foot of Mount Iwate. Generations of careful stewardship have turned it into productive pasture and lush forest. The resort occupies an eight-hectare grove within it, with 24 rooms designed by Shiro Miura of Rokkaku-ya in Kyoto, built with red pine and cypress felled from the property. Miura works in a contemporary interpretation of sukiya style: intricate wooden interiors calibrated to the landscape, rather than merely imposed upon it. Three sauna pavilions sit among the trees – wood-fired, with cold baths and daybeds facing the forest. The food is farm to table; also on offer are horse riding and long walks amid a working agricultural landscape.

The project is a collaboration with East Japan Railway Company, which gives it a practical elegance: guests take a two-hour Shinkansen journey from Tokyo to Morioka, then transfer by shuttle. There’s no private airstrip, no helipad – just a train and a farm.

It’s the same philosophy that Zecha brought to Phuket nearly 40 years ago: to go somewhere, notice what’s already there, then build the minimum structure required for others to notice it too. His reporter’s eye is still working.

Nagy is a Los Angeles-based journalist and regular Monocle contributor. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.

The week started with a pacy jolt of radio shows in Abu Dhabi and Dubai, hit the midpoint with a smoothly productive flight back to Zürich and it’s wrapping with a bit of beach time in the sun south of Lisbon. You’d be hugely disappointed if I didn’t have a few observations and opportunities from the road, so to keep your Sunday bright and perky, here are a few to set you up for the week.

1.
If you’ve had a good Q1 but what remains of Q2 is looking wobbly and you have no idea how the rest of the year is going to go then maybe you need a team summit. If you want to treat your colleagues but don’t want to go over the top then now’s the time for a bit of beach on Saadiyat Island. The sea is still fresh, the tunes are pumping and the room rates are low. You could also take the family for a long weekend.

2.
While we’re on the beach, have you attempted to buy a quality sun umbrella lately? Or gone further and hoped to see a “Made in the EU” label on the pole? Good luck. There’s an opportunity for a smart company on the continent to own the beach experience and proudly make towels, totes, cushions and umbrellas in Europe. Seasons are getting longer and no one has a solid offer for the lawns along Lac Léman or the beaches of the Med and Atlantic.

3.
If you pass through Zürich Airport from June onwards, Monocle is back with a new seasonal shop and a sharp collection of both Swiss-made originals and special travel items. We’re on the hunt for more airport locations, so if you run airports and would like a new tenant – drop me a note.

4.
Why don’t airline lounges offer more privacy nooks for calls? While I’ll always opt for a classic call over a dreadful Teams or Zoom experience, sometimes you can’t fight the system or the people who’ve lost the ability to dial. This is why smart carriers need more soundproofed cabins to keep the peace in the dining room and other public areas.

5.
Is Tesla the Skechers of the urban transport industry? Just as Skechers seem to own the F&B industry, are there any families or everyday consumers still buying Teslas? I can’t imagine.

6.
Always carry a crisp shirt and a tie – especially if you’re visiting a big Emirati energy company. I thought my Japanese knits and navy blazer would be enough for a visit to the 57th floor. So too did my colleagues in similar attire. But after some negotiating and questioning – “Did you not read the protocol section of the invite?” – we made it through the gates and had a jolly meeting. Our host even organised for the UAE Air Force to do a flypast. While I was glad that I didn’t have to wear the tie that was offered by security, I fully respect the concept of keeping up appearances.

7.
On that topic, why is it okay for newsreaders to wear a suede bomber jacket for days on end and deliver important headlines? It’s a fine way for a network to attempt to look “modern” while undermining decades of authority and trust.

8.
This week I’m off to Toronto and then Tokyo but between the two is our Shanghai Entrepreneurs conference. These pit stops mean that our café expansion is under way. Shanghai will also feature a full retail and café pop-up starting next weekend. Come see us. 

9.
If you would like to join our conference, we’re sold out. But if you ask Hannah (hg@monocle.com) nicely, we might be able to find you a jump seat. It’s going to be a good one. The mission is to outdo Jakarta.

10.
If we miss you in Shanghai, we have the Badi Market in Zürich and our summer party in Merano as our next key gatherings. So keep an eye on our events page and make sure to jot them down in the diary.

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

Wander around Brera during Milan Design Week and you might assume that the upscale quarter is the city’s traditional design epicentre. Today it’s where top brands – including from the worlds of fashion and lifestyle, as well as furniture and lighting – want to be seen. Though there are packed Fuorisalone events stretching from Tortona to Porta Venezia, you’re still likely to spot some of the week’s longest queues in Brera. But it wasn’t always this way.

For years, Salone del Mobile dominated Milan’s design scene. Established in 1961, the trade fair was originally held near the CityLife area and there were few co-ordinated events elsewhere in the city. Brera wasn’t as exclusive as it is today, though it was clearly a place with a lot of potential. “It is a central part of the city, close to Piazza San Babila,” says Gilda Bojardi, the editor of Interni magazine since 1994 and a long-time resident of the neighbourhood. “But at one point, it was far more affordable.”

In 1980, contemporary-design gallery Dilmos opened in a historic Vico Magistretti building on Piazza San Marco. Bojardi cites this as a defining moment for the quarter; soon, design brands followed in its footsteps, most notably Boffi. With its world-class fine-art academy and Pinacoteca di Brera gallery, the district had a strong creative backbone. Today the area is peppered with design studios and showrooms.

In 1990, a year in which Salone skipped an edition, Fuorisalone officially kicked off after Bojardi organised an event with a network of showrooms. Showcases and more began to pop up across the city later that decade. Paolo Casati and his team sensed the potential of marketing events around the city more widely. A design graduate from Politecnico di Milano, Casati realised that Fuorisalone could be further leveraged as a brand. In 2000 he bought the Fuorisalone domain name and, three years later, started an online guide and events listing in which companies could increase their visibility. It also told people where to eat in town and the team printed Fuorisalone badges.

An astute entrepreneur, Casati realised that different design centres could exist in Milan. He set up a consultancy called Studiolabo with Cristian Confalonieri and worked on the Tortona, Porta Romana, Bovisa and Mecenate design districts. The formula was similar to that of Fuorisalone: a new visual identity and both online and offline guides. The idea was successful in some places and less so in others (Bovisa hasn’t been able to establish itself as a major Milan Design Week destination). The concept was appealing to property developers, who knew that a more alluring neighbourhood meant a healthier market. “It was a way to attract attention and make prices go up,” says Casati.

In 2010, a business leader in Brera approached him about creating a design district. Casati quickly saw that the neighbourhood had what it took to succeed – so much so that it became his main focus, along with the Fuorisalone site. “We looked at the district lines and there were 70 showrooms in Brera,” he tells Monocle. “We didn’t need to look for clients as they were already there.” Casati helped to promote 47 events for Fuorisalone in the first year. Brera wasn’t reliant on property speculation (being an old neighbourhood where there’s little space to build) and was “a brand that was already known”, he adds.

Over the 16 years that Casati has been involved with Brera Design District, the area has continued to grow. It now boasts about 230 showrooms and holds about 300 events during Milan Design Week. The design-focused apartment where he meets Monocle, which is used to host events, opened in 2017. Recent newcomers to the district include prominent Japanese interiors and manufacturing company Time & Style, which now has three beautiful spaces in the same building. “The architecture and atmosphere seemed perfect,” says Momo Ono, one of the brand’s interior planners. The site’s proximity to luxury Italian design group Boffi De Padova, with which Time & Style has been collaborating on a capsule collection, was also important. “It was a factor that confirmed the prestige of the area,” says Ono.

For Giusi Tacchini, the CEO and creative director of Tacchini, Brera was an obvious choice as a place to open a showroom. The Italian brand set up shop inside an early-20th-century apartment on Largo Treves last year. “It’s an area that’s steeped in art, history and craftsmanship,” she says. “Design in Brera is never just an exhibition. It’s part of a broader, living context.” The district isn’t simply a transactional place where brands tout their products. Its mix of shops, restaurants and galleries makes it all feel alive. “Why is Brera the world’s most important design district?” asks Casati. “Because of its density and quality.”

For more spots in Milan worth exploring, click here. 

Fuorisalone might not be a fashion week but it’s one of the style set’s favourite places to flex its design credentials away from the runway. Over the past decade, the annual event has become unmissable for denizens of the fashion industry, with houses clocking that the showcase is a chance to engage with design-astute audiences while enhancing their cultural cachet. 

Last year, the sector’s presence at Milan Design Week peaked with more than 40 fashion houses staging events. Hermès, Prada, Miu Miu, Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Bottega Veneta and Loro Piana are all returning for the latest iteration. (In 2025, the latter was the most talked-about label, thanks to its collaboration with Milanese design firm Dimorestudio.) 

This time, Milan-based brand Jil Sander joins the fray, making its Fuorisalone debut with Reference Library, an exhibition of 60 books chosen by 60 creatives that will be presented on chrome lecterns, to be perused by visitors wearing white gloves. Staged at the brand’s showroom near Sforzesco Castle, the show is masterminded by its new creative director, Simone Bellotti. 

“Salone del Mobile is the moment when the city becomes a gathering point for people who care deeply about how things are made,” Bellotti tells Monocle. “Jil Sander has always been defined by deliberation, the refinement of cuts, the perfection of details. These are values that the design world shares. Our customer is someone who lives with intention, who chooses things carefully and keeps them. The overlap between a person who appreciates exceptional design and someone who wears Jil Sander isn’t incidental.” 

A recent report commissioned by PR agency Karla Otto and conducted by marketing platform Lefty found that, in 2025, the fashion category represented a 56 per cent “share of voice” (the industry term for the proportion of market conversation on social media) over the course of Milan Design Week. To put that into perspective, it recorded 30 per cent for the design category, while media, lifestyle, food and beverage, automobile, beauty, technology, jewellery and finance shared the remaining 14 per cent. 

“People want to live inside a brand, not just wear it,” says Lewis Alexander, the founder of London-based strategic advisory firm Alexander & Co, who notes that for fashion groups, having a presence in the interiors category chimes with shareholder logic. “Apparel has a ceiling; interiors offer high margins and cultural resonance. Once fashion dressed the body; now it dresses life.” 

However, in 2026, there are signs of a mood shift. Having enjoyed a high profile at Milan Design Week in recent years, several fashion houses are notable by their absence, including The Row, Yves Saint Laurent and Loewe. The industry’s representation at Salone mostly comprises brands with more firmly established footholds in design, such as Hermès, Louis Vuitton, Versace, Fendi Casa and Ralph Lauren. 

The fashion sector continues to endure a slowdown, while recalibrating after a year of creative-director switch-ups and executive reshuffles. Budgets that might have been allocated for extracurricular events such as Milan Design Week are being reconsidered. “Every designer who comes into a label has a different idea of what it should look like – not to mention the fact that they need to make six or seven collections a year,” says Lisa Pomerantz, the brand director of New York-based firm LFP Collective. “Then they’re supposed to figure out home collections too? It can’t just be an afterthought. You can’t put something in the shop window if it doesn’t legitimately belong there. People are getting wise to it. ‘One and done’ doesn’t work any more because there’s too much noise.” 

This coincides with a change in popular opinion among the design industry. Somewhat at odds with the event’s open-door policy that has democratised access to elite design circles over the years, the Karla Otto report found an increasing “tension between the concept of public access and industry intimacy”. Two camps have emerged: one that thinks that the presence of fashion brands is resulting in a kind of industry dilution and another that sees the value of attracting new demographics. 

“There’s a sniffiness about the idea that fashion is barging into design’s temple,” says Alexander, who notes that there’s a “distaste for houses that just slap a logo on a chair”. Done well, however, he sees opportunities for brands to engage with a new generation. “Craft is now positioned as proof of durability and integrity – and that message lands with younger consumers,” he adds. “For them, it’s often their first brush with heritage and craft. If they discover Hermès wallpaper before they discover the Bauhaus, that’s not a bad entry point.” 

Like Jil Sander, fashion brands without a lifestyle category are tapping into a growing appetite for intellectual enrichment and experience rather than prioritising new products. “Thinking and engagement – or to be able to think deeply and engage without distraction – are new aspirational cues,” says Lucie Greene, the founder of Light Years Consulting. “It also sits with the Generation Z curator mindset of mining cultural artefacts. Unearthing books and key texts outside the digital space sets them apart.” 

In collaboration with Spanish architecture office Ensamble Studio, Issey Miyake is returning to Milan for its 10th year with The Paper Log: Shell and Core, a project repurposing by-products of the brand’s pleated clothing. Elsewhere, Miu Miu is back with the third installation of its Literary Club, while its parent brand, Prada, returns for its fifth symposium, titled Prada Frames, in partnership with Milanese design duo Formafantasma. 

“Prada is a great example of a brand that is never literal,” says Pomerantz. “What Miuccia Prada [the executive director of the Prada Group] is saying is, ‘My brand is built on intellectual conversations.’ Why wouldn’t she want to intersect with culture and have a talk? That’s very her.” According to Greene, a new focus for fashion brands taking part in events such as Fuorisalone is “neo-cerebralism”, which puts the emphasis on substance over simple brand experiences. “It’s linked to artificial intelligence and a focus on human skills, artistry, intuition and critical thinking,” adds Greene. “It’s making us look to history, philosophy and art from both the past and present to make sense of things, especially in this period of massive global change and disruption.”

How do you measure Canto-pop’s success? You could count the songs: more than 1,000 new tracks were released in 2025. You could witness the queues of fans camping overnight outside radio stations to see the stars. Or, given that you’re in commercially savvy Hong Kong, you could count the money: large-scale concerts in 2023-24 alone contributed an estimated HK$2.2bn (€242.8m) to Hong Kong’s economy.

New venues are opening, new festivals are launching and DJs are remixing old classics for a new generation of clubgoers: the genre is more relevant than it has been in decades. “Growing up in the 2010s, Canto-pop wasn’t considered ‘cool’,” says Kiri T, a singer, songwriter and producer signed to Warner Music. “American pop culture and the English language held such cachet in this city that I felt almost uncomfortable claiming the Canto-pop label and singing in my native language. But recently there’s been a shift. The attention is turning inward.”

Born Kiri Tse Hiu-ying, the 31-year-old is among the dozens of artists whose profile is rising. Her career began in high school, when she signed a Canto-pop label deal as a songwriter. She has been releasing music professionally for more than 10 years but her latest album, A Kiridiculous Distance, has a stronger Cantonese focus than ever. Her track “You Gotta Screw Up At Least Once” was one of the top five most-played of 2025.

We join Kiri T for an open-air campus performance at the Chinese University of Hong Kong. For this new wave of artists, university shows have become an opportunity to meet fans and go on a mini-tour within Hong Kong without the pressure of filling a stadium or playing a full set. This time, it’s short and sweet – she’s onstage for only two songs. The courtyard is full of students fresh from late lectures and die-hard fans holding placards. They dance under clear skies and sing along, eyes closed, to melancholic lyrics about identity and belonging.

The last time that the city listened this closely to its own voice was Canto-pop’s golden age. The genre reached the public from the 1970s and sales soared in the 1980s and 1990s as stars such as Leslie Cheung, Anita Mui and Beyond filled the Coliseum for weeks at a time. It was a regional force and a symbol of Hong Kong itself: on the up. At its 1998 peak, annual record sales hit HK$1.6bn. But then came a precipitous decline. “The post-handover period [after the UK returned Hong Kong to China in 1997] was buffeted by the Asian financial crisis, piracy and creative fatigue,” says Wong Chi-Chung, a DJ, a music journalist and a lecturer at the Hong Kong Design Institute. The centre shifted from idols to indie acts, a fragmented ecosystem that he calls “HK pop”. In the meantime, Mando-pop and K-pop surged in popularity. “Public engagement couldn’t compare to the golden age.” By 2017, annual sales had fallen to HK$200m. “Canto-pop has always been a way to feel ‘Hong Kong-ness’,” says Wong. Its popularity rises and falls with the city’s identity. At its best, it unites residents of all ages, the diaspora and even some mainland listeners through anthemic melodies. “Hong Kong has been in need of that,” he adds, especially after the 2019 anti-government protests and the coronavirus pandemic. “There was a hunger to recentre around a shared cultural identity.”

Jessica Ho, the executive music director at Commercial Radio 2 and host of 903 Music, has seen tastes change at first hand. “When newer artists come in for our afternoon programme, there are crowds of fans waiting in the lobby, sometimes having queued outside for up to a week,” she says. “That’s a level of excitement that we haven’t seen since the 1980s.”

Nonetheless, challenges remain: some universal, some specific to Hong Kong. The pressure to release new music isn’t always a boon to quality and the culture of live music and supporting up-and-coming artists isn’t as strong here as it is in Europe. This tension is amplified by the role of generative AI in music, with platforms such as Suno able to create complete tracks that many see as a threat to artists.

A few days before Kiri T’s performance at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, we visit her at a Kowloon recording studio. “I can’t tell you much about this song but it’s for an upcoming long-form project,” she says. She savours a pineapple bun and a hot drink. “To warm up the vocal cords,” she explains.

Though Kiri T has her own concerns about the future of her industry, she sees Cantonese, a complex language with nine tones, as a unique safeguard. “Cantonese is so legato [smooth]; AI just makes it sound choppy,” says Kiri T. “You could generate 10 English dance tracks and they’ll sound legit but in Cantonese it still sounds wrong. It really makes me treasure Canto-pop: it’s full of emotions, inherently human, and it’s a luxury to be able to sing it.”

This article is from Monocle’s newspaper The Hong Kong Correspondent, which is available to purchase now. In its pages, we meet the entrepreneurs going against the grain, survey fresh projects that are reshaping Central and give you a taste of what the fashionable Hong Konger is wearing about town. Plus: Monocle’s favourite places to eat, drink and be merry.
Purchase your copy today.

In a residential neighbourhood in the east of the city, regulars are propping up the bar at Banco d’Assaggio, an old-school wine spot of the type that proliferates around Milan. Follow the road for another 100 metres towards the park, however, and the scene changes altogether. Despite the lack of signage outside, the interior patio at Fiorin Fiorello is filling up with a fashion-hipster crowd sipping on French whites and nibbling from cheese platters. Inside, music is played through large custom-built speakers fixed to the walls.

A few years ago, places such as Fiorin Fiorello didn’t exist. The choice was between a fun, old-school joint or a more contemporary offering that didn’t always get it right. Maybe it has something to do with Milan’s new residents or perhaps the Lombard capital is simply playing catch-up with the likes of London, Paris, New York and Copenhagen – but new spots are emerging and there’s a definite Milan aesthetic being established, in which stainless steel and mood lighting play an important part.

For Luca Marullo, co-founder of Parasite 2.0, the design studio behind Fiorin Fiorello’s interiors (as well as Porta Venezia’s Sandì), the new wave of Milan bars has something to do with patrons’ changing habits. “The way you spent the night used to be aperitivo and then clubs,” he says. “Now people are spending more time in places like Fiorin Fiorello. You can drink, spend the evening here and even have a little dance.”

Entering the bar feels almost cinematic. Once through the door, you part a giant, elaborately hung curtain, revealing a bar that is decked out in raw stainless steel and manned by American sommelier and manager Louis Turano. A giant light box hanging from the ceiling changes colour from yellow to red as the night progresses (red lighting is a thing, pioneered by new-wave trendsetter Bar Nico, which featured in last year’s newspaper, as well as new opening Bar Sensa). At Fiorin Fiorello there are also references to old Milan: notably the radica (briarwood), popular in the 1970s, covering some walls; and the DJ booth located round the corner in a nook where drinking turns to dancing from Thursday to Saturday.

“The idea was to have a bar that did music and wine,” says Luca Fiore, one of its four co-founders. “It’s neither an enoteca [wine bar] nor a listening bar.” Still, it has probably drawn inspiration from other music-centric places that have sprung up of late in Milan, such as Mogo – from the team behind Bentoteca and Pan – and Corso Genova’s San.

Another feature of the new wave is New York-style bar seating, which is a nod to what Fiore calls “conviviality”. Milan’s bar resurgence has been led by Silvano, a wine-and-bites spot in the Nolo neighbourhood where diners sit at a stainless-steel bar. The bancone (counter) is also an integral part of excellent new opening Kiwon, a small-plates Korean restaurant and wine bar. With interiors designed by Milan’s Oooh Studio, there are conventional tables but the prime spot is on the raised chairs facing a large open-plan kitchen. “We love the counter, which is why we created it,” says Carmine Colucci, who met his fellow owners, chef Ha Neul Ko (whose family has a 40-year-old Korean restaurant) and Emanuele Romanelli, working at Enoteca Flor. “When we go out, we like to be there; you see everything. You never know what will happen at the bar.”

Kiwon’s dishes are a breath of fresh air for Asian food in Milan. They are a mixture of traditional fare and more contemporary offerings, although the presentation clearly leans towards the modern. Classics include simmered rice cakes called tteokbokki with vegetables, served with a gochujang spicy sauce made with fermented soya, as well as an excellent fried-chicken dish. More modern takes include a turbot carpaccio and a toasted sandwich filled with roast beef, marinated white radish and lightly spiced mayo.

A similar contemporary take can be felt at the buzzing Balay in Porta Venezia. Near Milan Design Week’s Spazio Maiocchi, it is hosting Monocle’s daytime pop-up café. A small, casual spot along the road from speciality coffee opening Rito, Balay serves funky beers, excellent wine and plates that pop in your mouth thanks to their interesting flavours. Despite only being a little more than nine months old, Balay has established itself as one of the city’s most popular destinations. Getting a seat can be tricky.

“Milan is changing in terms of modern Asian food,” says Balay’s founder, Ray Ibarra, who is from the city but has Filipino heritage. He cut his teeth at Milan’s Bentoteca, where he worked for six years before opening his own place after travelling in Japan. “Finally there is a young approach,” he says.

The food and drink at Balay is global and draws on the Philippines’ gastronomic influences, which span China, Spain and the Americas. Ibarra has created an intimate home-like feel, with jazz, soul and funk music playing on a Bowers & Wilkins stereo and pictures from the Philippines taken by his parents. Tables are pushed close together and metal shelves left exposed like the uncovered walls often found in the Philippines. The showpiece dish is the herby sesame prawn toast dipped in a banana ketchup (washed down, in our case, with an Austrian orange wine), while another winner is a deconstructed take on a devilled egg. “I’m happy that I had the courage to open something like this,” says Ibarra. So, too, is Milan.

Address book:

Fiorin Fiorello
Via Fratelli Bronzetti, 38

Sandì
Via Francesco Hayez, 13

Bar Nico
Via Cesare Saldini, 2

Bar Sensa
Via Garofalo, 21

Mogo
Via Bernina, 1C

San
Via Cesare da Sesto, 1

Silvano Vini e Cibi al Banco
Piazza Morbegno, 2

Kiwon
Via Macedonia Melloni, 35

Balay
Via Achille Maiocchi, 26

Rito
Via Achille Maiocchi, 18