The World Governments Summit (WGS) kicks off today at the Madinat Jumeirah in Dubai (writes Inzamam Rashid). The annual gathering has become one of the most packed fixtures on the diplomatic calendar, with attendees including presidents, prime ministers and policymakers from across the globe.
This year’s summit opens amid heightened regional tensions: the arrival of Donald Trump’s “beautiful armada” in Middle Eastern waters highlights the president’s renewed threats to strike Iran. Meanwhile, trilateral talks involving US, Ukrainian and Russian officials are unfolding in Abu Dhabi.
Over the coming days, leaders expected in Dubai include Guy Parmelin, president of Switzerland; Edi Rama, Albania’s outspoken prime minister; Pedro Sánchez, Spain’s premier; and Nawaf Salam, the prime minister of Lebanon. Large delegations from Africa are also in attendance, reinforcing a pattern seen at recent UAE-hosted events: a concerted effort by Abu Dhabi and Dubai to deepen political, economic and diplomatic ties with the continent.
One of the summit’s defining features is its format. Unlike the panel-heavy structure of many international gatherings, WGS leans heavily into majlis-style meetings, where leaders sit together in intimate, circular arrangements to help foster conversation. It’s a reminder that diplomacy in this part of the world is as much about trust and proximity as it is about policy papers.
WGS also brings together business leaders, entrepreneurs, aviation chiefs, technologists and media figures, blurring the lines between public policy and private power. This is part of the event’s appeal – and its challenge. With so many disciplines under one roof, the conversations are rich but the outcomes can feel diffuse. How much of what is discussed here will genuinely travel beyond Dubai?
Still, WGS is a masterclass in soft power. The UAE positions itself not as the loudest voice in the room but as the host – a convener that creates space for others to talk, negotiate and test ideas. “It is a lab for governments,” says Mohammad al-Gergawi, the minister of cabinet affairs in the UAE and the WGS chairman.
That sense of choreography extends well beyond the main stage. Much of the event’s business happens between sessions in smaller meeting rooms, in the courtyard of Madinat Jumeirah’s conference centre and over coffee. The Monocle Café has become part of that informal ecosystem – a place where ministers pause between commitments, advisers trade notes and delegates briefly step out of diplomatic mode.
Monocle Radio will be broadcasting from the summit throughout the week, with Monocle’s head of radio, Tom Edwards; editor in chief, Andrew Tuck; and chairman and editorial director, Tyler Brûlé, joining me on the ground. If there’s one thing that WGS does well it’s creating space for good conversation. Slowing down, gathering people around the same table and letting dialogue unfold is needed now more than ever.
Frequent travellers to the Caribbean are used to delays but these are typically caused by hurricanes rather than military action. Those seeking a dose of winter sun last month had their plans scrambled as the Federal Aviation Administration closed Eastern Caribbean airspace during the US special forces operation to extract Venezuelan president Nicolás Maduro. Whether flying Paris to Martinique, London to Saint Lucia or Toronto to Turks and Caicos, the result was cancelled flights across the board – more than 1,100 in all. Those disruptions will almost certainly not be the last. Civil-aviation authorities recently warned pilots in the eastern Pacific of the ongoing risks from US military aircraft. Pentagon officials confirmed in late January that they had conducted their first airstrike on an alleged drug smuggling vessel since Maduro’s capture.
With high season under way, it’s high time that holidaymakers and tourism marketers dispense with the myth that the Caribbean is nothing but an interchangeable mix of sun, sea and sand. As Monocle contributor Tom Vanderbilt said in November after finding himself in a sticky situation in Tanzania, you should “do your geopolitical research before packing your passport.”
That kind of homework has long been anathema to tourists heading for the beach. Conventional tourism marketing for the Caribbean typically portrays sun loungers and parasols at the water’s edge, next to a tropical cocktail garnished with a slice of pineapple. In party-hard destinations such as Cancún, Jost Van Dyke and the all-inclusive resorts that litter Jamaica and the Dominican Republic, the aspiration is escapism – throw back another margarita to forget the news of the day.
Such mindlessness has always been poor form. As Antiguan-American writer Jamaica Kincaid put it in her 1988 book A Small Place, a non-fiction work examining her birthplace, “every native of every place is a potential tourist and every tourist is a native of somewhere”. But when the native becomes a tourist, she warns, they almost inevitably transform into “an ugly empty thing, a stupid thing, a piece of rubbish pausing here and there to gaze at this and taste that”.
That kind of shutting off of the brain when going on holiday is what allows one, for example, to meander past the pastel-coloured buildings in Willemstad, the Unesco-recognised capital of Curaçao, but fail to notice the enormous oil refinery, dormant since 2019, that could prove a geostrategic lynchpin if it can once again accept crude oil from Venezuela. At its worst, such inanity sees tens of thousands of cruise ship passengers disembark to ride zip lines and water slides at a gated resort in Labadee, Haiti, who have little awareness that they are in a troubled Caribbean nation. On a recent trip, the port of call was announced as “Labadee, Hispaniola”. Travellers, however geopolitically stunted, should at least know where they are. The region is not adrift from geopolitics: it is a hotspot and one in which the White House will continue to take a keen interest. Whether it’s Cuba or Haiti, more disruption is to be expected.
This finger-wagging is not to discourage travel to the Caribbean but rather to encourage visitors to brush up on this complex part of the globe. Colonialism left a painful legacy on the region but it also left an enriching cultural heritage. You might learn why you should pick up a few words of Papiamentu and seek out a baseball game in Aruba or pack a novel by Maryse Condé and order a ti’ punch at the bar in Guadeloupe. A quick history lesson might also point you in the direction of the most tranquil Caribbean destination: the US Virgin Islands, which Washington purchased from Copenhagen in 1916. With that territorial deal long in the rear-view mirror, you can relax on the beach in Saint Croix worry-free.
Gregory Scruggs is Monocle’s Seattle correspondent. For more analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle here.
Read next: After Venezuela, who’s next? Maduro’s capture revives Latin American fears of US intervention
At what point does short-term gain become long-term disadvantage? It’s an important question for both individuals and nations to ask themselves, and one that I’ve been thinking about since returning a week ago from Greenland (where a Monocle team was reporting on the crisis over the island’s sovereignty).
In several ways, the farrago over Greenland typified this age of smartphone diplomacy, in which our capacity to think far ahead of the present moment is under 24-hour, synapse-shredding assault. High-level negotiations used to be conducted in person, by letter or via phone calls – and mostly behind closed doors. As such, civility and careful persuasion were the most effective tools for getting what one wanted. Now, when so much of it is done in front of billions, nuance is almost impossible. And we, as observers, aren’t blameless: just over a week after the threat of war over Greenland subsided, how many of us are already craving the next dopamine hit? Could it come from the US armada heading towards Iran? Tune in next week to find out.
Current US foreign policy might be successful in keeping the world on the edge of its seat and ratings (or at least “impressions”) sky-high – but the result will ultimately be a waning of American hegemony. Already, erstwhile allies are moving to decouple from the unpredictable giant. As Trump was threatening to annex Greenland, Germany’s chancellor, Friedrich Merz, whose country is home to several of America’s largest overseas military bases, was gearing up for his first official visit to China later this month. Last week the UK prime minister, traditionally seen as the US president’s closest fellow leader, was also inspecting a guard of honour in the Great Hall of the People. China is openly recognised as the number-one challenger to US pre-eminence so why is Trump working day and night to push the rest of the world into its arms?
And so, to the matter of Greenland. In the past, the US would have recognised that the best way to achieve its objectives was through the soft power of its culture and economic might. United Airlines recently began the first non-stop commercial flight between the territory and the US. Though only six months’ old, the summertime bi-weekly Newark to Nuuk route was already encouraging an exchange of understanding (and greenbacks) that would have done much to win Greenlanders round to the US. Most of the business owners who I spoke to in Nuuk said that while they hated America’s government, they liked its tourists. Unfortunately, it is with the US government that Greenland’s leaders will be renegotiating the 1951 defence agreement that governs the territory. As every bully in history could have told Trump, intimidation might quickly gain you acquiescence but it will cost you goodwill in the end.
A failure by those leading the world to look beyond their social-media feeds is fuelling our collective dizziness. It’s also why Mark Carney’s speech at Davos was so good. Besides being well written and delivered, it articulated a far-sighted vision for the world, while refusing to shy away from hard truths. The gratefulness with which it has been received around the world and across the political spectrum shows how many of us are craving this kind of thinking.
At Monocle, we try to cultivate a similarly digested and non-hysterical view. It can be seen in our coverage of business, culture, design, fashion, travel, hospitality and, yes, global politics. While in the Greenlandic capital, rather than merely doing live hits with snowy backdrops, we spoke to locals about their culture, their businesses and also (because we had to) their views of Donald Trump. After the inevitable rolling-on of the media circus, it is these impressions that remain – and these people, who will hopefully define the future of Greenland.
Alexis Self is Monocle’s foreign editor. For more about how Mark Carney’s speech stole the show in Davos, click here.
The Faster Lane was in top gear this week as it moved westward from last Saturday, zipped eastward again on Thursday, went high-altitude on Friday and made a dash to the Gulf at about the same time as this column went to press. Here’s the week that was, told in seven modes of mobility.
1.
Zürich to Paris on a Helvetic Airways Embraer E190
This is one of those journeys that should be three hours by train but is a stubborn four to five hours depending on the connection and maintenance work across the French and Swiss rail networks. It would also be faster if Switzerland’s railway bumpkins allowed for trains to travel at 300km/h between Zürich and Basel. Never mind, I have a solution. If you avoid landing at Paris’s CDG in the morning and opt for early afternoon, it can be a swift 43 minutes in the air and 35 minutes into the centre of Paris.
2.
Monocle on Rue Bachaumont to Takara on Rue Molière for no fuss Japanese in Paraboot brogues
What better way to cross the soggy and slick sidewalks of Paris than a pair of hefty, made-in-France Paraboots? Have you noticed how the sneaker continues its retreat to the back of the wardrobe when it comes to pulling together a daily ensemble? Thank heavens.
3.
Hotel Bachaumont to Gare du Nord in a G7 Taxi-operated Lexus sedan
Smart people know that G7 Taxi is the only way to get around Paris on four wheels; Uber and limo services are for amateurs. With its Lexus-heavy fleet of VIP cabs, G7 has a snappy app, polite drivers and the freedom to use bus lanes for speeding around Paris. The only thing missing is a predictive bit of technology for avoiding the early morning rubbish trucks that block you on a side street during your morning dash to the station.
4.
Paris to London on Eurostar in a Siemens-engineered rail carriage
Travelling by Eurostar should be something to look forward to rather than dread but somehow it judders from bad to worse. The upholstery and interior finishes on the latest rolling stock are not wearing well, the wi-fi is sluggish at best and skirts for men as part of the uniform? Really? How about using all that fabric to reupholster the threadbare seats? And perhaps some golden, dimmable lighting to keep all the luxury-industry regulars looking radiant on the evening jaunt home? One of Japan’s high-speed rail operators should pair up with Hitachi to launch a rival service that ups the offer for all.
5.
Zürich to St Moritz in my Toyota Land Cruiser
I’ve had this solid set of wheels for more than a year now and every time that I get behind the wheel I just want to keep on driving. Next stop: Brno? Brindisi? Batumi? It’s comfy, peppy for its size, well-appointed with its built-in fridge (anyone for Krug in the back?) and reassuringly diesel for that day the grid collapses.
6.
St Moritz to Landquart in a Stadler-built carriage on the Rhätische Bahn
One of the world’s most beautiful rail journeys would be a bit more soothing if the seats reclined – but then there’d be a danger that you’d drift off and miss the stunning scenery. I never tire of getting on these red trains, winding through the mountains and wondering if we would ever build such infrastructure today, and if we did, would we find the manpower to do it?
7.
Zürich to Dubai on a Swiss A330
For mid-haul jaunts, this is my shuttle to Montreal, Toronto and with increasing frequency, Dubai. The business class needs a refresh but the first class still works and feels every bit the brand – right angles, woody, pragmatic and efficient. If only the clever Swiss could install a flatulence-suppression system for the man in 2A who went for the onion soup pre-departure. Uffffffff…
Enjoying life in ‘The Faster Lane’? Click here to browse all of Tyler’s past columns.
The Spanish Netflix series Ciudad de Sombras (City of Shadows) is a six-part crime drama set in 2010 Barcelona. The show unfolds in a city still uneasy about the 1992 Olympics, which displaced people from their homes to make way for new sports facilities, beaches and museums. Nearly 30 years later, they continue to be eased out of their apartments in the name of progress.
While there are other plotlines to do with cancer, child abuse, teenage suicide and Spanish TV, the key narrative of the series is the kidnapping and subsequent burning alive of various public figures, all taking place in buildings by Antoni Gaudí. Ciudad de Sombras is essentially an entertaining detective series that features spectacular architecture. It’s why, as yet another poor unfortunate is being flambéed, all you can think is: “I need to get to Barcelona and visit everything that Gaudí ever designed.” (Bookmark Monocle’s Barcelona City Guide, if you do.)
Of course, this is not the first time that the art of building design has stolen the show on screen or in print. Here are five more killer cultural outings for people who like double servings of crime and architecture.
1.
Hawksmoor
Novel by Peter Ackroyd
The award-winning novel, which is set in both 18th-century and contemporary London, tells a two-track story. One follows ecclesiastical architect Nicholas Dyer, a secret Satanist who sacrifices humans as part of his building process (you do have to be careful with these architect types). The other revolves around a policeman, Nicholas Hawksmoor, who is investigating a series of modern-time murders that have been committed at Dyer churches. Now, there was an architect called Nicholas Hawksmoor in 18th-century London, who designed many of the churches that Dyer designs in the book, such as Christ Church Spitalfields and St Anne’s Limehouse – hence Ackroyd borrowing his name. Many people who read Hawksmoor subsequently made visits to the rather spooky churches featured in the novel. Most, it is believed, made it home again.
2.
North by Northwest
Film directed by Alfred Hitchcock
This spy thriller starring Cary Grant, Eva Marie Saint and James Mason had another unexpected star – a villain’s lair called the Vandamm House. Although it was just a set, Hitchcock used Frank Lloyd Wright’s masterpiece, Fallingwater, as inspiration for its design. The Vandamm House was only on screen for some 14 minutes, yet it became a much-talked-about element of the film. To this day, the iconic structure has many fans and has even inspired several real-life houses.
3.
American Psycho
Film directed by Mary Harron
Contemporary – especially modernist – architecture in movies is often associated with people up to no good: chilly folk who might murder you for a sin as slight as scratching their Eames chair. There is perhaps no better example of this than American Psycho. While the story is set in Manhattan, much of the filming took place in Toronto, in a stark and amazing 1967 project by Mies van der Rohe. The Toronto-Dominion Centre features two brooding black towers and it is here that Patrick Bateman, played by Christian Bale, works (and when taking time out from investment banking, kills people). The character’s apartment has more pieces by the celebrated architect, including the famous Barcelona chairs. The movie plays on a common notion with its choice in locations and furniture: minimalism is evil and stark rooms are likely hangouts for narcissist killers.
4.
Poirot
British TV series based on the books of Agatha Christie
The murders in this show are a little less grisly than in American Psycho but the on-screen architecture is used for a similar narrative impact. Poirot, despite his old-fashioned manners and attire, lives in Whitehaven Mansions, an elegant art deco apartment building. And as a stand-in, the series used wavy-fronted Florin Court in London’s Charterhouse Square. The choice of home suggests a man who is actually rather modern at heart – driven by science, meticulousness and an aesthete to boot. A similar narrative is present in the life of Agatha Christie herself. In 1941, after her home was bombed in the Blitz, she moved to the Isokon building designed by Wells Coates and completed in 1934. Today the structure is still regarded as a clean-lined modernist break from the past.
5.
Body Double
Film directed by Brian de Palma
The 1984 erotic thriller might not have been a box-office triumph but the house at the centre of the action could shrug that off – it had regularly been cast in movies and TV shows and continues to be put in the spotlight. The building in question is the Chemosphere, a residence by the celebrated American architect John Lautner. The property, which was erected in 1960 in Los Angeles, looks like a flying saucer sat on a concrete pillar. This, and other Lautner houses that are also perched on cliff edges, have become cinema stalwarts because they not only hint at wealth but also a detached, voyeuristic view of the world: they provide an ability to pry into the life of a city unobserved. And there was Lautner thinking he just made nice homes.
‘City of Shadows’ is available to stream on Netflix now.
Designing a centre dedicated to a renowned 20th-century architect such as Louis Kahn presents the challenge of honouring his legacy without making it static. This challenge will be addressed on Saaremaa, a Baltic island off Estonia’s west coast and Kahn’s birthplace. Rather than turning first to established studios, the Louis Kahn Estonia Foundation has begun with architecture students – and the results make a strong case for involving them in shaping public space more often. Three leading European schools – ETH Zürich, the Oslo School of Architecture and Design (AHO), and Tallinn University of Technology – were invited to explore what the future Louis Kahn Centre might look like.
“Students are freer,” says architect Mari-Liis Vunder of the Louis Kahn Estonia Foundation. “They are not yet constrained by reputations or expectations. We saw a range of ideas we could never have commissioned directly, and that helped us think differently about the centre.”
Some proposals imagine quiet, almost monastic structures embedded in the landscape; others are robust and monumental, made from stone, earth or reused industrial materials. What unites them is an engagement with space, light and materiality – central themes in Kahn’s work – without copying his formal language.
“These are not literal interpretations of Kahn,” says Kathrine Næss, associate professor at AHO. “We told the students clearly: this is not about copying Kahn. It’s about understanding his spirit.” She believes that spirit is found in space, light and place, not just in form. This is why it was so important that the students visited the Saaremaa site in the town of Kuressaare. It is large, coastal and exposed, shaped by changing light, strong winds and a feeling of remoteness. Students were asked to respond to the real location, not just an abstract idea. Some took photos of their models on site, while others studied weather, flooding and seasonal changes in the coastal reefs. “Nature is very present in these projects,” says Næss. “Many students wanted to avoid harming the landscape. That awareness is central to how young architects think today.”
At ETH Zürich, professor Roger Boltshauser asked his students: “What would Kahn do today? He would be modern. He would care about materials and the environment.” Importantly, the students were not overwhelmed by Kahn’s legacy. Instead, they approached it in a practical way. Næss notes that “today’s architects question the greats more and more. At the same time, you build on their achievements. It’s a delicate balance.” For many students, the bigger challenge was ethical, not historical. “Building something new is questioned today,” she adds. “Reuse and repurposing are leading ideas. This was a big responsibility for them, but it’s part of their training.”
The future Louis Kahn Centre will reflect this way of thinking. It is planned not as a monument but as a working space for thinking, hand drawing, workshops, teaching and informal exchanges between disciplines. Craftsmanship, both in building and in use, is central to the vision and connects tradition with modern practice.
An international competition will follow but the student work has already done something vital by widening the brief and challenging assumptions. In an era of cautious, brand-driven public architecture, the foundation suggests a better alternative. Give students real sites and real responsibility – and pay attention to what they produce.
Have we reached peak pot plant? Over recent weeks, with my The Urbanist hard hat on, I have visited a lot of new office developments across London and in every lobby (or 3D render if the project is still at hard-hat stage) you are greeted by a jumble of plants arranged in a bid to create a this-is-a-cool-place-to-work vibe. Except, it doesn’t.
The first problem is the actual greenery. Over time people have discovered a group of plants that can survive despite erratic watering and a lack of light. Contractors call this waxy-leaved category “set and forget”. Trouble is, they look too perfect, you might as well just get the plastic plants and be done with it.
And while I know that there’s a lot of talk about biophilia, how just seeing a leaf can make the grimmest of people happy again, I’m not buying it. Taking care of plants is what’s good for the soul, tending to their needs, getting your hands dirty with soil, pruning and enticing – bringing those that stumble back from the brink. It’s why a real dog is better than a stuffed toy. It’s why in the end you won’t replace the other half with, well, use your imagination. It’s the taking care of something with real needs that matters.
The best part about the various tours has been getting to pick up an industry’s lingo and start peppering it into your own vernacular as the day progresses. “Remind me, is this Cat A or Cat A plus?” You can ask to visit the “super loos”, which in British property speak simply means that the sink and the toilet are in the same cubicle.
But my real obsession has been with “end of journey”. The first time someone asked whether I was interested in the end of journey I panicked and wondered if they were booking me into Dignitas. But no, end of journey is a posh way of saying bike rack. Well, bike rack plus.
London is increasingly a city of cyclists, which includes me when it isn’t raining. It’s also a city of bike thieves. So bicycle parking is a concern. And if you are an all-weather devotee, so is showering, drying off your rain-splattered cagoule, and lockers. This week I have seen an end of journey that comes with a daily white-towel service, where there are hair straighteners even in the fellas section. And a clever bike-repair post from which dangled numerous tools. But often one thing was missing – bikes.
End of journey only makes sense if it marries up with start of journey. In London, lots of people live in apartments where there’s nowhere to safely store a bike. Last year a Transport for London (TfL) report said that there had been a 43 per cent jump in the number of daily trips taken on two wheels, to 1.5 million (this number is all encompassing, so includes couriers, for example, not just commuters). Some 10 per cent of that total was now done on dockless e-bikes. And here’s an interesting change: many of their users are no longer just youngsters or tourists but lawyers, bankers, chefs and architects. And they don’t care about end of journey. But me, I’m all in.
Crossing the city, seeing what it has coming to market or what has lingered empty for more than a year, has been a fascinating exercise and a helpful primer ahead of Monocle’s appearance at Mipim, the world’s largest real-estate event, in March (the full team from The Urbanist will be in Cannes with our very own radio studio). And also because the March issue of Monocle includes a special property section.
But before then, Monocle will also be at the World Governments Summit in Dubai this week with not only our own radio studio but also a Monocle Café. If you are attending the event, come say hello to us. Sadly, I don’t have anywhere for you to park your bike.
To read more columns by Andrew Tuck, click here.
A few days ago, La Clef cinema – an arthouse theatre in Paris’s Left Bank – drew a huge crowd for its triumphant reopening. After a six-year battle, students, activists and film lovers celebrated the survival of the city’s only community-run cinema, proving that these venues can thrive when we treat them as cultural spaces rather than expendable businesses.
Since its previous owners decided to close the institution in 2018, La Clef (meaning “the key”) has been a symbol of resistance in the face of a general decline in theatregoing. Founded in the 1970s, the cinema made a name for itself by supporting rare arthouse features from France and abroad, particularly from sub-Saharan Africa and Asia. From the beginning, it offered much more than a space to watch films: it was a place to gather and debate. So, when it became clear that the theatre could disappear, a group of activists and students occupied the property illegally, trained as projectionists and kept its programme of underrepresented voices going for 882 consecutive days. Thanks to a campaign funded by donations, loans from credit unions and support from Martin Scorsese and Quentin Tarantino, as well as French filmmakers including Céline Sciamma, Leos Carax and Olivier Assayas, the collective known as La Clef Revival was finally able to acquire the venue in 2024 for €2.7m.
Part of what has helped La Clef survive is its history and deep ties to its neighbourhood. The Left Bank is home to a student population, and has perhaps the highest concentration of arthouse cinemas in the world – many of which still screen classics and art films. Yet even in France, a country with famously high theatregoing rates, more institutions closed than opened in 2023, which were then replaced with supermarkets, luxury boutiques and coffee shops. Elsewhere, the situation is even more fragile. Theatres worldwide have yet to recover from the combined impact of the coronavirus pandemic, the rise of streaming and the increasing cost of living. In the UK, a recent survey found that only 41 per cent of independent cinemas were confident in their survival through the next three years.
The French cultural exception – the idea that customs should be protected from the unrestrained pressures of the market – has increasingly come under threat. But La Clef’s reopening shows that on a local scale, efforts to protect spaces for artistic experimentation can succeed and retain an audience. It’s easy to blame young people for abandoning these institutions in favour of individualised screen time but, in fact, several studies have shown that they are the demographic driving attendance. Beyond a few older neighbours with childhood memories of La Clef, the crowd on opening night was made up of a new generation drawn by the promise of art, discussion and connection in a physical space: a reminder that valuing theatres cultivates future audiences, rather than just preserving the past.
Cities around the world should look to Paris for inspiration on how a sustained commitment to cinema culture can protect and revitalise community screens. When neighbourhoods come together with the support of local authorities and industry figures, these spaces can thrive, innovate and enrich city life.
laclefrevival.org
Julia Webster Ayuso is a Spanish-British journalist based in Paris and a Monocle contributor.
1.
Stack up some sustainably made stools
Copenhagen heritage furniture house Fritz Hansen and menswear label Another Aspect have joined forces for a collaboration that puts surplus materials to good use. Rather than letting them go to waste, the two practices have created a small collection of stools and accessories. “The collaboration grew from a shared respect for materials, craftsmanship and longevity,” says Another Aspect co-founder and brand director Daniel Brøndt. “Instead of starting with new designs, we let what already existed guide the process, allowing the materials to shape the final pieces.”
The collections include a series of Fritz Hansen’s Dot stools, designed in 1954 by Danish master Arne Jacobsen, upholstered using tweed production remnants from Another Aspect. Rich burgundy fabric is paired with a contrasting Japanese textile beneath the seat, made possible by the stool’s compact, dual-surface design, that lends itself neatly to repurposing small offcuts without compromising quality or expression.
fritzhansen.com; anotheraspect.org
2.
Read a gripping K-drama
‘Holy Boy’ by Lee Heejoo, translated by Joheun Lee
Four women kidnap a K-pop idol. But don’t worry, there’s no peppy cheer in Holy Boy: it’s visceral and disturbing. A delicious (and slightly unhinged) combination of horror, gothic literature and dark comedy makes this novel an offbeat conversation starter.
‘Holy Boy’ will be published on 5 February
3.
Suit up at P Johnson’s new London showroom
Australian label P Johnson has opened a new showroom in London’s Mayfair, neatly slotted between Savile Row, New Bond Street and Burlington Arcade The brand brings a dose of Australian ease to the city’s sharp tailoring scene, with its mix of smart-but-relaxed suiting and thoughtful ready-to-wear pieces.
4.
Take few laps of Helsinki’s redecorated Yrjönkatu swimming hall
Located in central Helsinki, Yrjönkatu swimming hall reopens today following a careful renovation that preserves its original character. Established in 1928, this Art Deco Hall features a handsome lap pool, wood-fired and steam saunas, private relaxation booths and a café with a balcony overlooking the water. Visitors may swim either nude or in costume, continuing a long-standing tradition. Little has changed by design: original tiles and its renowned Nordic Classicism intact. Yrjönkatu offers a rare chance to slow down and enjoy one of Helsinki’s most civilised pleasures — best followed by a coffee and a long linger. Just don’t linger naked.
5.
Stride out in new threads from Beams x New Balance
US sports manufacturer New Balance, which turns 120 this year, has deep roots in Japan. The label appeared in the Japanese market in the mid-1980s, scoring a hit with the 1300 trainer, which is still a staple in many Tokyo smart-casual wardrobes. The love affair has continued since in many collaborations with Japanese labels.
Its latest partner is fashion and lifestyle behemoth Beams, which in turn has its own ties to US culture – its original Tokyo shop was called American Life Shop Beams and styled like a UCLA dorm room. The two companies have teamed up for a special Made in USA apparel collection. Focusing on two classic models – the 990 and 1300 – this collection is inspired by the original blues and greys of those heritage trainers to create a line-up of sweatshirts, zip-up hoodies, T-shirts and joggers made with heavyweight cotton fabrics.
The sweatshirts come in a garment-washed French terry and all silhouettes have been given a Beams tweak with looser fits than New Balance’s regular sports line. We have our eye on the colour-block hoodies, modelled by owner and president Yo Shitara (pictured above) in the collection’s campaign.
beams.co.jp
Hungry for more fashion? Here are the five new retail launches and collaborations to know for 2026
6.
Enjoy a film at Le Grand Rex’s screening room
At a loose end in Paris this weekend? Le Grand Rex’s La Salle Infinite screening room is an art deco overhaul of the establishment’s original 1930s cinema hall. The redesign, envisioned by French studio ABP Architectes, includes rows of deep, comfortable seats inside a tunnel of golden, curvaceous strip lighting.
When it comes to heritage behind the silver screen, Le Grand Rex has little competition in Paris, so be sure to visit the box office, where the chance to enjoy the cinema’s grand interior is worth the price of admission.
legrandrex.com
Need more cinematic adventures? Press play on our further reading
Reel potential: Is Uruguay South America’s next cinema hotspot?
Lausanne’s Capitole cinema shines once again
Hollywood is undergoing an economic revolution. Is cinema’s future on course for a plot twist?
7.
Pick up a copy of Monocle’s new February Issue
Looking to make a fresh start in 2026? Our February issue is packed with fixes, ideas and plans for the year ahead. Follow the lead of the creatives and entrepreneurs moving to Japan’s waterfront enclaves or dive into the Cape Town pools bringing the city’s residents together. Stop by Los Angeles’s traffic-free oasis, peek inside the company pioneering studio spaces for digital creators and meet the fashion masters who have pivoted careers. Plus: we speak to Spain’s migration minister as the country bucks European trends. It’s time to make your move.
Find the February issue on newsstands or online here.
8.
Shop for heirloom-worthy kitchen pieces in Zürich
Japanese concept shop Haraiso has returned to Zürich, this time settling into a new spot in the heart of Wiedikon, just a few steps from sister establishment Ooki izakaya. The name comes from a Japanese twist on the Portuguese paraíso, meaning “paradise”, and the retailer makes a convincing case for the title.
Haraiso retains the charm that made its former Seefeld location a favourite among design aficionados. Shelves are lined with ceramics by Teruhiro Yanagihara, bamboo matcha whisks by Chasen and heirloom-worthy kitchen pieces. A newly imagined lower level extends the concept beyond retail. A dedicated workshop space hosts an ever-rotating programme of Japanese knife-sharpening classes, as well as kintsugi, the art of repairing ceramics with lacquer and gold, and sashiko, a traditional mending stitching technique.
haraiso.ch
9.
Observe some contemporary art in Bangkok
Right now, Bangkok feels as though it’s at the centre of the Asian art world and the buzz around the Thai capital is reaching fever pitch. Dib Bangkok, an almost mythical contemporary-art museum that has been talked about for 30 years, is finally open in a former steel warehouse near the port area of the city.
The opening of Dib Bangkok last month was easily the most anticipated art institution to open in Asia since M+ in Hong Kong at the start of the decade and the timing could not be better. Several major privately funded museums have opened in Thailand in the past two years, with more to follow in 2026, but Dib Bangkok’s collection and global ambitions make it the pick of the bunch. “Bangkok has never had this kind of institution that collects, conserves, restores, educates and tells the stories of contemporary art,” says the museum’s chairman, Purat “Chang” Osathanugrah, while chatting to Monocle during an exclusive tour.
Want to take a look around the museum that Asia’s cultural glitterati can’t stop talking about? Join our tour here.
Mark Carney didn’t just deliver a good speech at Davos, he wrote it himself – a lesson in the optics of authenticity for other leaders keen to shine on a fiercely lit world stage. Granted, some of its highlights might not have sounded so fresh to the Canadian press corps or anyone who was already in the thrall of the “Carneyval” spirit. But the speech was nevertheless a resounding hit and made Trump’s rambling follow-up sound incoherent by comparison.
The sugar high of the address is now dissipating but as a rhetorical lesson it resonates still. In an age of outsourced language – when leaders tend to speak with caution, preferring flat-pack political jargon to nuanced perspective – Carney’s confident account of the new world order didn’t just point out the elephant in the room, it also described the global predicament in fine detail. It just goes to show the power of writing your own words, refining your own ideas, coming to your own conclusions.
Done well, writing isn’t the transcription of thought so much as the interrogation of it. The craft crystallises ideas into irreducible and irrefutable clarity. On the page, ideas must arrive in order, find a rhythm, develop a narrative and – most labouriously – mean something. This discipline has fallen out of fashion. At a time of flooded news feeds, economic uncertainty and seemingly continuous crises, Carney hit the geopolitical moment on the head, and like a nail, his point sank in.
World leaders take notice, coherence creates credibility. His arguments were lucid, his sentences sanded and shaped, his tone firm but understanding (particularly toward similar middle powers). Take, for instance, his description of the weaponisation of global integration by the might-is-right mentality: “You cannot live within the lie of mutual benefit through integration, when integration becomes the source of your subordination.” Where other politicians speak with the confusing cacophony of committee, Carney comes across with a singular voice. You could feel his conclusions arising organically from the natural logic of his own perspective.
And yet, the address did leave this recovering classicist with one lingering question: how did Carney manage to open his speech with a quote from Thucydides and not seem pretentious or lose his audience? Of course, the room was full of the world’s elite, many of whom (we assume) have read and learned the lessons of the Peloponnesian Wars. But still, quoting ancient historians at the World Economic Forum risked becoming the rhetorical equivalent of bringing a lute to a networking lunch. And yet it was the confidence with which Carney breezed past the quotation (“The strong will do what they can and the weak suffer what they must”) that gave him the cachet to continue. Invoking Thucydides spoke to more than the moment. It also cast the present standoff in classical relief: the Periclean Carney versus the Cleonic Trump.
It is forgivable, without context, to confuse Thucydides’s line for a concession to realpolitik. In fact, the Greek writer and general was talking about Athenian hubris. Trump will do what he can and middle powers such as Canada will suffer what they must. But history teaches us that the Athenian empire was a poor hegemon – and relatively short lived.
Then, unwilling to restrict his frame of reference to antiquity, Carney doubled down. He turned to Václav Havel’s The Power of the Powerless, an essay in which he explains how communist regimes perpetuated through the small, individual capitulations that sustain large lies – namely the unconvinced grocer who hangs a “Workers of the World, Unite!” sign in his window. If Carney’s example is to be followed, leaders should start hanging up their own signs or, at the very least, a new rallying cry, “Write your own signs!” Because the more politicians, broadcasters and power brokers who write for themselves – who develop a voice of their own rather than hiding in the absence of one – the less room there is for hot air to rise to the top of our news feeds.
These undercurrents carried the Canadian prime minister’s speech forward because he didn’t censor himself for the ignorance of others. He simply strode from sentence to sentence, trusting the crowd to follow, assuming intelligence rather than pandering to the illiterati. In uncertain times such confidence is magnetic. Trump’s grip on attention is of another nature but audacity doesn’t convey authority and his meandering rehearsal of grievances was about as compelling as Amazon’s new Melania documentary.
Carney’s digressions into political philosophy, far from placing too high a brow on the speech, were the source of its rhetorical power. By giving himself the space to historicise and the patience to assemble his points against the backdrop of a crisis as confusing as it was concocted – Greenland – he gave his speech a framework and a narrative.
The “rupture” Carney spoke of but never outright named – because he didn’t have to – can no longer be ignored. His obituary for the old world order was necessary for the grieving process. Denial did nothing to help, anger and bargaining played into Trump’s hands and depression dragged on for way too long. But acceptance through clear understanding, well, now we’re getting somewhere. What is more, the Carney doctrine also provided Democrats with a blueprint for how to combat Trumpism in the coming midterms: don’t stoop to the president’s level, rise to the occasion. Hear that, Gavin Newsom?
Blake Matich is Monocle’s digital sub editor and a regular contributor.
