Mid-September is a vernissage-packed time in the German capital, with almost every art gallery in the city opening its autumn show during the annual Berlin Art Week. And, thanks to Currents – a new festival that presented the work of local designers and manufacturers across more than 60 venues last weekend – another industry has crashed the party.
You might ask, “Who needs another design fair?” After all, even the finest pieces of furniture might find it hard to compete with Berlin’s high-calibre artists and museums. The showcase was also taking place around the same time as design weeks in London, Paris and Zürich. So it helped that Currents, founded by journalists Jasmin Jouhar and Laura Ewert, wasn’t jostling for the dollars of international collectors or a jet-set crowd but catering to everyday Berliners. Refreshingly, the furniture on show was almost all contemporary and fairly affordable.
As I wandered through various event venues, I found plenty of objects that I suddenly felt I needed in my life. Berlin-based studio Gonzalez Haase AAS and Munich’s Marbledworks presented small side tables assembled from coloured marble, which could be mixed and matched or stacked into a shelf – precious stone in a portable, unfussy form. Daftar made perforated steel versions of cake doilies, which they used to serve up tea and ice cream in a Kreuzberg carpet shop. Cutlery brand Mono launched an instant Berlin essential by Universität der Künste student Oskar Poetsch: a tool that serves as a French-fry fork, ice-cream spoon and bottle opener all in one, and can be attached to a keychain.
Part of the fun was exploring the venues themselves. All weekend, a motorcycle-themed bar operated within the Eternithaus in Hansaviertel. Fourteen designers had set up shop at Jalousiefabrik, an abandoned shutter factory in Kreuzberg that Berlin-based firm Bächlemeid and Taneli Mansikkamäki Architects will soon convert into apartments. Many vast, disused warehouses were filled with new design (if, admittedly, of uneven quality).
One of the highlights of Berlin Art Week was also architectural. Just for the weekend, the Neue Nationalgalerie arranged a public peek into the still-incomplete Museum des 20 Jahrhunderts next door. The huge construction site’s floor was the perfect setting for screenings of the work of artist Gordon Matta-Clark who, in the 1970s, filmed himself cutting a circle through an apartment building and slicing a suburban home in half.
It felt as though this curatorial stunt was for local residents rather than art-world sharks. People like to complain that Berlin has changed but the city still has plenty of disused and unfinished spaces, and smart people finding uses for them. Few places are better for people who create, make and build – and for those of us who just enjoy the results.
Stella Roos is Monocle’s design correspondent.
Roy Cohn’s life might not have been long – he was only 59 when he died of Aids in 1986 – but it was an eventful and influential one. It is arguable that this ruthless, pugnacious and almost gleefully malevolent New York lawyer shaped the current state and tone of US politics more than any other individual.
Cohn is the mentor credited with teaching US president Donald Trump everything he knows. He drilled his creed into his protégé: never admit fault, always hit back, use the law as a cosh, keep your name in the papers and fear is your friend. Trump’s introduction to Cohn at the ritzy Manhattan haunt, Le Club, in 1973 is to modern US politics what Robert Johnson’s 1930s encounter with the Devil at a Mississippi crossroads was to the blues.
When he met Trump, Cohn was already steeped in the theory and practice of paranoid brawling. As a young prosecutor, he helped send Soviet spies, Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, to the electric chair. He had furthered his endeavours in red-baiting as a chief counsel to senator Joseph McCarthy, a bellicose drunk whose largely hallucinatory anti-communist witch hunts of the early 1950s destroyed the lives and careers of thousands. After McCarthy was poured into an early grave, Cohn made himself useful to generations of prominent conservatives – including presidents Richard Nixon and Jimmy Carter – and New York mobsters.
Roy Cohn’s story is told in a new book by husband-and-wife team Kai Bird and Susan Goldmark, American Scoundrel: Roy Cohn’s Dark Journey from Joe McCarthy to Donald Trump. Bird spoke to Monocle’s Andrew Mueller.
This conversation has been edited for clarity and length.
What did people see in Roy Cohn? It’s not just Trump and McCarthy – it’s Aristotle Onassis, Barbara Walters, Rupert Murdoch, George Steinbrenner and many others.
In American Scoundrel, I struggled to explain how so many powerful elite New York personalities and celebrities could condescend to be in Roy Cohn’s presence. They all knew who he was. They all knew what he had done during the McCarthy era. They all knew that he was a mafioso lawyer. They all knew that he was despicable, yet they would show up. He hosted his own birthday parties at Studio 54 and the Armory, and two or three hundred of these elite New Yorkers toasted to Cohn’s good health.
One reason for his popularity is that he could be very charming over the dinner table. He was a great gossip. But the other reason is that he was very transactional. He was a wheeler and a dealer, a fixer. He loved to find out what you wanted and then he’d find some friend of his to make it happen.
Was it just transactional with Trump? The book does hint at a genuine friendship.
I think there was a genuine friendship. When Cohn died, Trump showed up at his memorial service and Peter Manso – a journalist who knew them both – said that he saw him weeping. Trump is not the type of man who has genuine friendships. He has acquaintances and is an extremely transactional figure, just like Cohn. But I think they clicked. Cohn was a closeted gay man who never came out of the closet and Trump was his type – tall, blue-eyed and wealthy.
You spoke to President Trump during your research. He’s usually reluctant to extend credit to anybody else for anything. Does he extend any to Roy Cohn?
Absolutely. In my first phone interview with him – which was a cold call, by the way – I just dialled a number that someone had given me and Trump answered. I introduced myself quickly and said that I was writing a biography of Roy Cohn. He immediately gushed: “Oh, what a wonderful man he was! He was such a smart lawyer. We won a lot of cases together,” which wasn’t really true.
Trump was an insecure, aspiring real-estate developer when they met in 1973. Cohn opened the doors of Manhattan society for this young man and taught him how to deal with the press and the courts, and how to get his name into the gossip pages. He also encouraged him to think that he could get away with things. Cohn’s mother, Dora, had raised him with no guardrails, telling him that the rules didn’t apply to him, that he was special and that the rules were for small men. And Cohn taught Trump that.
Could anybody but Trump have applied those lessons to this effect?
Trump is a particularly charismatic, demagogic politician. But Cohn’s lack of ethics are haunting us from his grave. I used to think that McCarthy was just an aberration – a low point in American history that we had overcome – but I’ve reconsidered that notion. Every few generations, we go through a period of paranoia and insecurity. We become obsessed with the Other, resentful of the immigrant, suspicious of the establishment. We become conspiratorial. This is all the politics of Cohn.
Did you reach any conclusions about his motivations? He also campaigned against gay rights and persecuted gay people – was it all an exercise in deflection?
There were plenty of closeted gay men in the 1950s who didn’t turn out like Cohn. It’s part of the answer but the other explanation is that he’s a product of New York, a product of the Bronx. His father was a Bronx judge and his mother was the daughter of a wealthy banker. He grew up on Park Avenue and his mother took him to Sing Sing every weekend to visit his beloved Uncle Bernie – the only banker after the crash of 1929 who was convicted of bank fraud and sent to prison. Dora told her son that Uncle Bernie was the victim of a vendetta by Jewish communists and Wall Street Wasp bankers who refused to bail out this Jewish bank [the Bank of United States]. And so Cohn imbibed this conspiratorial view of the world, full of these resentments, which explains his actions as an adult.
Every year, crowds of linen-clad holidaymakers descend upon the Hamptons. If you know where to go, you’ll be well-equipped to enjoy the long stretches of sandy beaches and bays untouched by the casual tourist. The collection of seaside enclaves on the eastern edge of Long Island makes for an idyllic retreat for those needing to take a breath after a busy summer.
You can find peaceful pockets away from the traffic to catch a glimpse of what the picturesque region was once like in the 1950s and 1960s. A few of the more hidden beach towns, interspersed between the bay and the sparkling Atlantic shore, still echo the days when architects such as Andrew Geller were lining the streets with modernist marvels and creatives from Jackson Pollock to Willem de Kooning were among the regular crowd. Here are three of our favourites.
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Amagansett, for those in need of retail therapy
Amagansett is a hamlet found in East Hampton – one of the region’s more laid-back towns – where instead of Chanel, you’ll find La Garçonne, an outpost of the New York multibrand boutique that stocks Dries Van Noten, Toteme and Sofie D’Hoore. Its main street features independent footwear brand Sabah, known for its Turkish slides, and 180 the Store, a homeware retailer housed in a white building that looks like a chic beach cabana. Il Buco Al Mare, the sister restaurant to New York’s Il Buco and Bottega Il Buco in Ibiza, serves mushroom-topped focaccia and littleneck clams in a wood-clad space with a terrace. You’ll also find Amagansett Square, a green space ringed with shops and restaurants including Doubles, which serves burgers best eaten al-fresco, and Jack’s Stir Brew Coffee, a favourite of Alec Baldwin and Jerry Seinfeld. Amber Waves and Balsam Farms both stock crates of fresh local produce – rocket, basil, corn, wild flowers – on the outskirts of town.
If you prefer to host your own dinners, renting a house nearby can offer a sanctuary. The Roundtree Beach House – a classic, low-slung 1960s home that the nearby Roundtree hotel rents out to guests – comes with access to bicycles; hotel amenities, including breakfast and regular cleaning; an outdoor barbecue; and a lawn with a hammock set under the trees. For those who would rather not find themselves in the kitchen on holiday, The Hedges Inn, a boutique property in nearby East Hampton, recently opened under new owners Sarah and Andrew Wetenhall, who also operate The Colony Hotel in Palm Beach. They have overhauled the 13-room, 19th-century building with preppy-yet-playful interiors and butlers on hand to whisk guests to the open sands.
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Shelter Island, for slowing down amid luxury
Shelter Island, where the ocean laps calm beaches, is wedged between the North and South Forks of Long Island. The island might be small and quiet but hotels are in surprisingly good supply. The Chequit is a newly refurbished New England-style inn on the waterfront, while André Balazs’s Sunset Beach features sunny yellow rooms that look as though they belong on the Mediterranean. The island’s restaurants have a distinct, close-knit feel.
At Léon 1909, meals are cooked over an open wood-burning hearth in a barn-like space, while Marie Eiffel Market serves coffee and croissants best enjoyed on the dock. Though you will hear the distant rumble of private jets flying overhead, delivering New Yorkers to their mansions elsewhere in the Hamptons, on Shelter Island there’s hardly any traffic – and far fewer peacocking cars.
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Sag Harbor, for connoisseurs in search of simple pleasures
Just a twenty minute drive from Amagansett, you’ll find a yachting town on the bay side of Long Island with a strong year-round community. Sag Harbor might have a Goop outpost but the town is also home to Sag Harbor Books, a matchbox-sized independent bookshop with shelves of hard-to-find collectables and signed copies. Carissa’s is a bright bakery with glass cabinets stacked full of baguettes and pastries, a stone’s throw from a park overlooking the bay for a waterside picnic. If you’re craving Italian food for dinner, Tutto il Giorno serves clam linguine on a plant-filled terrace.
The new Faraway hotel, which opened its doors in June, is spread across classic white-slatted and shingled buildings with a pool that looks directly onto the harbour. The coastal interiors, akin to those you might expect to find in Nantucket, lean into the town’s nautical history with a cream and navy-blue colour palette. The Church is a multidisciplinary arts and cultural centre that showcases exhibitions and performances by local makers. Further out in Water Mill, better known for its spacious beach houses than for culture, the Parrish Art Museum features the work of artists who resided in the Hamptons, from Jackson Pollock and Willem de Kooning to Joan Mitchell.
Summer in Italy unfurled in the usual fashion. People decamped en masse to the finest beaches across the land. In regions from Liguria to Puglia, they filled the pockets of those in the beach-concession racket in return for a chance to bronze on a lounger under an umbrella, perhaps with the week’s edition of crossword magazine La Settimana Enigmistica in hand. A spritz of some sort will have no doubt played a part too.
The beach holiday is an Italian ritual and residents of this country have no qualms about plunging into salty expanses. But when it comes to lakes, they are rather more reticent. True, the latter are a winner for cooler nights (thanks to their higher altitude), especially during infernally hot summers. They’re also good for dipping one’s toes in after a passeggiata along the shore. Italians, however, are more likely to get into the hotel pool. Plus, aren’t lakes for gauche tourists who are trying to spot George Clooney, anyway?
In my years of living in northern Italy I have had plenty of conversations with Italians about the more sinister side of lakes. While they don’t fear an Italian version of the Loch Ness monster lurking below, something doesn’t wash well. A few months ago I was chatting with a photographer friend, Alessandro, on a work trip in South Tyrol. He grew up just outside Milan but both of his parents are from the south. He’s happy to take summer holidays visiting family and baking in the southern Mediterranean sun. As for swimming in a lake? He can’t explain why but he wants nothing to do with them.
That might be related to media horror stories about people who have fallen victim to the mysterious powers of lakes. This summer there were headlines about a German tourist who, while visiting the village of Nesso, had waded into Lake Como and never got out again. There are many other terrible tales, stretching back years, often featuring the young and the infirm. But, according to the national broadcaster, Rai, the number of drowning deaths has been constant for the past two decades at about 350 deaths a year – and that includes the sea, lakes and swimming pools combined.
Earlier in the summer I was sitting at a garden table outside a small house that belongs to my brother-in-law’s family, overlooking a village with an ancient church spire and, beyond that, the vast expanse of Lake Garda. The house sits across from Salò on the other side of the lake, the home of Mussolini’s final holdout republic. As we sat around eating lunch, talk turned to the latest lake horror story. Playing my outsider card – and aided by a few glasses of white wine – I took it upon myself to rib the gathered Italians about their fear of lakes. I was quickly put in my place by someone who turned out to be an expert on the Alpine glacial formation of these geographical features. Without missing a beat, he explained that they get very deep, very quickly. He added, sniffing victory, that the combination of cold water from deep below combined with warm water on the surface causes unpredictable currents.
Had I failed to consider the currents? Quite possibly (though further research suggests that their main driver is wind, rather than a combination of water temperatures). So is the Italian phobia of lakes entirely justified? The jury is still out on that.
Ed Stocker is Monocle’s Milan-based Europe editor at large. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.
We celebrate the charming structures that dot Lisbon’s parks and praças. These monuments of art nouveau might be small but their impact often extends across the neighbourhood. Quiosques welcome people from all walks of life, serving as a pitstop for dog walkers, a verdant workplace for creatives, a place for a quick pick-me-up or even a gathering spot on a night out.
Just before jetting off to Colombia to meet Abelardo de la Espriella, the country’s Donald Trump-friendly president, Marco Rubio, the US secretary of state, was asked why he wasn’t visiting Venezuela, where a controversial oil deal was recently inked with its acting president, Delcy Rodríguez. “You can’t go everywhere,” he replied, before boarding a plane to Bogotá, then Peru and Ecuador, where he will have the not-so-tough task of sitting down with friendly conservative leaders to discuss their common aims.
It was classic Rubio: come the merest whiff of backlash or a potential political quagmire, he pulls off his disappearing act. In the past week, vice-president JD Vance has been floundering in front of the press in the White House, arguing the semantics of whether the protracted war in Iran is, in fact, a war and parrying questions about when it will end. Meanwhile, Trump’s special envoys Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner have been in Russia and Ukraine, trying to restart talks.
These are two of the most pressing foreign-policy issues that the US faces today but the man who is meant to be the country’s most senior diplomat appears to have precious little investment in either. The war in Gaza is another divisive political hot potato; Rubio has not been to Israel since October last year. He was expected to travel there in March but the trip was called off when the US started bombing Iran and, though the US secretary of state did make a trip to reassure Gulf allies in June, he has not been personally involved in any of the direct negotiations to end the war.
In a normal administration, this might be read as a sign that the president lacks trust in his secretary of state and is redirecting crucial issues to Vance or Kushner. But this is not a normal administration. Trump made that clear when he quipped in June that he would “blame JD” if an early deal with Iran fell through. Everyone is trying to dodge a bullet and please their boss. And the one man who seems to be the expert at playing “not it” with the trickiest assignments is the ever-evasive Rubio.
As others deal with crises in the Middle East, Rubio, the son of Cuban immigrants, has made Latin America his territory. He has been dogged in his efforts to hobble the communist regime in Cuba – a deeply personal goal for him – by applying a range of economic sanctions. He was also happy to claim a role in the January raid to capture Venezuela’s then president, Nicolás Maduro, which some saw as an audacious success.
The recent Venezuelan oil deal, which gives the US access to untapped reserves, is more divisive: it was signed by Maduro’s unelected left-wing successor, Delcy Rodríguez. While Rubio helped to negotiate the deal, he has been cagey when answering questions about an exact timeline for elections in Venezuela.
But Venezuela’s democratic future isn’t an issue worrying large swaths of the US. Instead, Americans are concerned about the impact of the Iran war on their wallets. And anyone tainted by association with the conflict will struggle to shake it off. Rubio, who is considered a frontrunner for the Republican nomination for the 2028 presidential race, has so far played a savvy game, hitching his wagon to foreign-policy success stories and identifying the issues to avoid.
But there are pitfalls to this approach. If Rubio wants to be president, he needs to keep a high profile and show the electorate what he stands for. His tour of Colombia, Peru and Ecuador was not exactly front-page news and promoting democracy in Cuba, while pursuing economic gain in Venezuela, raises questions about double standards.
Rubio will need to find a way to connect with ordinary Americans on the issues that they care about, not just pursue those that he cares about. Right now, keeping a distance from an unpopular president and an unpopular war seems canny. But he can only avoid the world’s most pressing problems for so long before the public starts wondering whether it’s time for him to start doing his job.
Charlotte McDonald-Gibson is a Washington-based journalist and regular Monocle contributor. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.
Western-style shoemaking in Tokyo began in the late-1800s, when the government of Meiji Japan established a military-boot plant in the city’s Asakusa district. To support the operation, the area soon became host to leather suppliers, tanneries, toolmakers and specialised outworkers, transforming into a hub for Japanese cobblers.
However, as workshops began shifting their production to places further afield, the “Made in Tokyo” label has become increasingly difficult to come by. Today, only a handful of shoe ateliers continue to manufacture in the city. Nonetheless, a small community of leather shoemakers remain in the city, crafting designs that reflect the unwavering attention to detail that defines Japan-made quality. Here are four of Monocle’s favourites in Tokyo.
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Rendo
Asakusa
Doubling as a workshop and boutique, visitors to Rendo – a shoe brand based in Tokyo’s Asakusa – are met with the scent of leather upon entering. Inside, boxes of shoes line the walls while a couple of large tables serve as workbenches and displays for finished products.
Rendo was founded by Teppei Yoshimi, who studied at London’s Cordwainers Technical College and worked as a pattern-maker for several shoe labels. Yoshimi began repairing leather footwear before branching into shoemaking, with a focus on Oxfords, loafers and monk straps. His background in pattern-making is central to his designs, which pairs classic British silhouettes with Japanese technical precision.
Yoshimi believes that building a relationship with his client base is just as important as making the shoes themselves: “Many of our customers have been coming here for years,” he says. “Some come in for repairs, others for a new pair of shoes.” As buyers began looking for more comfortable shoes in the wake of the coronavirus pandemic, Yoshimi launched the Tep_P collection. The casual line includes the Tyrolean leather shoe – a Monocle favourite that has also found an enthusiastic following among Rendo’s international visitors. “I wanted to develop a more relaxed option: something for casual outings that maintain an elegance,” says Yoshimi.
rendo-shoes.jp
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Fysky
Kichijoji
After studying shoemaking in Asakusa and working for several cordwainers in the area, Yosuke Ide launched Fysky in 2022 with his longtime friend and business partner Tetsu Ishiguro.
The intimate atelier in western Tokyo features a range of made-to-order men’s and women’s styles that can be customised from a wide variety of options, including different leathers, toe-cap styles, sole materials and other details. “Every customer works directly with us to create something personal, making the process itself part of the product,” says Ishiguro. The brand also offers custom leather accessories, such as wallets, belts and bags.
Advance reservation is required for visits and the turnaround for a pair of shoes is typically three to four months. Looking for a quick addition to the wardrobe? Worry not – the duo is planning to launch a ready-to-wear line as well as a bricks-and-mortar shop in Kichijoji next year.
fysky-shoe.com
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Liberato
Azumabashi
In traditional Japanese rooms, tatami (mats made of woven rush grass) are used on the floor to provide insulation and cushioning. Though its use is waning as Western-style flooring has become more popular, it is still used in many homes today. Liberato founder, Hideyuki Nagasawa, wanted to bring the benefits of tatami – comfort and breathability – to leather footwear.
Liberato’s collection features loafers, slide sandals and mules with tatami insoles. “They are meant to be worn barefoot,” says Nagasawa. The result is a gently textured liner that is naturally breathable.
Nagasawa sources the igusa (tatami rush) used in its tatami insoles from Kyushu, a region known for producing top-quality rush grass. The shoes are largely made in Asakusa and available at the Liberato showroom in neighbouring Azumabashi.
liberato.jp
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Hender Scheme
Various locations
Kashiwazaki’s in-house creations are inventive and use a wide range of techniques. Footwear is made from leather that is folded and stitched into shape with minimal intervention. Chunky rubber soles are used in many styles, with revealed seams, cut-outs and colourful cords appearing as playful details. His collection offers something for every occasion, from elegant city sandals to sturdy winter boots.
With six locations across Tokyo, Osaka, Fukuoka and Nagoya, Hender Scheme also sells its wares online. Regularly partnering with global names, its most recent collaboration was with Italian solemaker Vibram on the original UFO (Unidentified Footwear Object) sole unit, and leather-wrapped furniture and home accessories with Finnish design giant Artek.
henderscheme.com
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The coming 24 hours are going to be one of the busiest periods for Toronto’s private aviation handlers. With the Toronto International Film Festival in full swing, the city’s hotel lobbies, restaurants and screening venues have been clogged with oversized SUVs fresh from Pearson Airport celebrity pick-ups. Come early Monday morning, the tempo will increase as scores of hand-selected CEOs, entrepreneurs and sovereign-wealth-fund honchos touch down for the start of the Canada Investment Summit. While some will arrive on Globals and Gulfstreams, breezing into Canada with little customs and immigration friction, others will likely fly commercial and experience the rather sad and outdated “Welcome to Canada” that jars as a first impression. Clunky tech aside, the country’s border staff have long looked to their US counterparts not only for commando-style uniform inspiration but also for their gruff and curt greeting.
On Friday afternoon I landed in Toronto and pretended that I was working for one of the big sovereign wealth funds. If this had been my first trip to the nation’s financial capital, I would have been shocked by the uninspiring terminal, with its chaotic arrival corral and poorly managed queues. I might have been impressed that everyone arriving in Canada was treated the same but I would have questioned why Canadians didn’t appear to see any upside to holding a passport (they pile in with everyone else) or why there was no fast track for big investors. Canada’s biggest airports have long lagged behind their equivalents in other corners of the world, suffering not just from a lack of investment but also from a lack of vision and ambition. If the country wants to get serious about welcoming the world and shoring up investment, it needs to create a softer, friendlier landing for the curious and deep-pocketed. The federal agencies need to create their own look, rather than aping the aggressive codes of US law enforcement. Frontline staffers need to channel their inner-Canadian perkiness (or it needs to be taught to newer Canadians) to distinguish themselves from their neighbours. The top brass need to benchmark against Singapore and Hong Kong when it comes to making it from gate to idling Alphard in less than 10 minutes. Finally, the airports all need to be spun off and run as proper hospitality businesses.
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Speaking of things being spun off, I flew to the motherland on Portugal’s TAP and what a prize it will be when the Portuguese government finally decides that the airline should be a bit more Germanic or Frenchie. With bids in, we should hear soon whether Lufthansa or Air France-KLM is the chosen partner to not only get TAP back into the black but also to make it a more serious player in Africa and Latin America. In light of a recent lunch, it seems that opinion is divided among Portugal’s big business families. Some feel that the French will have too much control as Vinci runs the country’s airport concessions. Others feel that the Germans are simply not Latin enough, that their style will jar with the Portuguese world’s ginga vibes. During the seven-hour flight to Toronto, I did a thorough audit and, while there is much that is already right (TAP has won Monocle’s “most handsome crew” award a couple of times), there is much that is wrong and in need of some speedy correcting (an hour and 15 minutes into the flight and still not a G&T in hand?). Count on us to cover this transformation in depth.
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And finally, if you’re missing a bit of basic back-to-work wardrobe inspiration, the latest edition of Uniqlo’s Lifewear magazine is just out. The Japanese retailer has once again proven that it’s serious about taking – and holding – the world’s number-one position in the decent-value, good-quality fashion space. Add the issue to next weekend’s reading pile along with our just-out, Japanese-themed Konfekt special.
Enjoying life in ‘The Faster Lane’? Click here to browse all of Tyler’s past columns.
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My hairdresser tells me that he’s facing a growing problem: AI haircut ambitions. Gone are the days when clients would arrive with a page torn from a magazine featuring, say, Tom Cruise and the hopeful instruction: “Could you try to make me look like that please?” Now they pitch up with AI-generated images of themselves with Mr Cruise’s locks sprouting all too convincingly from their heads and a genuine belief that this must be achievable. And we’re not talking teenagers. Men in their sixties are rocking up with pictures on their phones of them sporting locks that Marie Antoinette’s wigmaker would have been challenged to concoct. My hairdresser has taken to asking them whether they perhaps failed to inform Claude that they are a tad follicly challenged out back? Indeed, just a few fallen tufts away from a Turkish hair-transplant sojourn. After a good talking to, they usually settle for “the usual”. Me? I’m thinking that something a little Marge Simpson might be good for the winter.
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I came up with the idea for a new radio feature the other day based around Claude and to be called simply, “Let’s ask Claude!” But instead of using the AI assistant for help, we would draw up a panel of celebrated academics, philosophers, chefs and ski instructors – all of whom are real Claudes. Listeners would send in their questions and, depending on the topic, we would then phone one of our Claude geniuses live on air. As Claude is a name sported by men and women, this would offer up a huge list of potential guests. How best to hit a puck? Let’s call Canadian ice-hockey player Claude Giroux! How do I take better pictures on my camera? Let’s call French photographer Claude Nori! How do I kill a man (on screen, my dear)? Let’s call Jean-Claude Van Damme!
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I just landed in Palma last night and picked up a hire car for the weekend. I seem to get a different vehicle every time and rarely what I booked. You reserve a dinky number suitable for manoeuvring through narrow roads and, after being unwillingly “upgraded”, get handed the keys to a bus. But this car marque promiscuity generates some anxiety as, every time you clamber into the driving seat, you have to work out how to drive and control the contraption. It’s always embarrassing when you need to find someone to show you how to start the engine – a tap on a screen it seems. But what’s most enervating is the beeping festival that comes with these new cars. Beep! The speed limit just changed! Beep! You are changing lanes! Beep! Your hair needs fixing! And now here’s the car that shouts at you if the camera in the steering wheel thinks that you’re not always staring straight ahead. A modern hire car matched with my driving can generate more beeps per minute than a Calvin Harris track. I’m an unintentional mobile disco.
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Are the old of today becoming more badly behaved? There was a delicious moment checking in to a British Airways flight the other day. A couple of years ago the airline created a new category of traveller, “group zero” which, when a flight is boarding, gives priority to its highest-spending passengers. But it’s still causing some issues because, when they start calling a flight, the slow-to-catch-on group one folk still push to the head of the queue, only to be forced to step aside. Anyway, as my flight was called, a young gay couple in their twenties walked to the front of the queue, only to be tapped on the shoulder by a bejewelled woman travelling with her gruff husband. “Excuse me young man,” she snootily barked, “we are group zero. Please step back. You need to wait.” Then this kid – with hair that Timothée Chalamet would have pined for – turned and very politely replied, “so are we”. And in that second her world, her prejudices, were all shaken up. No wonder she demanded a gin and tonic as soon as the wheels were up.
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To mark the occasion of Monocle’s Quality of Life Conference in Lisbon, entrepreneur and chef José Avillez took us on a tour of his favourite restaurants in the capital. Tascas are casual, typically family-run establishments that serve Portuguese dishes and, as we learn, also offer lessons in creative and sustainable hospitality.
