The road southeast from Aleppo bears the scars of Syria’s long civil war: bombed-out buildings, empty villages and a slow stream of cars passing checkpoints run by young men with rifles. But at some point on the descent towards the coast, the mood changes, the heat softens and the hills become greener, as the Mediterranean begins to announce itself. Military patrols are replaced by roadside stalls selling inflatable rubber rings and garish Lilos.
Latakia, Syria’s main port, was a political power base for Bashar al-Assad and his Alawite followers. Today its streets remain strewn with rubble but there’s also a corniche where women in sleeveless tops and summer dresses amble with their children as they head towards the sea. This is a place that’s very much in transition. Monocle passes a mansion, now occupied by the current government’s soldiers, with an Assad-era Hawk of Quraish emblem hanging on its gate. The money in people’s pockets still bears the image of the leader who fled to Russia in late 2024.
Ahmed al-Sharaa, the leader of Islamist rebel group Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, was appointed president in January 2025, having moved with startling speed from insurgency to state power. His government is now trying to project an image of order, institutional discipline and pragmatism. Syrians and foreign observers alike are watching for signs that this new authority can accommodate a country as diverse, exhausted and suspicious as this one. But on our visit, Monocle doesn’t find a city in fear; rather, it’s a city in swimwear. By the sea, locals gather around plastic tables smoking, ordering rounds of drinks and – in a sense – daring the rest of the country to catch up with them. Women wear bikinis, Lebanese pop singers perform until the early hours and young Syrians drink alcohol in bars, in full view of a police station.
The official answer for how this all works lies in a very Syrian compromise. In June 2025 the tourism ministry issued rules requiring women to wear burkinis or other modest swimwear at public beaches and pools. Western-style ones, however, are permitted at private resorts and luxury hotels. In Latakia, the rules visibly differ from one beach to the next, even when they’re side by side. At the public beach, families arrive with plastic tubs of food, bags of bread and flasks of tea. Women huddle in groups underneath umbrellas, many of them covered in loose clothing and headscarves, while men wade into the sea in below-the-knee shorts.
“It’s very beautiful,” one woman tells Monocle, drawing deeply on her shisha. “It’s mainly Arabs who come here, not really Europeans. We hope that tourism keeps growing, especially from outside.” Around her is a home-cooked feast for a wedding party; the sand is strewn with rubbish bags, as children weave between deckchairs. This is one side of Latakia: affordable, conservative, sociable and good humoured. Right next to this, on the aspirationally named Côte d’Azur Road, is another. We arrive on Hola beach club’s opening day to a soundtrack of Arabic club hits and the din of a pool party. More than 300 people have turned up for the first day. It’s polished but not precious – an “affordable fancy beach club”, as its owner, Manaf Kaddour, puts it while showing us around the spa, shops, beauty salon, gym and rooftop nightclub.
“Since the liberation of Syria, many local and international investors have been planning to enter the Syrian tourism market,” says Kaddour. “The faster you enter, the greater the results.” What surprises him most is not demand but the lack of obstruction to his Westernised plans. The old bureaucracy has not disappeared, he says, and banking still needs reform, but there are “no more worries about bribes or internal interference in your business. Latakia is a virgin market.”
The entrance fee for private beach clubs of this kind is about €4 for children and €9 for adults, many of whom travel here from Damascus, Aleppo and Idlib. Abdul Wahed Daboul – the general manager of Afamia Hotel Resort, formerly part of the Rotana group – feels that he’s in the right place at the right time. “Latakia is completely different to the rest of Syria,” he tells Monocle. “Here, people are free and open-minded. This is where they come to enjoy the beach, have a drink and not worry.” On his desk is a picture of him with Al-Sharaa.
Not worrying is easier said than done, though, and Latakia isn’t entirely carefree. The tourism police, created by the new government, is part of an ongoing negotiation. Though they’re not an ominous presence on our visit, officers in deep-blue uniforms patrol beaches and tourist sites. Their role is slightly unclear: they’re not a morality police and are meant to offer security for people and businesses. According to its chief, Osama Marandi, the force in Latakia numbers 225 officers, including 50 women. “Welcome to the new Syria,” he says, with practised warmth.
Female officer Rama Ghanem was once a schoolteacher but jumped at the chance to join the tourism police to help her country and home city grow. “Old Syria was beautiful but now it’s changing for the better. There used to be no rule; now there is. This is our Syria, the people’s Syria. Before it was not.”
The laws are mostly clear. As well as new regulations promoting modesty and banning alcohol on public beaches, there are restrictions on groups of men in some areas – an attempt to keep beaches family-friendly and reduce harassment. “We don’t have a problem with bikinis,” says the tourism police chief. Ghanem quickly clarifies. “They’re allowed and we welcome it, as does the government – just not in public spaces,” she says. Though some things remain in flux, the direction of travel is encouraging, says Ghanem. “People from Aleppo and Idlib wouldn’t come here because of the previous regime,” she says. “Now they can visit all of the historic places. This is freedom.”
Caretaker Ilyas Karkhour guides us through the Virgin Mary Armenian Church, an 820-year-old stone sanctuary tucked into a side street in the city centre. Latakia’s centre is full of cultural treasures. There are churches beside mosques; shopkeepers who slip between Arabic and Armenian; Alawites, Sunnis and Christians living side by side. Back on the beach, the question of cosmopolitanism comes up again. “The mix of cultures and religions has been the essence of Syria from the beginning,” says Caroline Chrakiam, as we disturb her from her siesta on Blue Beach. “For now, we are waiting and seeing.”
“Wait and see” might as well be the coast’s unofficial slogan. Chrakiam says that there’s hope and freedom but warns against confusing either with certainty. A friend on the sunlounger next to her who has returned to Latakia from the UAE says that the Gulf was “our safe haven during the conflict – our shield”. But here, her family still worries when she goes to the beach and remembers the curfews and anxiety of a few short years ago. “There is still a little bit of fear,” says another Latakian called Kanz, who chooses not to share his surname. “We need time to fully trust these new guys and for them to fully accept who we are.”
On America Street, a predominantly Christian area, the bars begin to fill after the sun sets. At Abu Ghassan Pub, there’s football on. High tables are tightly packed and loud conversations compete with the match commentary. At one point, the bar goes dark: a power cut. Nobody flinches. Karim Morcos, a Latakia resident, shrugs and says that temporary shutdowns are less frequent than they were before, when the electricity sometimes stayed off for hours.
As we leave the hubbub of the pub, we spot a red cap on a shelf. The slogan reads: “Make Syria Great Again”. It’s a joke, of course, but perhaps also a little prayer.
Tourism in Syria
During Donald Trump’s Gulf visit in 2025, the US announced its decision to lift sanctions on Syria. This helped to open up a path to recovery and attracting capital. Last year, Syria signed tourism investment contracts worth about €1.3bn, for projects including hotels, resorts, entertainment and the rehabilitation of historic areas. Many in Lakatia hope that this will mean the arrival of Gulf-backed hotels, renovated resorts, better roads, cleaner beaches and new visitors arriving who can see Syria less as a warzone than a summer destination.
Latakia: Key information
Credit cards generally aren’t accepted so carry cash (both US dollars and Syrian pounds). Tourist visas can be bought on arrival (€130 for UK and European passport holders, €175 for Americans and about €40 for most other countries, such as Turkey and the Gulf states). Aleppo International Airport is the closest hub to Latakia; taxis take two-and-a-half hours and should cost no more than €90. Blue Beach resort has the best stretch of sand but gets busy at weekends. Afamia Hotel Resort’s accommodation is safe, clean and comfortable but perhaps not to the five-star standard that its promotional literature suggests. Visit Souq al-Safan and hidden gems such as X Public House and Radio Latakia. The corniche is bustling and is home to busy markets throughout the week. Latakians head to the beach on Fridays, meaning that most places are shut throughout the day. Away from the seafront, historical Ottoman sites include Ugarit, an ancient archaeological site dating back to 6,000 BCE. There’s also Qalaat Sahyun, a Unesco-listed medieval fortress, and The National Museum.
This article is from Monocle’s Med, Mountains & More newspaper, on sale from 31 July. Subscribers will receive a printed edition including a magazine supplement as part of their subscription. Not a subscriber yet? Purchase a copy of the newspaper here or subscribe today to receive it as part of your package.
It’s 07.00. I’m already up, so I step onto the balcony to take in the view, just as guests have done since the mid-1960s. Below me, the pool is tranquil, towels are being put out on the loungers and a couple of guests are already on the terrace for coffee and breakfast. Beyond the pine trees gently twisted by a lifetime of sea breezes is the Mediterranean. The bay is punctuated by boats, their sails down, still asleep like their owners.
This is Punta Negra, a rocky outcrop of land where, in 1966, the Blanes family opened a modern hotel designed by Spanish architect Felipe Sánchez-Cuenca Martínez. They couldn’t have found a better spot. While the original (and heritage-listed) hotel buildings still dominate the headland, they have been joined by a series of softly rendered casas, six world-class restaurants and a vast spa that together mark Mandarin Oriental’s entry into the Mallorcan market – just at a moment when the island’s hospitality scene is seeing a decisive shift to high-luxury accommodation.
Raul Guerra, a Mandarin Oriental veteran, is the man tasked with getting this resort up and running. With his whip of patrician hair and easy confidence, it’s clear that the director of marketing and commerce has the brand’s DNA flowing in his veins. I ask him why the Hong Kong-headquartered company wanted an outpost here. “Our resort business has been growing over the past seven or eight years and, in Europe, we are doing very well in places like Bodrum and Costa Navarino,” he says. “But we wanted to be here. We already have city hotels in Madrid and Barcelona. We were looking at projects in Marbella, Ibiza and Seville but Mallorca came up first. It’s perfect timing.”
That perfect timing is, in part, down to a new cohort of visitors being drawn to the island, thanks to two long-haul flights – a United Airlines one from Newark and, just launched this summer, an Etihad connection from Abu Dhabi. Americans, Emiratis, Saudis, Mexicans and Brazilians are happy to spend more than European guests (another hotelier tells me that the flights have allowed him to double his prices). Catering to this client base that often travels with staff and family in tow meant subtly changing how the rooms were designed. The expanded hotel now has 131 rooms, with 26 suites, including a series of casitas. “And 80 per cent of the inventory has interconnecting doors,” says Guerra of this simple update that gives Mandarin Oriental a market advantage.
But there are also other factors working in its favour. Despite feeling pleasantly far from the realities of life, the hotel – owned by Blasson Property, which has reportedly spent €200m on the project – is just 20 minutes from the airport and 15 minutes from Palma. Not only is this convenient for guests but it also means that the hotel can attract diners from nearby villas and the capital – important when you have six restaurants to fill. Guerra describes Mandarin Oriental as having an “open concept” and this extends to the spa and its glorious pool, which are also available to non-hotel guests.
But back to that restaurant mix because it demonstrates the hospitality brand’s ability to pull in peerless players. As Monocle goes to press, four of the six are up and running and these are Thalos, a Greek pool-club restaurant, Sobretaula for Spanish tapas and cocktails, Leppoc for a Mediterranean menu and steakhouse Leña. Next will be an outpost from chef Nobu Matsuhisa (the first of his Matsuhisa line of restaurants in Spain) and Jacinta, a Mexican affair by DZO Hospitality, a Miami-based group. The trick for the hotel will be to find the sweet spot between being an open concept and offering discretion and privacy to clients who don’t want to spend time around a lot of other people. Luckily, the scale of the resort helps.
There are other good decisions that bind the Punta Negra property, make it feel of place and elevate the experience. The planting that weaves across the property is fluid, colourful and alive with butterflies dropping anchor on its blossoms. The giant cacti here are architectural and dramatic. The interior design by French designer Laura Gonzalez, in collaboration with BG Studio, also feels free, spirited and perfect for Mallorca. And then there’s the art.
Paloma Fernández-Iriondo has curated the latter in all of the rooms and public spaces, and she has done an amazing job. She began her career at Sotheby’s in Madrid, rising to become the head of the old masters department in Spain, then spent years helping industrialist Juan Miguel Villar Mir to create one of Spain’s greatest art collections, before launching a business to assist hotels in collecting and showing art. At Punta Negra, she wanted to work with artists based or born in Spain, as well as those whose stories reflect Mallorca’s history as a cultural crossroads. “Everything needs to fit with the interior but each piece needs to have merit,” she says of her role. “No piece should be better than another. It has to make a statement but be relaxed and of the island.”
To meet this brief, she crisscrossed Mallorca and sought out talent that didn’t have gallery representation – the kind of thing that only a person with an extraordinary eye can achieve. Then she started to commission unique pieces, such as the tiled “Balearic constellations” in the lobby by Fran Aniorte, an artist living between Istanbul and Barcelona, and the paintings by Vera Edwards in Casa Alma – part of the original hotel. A piece of history serendipitously floated to the surface when Edwards pointed out that her grandmother had made a ceramic mural for the hotel in the 1960s. Now that work, depicting the conquest of Mallorca by James I in 1229, sits just metres from one by Edwards. Here, you see a real commitment to quality but also a sense of creativity. Perhaps that’s what modern luxury is about – an elevated sense of place.
After taking in the view from my room, I head out past the pool, taking a fresh towel, and walk down the steps to one of two tiny public beaches beside the property. I dive into the silent waters and swim out, before turning back to look at the handsome hotel on the rocks. In the orange blush of the morning, it looks glorious.
mandarinoriental.com
Victory lap
The Mandarin Oriental Punta Negra’s lead architect is Estudio Lamela, which worked on the project in collaboration with HKS Architects and local studios including Palmer Blach Arquitectos. The practice was founded in 1954 by Antonio Lamela, known for his work on hotels, apartment buildings and landmark projects including Madrid’s Torres Colón. For the studio, the Punta Negra project marks a return to a piece of coastline that its founder knew well – he designed residential projects such as Edificio Zodiac in Illetes and Son Matías in Palma Nova.
This article is from Monocle’s Med, Mountains & More newspaper, on sale from 31 July. Subscribers will receive a printed edition including a magazine supplement as part of their subscription. Not a subscriber yet? Purchase a copy of the newspaper here or subscribe today to receive it as part of your package.
Further reading:
Mandarin Oriental Hotel Group CEO Laurent Kleitman on the future of luxury hospitality, the hotel group’s growth and ‘The White Lotus’ effect
Where to go and who to know when making yourself at home in Mallorca
Edi Rama doesn’t seem thrilled when Monocle visits his office but that could have something to do with the protests outside his window in central Tirana. The lack of bonhomie contrasts with the long-serving Albanian prime minister’s image as the statesman-slash-showman of the Western Balkans. Rama is renowned for his irreverence at international summits: one minute serenading his Italian counterpart, Giorgia Meloni; the next, cracking jokes with Emmanuel Macron about Donald Trump’s propensity for mixing up Albania with Armenia. Media profiles gush about the artworks that decorate his office and his tendency to doodle. They marvel at how close he has brought Albania to EU membership during his 13 years in office, transforming Tirana’s skyline and presiding over a tourism boom.
Those journalists evidently didn’t encounter the version of Rama that we see. Monocle’s photographer gets short shrift when he asks the prime minister to doodle as he poses, then earns another ticking off when he changes position during the interview. A question about compromising with the protesters is swatted aside. “Why do I have to reach an accommodation?” he says. “They have the right to protest. It’s a great achievement for this country to have peaceful protests. But we’ve been elected with a landslide and have a clear vision. We have a contract with the majority of Albanians. A few thousand people insisting that we should go are good for the democratic health of the country but they aren’t in a position to impose anything.”
But, in this case, they’re in a position to gain plenty of international attention, largely because of the Trump factor. The US president’s son-in-law, Jared Kushner, is behind proposals for two resort projects on the Albanian coast – at Zvernec, near the city of Vlora, and on the island of Sazan. The government has granted Kushner “strategic investor” status, allowing him to develop luxury accommodation in an area that’s supposed to be under environmental protection. Those plans have stirred up local concerns since they went public two years ago. Then, in May, the protests gained traction when security guards at one of the sites assaulted a local man as police stood by. The video of the incident went viral and triggered an outpouring of anger that spread from the coast to the capital.
Rama is exasperated by this turn of events. He characterises Kushner as an investor who is “respectful to our country” and wants to do “everything by the book”. He also describes the assault on the protester as an “unacceptable episode”, for which officials are already being held to account. Above all, he rejects the protesters’ main complaint – that Albanian land is being sold to wealthy foreigners, with little benefit to the locals in what remains one of Europe’s poorest countries.
Tourism accounts for about a quarter of Albania’s GDP but the prime minister insists that the country needs to move beyond the current model. “Mass tourism has been an incredible force to spread the word about this country but it’s not sustainable for nature, the air, the water,” he says. “The stress that it brings to the country isn’t worth it. I’m not saying that we have to stop but need balance. We need high-end: fewer tourists but more money.”
Looking at the Albanian Riviera, Rama’s point seems plausible. A busy single carriageway separates the beach, with rows of parasols and sunbeds belonging to the hotels and holiday apartments opposite. Some of them have only been built recently, in response to growing tourist numbers after the pandemic. Others are still under construction. Even before the start of peak tourism season, it’s starting to feel uncomfortably busy.
In the bar of the Regina Palm Resort is Vasil Bedinaj. His Regina Group owns four hotels in and around Vlora and he wants to expand. But he’s pondering the wisdom of doing so if Albanian tourism doesn’t evolve. He believes that Kushner’s projects might provide an example for others to follow. “We don’t have the experience for this kind of business yet and, to learn, you have to have the best ones around you,” he says. “And you have to have brands. They’ll bring professional workers. And when they do, I can learn from them.”
Others are less optimistic. In Galeria e Bregdetit, an exhibition by artist Driton Selmani explores Albania’s relationship with tourism through a series of works involving everything from mosaics to bird droppings. Founder and curator Elian Stefa describes this as “a cheeky way of reflecting on these transformations that are happening here”. He has run the gallery since 2018 and isn’t convinced that bigmoney developments will bring meaningful benefits to locals. “The question is about access and accountability. Who will be able to enjoy them and profit from them?”
Vlora resident Baki Goxhaj wants the stretch of coast around the Narta lagoon to remain a sanctuary for flamingos and other birds. He has been protesting in both Vlora and Tirana. “Public beaches are protected by law and can’t be privatised but they basically fenced off 7km to make a private beach,” he says. “We also have the protected areas law. They amended it to allow only luxury investments. So this is only for special people.”
Similar sentiments are common in Tirana, where people have seen luxury tower blocks sprouting across the city but haven’t felt the benefits. Keit Zaloshnja is an executive assistant at Vila 31, an artists’ residence where dictator Enver Hoxha once lived in the kind of luxury that would have boggled the minds of Albanian citizens during his rule. She sees a different kind of wealth gap emerging. “Investors make out that Albania is a hidden gem, so they want to make it beautiful and use all the resources,” she says. “That seems a bit colonial. There needs to be more transparency and dialogue with the public.”
The protesters outside the prime minister’s office aren’t just calling for the Zvernec project to be scrapped. They also shout about the need to improve schools, hospitals and living standards. “I’m taking notes,” says Rama. “Your enemies can tell you things that are more useful than what your friends tell you.” With that, he instructs Monocle’s photographer to “get out” and turns to the doodle-festooned papers on his desk. Rama has claimed that sketching helps him to focus. This long, hot summer shows no sign of cooling. He might need to order some extra pens.
This article is from Monocle’s Med, Mountains & More newspaper, on sale from 31 July. Subscribers will receive a printed edition including a magazine supplement as part of their subscription. Not a subscriber yet? Purchase a copy of the newspaper here.
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Few people would suggest that this is a golden age for magazines but perhaps it is – just not in the places that you might expect. In recent months, Chinese magazines have outshone Western counterparts with their creativity. Fashion editorials such as Vogue Man’s poetic Winter Olympics team shoot by Win Tam, W Magazine’s painterly editorial by Leslie Zhang or Super Elle’s whimsical “neo-Chinese” feature by Wei Huan have caused a stir thanks to their visual lyricism.
While many fashion magazines in the West are closing their doors, streamlining operations or shifting away from monthly release cycles, China’s magazine scene is booming. GQ returned to the country in January after ceasing operations in 2024. In March, The Face announced the closure of its UK operations and, weeks later, its pivot to the East. Another magazine launched a Chinese edition in February and Dazed China followed in June.
“The real drivers of change are economic and social, and both have moved very fast in the past few decades,” says Olivia Chen, co-founder of Shanghai-based design and fashion agency 2034. “In the past, cultural trends moved from West to East: the East would adapt or copy. But now, with Chinese ‘zoomers’ [Gen Z] as the future of this market, they are more confident to question what’s being received and to express themselves differently.”
Having grown fivefold since 2016, China’s luxury goods market is now one of the world’s largest. That momentum, along with predictions that the country will account for 35 to 40 per cent of global luxury spending by 2030, explains why houses such as LVMH, Kering and Hermès have made themselves at home in Beijing since the pandemic.
But investments alone don’t tell the full story. A heavy concentration of Chinese consumers is aged 25 to 35, plus there’s a growing cohort who are even younger. They have had decades of steady economic growth to confidently embrace their own style – one that, in line with the country’s modern diplomacy, doesn’t seek Western approval.
The result is an independent creative bubble, grounded in local references and resources. In a world increasingly homogenised by social media and artificial intelligence, that homespun inspiration feels authentic. It’s a much-needed breath of fresh air in an industry suffering from cover-star fatigue and slop content.
It also helps that many Chinese editions of these magazines, from Vogue and Tatler to Madame Figaro, are locally owned and do not answer to their Western parents. “We’re in an era of emotional engagement,” says Julio Ka Yeung Ng, the other co-founder of 2034. “Magazines need to establish a connection with their consumer through storytelling, image and product perspective. If decision-makers are based in the West, they probably don’t know much about local Chinese taste, culture and social media. In that sense, local ownership brings more legitimacy.”
State control plays a role here too. Political risk-taking is not an option for magazines but it can also be argued that, with this kind of provocation off the table, Chinese titles are being aesthetically daring instead. “I find it incredibly gutsy and inspirational to have so many Chinese creatives pushing a highly distinctive visual language to the outside world, rather than conforming to a Western template,” says Ng. “The fact that foreigners now recognise it is proof that this risk is paying off.”
Chinese consumers are increasingly turning to homegrown brands, including jeweller Qeelin, high-end lifestyle label Shang Xia and jewellery brand Laopu Gold. As China shifts its diplomatic policies toward softer power, advertisers might soon compete more fiercely for space in magazines. “In the coming years, there will be a lot of local contemporary designer brands growing within the Chinese market,” says Ng. “People want something new and they like to shop domestic brands.”
That is a healthy sign for the future of Chinese print. And if this trend holds, the next great print titles might not be written in Paris or Milan but instead in Shanghai or Beijing.
The sartorial choices of British prime ministers have always filled a surprisingly large number of newspaper column inches. So it was no surprise this past weekend when the T-shirt choice of the newly appointed Labour leader, Andy Burnham, was held up as an example of his lack of understanding of the needs of cash-strapped Britons.
The right-wing press saw in this modest garment proof that we are led by a man with secretly lavish tendencies, an immoral desire to look, well, a bit fancy pants.
The supposed problem? The T-shirt cost some £80 (€93). Before we unravel this badly tailored tale, a quick reminder of how we got here.
In 2007 the then-prime minister Gordon Brown was lambasted for spending an alleged £3,000 (€3,500) on a Savile Row suit.
The next incumbent of Number 10, the Conservative David Cameron, also found his reputation caught in his fly zip when he splashed out on a Richard James suit with an estimated price tag of £3,500 (€4,090).
Theresa May was next and guess what? She dared to wear a pair of £995 (€1,160) trousers by Amanda Wakeley. The sin!
Prime minister Liz Truss was criticised for greater sins than her tailoring choice.
Boris Johnson was castigated for sporting clothing that looked like he dressed from a skip.
And then there was prime minister Rishi Sunak and his £450 (€525) Prada shoes – and more £3,500 suits.
So let’s go back to Burnham.
His T-shirt, as well as his jeans and Harrington jacket, come from Private White VC, the last stand-alone clothing factory in Manchester. It makes every garment by hand and sources 90 per cent of its materials within 20 miles – 32km – of the factory, which helps to support British mills.
And guess what? Paying people a good factory wage, not outsourcing to Vietnam or Peru, costs.
That £80 T-shirt should be a point of pride for left and right.
And so too should be any British prime minister of any political persuasion, who buys a Savile Row suit or sports made-in-Northampton shoes.
It’s about time that we praise leaders who part with a chunk of their pay cheque to put their best foot forward and lead in style.
If you won’t take it from me, take it from James Eden, founder and CEO of Private White VC.
The following conversation has been edited for length and clarity. Listen to the full interview on ‘The Globalist’ from Monocle Radio.
Why does your T-shirt need to retail at £80 (€93)?
To buy something for £40 (€47) and later throw it away, I would say, is extremely costly. But to buy a T-shirt or a coat that you’re going to be able to wear every single day, for literally years and years, with a view to one day handing it down to a loved one, offers tremendous value. The conversation about price, while not irrelevant, needs to be considered a bit more holistically.
With regards to the economic activity that goes into producing a garment domestically, it’s huge. It’s deeply profound for the country. And I would argue that if there were more public figures, more politicians, more celebrities, championing and supporting British industry, craft and businesses, then the UK would be in a far better position economically, logistically and operationally than it is today.
It’s glorious that Prime Minister Burnham is actively considering this. Being able to wear and enjoy a UK-made T-shirt or jacket that supports local jobs is a brilliant thing. I really struggle to see how anyone can find anything remotely negative to say about a British leader supporting and wearing British-made garments.
Your company sits in a historic Manchester factory. How difficult is it to preserve tradition when you’re competing with global fast fashion?
Well, first of all, doing anything badly is very, very easy. And doing things on the cheap is very, very easy. Doing things properly, with real craftsmanship, is complicated and costly. We can’t compete on price. I’m not interested in competing on price.
We compete on authenticity, provenance and, ultimately, quality. Because if the product isn’t as good or indeed better than everything else, then people won’t buy it. We’re not selling tea towels or ceramics with the royal family emblazoned on them for a fiver.
We’re selling jackets for hundreds or thousands of pounds. Everything has to stack up. If it’s not perfect or as close to perfection as our customers expect, then I would suggest that you’re going to have a difficult time building profitability and sustainability over the medium and long term.
Doing business in the UK is Darwinism in its most extreme, especially when it comes to competitiveness of fashion and menswear. If you’re still making clothes in the UK, and we’ve been doing it for a long time now, the chances are that you deserve to be.
When we look back at ‘T-shirt gate’ in a decade, will we see this as a row about one expensive item of clothing or a much bigger conversation about British industry and identity?
Well, I’m not sure who’s having the argument about price. Eighty pounds to people who know what they’re talking about, or know what they’re looking at, is a well-priced garment that’s going to last a lifetime. We’ve all bought bad T-shirts before. You wear it once and you’re anxious when you go to put it in the wash because you’re concerned whether it’s going to endure. So, to have a garment with full transparency – to know exactly where the cotton has been picked, spun, knitted and cut – is reassuring and you get a garment that is beautifully finished. The construction is immaculate.
It has been developed and perfected over years by people that you can come meet. To me, that offers great value and I’m pleased to say that there is a burgeoning market all over the globe for that kind of product. I’m also delighted to say that the majority of our sales are now outside the UK.
Should leaders embrace being a soft-power figure for national clothing manufacture?
Well, of course. Looks, perception, aesthetics are absolutely everything when it comes to public figures. Burnham needs to feel great but he has also got to be confident that he looks great, too.
Your coat is the last thing that you put on but the first thing that people see. For many, it’s like armour – it must look the part but also have substance behind it. You know, someone like our prime minister, who champions himself as being authentic, must take comfort in the fact that he is wearing the best jacket in the world and that’s proudly made in Manchester, from a cloth that was developed in Manchester at the direct request of Winston Churchill during the Second World War. There are so many layers, quirks and nuances to what we do here. Those sorts of stories really resonate and charm.
privatewhitevc.com
Bangkok is a city of shopping centres but, after almost four years in the Thai capital, I have yet to find “the one”. There are so many to choose from and the scale is on another level, especially compared to what was available in my previous home city, Hong Kong. I challenge you to wander through Central World, one of the largest malls on the globe, without getting lost. (If you manage without a local escort, you deserve the Monocle scout’s badge for Retail Orienteering.) Thais don’t seem to have the same wayfinding issues as I do and flit through these commercial hubs with ease.
Shopping centres here offer everything from supermarkets and cinemas to car showrooms, health clinics and soft-play facilities. Of course, there’s also plenty of air conditioning. Central Bangna’s decision to plonk an outdoor waterpark on the roof was inspired and I relish taking my kids there under the pretence that it’s a treat for them.
Beyond the fun, these malls play an important part in Thailand’s economy. Central Group’s development arm, Central Pattana (CPN), currently operates more than 40 shopping complexes nationwide. Every time CPN opens a new site in a Bangkok suburb or a second-tier city, such as Khon Kaen or Nakhon Sawan, tourists flock in, hotels spring up to accommodate all of the staff visiting from head office and residential towers grow in size. The listed company’s financial results for the start of this year show double-digit growth, with net profit up by 18 per cent – a staggering achievement in a depressed market that’s being dragged down by household debt and millions of absent overseas tourists.
CPN has had a particularly busy year. Central Park Bangkok officially opened in September 2025 just across from Lumpini Parkin the heart of the city, as part of a mixed-use collaboration with prominent Thai hospitality brand Dusit Hotels & Resorts. Earlier this month, it hosted a press conference for the next big project, which is expected to begin in 2027 in Siam Square: Central Central, a joint venture with Japan’s Mitsubishi Estate. Not to be outdone, The Mall Group plans to open Bangkok Mall in 2028. The huge construction site will dwarf Central World and continue Bangkok’s eastward expansion towards Suvarnabhumi Airport.
As the industry grows, new operators with deep pockets are trying their luck with mixed results. I’m writing this at Cloud 11 during a music-festival-style opening party. Singers and bands are performing across the mixed-use development, including inside a 7-Eleven convenience store. Property developer MQDC is not short of a penny, nor lacking in ambition. A former Universal Music Group executive is leading the project, Snøhetta designed it and Bangkok’s The Commons has created a shopping mall concept. MQDC’s second mall opens in August; Happitat will be a “destination dedicated to happiness” with an index that will track customer satisfaction.
These property developments deserve top marks for creativity but it might take time for the CFOs to crack a smile. Shopping centres are not for the faint-hearted. On the surface, they look a lot like coffee shops: a simple business model with a licence to print money. But they exist in a competitive environment and require high volumes of people to generate fairly low profit margins. Success requires retail industry know-how, long-term brand relationships and a secret sauce that turns a concrete edifice into a bustling emporium. The likes of One Bangkok, a gigantic mixed-use project backed by a beer conglomerate, have shown the difficulties that newcomers can run into. Central Park nearby, however, has become an immediate hit and slotted comfortably into Bangkok’s existing landscape.
It’s not close enough to become my mall, though, so I’ll continue to shop around. And this being Bangkok, I won’t have long to wait. Indeed, CPN is opening another new one at the end of this year – up the road from my apartment and nextdoor to the first that it built in the early 1980s.
James Chambers is Monocle’s Asia editor. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.
Further reading:
– Thrifting gears: The secondhand festival winning Bangkok’s retail market
– Meet Natira Boonsri, CEO of Central Department Store, on the Thai retail giant’s future
– How Supaluck Umpujh turned Bangkok’s malls into a model for Asian luxury retail
Considering the crises that aviation is currently facing, you would think the industry would be more dour. But the energy at the recent Farnborough International Airshow was upbeat. You might even call it buzzing. Part of this could be explained by a defence industry in full swing, selling and developing the combat aircraft and systems of the future. Even considering the latest developments in the Gulf – with oil supply newly under pressure and prices again on the rise – the airlines and aircraft manufacturers looked surprisingly optimistic as well.
Emirates showed up in typical fashion with its newest airplane, an A350-900, showing off some nice new innovations for passengers, including a novel headrest for economy class questionably dubbed “U Dream” that might finally put an end to the neck pain of long journeys.
Embraer displayed its latest E195-E2 regional jet for Porter Airlines, which made the long trip to the UK from its headquarters in São José dos Campos, Brazil, before the plane joins the airline’s rotation. Although the show might not have seen airline orders at the rate of past shows, its 353 firm aircraft orders and 12 options beat the event’s 2024 total. Splashy Saudi start-up Riyadh Air signed up for heaps of new airplanes, while Philippine Airlines committed to even more A350-1000s to fuel its long-haul ambitions. And we saw some more niche orders as well: Uganda put its name down for a handful of Boeings for the first time in its history, while Bermudair made Airbus happy by signing up 10 of its A220-300 aircraft.
The industry is focused on bringing new technology to aircraft. Engine-maker GE Aerospace brought its 747 testbed, which is often seen flying around with experimental engines tacked on to a wing, to talk about some of the next frontiers in propulsion. Of particular interest is the Open Fan concept, which essentially removes the casing around the engine and ends up looking a lot more like a simple propeller. Manufacturers are considering new methods of electrification and the adoption of other clean energy power sources such as hydrogen.
Over on the defence side, talk continues to centre on unmanned aircraft. But this is not simply more of the exploding drones that we’ve seen used increasingly in warfare. Rather, the big players want to create combat systems that use uncrewed aircraft in combination with traditional fighter jets and other aircraft to augment and improve capabilities (and using the latest in AI to bring it all together). Increasingly, the role of the fighter pilot seems to be more a director and decision-maker, while robotic flying assistants crunch complex streams of data and intel to help provide desired outcomes. BAE Systems unveiled one such British-designed Collaborative Combat Aircraft (CCA) at the show, dubbed the Brontanax, which is made to work alongside fighters such as the Eurofighter and F-35.
While the optimism at the show might make aerospace players look like they’re putting their heads in the sand, in the context of the past few decades, it makes more sense. Crises and shocks to aviation come and go with some regularity, from spiking oil prices and travel restrictions to regularly shifting airspace closures. In other words, aviation is rather accustomed to all this. And though current tensions in the Gulf seem as if they could spiral out of control, aviation is a long game – not least because aircraft need to be ordered, suppliers locked in and plans made years in advance. The industry is clearly betting that it will weather this storm. When the clouds clear, it’ll need to be ready.
Gabriel Leigh is a regular Monocle contributor. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.
Here we go, crew. Here’s an easy one. You might have even heard this question posed in the Monocle orbit before. What is the worst thing a GM at a favourite hotel can say to you? As it’s early on a Sunday morning and all, let’s make this multiple choice.
a)
“So good seeing you again. I know you’ve flown in long haul and as your room is not quite ready we’ve made arrangements for you to freshen up in our gym.”
b)
“What a delight to have you back with us. As you’ll see across the lobby, we’ve really been listening to our guests and decided to get rid of the bar to open the whole space up so that people can hang out more and treat this as their living room.”
c)
“Very nice to be welcoming you back. I am thrilled to say that not only is your room ready but you’re going to be the first to stay in one of our newly renovated suites. It’s the exact same room size as you’re used to but we’ve made a range of fresh enhancements and technology upgrades. We look forward to hearing your thoughts.”
While none of these are great welcomes, you can imagine that I’m not a fan of option c. When a hotel renovates, why do they not reserve 10 rooms or a floor for guests who like things just the way they are? Are they not aware that many people don’t need a bathroom with a porthole window into the bedroom to allow in daylight, or a lighting system that has three mood settings that never correspond with how you’re feeling after a conference call at 23.00 with a bunch of muppets, or the absence of a TV because “Everyone travels with their own screens these days.” On a recent trip to HK, I stayed at one of the city’s more famous landmark properties and was offered a new room that was a cross between a franchise branch of Ladurée, an upmarket Geneva dental clinic (famous for fleecing unsuspecting clients from Riyadh) and the opening title sequence of The White Lotus. Thankfully, I could check out without having to exchange niceties with management. But had the staffer on duty asked me about my stay, I would have said: “Until you realise that 97.5 per cent of your guests are not 27-year-old influencers from Shanghai or San Francisco, and redeploy some dark woods and a more mature colour palette, I’ll be staying elsewhere.”
The urge to innovate is a curious thing. In some sectors, it’s essential. Technology, ambitious competitors and a stable yet stale product demand investment to vault forward, stay relevant. But what if your business thrives because it’s simply solid and draws a crowd because it doesn’t surprise but comforts? Is it okay to stick with the lighting fixtures that the founders hung 100 years ago? Should the linen sheets be replaced with polycotton because easy-care bedding will trim €11,000 from the laundry bill?
On Friday, we set off from Zürich for St Moritz. The afternoon was devoted to family dental appointments and a little bit of advance party prep (we hosted our summer soiree at our Alpine shop and café last night). On the way up the mountain, with time on our side, I decided a sunny lunch at a favourite restaurant would be a perfect tone-setter for the weekend. I called the hotel and had them reserve a table. Some 90 minutes later, we pulled up, took the lift down a few levels and walked to the small woody restaurant that we’ve been going to for nearly three decades. Water and champagne were poured, menus distributed and we took in the view. Who on earth thought a bouncy castle, inflated to look like a bloated version of the hotel, was a good idea?
I had already decided I was going to have the steak tartare (medium spice) and a simple salad with French dressing. I didn’t really need the menu at this point but I thought that I’d look anyway. Hmmmm? There must be some pages missing, I thought. I didn’t recognise any of the dishes. Where was mom’s rösti with salmon? Was the potato waffel supposed to be the stand-in? Where were the classics? Had the same five-star consultants who told the Hong Kong management that “cirrus pistachio” was a colour for the future also sold this hotel on beef carpaccio with raspberry as a winning replacement for Swiss beef tartare? We managed to find our way but the manager could tell that it was a struggle to order and there was definitely a degree of embarrassment when chopsticks were lined up alongside the soup.
At this point I surveyed the crowd, there were four to five people around 39 but everyone else was north of 75. This being the land of clinics, the real numbers were likely closer to 90. Were they enjoying seeing classics turned on their heads? From the murmurs at other tables, the innovation in the kitchen is no easy sell. It might well be that they know their current crowd won’t be with them much longer, so why not move with the times and bring in a new crowd? Then again, why have a menu in the high Swiss Alps that could also be found in a nice lobby restaurant in Jakarta or Boston? Is it not better to stick with a taste of place rather than a set of dishes that kill off a once-loved favourite?
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Sitting by the pool at Hotel Esencia, wedged between dense tropical forest and the Caribbean Sea, it’s hard to believe that we’re only a 90-minute drive – past walls shielding all-inclusive mega resorts and water parks – from Cancún Airport, Mexico’s busiest hub for international travel. From there, most visitors make their way straight to the pool bar at their hotel in Cancún or they continue on to Playa del Carmen or Tulum, a bohemian-beach-town-turned-Instagram-trap. But away from the high-rises and hidden in the jungle away from the high-rises is where you’ll find the 12 hectare estate of Hotel Esencia.
Cancún became a spring-break destination in the 1990s, drawing thousands of annual partygoers ever since. Tulum only started attracting real tourist traffic in the early-to-mid 2000s, but has since become overdeveloped, with a coastline fringed with open-air beach clubs and its own international airport. Some three million travellers flood into the area each year. While some view this as a success story, others see it as a calamity – a once-pristine shoreline ravaged by overtourism.
After an hour at Hotel Esencia, listening to birds chirping in the jungle and waves crashing just feet away, the spring-breakers and cookie-cutter hotel towers are a distant memory. “When I first discovered the Tulum area and Playa del Carmen 20 years ago, it was up-and-coming,” says owner Kevin Wendle, who began his search for property in Tulum but was unable to find anything suitable. “I thought, ‘Maybe I’ll go second best.’” In 2014, he came across a home-turned-hotel on an immaculate beachfront which once belonged to an Italian duchess. His lack of luck in Tulum ended up “being a blessing”. “I found a lick of beach that I’ve managed to protect by collaborating with our neighbours,” he says. Over 18 months, he transformed the property into a luxury offering with a handful of casitas overlooking the beach or tucked into the jungle.
The hotel is luxurious but far from flashy. White-washed rooms are decorated with handmade rugs and mid-century chairs, along with pieces by Studio Giancarlo Valle and Ceramic Suro. As development rolled on, Wendle made a few changes here and there – adding a gym, more casitas and new F&B offerings, that also acquired more land. But the feeling of the space largely remained the same. “Where our improvements have come from is me learning as a hotelier,” says Wendle. The evolution has been incremental and intentional. While there have been some bigger additions, such as the spa and a Beefbar restaurant, many changes have been as small as “let’s remove these faucets, sell them and replace them.”
Wendle has seen many hoteliers in the area open a business only to overhaul it a decade later. Thankfully, he doesn’t have investors to answer to, and has his heart set on providing the quality and attention to detail that ensures his hotel stays unchanged and proudly unique. “You return [to a hotel you used to visit] and think: What happened? It was so great 10 years ago,” he says. “That is something that is never going to happen here.”
Many of Hotel Esencia’s guests are returning visitors or people in-the-know. “When I launched Esencia, our clients wanted to go to Tulum because of the buzz around it,” says Wendle. But as the town’s restaurants became overcrowded and condos replaced nature, visitors decided to stay put on the hotel’s premises. “Clients were coming from Europe and I thought: How do I keep them here?” So he upgraded the offerings. When the hotel welcomed a brick pizza oven, it also welcomed a pizzaiolo from Naples. When the kitchen began to offer sushi, he enlisted guidance from the owners of a well-known spot in Miami.
To help with the initial rebranding of the hotel, Wendle tapped the talent of Juan Carlos Gutiérrez. Born in Mexico, Gutiérrez had been working as a graphic designer at Chanel in New York. Having always had a passion for food, he was also tasked with reimagining the restaurant menu (and, at one point, was the executive chef). Today, he is the hotel’s artistic director. “Kevin has a [new] point of view – there’s always change and innovation. I am more old-world; I like things to be the same,” says Gutiérrez. “My goal is to create a place where [guests] feel at home.” Details are what guide this aesthetic. “Everything has to be handmade or custom-made, not picked from a catalogue. It needs to have substance to it.” So many hotels, he adds, “don’t have a story to tell.”
But a large part of Hotel Esencia’s story is about the Riviera Maya before it became a playground for holidaymakers. Knowing how Cancún, Playa del Carmen and Tulum have developed, would Wendle open here again? His answer is unequivocally yes. Beyond the zip lines and mega resorts, pockets of natural beauty remain. There are cenotes and nature reserves within driving distance, and the hotel is a short walk from a secluded lagoon where manatees swim. “We have all this Mayan heritage around us, and that’s not going to change,” says Wendle. Being close to Cancún Airport has its benefits too. With nonstop flights to major cities such as New York and London, it’s incredibly easy to access. “You don’t need a connection, you don’t need a boat. You can just arrive.”
