The concentration of US firepower around Iran now looks less like signalling and more like sequencing. For months, tensions between Washington and Tehran have simmered over nuclear thresholds, regional proxies and the careful choreography of red lines repeatedly tested but never quite crossed. What distinguishes this moment is not the rhetoric but the hardware. The assets now in play suggest that the US is no longer merely demonstrating resolve – it’s positioning itself for choice.

Since late January, a carrier strike group built around the USS Abraham Lincoln has been operating in the region – substantial enough on its own. But increasingly, there are more. The USS Gerald R Ford, the largest aircraft carrier in the world, has been positioned at the mouth of the Mediterranean and is moving eastward. Two carrier strike groups – one in the Arabian Sea and one in the Mediterranean – would give Washington overlapping arcs of airpower and cruise-missile reach. Around them sit at least 11 air-defence destroyers, three littoral combat ships and two to three attack submarines equipped with Tomahawk missiles. That is the naval element of the equation: visible, mobile and readied to project force. 

The second part is both logistical and defensive. In the past month, more than 250 US military airlift flights have landed in the Middle East and surrounding hubs, moving large equipment and air-defence assets. Over the past two weeks, C-17 Globemasters and C-5 Super Galaxies – the US Air Force’s broad-shouldered, heavy-lifting aircraft – have been shuttling equipment into American facilities across the Gulf. The likely purpose is straightforward: harden bases against retaliation before any strike begins.

At Al Udeid Air Base in Qatar, aircraft numbers have climbed from 16 to 29, including seven C-17s and 17 KC-135 refuelling tankers. Unlike those behemoth aircraft carriers, tankers are a more subtle indicator of intent. They extend range, loosen political constraints and allow aircraft to operate from further afield if host nations hesitate.

The final element is geographical. Flight tracking over the past week shows multiple waves of KC-135 tankers moving from the US via the UK to bases in Greece and Bulgaria. Six were tracked on 16 February; another 10 followed on 18 February, staging through the UK before heading southeast. The message is implicit. Even if access to some Middle Eastern bases becomes politically fraught, aircraft could operate from southern Europe, with tankers bridging the distance. The movements of US assets confirm that Washington is deliberately widening its geography. 

Overlaying all the traffic and hardware is command and control. Six E-3 Sentry AWACS aircraft – the distinctive radar-domed platforms that map the battlefield in real time – are now in theatre. With sufficient tankers and airborne early warning cover, a large-scale air campaign moves beyond theory and threat.

For now, diplomacy provides the choreography. Warships and aircraft provide the leverage. If Washington were to move beyond signalling, its target set would likely be precise, not expansive. 

Where might the US and Iran target if negotiations fail?

The most obvious focus would be Iran’s nuclear infrastructure: enrichment facilities such as Natanz and Fordow, centrifuge assembly workshops, heavy-water production sites and supporting research centres. These are hardened, dispersed and in some cases buried deep underground. A campaign against them would require sustained sorties, bunker-penetrating munitions and careful sequencing rather than a single dramatic strike. 

A second tier of targets would sit outside the nuclear file but within Iran’s military architecture. Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) command-and-control nodes, missile depots and drone-production facilities have become central to Tehran’s regional strategy. In recent years, Iran has refined its use of precision-guided missiles and long-range drones via proxy networks stretching from Iraq and Syria to Lebanon and Yemen. Disrupting those supply chains – storage sites, launch platforms and transport corridors – would form part of any broader attack strategy. 

Energy infrastructure presents a more politically fraught category. Iran’s oil export terminals, refineries and petrochemical hubs are critical to state revenue but also deeply entangled in global markets. Direct strikes on such facilities would reverberate well beyond the Gulf. Historically, Washington has been cautious about triggering energy shocks that punish allies as much as adversaries.

Tehran’s options in return are asymmetrical but potent. US bases in Iraq, Syria and particularly the Gulf (including Al Udeid in Qatar and naval facilities in Bahrain) sit within range of Iranian ballistic missiles and drones. Maritime traffic through the Strait of Hormuz remains an enduring pressure point; even limited disruption can rattle markets. More plausibly still, Iran could activate allied militias to apply calibrated pressure while maintaining deniability.

A fresh round of US-Iran talks begin today in Geneva, with Oman mediating. The timing is awkward; negotiations are resuming just as the military appears closest to operational readiness. Taken together, the naval mass, reinforced air defences, tanker bridge to Europe and expanded airborne command assets suggest that Washington could sustain a significant campaign. Donald Trump’s administration, perhaps more than others, is capable of tilting leverage toward action. The open question is not capability, it is intent. Hopefully Omani negotiators and a little Swiss hospitality can keep these foes from deadly escalation. 

This article was originally published on 24 February 2026 and was updated on 26 February 2026 to reflect the pending talks in Geneva.

Inzamam Rashid is Monocle’s Gulf correspondent. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.

The art crowd heads to the US West Coast this week for Frieze Los Angeles (Frieze LA). Since 2019 the fair has been a platform for local galleries as well as a sunny meeting point for international players and collectors, particularly from across the Americas. This edition of the fair kicks off with previews today on Thursday 26 February and runs until Sunday 1 March. Here the director of Americas for Frieze, Christine Messineo, shares the gallery presentations that you can’t afford to miss, how the art market is faring and where to end up for dinner after a day at Frieze LA.  

What’s new at Frieze this year?
At the entrance of the fair you’ll see Patrick Martinez’s debut, a powerful neon installation addressing political realities and immigrant rights. It’s a resonant work that extends across the city on billboards and digital screens, connecting the fair to the life of Los Angeles itself. 

For the first time in LA we’re also introducing the Frieze Library. This permanent, publicly accessible collection of artist publications marks the reopening of the Pacific Palisades Library following the January 2025 wildfires. This resource preserves the present moment through the lens of the arts community. It’s sure to have a lasting impact.

Which booths are a must-visit for those coming to the fair?
While it’s difficult to narrow down a must-visit, a few standouts include: Betye Saar’s centennial at Roberts Projects offers a powerful reflection on Black identity and political art; Sprüth Magers revisits the enduring influence of John Baldessari; and 303 Gallery presents Alicja Kwade’s investigations into time, value and circulation.

Meanwhile, 86-year-old Yvonne Wells shows figurative quilts referencing Southern identity and iconic figures at Fort Gansevoort. Ortuzar features Linda Stark’s alchemical, feminist paintings and Parker Gallery showcases Marley Freeman’s gestural, textile-inspired canvases.

How is the US market faring so far in 2026? What are you expecting from sales this year?
I’d say there’s been a renewed sense of confidence in the market. In LA in particular we’re seeing new collectors engage – asking questions, spending time with galleries, getting involved. Although last year a more cautious approach was widely reported, all our fairs exceeded expectations, and we are seeing galleries find creative ways to navigate the prevailing conditions.

In LA, for example, galleries such as Château Shatto, Parker, Sebastian Gladstone and Sea View are all growing – or have grown – locally, and the new bicoastal gallery Hoffman Donahue is showing how collaboration can make things more sustainable by marking a new chapter. Emerging galleries are stepping up too, bringing fresh energy, prioritising artist relationships and building community, all of which shows how strong and connected LA’s creative scene is.

The 2025 event arrived at the same time as the devastating fires. How has the art scene fared over the past year? Has the city bounced back?
What continues to define Los Angeles is its vibrant, interconnected community of artists, galleries, curators, institutions and collectors – all showing up for one another. Last year was a testament to this resilience and many are still rebuilding. Through the dedication and support of both local and global audiences, the community has demonstrated remarkable strength. That spirit of care, collaboration and engagement continues to shape LA, reinforcing the transformative role that art and its makers play in our city today.

Where do you recommend for dinner at the end of the day? 
Near the fair, I’d recommend the izakaya RVR for a special occasion, Coucou in Venice for a French bistro atmosphere and The Mulberry Los Angeles on Sawtelle for dinner followed by a lively night out. 

There’s a change of pace this issue. We’ve put to one side the page architecture that usually shapes the issue and given the entire magazine over to The Monocle 100, a directory of people who we like, places with important stories to share and products that we covet. It’s a list that is hopefully useful but raises some smiles too.

We started working on this project some months ago, asking our team to nominate everything from the best military kit to running shoes, artworks to modernist apartment blocks (and even the ultimate roadside shrubbery). I think that they’ve done a fine job, even if there was some jostling for page acreage among editors keen to allow their selections to shine.

Beyond the competitive fun of pulling this together, there’s another reason why I hope that this issue hits the mark. It is a celebration of talent, shining a light on both established and aspiring names. It’s also a blast of positivity, global know-how and spotting opportunities at a time when such ambition can often be hard to locate in our media – or, indeed, anywhere.

So, you’ll meet a man taking a stance against graffiti vandals scarring his city, discover how Dr Stretch is manipulating a nation back to litheness, see how architecture is helping a city to rediscover its soul after a terror attack, slip into a cosy armchair in the perfect airport lounge and have a go on a vending machine that supports local businesses.

Also commanding some prime glossy-papered real estate in this issue is our annual Property Survey, which is timed to land ahead of Mipim in Cannes, the industry’s largest fair (we will be there again this year with a Monocle Radio studio at Le Palais des Festivals). Over our nicely appointed pages, we visit a new public housing project in Singapore that’s embracing nature, drop in on the agents charged with selling Dubai’s most valuable homes in the city’s highly competitive market and see why developers in Japan are wooing renters with pooches. Poodle power is on the rise. I’m all for it.

While I have you, if you are a subscriber, take a tour around our rapidly expanding collection of digital city guides – Palma and Dubai have just gone live. Written by our editors and correspondents, they are constantly being updated and will help you to unpack a city with ease. Come to think of it, they deserved an entry in The Monocle 100.

There’s another piece of travel news to share too. Always passionate about good hospitality, we have just launched the The Monocle Townhouse at the Widder Hotel in Zürich. This three-bedroom establishment, with an epic roof terrace, sits on the heart of the city and all of its furniture, art and fittings have been selected by us. There’s some rather fine reading material too for guests to peruse.

Finally, there are also upcoming events in the Gulf and Asia. You might have guessed that we like spending time with our readers. In the meantime, if you have thoughts or ideas to share, please always feel free to send me an email at at@monocle.com. Have a great month.

Illustrator Ana Strumpf moved to the Locarno building with her sons having lived in the US for four years. “I needed a neighbourhood that I could walk around,” she says gesturing to the vast window of her airy, art-filled apartment in the 1950s structure. Locarno is one of two identical buildings (the other named Lugano) in São Paulo’s Higienópolis and in is a portal to the past that offers some clues to what makes a meaningful community today.

From her studio in what would originally have been the maid’s bedroom, she says that the appeal of living here is the lively community. Strumpf is in a Whatsapp group with the parents who live in the buildings and organises parties for the children. One of her sons, she says, regularly goes down to the garden and plays with her neighbours’ dogs.

The architecture also provides entertainment of another kind for the boys. “Sometimes they like doing silly things that 12-year-olds tend to do, like pull moonies from the windows,” she says with only the slightest hint of disapproval. Once they’re safely at school, she throws open the shutters, partly to let in the breeze as she works but also because she knows that a well-known concert pianist, who lives above her, likes to practice every day at 11.00. “When he plays – oh my God,” she says. “This place is heaven.”

Lofty praise indeed for architecture’s capacity to make homes from houses and forge social connections, as well as for the vision of the building’s designer, Adolf Franz Heep. The émigré, known among contemporaries for gliding through the downtown in his distinctive slim bow ties, had arrived in Brazil in 1947 from Germany. He’d been helping with post-war reconstruction and separated from his Jewish wife by the Nazis. Following his escape across the Atlantic (at the age of 45 and using a fake passport) he joined the office of Frenchman Jacques Pilon and helped to complete the new HQ of newspaper O Estado de S Paulo, including subterranean printing presses. Heep’s solo designs for residential blocks soon followed. Relatively affordable and aimed at a burgeoning Brazilian middle class, Edifício Lausanne, with its red and turquoise aluminium blinds, is regularly name checked in today’s architectural guides; and at 47 storeys high, Edifício Italia still presides gracefully over Praça Republica.

Today, architect André Scarpa is convinced that the 1958 Locarno and Lugano buildings are Heep’s masterpiece. Scarpa knew of the buildings before he moved in and even once designed a shelving unit inspired by their H-shaped exterior window planters. He met his partner, Pedro Rossi, in 2023. After just two months they jumped at an available rental and moved in with their dogs Ipê and Gil. “I used to think that I loved Lausanne and lived in Lugano,” Scarpa says a little wistfully. “Now I think this design is better. Lausanne is very visual, with its coloured shutters, but Lugano and Locarno have light that flows through the apartments, the ceilings are high at 2.8 metres and every room connects perfectly.”

Higienópolis sill feels like a precious slice of old São Paulo in a city that likes to keep up with trends. On a Sunday, the queue for Mirian’s rotisserie chicken served from a hole-in-the-wall stretches round the block. Those waiting patiently are muttering that a much-loved bar has recently undergone a brutal refurbishment but another stalwart from the 1960s called Ugue’s still packs them in for feijoada (stew) and cold beers. Weekend runners in jogging kit are a common sight but you can spy uniformed maids walking packs of pedigree dogs, if you keep your eyes peeled.

Found beyond security gates (a 1980s addition), Lugano and Locarno lie perpendicular to the neighbourhood’s gently climbing main avenue. A mirror image of each another, they stand on either side of a narrow garden; their names spelled out in discreet sans serif ironmongery. A gardener sweeps the ochre paving stones with an old broom, clearing away branches and fruit from the guiambê shrubs, manacá-da-serra and palm trees. On the ground floor of each building are three apartments and two entrances with canopies held up by tapering white-tiled pillars. Inside, wide curving stairs – the steps and rails painted a soothing cream – take residents to other floors. While lower apartments have glass bricks that allow in plenty of light, the 12 floors above (with four apartments on each level) rely on windows that stretch their entire length.

The buildings are certainly attractive and welcoming places to live but they seem to be a particular draw to architecture obsessives. Agnaldo Farias, who teaches art and design at the nearby University of São Paulo, lives on the eighth floor of Lugano. “Heep was such a serious, meticulous architect with an eye for detail,” he says, citing the German’s education under Ernst May and Adolf Meyer at the Kunstschule in Frankfurt and years spent working with Le Corbusier in Paris. “Nothing escaped him. He brought ideas from Europe but adapted them to Brazil, understanding the climate, the problems,” he says with enthusiasm. “The ventilation windows above the main windows, for example. With their individual levers they’re so clever and they make for better living.”

With so much glass, however, each block offers views straight into the apartments of the opposite building. “Like Rear Window,” Farias says jokingly, in reference to the Alfred Hitchcock film. Scarpa admits that he had concerns when he first moved in. “I was worried about privacy but we respect each other, we all know each other,” he says. “I can look across and know [my neighbour] Claude is there today; that Juliana is back from holiday. Heep was interested in how the middle classes might live socially in a city as big and busy as São Paulo. If you have the privilege, this is a way to survive as a community without going crazy.”

Manoel Veiga, a painter who has lived on the second floor of Lugano for the past 18 years, says that there are more children here than when he first arrived. “I came at a moment of generational change,” he says. “My neighbours used to be much older and many had even lived here since the building was new but they were passing. I think my daughter, who is now 14, was one of the first children here.”

Veiga is proud that his apartment remains just as Heep designed it. Visitors step immediately into the living area, which stretches the entire depth of the floor plan, with a dining space to the rear. Here, Veiga and his wife, Nalu, have their morning coffee at an old bar table from Rio de Janeiro, watching the street behind the block come to life. On each shelf are what he calls his “nanocollections” – clusters of interesting objects that he’s picked up from antique markets and on his travels. There are vintage miniature spirits, little wooden boats and model airplanes, as well as magazines from 1966, the year that he was born. The kitchen runs into the old servants’ area and, like Strumpf, the artist has set up a workspace with a desk, chair and books in the former maid’s room. Across the adjoining corridor are the apartment’s three main bedrooms, though Veiga has turned one of these into a wet studio, a carpet of canvas protecting the floor from paint. Pinky-brown floorboards that run throughout are original, hence the care. “It is very hard to find peroba rosa wood anymore,” he says. “It’s very resistant, hard-wearing. Seven decades and I’ve never had any problems with termites.”

Veiga laments one detail, however. The previous owner changed the bathtub. To get a glimpse of the original, you need to visit art producer Thais Francoski’s nearby apartment, kept bright with its white walls and minimal decor. The 34-year-old has been in Locarno for three years, her first address in São Paulo after moving from Curitiba in the south of the country. She jokes that her neighbours know if she is having a party because her friends always end up dancing by the windows. Her bathroom, unchanged since Heep signed off on his project, is a vision of mid-century style: the walls are lined with aqua-blue tiles, matched by the chunky ceramic of the toilet, pear-shaped bidet and vast sunken tub.

Light flows in through the clouded glass bricks of the bathroom’s exterior wall. It also proves a party draw. “There are so many selfies by friends posted from this bathroom,” she says. The arrival of younger residents, as well as the pandemic, have loosened the community’s rules a little too. As well as sitting on benches outside to read or chat with neighbours, residents often take yoga mats or dumbbells down to the garden for exercise sessions, which was previously frowned upon. Children are not supposed to use skateboards but this has been allowed now too. Francoski bemoans that the communality only stretches so far, though. “The only complaint I have is that I can’t sunbathe in the garden in my bikini. It’s not allowed. We need sun though.” Heep, she tells Monocle, would have been on her side. After all, she opines, “this architecture is all about being healthy”.

When Farhani Hanafi-Shuy was hunting for a home with her partner in 2019, she knew that there was one public-housing development that she was willing to wait years for. Tengah in Singapore’s West Region was pitched by the city-state’s Housing & Development Board (HDB) as its first smart and sustainable town. On what was once a military training ground, 700 hectares of land would be turned into a walkable, eco-friendly neighbourhood with about 30,000 residential units. Unlike most of the older public-housing estates, Tengah would be enveloped in nature, flanked by a 5km forest corridor linking the Western Water Catchment area to the Central Catchment Nature Reserve.

The development’s proximity to lush, layered landscapes was a big draw for Hanafi-Shuy. “It’s rare to come across a neighbourhood with so much greenery these days ,” she says. “That’s why this project felt like a perfect find.” The prospect of living in the first HDB town to be developed entirely from scratch in about 20 years was also attractive to her.

The ambitious project draws from Singapore’s long history of creating public housing. In the 1960s the nation faced an acute overcrowding crisis; the state responded by selling heavily subsidised government-built homes – known as HDB flats – through a 99-year leasehold system. In 2001 it introduced the Build-to-Order (BTO) scheme, under which new high-rise estates are constructed in accordance to demand. Buyers typically wait three to four years for their flats to be ready but the units are priced below market rates. Today about 80 per cent of the population lives in HDB flats, attesting to the public-housing system’s success.

Ten years after Tengah’s announcement – and following delays related to the coronavirus pandemic – half of its homes have been completed, with a town centre, clinic and train stations still to come. Twelve months since she finally moved in, Hanafi-Shuy says that the long wait was worth it. “Unlike in my former estate, everything that I need is now only a short walk away and the paths aren’t disrupted by cars,” she says. “You’re guaranteed to see a garden along the way.”

Exploring Tengah on foot leaves a striking impression. Two “community farmways” – 40-metre-wide, 1.3km-long tapestries of pavilions, nature-themed playgrounds and fitness areas, all amid luxuriant flora – blur the line between a housing estate and a park. The playgrounds are positioned beside the fitness areas and outdoor seating to foster a sense of community and strengthen ties between different generations. These spaces show how HDB’s role has evolved: while building affordable homes remains a central goal, it now also focuses on placemaking grounded in compassionate design.

When Singapore-based multidisciplinary design firm DP Architects was tasked with shaping a 360-metre-long green spine within one farmway, it saw an opportunity to establish a focal point for the Plantation District (the first of Tengah’s five districts to be developed). “We drew inspiration from Singapore’s 1950s agricultural heritage by weaving pepper and nutmeg motifs into the estate,” says Guo Zi Ang, a senior associate director at DP Architects. At its heart is a diamond-shaped quadrangle featuring abstract pepper-leaf forms and an elevated platform that stretches outwards via sky bridges.

These walkways wind up towards pocket gardens dotted among the towers on the third storey. Though public spaces, commonly known as “void decks”, are usually found on the street level of HDB estates, DP Architects planted these leafy hideaways higher up to increase residents’ “sense of ownership” over them. “These raised ‘community living rooms’ offer more privacy, as non-residents are less likely to wander upstairs,” says Chai Yee Foo, the director of the practice.

Another unlikely social hub is a diamond-shaped courtyard on top of a multi-storey car park, nestled within four housing blocks. “We have adapted the traditional courtyard concept – commonly found in Chinese homes and prewar shophouses – for a larger urban scale, in the hope of encouraging neighbourly interaction,” says Foo. It is flanked by terraced gardens that turn rainwater run-off into cascading waterfalls after a downpour. Tengah’s green patches don’t just look pretty; they serve as natural sponges to filter storm water and reduce the risk of flooding. Given the rise of flash floods, such design decisions have become essential parts of Singapore’s urban infrastructure.

HDB has also carefully considered the home interiors. When architectural designer Linwang Zhang moved into Tengah, she immediately noticed the recessed, double-glazed windows in her residence. The development is near a military airbase so these help to dull the rumbling of overhead aircraft. “This might be the first time that I’ve seen a combination of casement and sliding windows in an HDB home,” says Zhang. “They reduce noise and keep out wind-driven rain without compromising on ventilation.”

Every home also comes with features such as a pneumatic waste-conveyance system that uses high-speed air suction to transport household waste and recyclables to a centralised facility, improving hygiene and reducing the manpower needed for rubbish collection. Meanwhile, a system of smart sockets gives residents a breakdown of their energy consumption through an app.

Tengah’s most ambitious new feature is the development’s centralised cooling system (CCS). Billed as an energy-efficient alternative to conventional air conditioning, it circulates cold water from shared rooftop chillers to individual flats.

Such cooling and heating systems have been in operation in several of Singapore’s public and commercial buildings (including at the Marina Bay Financial Centre) since 2006 but not in residences. There were initial teething issues – some of the first residents apparently experienced leaks and condensation – but the SP Group, the company overseeing the CCS, quickly made the necessary adjustments. “Everything has since stabilised,” says Yen Ching Tee, the managing director of SP Home Cooling.

Ultimately, the success of any new town is measured less by its systems than by its people. And for Hanafi-Shuy, her experience of Tengah’s community has been worlds apart from that of her previous neighbourhood. “I didn’t know my neighbours in my old area but the people here have been very welcoming,” says Hanafi-Shuy. “I started playing pickleball at an open-air court nearby and the retirees are always ready to help beginners pick up the sport.”

Zi Yang Wong, who moved into Tengah with his wife more than a year ago, feels the same way. He quickly found like-minded people through a badminton group. “If I had moved to an older estate, I don’t think that I would have found such a great community,” he says. The town’s groundbreaking design and infrastructure have fostered residents’ strong sense of place. At a time of property crises across much of the globe, Tengah is a testament to what great public housing can be.

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Dubai’s property market has never lacked ambition but it has rarely looked like this. According to the Dubai Land Department, more than 40,000 licensed brokers now operate here. However, only a small fraction of them get close to the apex of the market, where single homes sell for the price of small European hotels and commissions are earned (or lost) on instinct alone. It’s a pure commission economy. There are no salaries or safety nets. Agents arrive from everywhere: Britons fleeing tired markets; Russians following capital; Arabs returning with regional clout; Europeans armed with pitch decks. Most don’t last. Those who do learn quickly that in Dubai, property is part performance, part intelligence.

For some, success is visual. They arrive sharp, glossy and conspicuously wealthy, mirroring the aspirations of their clients. Fast cars, heavy watches and an Instagram-ready life are not indulgences here – they’re tools. As one agent puts it, “If you’re selling to billionaires, you can’t look like you don’t belong in their world.” Others operate quietly. They talk less about marble finishes and more about noise corridors, flight paths and resale risk. They build businesses around discretion and repeat buyers. In a market saturated with sellers, sound advice has become a rare commodity.

The agents who survive at the top do so because they understand something fundamental: Dubai rewards conviction but punishes bluff. What matters most here isn’t where you came from or how good you look. The market only asks whether you can close a deal.

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Ben Bandari

Company: Benco Real Estate
Years in business: 24
Biggest sale: AED500m (€115m)

Ben Bandari has seen Dubai at its most fragile and at its most inflated. He arrived in 2002, selling brochures and promises, long before the Palm Jumeirah had a shoreline worth photographing. Today he is widely considered to be the UAE’s most prolific broker, a status reinforced by his starring role in TV show Million Dollar Listing UAE and a contacts book that, he says, contains “at least 10 billionaires”.

Bandari understands visibility better than most. He is unapologetic about it. “If you’re not out there, you’re irrelevant,” he says. The cameras follow him, the Patek Philippe watch stays on his wrist and the deals often exceeding AED100m (€23m), continue to land. But longevity, he insists, matters more than glamour. “I stayed when others left,” he says of the 2008 crash. “That’s how reputations are built.”

The villa that he is selling on Billionaires’ Row on the Palm Jumeirah is valued at AED200m (€46m). It is a six-bedroom waterfront property with uninterrupted views, a rooftop area and a spacious basement; meanwhile, the artwork inside is worth the same as the house itself. Travertine marble, custom finishes and full water frontage make it one of the most expensive private homes currently on the market.

Bandari’s buyers are global and often already known to him. Sales are rarely public; they begin at private dinners or invitation-only events. “This isn’t about portals,” he says. “It’s about access.” In a market crowded with ambition, Bandari’s advantage is simple – he has been here longer than most and survived every cycle.

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Dounia Fadi

Company: EXP Realty Dubai
Years in business: 20
Biggest sale: AED38m (€8.8m)

Dounia Fadi doesn’t sell noise. In Volante Tower, one of Downtown Dubai’s most discreet addresses, she moves with the ease of someone who has watched the city build itself from the ground up. Cartier on her wrist, Van Cleef at her neck, she speaks calmly, deliberately – more adviser than agent. “Luxury is an overused word in Dubai,” she says. “What matters is quality, serenity and trust.”

Fadi is one of the few brokers who have operated across every phase of Dubai’s modern property history, from the introduction of freehold laws to today’s hyper-regulated, data-driven market. She is also the only female mentor appointed by the Dubai Land Department, a role that she describes as “necessary but difficult” in an industry still dominated by men. “You need patience and consistency,” she says. “And you must think like an investor, not a salesperson.”

The property that she is selling here reflects that philosophy. The full-floor apartment in Volante, priced at AED60m (€13.8m), offers private lift access, generous proportions and hotel-grade services. Another listing in the same building, a penthouse valued at AED190m (€44m), pushes discretion even further. Residents have chefs, spas and security. “This is for people who don’t want to be seen,” says Fadi.

Her clients are global, high-net-worth and exacting. And they are less interested in brochures than in track records. Before she recommends anything, she asks herself, “Would I buy this myself?” It is a question that has helped to keep her relevant for two decades in a market that rarely forgives complacency.

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Rami Wahood

Company: Fäm Properties
Years in business: 13
Biggest sale: AED61.5m (€14m)

Rami Wahood arrives in Al Wasl in a bright-blue Ferrari 812 Superfast, wearing loafers, a belt and a pocket square in matching shades. At 38, he looks every inch the modern Dubai broker: polished, relentless and hungry. “This is my life,” he says plainly. “I don’t have a balance.”

Born in Chicago to Syrian parents, Wahood started in Dubai at the bottom of the market, selling modest villas before climbing steadily into the eight-figure bracket. Today he is an executive partner at Fäm Properties. Exposure matters, he says, but consistency matters more. “You eat, sleep and breathe this,” he says. “That’s the job.”

The villa that he is selling in Al Wasl is priced at AED83m (€19m) and sits in one of the few freehold zones close to Downtown Dubai. With six bedrooms, Scandinavian-inspired architecture, Swedish wood cladding and views of the Burj Khalifa, it is deliberately restrained, a rarity in a city often accused of excess. “This is for people who understand taste,” says Wahood. “Minimalism is hard to do well.”

His buyers are often seasoned, internationally mobile and decisive. Wahood believes that presentation still matters. “You have to look the part,” he says. “Not for shallow reasons but because confidence is contagious.” In Dubai, ambition is not hidden. It arrives loudly and Wahood makes no apology for matching the tempo of the city.

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Matt Siddell

Company: Independent
Years in business: More than 15
Biggest sale: Transactions exceeding AED250m (€58m)

Matt Siddell doesn’t look like a Dubai broker. Shirt unbuttoned and relaxed, he greets his clients on the 41st floor of a Dubai Harbour penthouse with spreadsheets rather than spectacle. “I don’t sell real estate,” he says. “I advise.”

Formerly based in London, Siddell arrived in Dubai with a network, not a brand. He avoided large agencies and built a business around retainers and risk analysis. “If your incentive is to close before someone else does, that’s a different agenda,” he says. “My clients are long term.”

The penthouse that he is showing is priced at AED24m (€5.5m). West-facing, with expansive terraces, it is positioned for appreciation rather than drama. Siddell talks about road completions, sight-lines and noise maps before he mentions views. “You make your money when you buy,” he says. “Not when you post it on Instagram.”

His clients, often family offices and institutional investors, value restraint. Helicopters are tools, not toys. “It’s easy to get carried away in Dubai,” he says. “Staying grounded is the real skill.” In a city that celebrates performance, Siddell’s success lies in refusing to perform at all.

There was once a time when Masahiro Kurokawa had to explain to everyone what a stretching studio did. To many in Japan, it seemed rather odd that people would pay for something that was potentially painful and could be done for free at home while sitting in front of the television.

Kurokawa opened his first outpost of Dr Stretch in 2010 – a 40 sq m space with five beds in the Shinyurigaoka area of Kawasaki. Outside the world of professional sport, says Kurokawa, one-on-one stretching sessions with a trainer simply “didn’t exist in Japan”.

Today, Kurokawa’s Tokyo-based wellness company Nobitel runs a network of 240 Dr Stretch branches in Japan and 46 overseas – including in China, Singapore and the UAE. The company estimates that a million customers have had their limbs and joints tuned up by the brand’s trainers; there are currently about 70,000 active members. This spring, Dr Stretch will enter the European market with a space in Amsterdam. The brand then hopes to expand further west. “What I really want is to be in the US market,” he says.

The idea for Dr Stretch came to Kurokawa in the late 2000s when his 11 year old son, a talented footballer, was sidelined as a result of knee pain. The entrepreneur took his son to see several orthopaedic doctors and chiropractors; all simply prescribed prolonged rest. Then, by chance, Kurokawa met a professional sports trainer who told the boy to try a series of stretches. “My son’s pain went away and I immediately saw the potential for a broader audience,” says Kurokawa.

The experience became the basis for his business strategy: to demonstrate that Dr Stretch’s “core balance stretching” method could improve top athletes’ performance and offer a pared-down version to the general public. This approach allows the business to stand out in Japan’s ¥700bn (€3.8bn) fitness industry, while offering customers a new way to address physical ailments beyond popular options such as massage or acupuncture. It is the biggest name in a fast-growing sector of Japan’s fitness industry. The country has long had a wide array of treatment options for consumers’ everyday ailments: massage, osteopathic, acupuncture, chiropractic and orthopaedic rehab clinics. “Dr Stretch has increasingly established itself as an alternative to those types of services,” says Takenori Furuya, the editor in chief and publisher of Fitness Business, a Tokyo based bimonthly magazine.

Dr Stretch’s spaces are typically small and sparingly furnished, with between six to 15 beds. Trainers cater to clients from all walks of life, from J-pop musicians and primary school children to middle-aged office workers. “It can take three or four months before you see any noticeable improvements,” says Kurokawa. “With any health related business, it’s always the same: people have to feel the effect or they just won’t stick with it.”
doctorstretch.com

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We’ve all experienced the displeasure of navigating crowded aisles and wasting time trying to figure out the logic of ill-considered shop layouts – only to be forced to wait in long checkout lines. Good supermarkets can be hard to find. But they do exist: São Paulo’s Casa Santa Luzia, which celebrates its centenary this year, provides ample options and isn’t overlit. You’ll find it in the city’s chic Jardins district, where high-end shops and exclusive restaurants dot the elegant, treelined streets.

Locals pop in to buy a good bottle of wine, get their cold cuts sliced just right or pick up a rotisserie dinner. Stocked with more than 30,000 products including organic foods, Casa Santa Luzia is also beautifully designed. Colourful stained-glass windows add a playful touch of light above shoppers’ heads, while the modernist-style exterior offers an antidote to most supermarkets’ grey tones. Best of all, there’s a much-loved café on the second floor.

Over the years, Casa Santa Luzia’s family-led management team has repeatedly ruled out expansion, ensuring that its expertise isn’t stretched thin. Its third-generation director, Ana Maria Lopes, argues that this is the supermarket’s strength. “Our family is proud to manage what we now consider to be a true asset to São Paulo,” she says. “We’re committed to maintaining our position as a benchmark for the retail of food products.”

It’s no wonder that the shop has become indispensable to local residents. The menu, which features more than 1,000 homemade dishes, offers options for both lunch and dinner, such as beef stroganoff, Brazilian shrimp stew or a light selection of quiches. Doesn’t every city deserve to have its own Casa Santa Luzia?
santaluzia.com.br

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There was a time when Nokia was synonymous with mobile phones that could withstand just about anything. In its heyday, the company ranked above the likes of McDonald’s and Google as the world’s fifth-most valuable brand and it controlled more than 40 per cent of the global mobile-phone market. Then came smartphones. The qualities that had made Nokia so successful – sturdiness, dependability – were no longer seen as key selling points. In 2013 the company hung up its mobile-phone arm, selling it to Microsoft. Many assumed that the brand would simply disappear, swept aside by flashier, shinier alternatives.

But a look around the city of Oulu in northern Finland tells another story. The business is making a comeback. Last September, Nokia opened a 55,000 sq m campus in Oulu. The goal? To cement Nokia’s pivot to communication networks, researching, developing and manufacturing wireless 5G and 6G networks.

When Monocle visits, the factory floor hums with activity as autonomous robots shuttle components along the assembly line. Production specialists and engineers are working at full capacity, driven by demand from the artificial intelligence boom. “This is where we prepare for the next decade,” says Jarkko Pyykkönen, Nokia Oulu’s head. “The AI supercycle will be powered by 6G, connecting not just people but billions of intelligent machines.”

Most of Nokia’s main competitors are now Chinese. Its factory also c0-operates with the nearby Nato test centre on developing defence-grade 6G communications technology. The partnership underscores a strategic reality: the stability of Europe’s digital backbone increasingly depends on trusted network suppliers. Given Nokia’s expertise in secure radio technology – from tactical 5G “bubbles” for battlefield use to encrypted industrial networks – the company is at the heart of those conversations.

Results from 2025 were positive, with overall sales revenue at €19.9bn and year-on-year growth at 3 per cent. US chipmaker Nvidia, the world’s most valuable company, agreed a $1bn (€850m) equity investment in the Finnish firm late last year. Expectations for 2026 are high as Nokia holds thousands of 5G patents and is involved in shaping the protocols that will define future 6G networks.

Though Nokia’s days as a globally renowned phone brand are over, its next chapter could prove even more essential to the world by keeping connections secure and stable. It is, once again, a company to watch.

Groupe d’études géopolitiques (GEG) is one of those French phrases that don’t translate well into English. The Parisian think tank, founded in 2017 by three students from École normale supérieure (ENS), the grandest of France’s grand école universities, is much more than the “geopolitical studies group” of its name. In fact, it might just be the world’s coolest think tank – admittedly not the most crowded of fields.

To be fair, GEG’s name is an accurate description of the think tank’s birth. Its three founders – Manuel Gressani, Mathéo Malik and Pierre Ramond – who were at various stages of their degrees at ENS, began to organise debates devoted to geopolitics at the university. In 2019, Ramona Bloj joined the gang, who launched a complementary journal, Le Grand Continent, devoted to European politics. At a time when right-wing think tanks seem to be in the ascendant, what distinguishes GEG is its avowedly internationalist, pro-European and pro-EU outlook.

As French politics veers ever rightwards and the European project seems in decline, think tanks such as GEG could offer hope for intellectual renewal. It publishes three semi-annual journals, each in its own natty colourway: a red one devoted to law, green to the environment and blue to European elections. Contributors have included Emmanuel Macron, Kaja Kallas and Josep Borrell. This year, GEG launched a series of books, La Bibliothèque de géopolitique, with Gallimard, a publishing house almost synonymous with Gallic intellectual chic.
geopolitique.eu

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