Hubert Lee is Samsung’s executive vice-president and head of the mobile experience design team, which means that he works on the South Korean giant’s smartphones, tablets, smartwatches and more. This includes the much-anticipated Galaxy Z 8 series of folding phones, including the Galaxy Z Fold 8 and the bigger Galaxy Z Fold 8 Ultra.

Lee sat down for an exclusive interview with Monocle on the eve of the launch.

“Call me Hughie,” says Lee, who joined Samsung in 2023. “To have a new interpretation of what the future foldable should be, I wanted to bring a little bit of change into our look and feel,” he adds. 

The Galaxy Z Fold 8 introduces a new form factor that’s shorter and wider than most foldables when closed – but it opens out into a tablet with, for virtually the first time in a folding phone, the same 4:3 screen size as regular tablets – it looks like a smaller version of the iPad mini. 

How would you define the Samsung smartphone style?
We want our devices to look clean, simple and, ultimately, modern, which also applies to the opening of a folding phone. [He points to the lightly curved edges where the two halves of the fold join.] It’s two positive surfaces. Some brands have much rounder sections but if you go too round, it reminds you of a baby’s butt cheek. We tend to go flatter on the sections. 

What are the challenges of designing a foldable phone?
Foldable phones have a design challenge that regular phones don’t: ease of opening the two halves. We asked, ‘What would be easier to open?’; when the gap is bigger, it’s easier to put your fingers in between and open. But at the same time, if the gap is too big, it becomes visually awkward because then you have this huge gap.

What inspired the new format for the Galaxy Z Fold 8?
We looked at familiar objects that we live with. In this case, the passport. Its utility is based on one-handed usage and this is inspiring. We like that proportion. The natural way is so important because if you force something, if it’s unnatural, then people don’t like using it.

It’s strikingly different from other foldable phones. What practical benefits does it enable?
People are consuming more media content. They’re spending more time with their devices because of AI and most of that usage is coming from our mobile phones. This new form factor has come about because of a different way of using our devices or foldables.

Folding phones are still a bit niche. It’ll be awesome if we could get our foldables to become the household’s mainstream device. But, of course, we have to back it up with reliability, durability and the highest quality that we can provide.

What does the future of the smartphone hold?
One size doesn’t fit all. It’s very diverse now. The ways people use the devices are so different. To cater to all of these different needs is going to be a bit of a challenge in the future. 

How about phone screens: how will they change?
There’s a lot of talk about the display going away and everything being done by voice. We believe the display will stick around because whether you have glasses, watches or all these new AI wearables, we believe the phone will still be the mainframe.

We’re still going to focus on providing the best experience visually, while at the same time making it easy to use, even when you’re not using the display. As for what the displays will be, whether it’s OLED or even better than OLED, those changes will be implemented for sure.

Smartphones have become slimmer over the years. Will that continue?
There’s going to be a limit of how thin the devices will be. But again, it’s not about becoming the slimmest device in the world. A core value for Samsung Design is about being slim and light. When you’re using our devices, we believe the biggest factor is weight. The lighter it is, the more comfortable it is to use and carry around.

How does the creative tension between designers and engineers resolve itself in developing a new product?
It’s in a designer’s basic nature to design something that is inspiring, something that stands out, something that can make a huge impact. Designers are like artists, they’re visionary people. At the same time, engineers make things work. And it’s always about the solution. If we want to make something happen, we have to make sure that the solution is there.

How prominent should AI be in future smartphones?
A designer’s responsibility is to ensure that AI is seamlessly integrated into our devices. Why would you want to see AI? It should be embedded so that it’s there when you need it. But you don’t really need to be aware of it. In the early stages, a lot of designers contemplated putting an AI button in a phone but, as it becomes more generalised, seamless integration is more important.

Copenhagen consistently ranks highly on Monocle’s annual Quality of Life survey. The listing appears in our out-now July/August issue, in which the Danish capital comes in second place. Key to its success as a liveable city is a thriving design scene that delivers considered public spaces, such as its metro stations and harbour foreshore, and well-furnished buildings. This design culture and ecosystem begins with free education, making creative pursuits independent of affordability, and it’s headlined by institutions such as the Royal Danish Academy. For students at Denmark’s historic institution for architecture, design, conservation and fashion, each project is an experiment. Spend enough time in Copenhagen and you will understand the academy in a wider context. Its brick buildings are more than a campus – they’re the foundation of Copenhagen’s creative innovation.

The country’s consistently strong economy not only encourages graduates to remain in the Danish capital but it also encourages them to stay and find work in their fields of study. Meanwhile, the design industry is steadily expanding its reach at home and abroad. For proof you need look no further than the growing international participation of 3 Days of Design, the city’s annual design fair. Equally important is the community that sustains it. Copenhagen’s scale allows a close-knit network of designers and makers to exchange ideas and foster a culture of experimentation and cross-disciplinary collaboration that extends beyond marketing gimmicks. This vibrancy prevents complacency or a too-heavy reliance on history. Instead, Denmark’s design heritage serves as a springboard: a set of values that gives new generations of designers a framework to build on.

The persistent image of Danish design as monochrome and minimalist conceals a richer story. Alongside the popularised light-wood, pared-back furniture are Verner Panton’s exuberant palette and boundary-pushing creations; Finn Juhl’s sculptural forms shaped by surrealist art; Nanna Ditzel’s bold-patterned furniture. Today’s designers continue that evolution, finding strength not in muted palettes or the rejection of ornament but in something more enduring: a society that, ever since the postwar welfare state recognised design as a public good, continues to stand behind its creative class. It just goes to show that consistent quality of life doesn’t come by accident – it comes by design. 

Tourists in Sochi tend to ignore the air-raid sirens after the third time that they hear them. The Russian resort’s beaches are usually more crowded at this time of year. But even as temperatures have risen and thunderstorms cleared, this subtropical corner of the Black Sea has experienced a lacklustre start to the high season. Tour operators complain that intensifying Ukrainian drone attacks and the attendant shutdowns of the city’s airport have reduced domestic demand by as much as 30 per cent year on year. Piles of unused sunloungers are scattered across the city’s stony beaches and the wide, 7km-long seaside promenade is eerily quiet.

“It’s like we’re living in Israel, minus the health care,” says Valeria, a lifestyle journalist who lives in central Sochi with her husband and one-year-old son. When the half-deserted beaches are evacuated, holiday-goers crowd together on the promenade. Those who have made it here won’t let the war ruin their holiday. Inflation isn’t helping Sochi to fill its beaches either, as the Russian economy nears recession and wages stagnate. 

A night in a standard sea-view room at the Swissôtel Resort will cost RUB22,300 (€260), though the city is awash with far cheaper and bleaker lodging options. Before the war, it was sometimes cheaper for Russians to go on all-inclusive trips to Antalya or Sharm-el-Sheikh – and it definitely is now. Still, back then, Sochi maintained its status as the country’s premier summer resort, a place for the great and the good to be seen, if just for one weekend in July. Its climate, its mountains and the infrastructure left behind after the 2014 Winter Olympics all contributed to the resort attracting as many as eight million visitors a year. This year, however, only around two and a half million have come, with many wealthier visitors staying away. Non-EU Balkan states and China have become the premier spots for Russians who are not welcome elsewhere.

The war in Ukraine, which is approaching its fifth year, has also hit Sochi’s rival Black Sea destinations Anapa and Tuapse. Before 2022, these were among the more affordable options for domestic travellers; some were drawn to the former’s unique wine treatments, known as oenotherapy. Visitors today will definitely need some self-administered wine therapy to brave the bridge that connects Crimea, another popular pre-2022 holiday destination, to the Russian mainland. Like many Black Sea oil refineries, ports and tankers, the bridge has been struck twice by Ukrainian drones since the full-scale invasion. Because of the dangers that fuel trucks face when using the road, there is now a severe shortage in Crimea. Some hotels have even tried to lure tourists back with the promise of free petrol.

War’s shadow looms over Sochi. But as with elsewhere in Russia, most people have buried their heads firmly in the sand – which is easy to do here, given the beaches and the bars. New cafés and restaurants continue to open in this hilly, chaotic town. Porto-Franco promises a patriotic Russian take on Ukrainian-Jewish cuisine; Brot! crafts sandwiches; Lino Caffetteria offers all-day breakfasts. A museum with a 500 sq m diorama depicting the entirety of human history has just opened on Chernomorskaya Street in one of the city’s oldest districts. As in other cities, Backrooms and Obsession, two much-hyped indie-horror movies, have just hit the local cinemas. Despite sanctions and major Hollywood studios’ boycott of Russia, foreign films are still screened – sometimes as pirated copies with the state’s blessing; at others, because local distributors have managed to buy the rights directly.

In the mountains that surround the city sits Krasnaya Polyana, a chain of high-end Olympic villages and ski resorts. Up here, the sirens are a reassuringly distant wail. Locals sometimes call this stretch the “Moscow ghetto” because of the number of wealthy Muscovites who come here for spa treatments and esoteric pseudo-spiritual practices such as tarot reading. Sveta, a massage therapist who specialises in using leeches, says that she has never seen a quieter season than this one. “Getting here is harder, planes are cancelled and some are afraid,” she says. “But actually everything is quite peaceful.” Still, as soon as Sveta has time off, she hotfoots it to the much cheaper (and safer) Republic of Abkhazia, a Russian-backed breakaway region of Georgia only a few hours’ drive away.

Among the Russians holidaying in Krasnaya Polyana this summer is Alexander, one of thousands of convicted murderers pardoned by Vladimir Putin after fighting in Ukraine. He now recruits mercenaries from around the world to fight in the Russian army. Alexander and his girlfriend, an exotic dancer, spent their weekend eating, hiking and visiting a llama farm. “It was quite soothing,” he says. Even though the Telegram app is now banned in Russia, it remains the main messenger and information hub thanks to VPNs, with local group chats buzzing with mundane enquiries. People are looking for ballet and yoga coaches, tennis buddies and nail artists, and sharing videos of bears wandering into villages. Every so often, someone will ask whether it’s safe to travel to Sochi. Another will point out that many of the country’s top officials own properties in the area, including Putin, so there’s nothing to worry about. But Russia’s president hasn’t been seen in Sochi since 2024. These days, he spends his downtime in a bunker. 

Thailand has been gripped by a different kind of travel story this summer: a young air hostess for flag carrier Thai Airways was caught by Australian customs officials trying to smuggle 1.8kg of heroin through Melbourne Airport. The story might have been a page-six article elsewhere but it touched a nerve here in Bangkok. Thailand has been associated with illegal drugs since at least the 1970s. That was when a US assistant secretary of state coined the term “Golden Triangle” to describe the lawless border area that northern Thailand shares with Myanmar and Laos, a nexus of the global opium trade. 

Though the Thais have long since turned their part of the triangle into a tourist attraction with a museum and shops selling T-shirts and fridge magnets, these borderlands remain a permissive hub for foreign criminals. Individual groups have become transnational networks, bolstered in recent years by Myanmar’s civil war and technology advances such as crypto. 

The UN’s regional office on drugs and crime is based in Bangkok. Its latest report on transnational crime, which was released on Tuesday, outlined this worsening situation over a whopping 265 pages: “The Golden Triangle continues to be the region’s main production and trafficking hub.” 

Seizures of methamphetamine and ketamine have skyrocketed in the past decade, which suggests that many more kilos of these synthetic drugs are getting through the net. Weak government and limited law enforcement access are apparently to blame. Meanwhile, cross-border solutions cannot be enacted by one country alone. 

Speaking at the report’s launch, co-author Inshik Sim predicted that this Southeast Asian model will be replicated by organised crime around the world – not the type of innovation any country cares to export. Heroin from Southeast Asia is also on the rise, plugging a gap left by the Taliban’s crackdown on poppy production in Afghanistan. Exports travel beyond the region, the bulk to Australia. 

For Thailand, the recent arrest in Melbourne revives an outdated reputation at a time when the government is trying to attract high spending tourists and applying to join the OECD. Thai police have been quick to uncover the international nature of the syndicate responsible for moving heroin from Laos to Australia via Thailand. They have also rounded up a bunch of other bad actors and sent the K9 sniffer dogs to patrol Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi Airport and pose for photos with waiting reporters. Cute pups in uniform and a very public crackdown will buy them time at home but the kneejerk strategy will do little to alter global perceptions. 

The damage that his kind of coverage does to the Thai brand is not just felt by the current administration. This story has made headlines here because it feeds a very real and regular frustration that will potentially affect every passport holder planning to travel overseas this summer. Thais can get a rough deal when they travel abroad and encounter suspicious customs officials in Seoul, Tokyo or Sydney. Travelling in first class or business offers little protection – indeed, it can be an even bigger red flag. 

Multiple wealthy Bangkokians, male and female, young and old, have shared stories with me about their miserable experiences. These range from having to cancel business trips because of visa problems to having to face humiliating questions about their reasons for visiting and endure bag searches that presume the traveller is either a drug mule, sex worker, habitual overstayer or all of the above. Thais were particularly cheesed off in January when US president Donald Trump included Thailand – the US’s oldest ally in Asia – in his list of 75 countries unable to apply for immigrant visas. 

The Thais have my deepest sympathy and they certainly deserve the same kind of hospitality that they offer to travellers. For every Thai Airways cabin crew member making a dumb decision, there are many, many more visitors from across the globe who fly into Thailand to get up to mischief. 

The US military presence during the Vietnam War provided the demand for this industry to grow and the idea of Thailand being a haven for foreigners to come and do bad things persists to this day. A Vietnamese gang meet at a Bangkok hotel in 2024 and end up being poisoned to death by one of their own. A Chinese actor gets kidnapped in 2025 by scammers after flying into Thailand en route to a “job interview” in Myanmar. A British man falls to his death from Pattaya balcony – a headline that appears in the Bangkok Post every few months. 

Thailand’s druggie reputation has risen in recent years following the liberalisation of its cannabis laws in 2022. As a progressive, I agree with the initiative in principle. However, the hastily decided policy and slapdash implementation of the laws, which continue to cause confusion and a fair bit of eyerolling, has undoubtedly added to the country’s woes; again, because of the actions of other nationalities. Weed smokers from around the world come to Thailand, make the daft decision to take a few plants home with them and get caught by customs officials in Sydney or London.

A German resident of Bangkok told me that he no longer checks in bags when he flies home because the wait to get from plane to luggage carousel is far too long. Thai authorities have been working with their British counterparts for two years to try to reduce the number of UK nationals veering from fun-seeking holidaymaker to opportunistic drug smuggler. 

A new measure came into force in June to confiscate the contraband and impose a fine of up to 30,000 baht (€780) – less than a return flight between London and Bangkok on Thai Airways. Knowing my countrymen as I do, I doubt that this will be enough to put off every Tom, Dick and Harry coming to Thailand on their gap year and the news that cannabis can only be bought for medicinal use has not made its way to the Khao San Road yet, let alone London and Manchester.

The Thais could get tougher, for sure. Authorities are likely to make an example of the young Thai Airways crewmember, who faces a sentence of 25 years. But there are limits. Locking up every chancer is not affordable, nor would I want the authorities here to aspire to an Indonesian or Singapore-style approach. Both countries have executed foreign nationals convicted of drug smuggling in the past decade, either by firing squad or hanging. Singaporean authorities make it known that they actively swab travellers arriving from Thailand. No thanks. 

Thailand is a special place in Southeast Asia because of its tolerance, acceptance and colourful grey areas. Bangkok is a fun capital, a playground, a haven. This reputation is well deserved and it has plenty of positives for the national brand (including Thailand’s status among the region’s LGBTQ community). Gay and lesbian Singaporeans and Indonesians come to Bangkok to live life in the open and walk down the street with their partner without anyone batting an eyelid. A country of stiff rules, strict enforcement and absolute obedience just wouldn’t be Thailand.

“Milan isn’t a pretty city.” That’s the criticism most often levelled against the Lombard capital. It’s a little scruffy around the edges and graffiti-clad in places. The cityscape is made up of a mishmash of architectural styles, 1960s tower blocks and Italy’s take on art nouveau (known as Liberty) sit side-by-side. The product of a work-driven mentality of never getting too attached to the past, Milan is not the sort of place that makes tourists immediately swoon à la Rome or Florence. 

It’s a city that requires you to adjust your lens to see its beauty, which can be found in a well-planted balcony, a hidden inner courtyard or a stunning mid-century entranceway. While Italy’s more handsome cities might boast Roman ruins or Renaissance palazzi, they are like open-air museums focused on preserving the past. Milan has little of that historical baggage – damage from the Second World War and 20th-century industrial expansion defined the city’s imperative to build. That future-focused attitude prevails today, and it makes Milan all the more interesting for it. (The city ranked number 12 in our Quality of Life Survey this year.)

Two urban projects that have reshaped Milan in recent years are the CityLife and Porta Nuova neighbourhoods – both of which are new-build quarters developed over the past decade. Mixing retail, residential and green spaces, they feature buildings by big-name architects including Stefano Boeri, Daniel Libeskind, Zaha Hadid and Mario Cucinella. 

It’s hard to think of an Italian city today where so many celebrated architects want to be that also has the capital and the space to welcome them. The latest to join the list is Oslo-founded international mega-practice Snøhetta, having recently completed Pirelli 35, which transformed a 1960s block in Porta Nuova into a mixed-use development. Alongside offices, the project has invited beloved local bakery Pan to open a deli on the ground floor. Snøhetta is also working on an ambitious new neighbourhood at the site of the city’s former slaughterhouse. Porta Romana and Scalo Farini are two other as-yet unfinished developments in former industrial spots. 

It’s also important to take a step back from the individual high-profile projects and find out if Milan can achieve its goal of becoming a multicentric city with various urban centres that are desirable places to live and work. Today, Milanese are often focused on the three circonvallazioni (urban rings) that demarcate the city’s central districts. As Milan continues to develop and expand, can it move beyond this limited geographical footprint and unite some of its once industrial areas?

The city certainly isn’t lacking in redevelopment projects, as people get priced out of neighbourhoods or look for more space. The district of Santa Giulia was in the spotlight recently due to its David Chipperfield-designed sports arena that was used during this year’s Milano-Cortina Olympics. The budding Milano Certosa District, led by Italian real-estate developer RealStep and located in the northwest of the city, is working to establish itself as a food and entertainment hub in a bid to attract new businesses and residents. And there is no shortage of urban projects that seem to borrow from the New York school of naming: NOM, or North of Milan, might have been inspired by the rebranded neighbourhood of Nolo (north of Loreto).

Nevertheless, the city has the bones to make these transformations happen. Its tram, metro and urban-rail networks are decent – even if the latter’s Passante train is clearly in need of investment beyond the small cosmetic changes made to key stations during the 2026 Winter Games. If Milan successfully manages to connect its districts in a coherent way, it’s sure to grow into a metropolis deserving of the title as one of Europe’s greats.  

When foreign correspondents’ clubs are struggling, we are all in trouble. Declining membership of these venerable institutions is not just a matter of regret for hard-drinking journalists living out their Evelyn Waugh fantasies but also an indicator of the overall health of international newsgathering. From Reuters and the BBC to The Washington Post, the world’s great news organisations have been slashing their networks of foreign correspondents. As a result, they have left swaths of the world uncovered by resident reporters – and it is not only their audiences who are losing out.

Foreign correspondents provide crucial on-the-ground information based on long-term knowledge of their patches and the people who live there. Without them, news outlets are left to publish material that is often little better than guesswork: perhaps a cut-and-paste from other sources with added errors produced by Google Translate, or, at best, a light rewrite from an overworked reporter at a desk who might be thousands of miles away from the scene of the story. The consequences of this approach can be serious. Misinformation spreads. False narratives take hold and corrode societies where people believe what they read, hear and see – little realising the dearth of actual journalism behind the reports.

For example, you might have heard about the so-called “sniper tourism” phenomenon in Bosnia and Herzegovina. This is the extraordinary story of how extremely rich individuals from across Europe paid huge sums of money to Bosnian-Serb forces in the 1990s for a ticket to the frontline of the Siege of Sarajevo. The Bosnian-Serb forces then presented a grotesque menu ranking potential targets by age and gender. Young children carried the highest price tag.

This tale started spreading around the world last November, after Italian media picked up claims being made by a little-known writer, who also said that he had submitted a complaint to prosecutors in Milan. Within days, the story spread to international media, including some of the world’s best-known and most respected outlets. Some of these pieces even voiced outrage that this macabre scenario had gone undetected and unpunished by international war-crimes courts. Swiftly, the narrative took hold: amid the misery of the siege, hundreds of millionaire monsters had been satisfying their twisted bloodlust by killing women and children for kicks. 

The Italian writer who was the source of the claims proudly boasted that he had never visited Bosnia – and did not plan to before he published his book on the “sniper tourism” phenomenon. You can assume that the international media outlets who uncritically regurgitated his allegations did not have any reporters on the ground in the region, either. If they had, they might have never published pieces that would fail even the most basic fact-checking process.

Resident correspondents have developed relationships with the people who do know what happened in Bosnia in the 1990s. They follow the first rule of journalism when presented with a story that does not seem right: can you find enough evidence to back up the claims? That can present a problem when dealing with editors who now operate in an environment where the lure of clicks on sexy stories can be hard to resist. But when an editor trusts their correspondent – and vice versa – they can ensure that damaging nonsense does not enter the public sphere. At least, not through their particular outlet.

Once a false narrative has escaped, it is extremely hard to counter. Investigative outlet Balkan Insight has published an article debunking the Italian writer’s outlandish claims, virtually line by line. That, of course, takes time, resources and expertise – whereas copy-pasting an article can be done in a matter of seconds. That material is already being used by AI models to generate their output, spreading the misinformation further.

It would take another entire article to detail the negative impact in Bosnia and Herzegovina – a country that remains deeply divided thanks to ethno-nationalist politicians. Many people I met on my most recent trip to Sarajevo did not know what to believe. They had already seen human beings plumb the depths of depravity during the war, so perhaps “sniper tourism” could be real. Others were angry. The atrocities committed during the war are a matter of judicial and historical record – you don’t have to make anything up.

But that is where international news currently finds itself: if publications do not have resident reporters, they leave themselves open to inadvertently spreading false narratives – or worse. At a time of hybrid wars, rampant disinformation and hate speech metastasising through social media, the need for expert foreign correspondents is greater than ever.

Guy De Launey is Monocle’s much-valued Ljubljana-based Balkans correspondent. For more insight and analysis, subscribe to Monocle today.
 
Further reading:
– Why a Trump tower in Belgrade would reopen Serbia’s war wounds

– ‘What we are dealing with is a moral trauma’: How NGO Superhumans is helping to rehabilitate battle-scarred Ukrainians

– Geopolitics might’ve lost its shock value but the Delphi Economic Forum is a good omen for diplomacy

Summer in Tokyo is hot and humid but there are still plenty of reasons to go outside. From the bustle of Harajuku streets to the tree-lined Yoyogi Park, the city is best explored with a sweet treat in hand – and preferably a cold one. Meticulously prepared bowls of kakigori, creamy soft serves and towering fruit parfaits offer welcome respite from the afternoon sun. Here are five spots in Tokyo for a refreshing bite. 

1.
Kori Kobo Ishibashi
Sangenjaya

While meandering around Tokyo or visiting one of the city’s summer hanabi (firework) festivals, you will likely spot a kakigori flag. Bearing the Japanese character for “ice”, the iconic red, white and blue banners announce that an establishment sells this seasonal treat, which is made of shaved ice sweetened with an assortment of flavours and often topped with condensed milk. 

When in the Sangenjaya neighbourhood, follow the flag to Kori Kobo Ishibashi – kori kobo meaning “ice workshop” – which has served the area for more than 60 years. The shop, complete with charming, retro-style interiors, began serving the icy desserts in glass bowls to residents and visitors about 40 years ago. The small space is also home to a beautifully preserved antique kakigori machine: “It’s probably the last, or second-to-last [machine of this age] in Tokyo,” says owner Kumiko Ishibashi. 

Not sure which flavour to try? “Milk tea and cherry are among the summer favourites, as well as matcha, of course,” says Ishibashi. The matcha is carefully ground in-house using a traditional stone mill. 
1-29-8 Sangenjaya, Setagaya-ku

2.
The Palace Hotel Tokyo
Marunouchi

The desserts at Palace Hotel Tokyo are as refined as the guest rooms upstairs. This summer the seasonal menu includes everything from peach parfait to mango shaved ice with coconut and yoghurt. But what is truly worth crossing town for is the soft-serve ice cream, which is made using milk from Nagano’s Obuse Dairy Farm, and arrives crowned with a delicate cookie. If you’re looking for a classic soft serve in the city, the Palace Lounge is your best bet. You can also enjoy afternoon tea here, while live jazz is performed nightly.
1-1-1 Marunouchi, Chiyoda-ku

3.
Takano Fruit Parlor
Shinjuku

Shinjuku Takano is a heritage Tokyo institution that treats fruit as a luxury. The company was established in 1885 and opened its flagship in the Japanese capital in 1921. Spread across several floors, it looks more like a grand department store than a fruit vendor.

On the two underground floors, visitors will find an elegant selection of products, including gift boxes, apricot jams, muscat-grape jellies and fruit-based delicacies, all presented with the care of a luxury boutique. The fifth floor features the brand’s namesake restaurant, the Takano Fruit Parlor. Here, beautifully sliced seasonal fruit, muskmelon juice and fruit sandos take centre stage. The summer the menu includes parfaits with Miyazaki mango and Crown Melon, whose unparalleled sweetness has earned it a devoted following.
5F, 3-26-11 Shinjuku, Shinjuku-ku

4.
‘Konbini’
Citywide

Across Japan there are more than 55,000 konbini, or convenience stores, that offer everything from baked goods and bento boxes to magazines and umbrellas. In Tokyo, where a 7-Eleven, Familymart or Lawsons is never far away, summer’s most popular aisle is the one with the frozen treats. There, you’ll find favourites that generations of Japanese have grown up with: Choco Monaka Jumbo, a classic ice-cream sandwich made with a crispy wafer, introduced in 1972; mochi-covered Yukimi Daifuku ice creams; the soda-flavoured Garigari-kun popsicle, which has been a staple from the 1980s; and Japanese confectionary giant Morinaga’s shareable, chocolate-covered Pino ice cream. 

Though there are plenty of sophisticated dessert options in Tokyo, few are so woven into the rhythms of daily life. On a sweltering summer day, stepping into an air-conditioned konbini and leaving with a favourite from the freezer remains one of the city’s simplest pleasures.

5.
Flux Cafe
Daikanyama

Located in Daikanyama, Flux Cafe is an all-day address that serves lattes in the morning, teishoku (set meals) at lunchtime, and of course, delightful bowls of kakigori after meals. Working with Matsuyama-based food supplier Oishii Oto, Flux brings some of Ehime prefecture’s freshest seasonal ingredients to Tokyo. This summer every kakigori flavour (and colour) imaginable is on offer: bright-red strawberry milk, green matcha and golden caramel-banana milk are all options. The portions are made for sharing: add azuki bean, mochi, kinako (roasted soybean flour) or any of the available toppings to assemble your own shaved ice.
1F, Daikanyama Kinoshita Bld, 3-7 Sarugakucho, Shibuya-ku

Architecture has always shaped the way that cities look – think sculpted skylines, pretty public squares and handsome new neighbourhoods – but planners have rarely considered how they sound. Whether it’s the ringing of Copenhagen’s bicycle bells or the boisterous conversations spilling from Milan’s neighbourhood cafés, what you hear can brand a city and help to bring it to life. 

But some sounds can be a nuisance: the drone of traffic, the cacophony of construction sites, the clatter of plates in a corner café. And noise can be bad for us. According to a 2025 report, more than 20 per cent of Europeans are exposed to high levels of transport noise that exceed thresholds set under EU reporting rules. This can cause stress and sleep disturbance. This week a London Assembly member called for change after a “clear rise in noise levels” on the city’s Underground system.

Globalisation has homogenised aspects of the urban soundscape, creating a uniform background noise across many cities worldwide. The glass and steel used to construct skyscrapers, for example, act as acoustic mirrors, reflecting back the sound of traffic and even the mechanical hum of air-conditioning units.

Though noise pollution in cities is increasing, urban environments are still primarily designed for the eye. We must remember that decisions about materials, streets and buildings shape what we hear. Every new structure, pavement or mixed-use block adds a note to our city’s sonic symphony. We need to conduct things better.

Rather than simply asking how to reduce unwanted noise, we should consider what gives a city its identity – and what it should ideally sound like. For me, it’s the bustle of a busy market, an echo beneath a railway bridge or the flutter of birds returning to roost. For you, it might be bike wheels on cobblestones, the clanging of inner-city workshops or even the faint thud of music in venues after dark.

Zürich offers an example of what smart acoustic planning can achieve. The city recently began to reduce speed limits on roads where the roar of the traffic exceeds specific limits. This has led to a reduction in noise pollution. However, Zürich’s distinctive sonic character is the result not of a single policy but of countless planning decisions that include sound in their thinking.

My advice to other cities seeking to improve their residents’ quality of life? Listen up: there’s far more to the debate on cities than meets the eye.

Arjan Rietveld is a writer, researcher and curator based in Berlin. His work explores sound, culture and the built environment.

Ask people what they want from life and their answers rarely match their behaviour. We all say that we would like to eat better, read more and spend less time on our phones. But entire industries are built to exploit our impulse for mindless scrolling and feed us food or information that we don’t really want. Today, streaming platforms are no different – and in chasing our behaviours, they risk forgetting what audiences actually value.

Netflix announced an investment in short-form video this month that is designed to compete with YouTube. Like all bad audience research, the plan mistakes consumption for satisfaction. Just because audiences are increasingly spending more time watching short videos does not mean that they want their subscription service to do the same. As history has shown us through the rise and fall of myriad media companies, success rarely comes from chasing every trend. The strongest brands create spaces where creativity finds a home.

Netflix’s huge global success came from offering audiences and producers an alternative to cinema and television. It gave filmmakers the time and space to make ambitious work that was shunned by traditional studios for being long and/or expensive. Martin Scorsese’s The Irishman proved Hollywood wrong, as audiences stuck it out through three and a half hours of gangster clichés. Viewed by more than 26 million households in its first seven days, it proved that attention spans were not collapsing.
 
Yet what media executives have found impossible to ignore is the countless hours of short-form content that younger audiences are consuming – looking enviously at the extraordinary numbers that it can generate. Their panic-spends in the pursuit of this attention, clicks and traffic is all in a seemingly misguided belief that this could convert to subscriptions and customer loyalty.
 
Documentary filmmaker Evan Williams has described Netflix’s move as “the race to the bottom”. His concern isn’t that short-form video exists but that “every platform begins to resemble every other”. If Netflix becomes another endless stream of vapid, rapid clips, it erodes the very proposition that made it successful: a place where viewers can settle in for something memorable. 
 
There is a growing recognition that doomscrolling often leaves people feeling drained and, in many cases, depressed. While it might be highly consumable, it certainly isn’t striking or enjoyable. “It’s like junk food,” says Williams. “It satisfies an immediate craving but leaves little behind. People are not stupid. They want material, they want to learn.” The great irony here being that the overwhelming amount of short content has actually increased the desire for something more substantial – book sales are strong, documentaries are dominating public discourse and podcast listenership is still growing.   
 
Netflix seems to be ignoring its competitive advantage for a spike in short-term numbers. But why would consumers come to Netflix for short-form videos when they can stay on Tiktok, Instagram or YouTube? If anything, the platform’s existing subscriber base is likely to want a long-form palette cleanser from all the clips they encounter throughout the day. It’s what attracted talents such as Scorsese in the first place; a lesson Netflix might’ve forgotten. If Netflix is to thrive into the future, it will not be through replicating what’s already filling phones around the world – but through investing in immersive storytelling that people want to spend time exploring. 
 
Tom Webb is Monocle’s deputy head of radio. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.
 
Further reading:
– The UK’s under-16 social-media ban won’t make Big Tech safer

– Australia wants tech giants to fund journalism – but is it too little, too late?

– The summer of cinema is urging us to break the spell of our screens

This week I’m going to tell it by numbers, which is curious because I’m not terribly good with maths – but I am very good at remembering all kinds of passcodes, phone numbers of friends and relatives in far-flung places, and my credit card numbers past and present. I can rattle off our Tokyo bureau chief’s number if you need it. I’m sure she’d love to hear from you. Want to natter with my friend Nancy up at Whale Beach in New South Wales? She’d love a chat for sure. I’m not sure what I can do with this little bit of mental strength but perhaps it will come in handy someday when the global grid collapses or I simply need to call my old Toronto number to hear the gentle, purring ring. On we go.

4.20
This was the record time of just over four hours that we clocked from Merano in Südtirol back to Küsnacht outside Zürich last Sunday. It was super seeing so many of you at our party on Saturday and a shame that some of the regulars weren’t able to make the journey. There’s a bit of good news, however. We’re going to be hosting a special Alpine summer party at our shop and mini-café in St Moritz this coming Saturday. Detailed numbers at the end of this column.

2.45
The flight time from Zürich to Lisbon on Monday. While Swiss is slowly rolling out Wi-Fi on its short-haul fleet, our A321neo did not have connectivity and for a chairman’s flight (takeoffs from 11.00 onwards) this is a “no”. While I’m all for using short hops to read the papers lifted from the lounge, it’s also useful to stay in touch during prime business hours.

0, -1
The floors occupied by the tiny shopping arcade at the bottom of our building in Lisbon. As retail “experiences” go, you would kindly file it under “d” for dopey but in the kindest possible way – because it’s a little bit slow, not at all attractive and yet somehow deeply endearing. This little arcade is also a lesson for developers, leasing companies and landlords about how modern shopping centres might need to be planned and inserted in neighbourhoods going forward. There is a busy café and restaurant that spills out to the street, across the corridor there is a well-stocked newsstand with Monocle and Konfekt front and centre (I don’t even get involved in the merchandising), and then there’s a florist, children’s boutique, travel agent, nail salon, hair salon, print and binding shop and a couple of other spots besides. The shops range in size from 10 sq m to 50 sq m and though it was hardly love at first sight, I now feel that I have the best possible setup a few floors below. The small spaces mean low rents and floor plans too tiny for bigger chains. The result is a collection of owner-operated businesses, a strong sense of community and essential services on tap.

7.35km
My Saturday circuit in Lisbon. I started cooking up this column during my morning walk and I’ve been thinking about all the little extras that we’d like to add to this year’s Quality of Life Conference. Of all the places worth seeing in Lisbon, I keep returning to one exquisitely planned patch of the city, Alvalade, to observe the forces that make it such a workable, desirable neighbourhood. Sign up for this year’s conference and we’ll guide you around one of Europe’s best-planned communities.

80,000
That’s how many people read this newsletter for free, seven days a week. That’s a big number for a family-owned company like ours – particularly when it comes to offering up original reports, opinions, tips and insights. I want to say a huge thanks to the 25,000 who are already print-and-digital subscribers. But I also want to nudge those who aren’t yet part of the club to join us and enjoy the benefits of belonging to our global community.

25/07/2026, 18.00
That’s the date and time for our party in St Moritz. Come up to the Engadine to meet a few of your favourite editors and shop manager Logan while enjoying some wines from the region. Stick around for a special edition of Monocle on Sunday at 10.00 the next morning and be the first to get a copy of our new summer newspaper, Monocle: Med, Mountains and More, which comes complete with its own 50-page magazine. Don’t miss it.

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