I have always loved clothes. I especially love vacation clothes - which should exude ease and joy and generally add to the holiday vibe. Thankfully I no longer care about having lots of options. I especially have no desire to wait around at baggage claim or truck a heavy suitcase up a stone staircase. Carry on life is the best life.

Patron saint of cool Joan Didion had the perfect packing list, as detailed in her 1979 essay collection, The White Album,

I unfortunately could never be quite this spartan - the concept of a capsule wardrobe makes me feel dead inside. But while my travel bag more closely resembles Mary Poppins than JD, I do rely on certain staples that enable me to pack minimally without feeling too boring.

Below, a foundation for warm weather locales that, when followed, steers me well.

For the plane, train, automobile:

Some combination of crew neck jumper and wide leg trouser (denim or jersey) that could be worn again at destination. Uniqlo cashmere is my mohair throw.

A notepad - to write one diary entry, one shopping list, then never look at it again.

Pens (3) - one to lend, one to lose.

Books (2) - not 4. You can always buy more or swap with someone, there’s nothing more pathetic than lugging home a bunch of heavy tomes you didn’t even open.

Sunglasses (1-2) - A black pair and a backup cheapo/novelty pair.

A disposable camera - no worry about iPhones overheating or being accidentally submerged in water. Getting it developed is a home problem.

A baseball cap - for good weather and bad hair.

Hand Luggage:

An oversized men’s shirt - worn loose over a swimsuit/at night in place of a jacket/unbuttoned and tucked into trousers (not quite American Gigolo, but not far off). There’s a huge market for secondhand designer - Dior, Hermes & YSL do the best shades of blue.

A long-sleeved sportif - usually a Breton stripe, though I’m also partial to a Raglan or Moto. My favourites are the Minquiers drop shoulder from Saint James and Matteau’s much beloved take on the classic. It’s more substantial/thicker and comparatively pricey but the cost per wear is quickly justified.

T-shirts and tanks (3+) - one white, one black, one wild card. The quest for the perfect tee is ongoing but I like Leset for a slim fit, Ninety Percent for boxy and vintage Gap pocket tees for nostalgia.

Swimsuits (2-3) - you can get away with two - one to use while the other is drying - but a third takes up barely any room and works as a bonus top.

A pair of shorts with pockets - in case you’re roped into hiking up a mountain, you’re going to want to be hands free.

Sarongs (1-2) - these fell out of fashion for a while but have steadily been making a comeback. I find them unendingly versatile - a shawl, a wrap skirt, a multiway dress, a towel in a pinch. The best are always those procured at a seaside shack in the middle of nowhere but these shortie versions from Chan Luu and Etro are also great.

*Influenced by Dries Van Noten (and an ahead of his time Becks in ‘98) they’ve migrated from the beach to the streets. Men get on sarongs! I like the idea of transitioning them into autumn with a white button down and loafer.

A “nothing dress”- something that falls into the category of slip/tent/shirt/nightgown/muumuu, bonus points if no buttons or zippers involved. A good one here from St Agni, this with more coverage from Asceno. Take from day to night with slicked back hair and fun jewellery.

A LBS (little black something?) - wearing dark colours in hot weather may be counter-intuitive but for the fringe hours it looks particularly good with a tan, plus it hides a multitude of stains. My now threadbare Jasper Conran jumpsuit has come on almost every trip for the last decade. This maxi would also fit the bill perfectly.

A white base (skirt/shorts/trousers) - I’ve lived in a skirt from last year’s end of summer sale at Loulou de Saison.

A going out top or party pants - because sometimes you’ve chilled too hard and need to turn the volume up a notch.

A hero outfit – the failsafe, worn so many times people are sick of seeing you in it. Too bad! This can be anything - there is no overarching descriptor. One of my go-tos is an Ikat evening dress - the train of which I hacked off with kitchen scissors (must hem one day). They work in almost any scenario, be it a wedding or a trip to the shops. It necessitates no accessories and looks best barefoot, worn with a touch of insouciance.

The endless search for footwear that doesn’t leave me crippled with blisters…

Waterproof shoes - This year I’ve bought into the flip flop craze, regressing back to summer 2003 when Gisele was at the peak of her powers and Havaianas were the closest we could get to emulating the Brazilian export. Ancient Greek has been giving them a run for their money with fun colourways this year.

Leather sandals (1-2) - I picked up a black pair at Massimo Dutti in early April that sold out before it was even warm enough to wear them (when they’re inexpensive buy a backup). These from Essen are elegant but sturdy enough when you’re lost on your way to dinner.

Casual flats - I’ve been living in Soeur ballerinas, which don’t cut into my feet and weigh absolutely nothing.

Bags: from the stupidly tiny to ludicrously capacious

Are there any other sizes?

I’ve never really gotten to grips with packing cubes and tend to separate into totes and clutches instead, layering like a pass the parcel.

Some good picks that are both foldable and fun:

1. For everything but the kitchen sink Toteme (on sale)

2. Mary Al Terna’s salt shrinked Nylon scrunches down into nothing but doesn’t wrinkle.

3. A performative bookshop bag to show how literate you are. Comes with an internal phone pocket because half your reading is still being done on your phone.

4. An upright tote that neatly fits a towel, laptop and a bottle of wine - pick your poison.

5. A net shopper to virtue signal all the produce you’re buying. Also quite good for toting wet things?

6. Malene Birger - an alt take on lightweight raffia

7. Muun smart enough to carry even if not going to market

8. Punchy silk from Laia Alen

9. Beads from Staud

A heat proof dopp kit

Though half the time I forget either a toothbrush or toothpaste, I try to remember the following:

Paracetamol - the amount of painkillers I’ve amassed from international pharmacies…

Invisible SPF: Super Goop Mineral Mattescreen or Shiseido Expert Sun Protector don’t leave you with a white cast or shiny like a christmas bauble. The Shiseido is especially good for active days as it becomes stronger when exposed to heat and water.

Dr. Jart Cicapair Tiger Grass - for when afforemented SPF has been applied less than perfectly this colour corrector helps balance out redness.

Christophe Robin Cleansing Purifying Scrub - lathers like a regular shampoo, good for scrubbing away build up from products/salt/sand. The 50ml travel size jar goes a long way.

Nuxe Huile Prodigeuse - moisturizer, hair oil, perfume all in one.

Chanel Les Beiges Bronzer - works on even the palest skin and because it has no shimmer it looks like you’ve actually been on holiday rather than Sephora.

Paper Mints - they’ll blow your head off, but they’re effective!

Jewellery that skews age 5 or 85

This is where you can make the simplest outfit sing. I like things quite big and sculptural with gobstopper sized beads, shells and charms. Ideally found on one’s travels or by roping small children into an arts and crafts afternoon. I tend to wear just one piece at a time, more Elsa Peretti, less Iris Apfel. Juju Vera is one of my current crushes for statement earrings.

The most important component, a travel steamer - those of you who arrive with everything perfectly pressed, I am in awe.

Key things to remember: (writing this as much for me as anyone else)

That mistake purchase you’ve never worn but “might this time!” - you won’t.

Leave room for purchases but don’t omit necessary items thinking you’ll find them at the destination. If you don’t have an exact place in mind you’re about to waste hours trying to find the thing, the exact specifications of which exist only in your head.

You can rewear! If an outfit is good, it’ll look good twice.

Pea Soup

Summer arrived with a bang - nothing subtle about it. Around midway through heatwave number two I ended up ransacking my freezer, deciding on a 1kg bag of frozen peas as a good substitute pillow, justifying that it’s soon defrosted contents would make for a nice chilled soup. Do you know how many peas are in a kilogram? Way too many. I’ll still be making my way through little containers of green sludge when the heating is back on.

All beverages consumed must be very cold, preferably on ice. Jazzing up my current rotation:

A Sicilian speciality - Seltz, sale e limone. As you can probably surmise without translation this is simply sparkling water, fresh lemon juice and a hefty pinch of salt. It may sounds like punishment but I promise it’s really refreshing - a natural electrolyte drink.

Forever a black coffee purist I was taken aback recently when my iced Americano arrived with a big orange slice bobbing around in the dark liquid. I was dubious, presuming the citrus flavour would be too overpowering but it actually provided a really nice balance, taking the bite out of the bitter. I’m not yet at the stage of adding OJ but remain open!

Finks, the cafe/deli in the park up the road from me has partnered with St John to do these neat little pouches of their Beausoleil rose (usually nonplussed by pink wine, theirs is vg). Much more practical than glass bottles - kind of like an IV drip? You can also buy a party sized box directly from their website. I’m still not convinced that picnics are really worth all the faff but I certainly like collecting all the silly accessories and accoutrement to go with.

Diptique vs. Deet

While I’m spending more time outside in the grass (*scorched straw), I’m also spending more time with bugs/critters/creepy crawlies that have taken a liking to my ankles.

Loyal to my trusted Tabard stick I have been embarrassingly swayed into a subsection of the beauty aisle I didn’t know existed, bougie bug spray. Diptique released this limited edition “scent” a few years ago but it only just came on my radar and to my great surprise it actually works. The citronella is still pretty strong but not unpleasant and free of those chemical base notes. A ridiculous purchase - and yet kind of a great hostess gift?

I’ve been spending a lot of time on Southbank over the past few weeks and I’m not mad about it, despite my usually picturesque journey winding through central London on the number 19 resembling something closer to a steam room on wheels.

Yes it can be overcrowded and the good food spots are obscured by crappy chain restaurants and gimmicks from Borough Market. But I love the hodgepodge of architecture - the skatepark next to the brutalist National Theatre, passing Tate Mod’s massive chimney and the squat, thatched roof of the Globe, looking across to the monumental buildings of Parliament and St Paul’s. I think it’s so difficult to “get” London, it’s not a vertical city and so sprawling - riverside is the postcard.

Even in frigid temps I never get sick of walking across Waterloo bridge, but in summer it really comes to life. There’s so much to do, including several places to to duck into if in need of respite from the sun. May I suggest a spin around the Hayward Gallery, where you’ll find yourself completely discombobulated by Anish Kapoor’s Mount Moriah and Vantablack series? Or if you’re in need of a good cry, head just a little further down to the Tracey Emin retrospective and you’ll be in good company!

I went to hear David Sedaris speak at the Royal Festival Hall, where he was reading essays and diary entries in promotion of his new book The Land and Its People. Being familiar with so many of his stories I wasn’t sure if it would seem rote or obviously recycled, but his gift as an orator is singular, whether reworking old material or riffing off the cuff. What’s so unique about Sedaris - other than the fact that strangers willingly share the weirdest, most personal information with him - is his ability to state the outrageous as matter of fact, without it spiraling into something controversial. All whilst dressed in madly complicated, totally marvellous Comme Des Garcons.

On those aforementioned sweaty bus rides I read Brian by Jeremy Cooper, recommended to me by a very cool cashier (I did not need another book but instant yes). Brian is a man living on the fringes of society, whose narrow world is opened up when he stumbles into a screening at the British Film Institute, finding both escapism and community at the cinema. A small story about a small life, film criticism mixed in with fiction. Definitely a niche read, though Zadie Smith and Nick Laird have written a screenplay based on the novel so perhaps it will reach a wider audience. As someone with an abiding love for the BFI it spoke to me - my version of church. For little more than a tenner (often less) you can treat yourself to a couple hours of mind expanding entertainment - and some air conditioning.

Summer sees a dearth in film releases, most of the “good” stuff saved for festivals or timed around awards season. But this year has been quite the surprise with a boom across genre and target demographic.

A generation who grew up with everything on demand went out in droves to see Backrooms and Obsession. Though I prefer watching horror films in the comfort of home (more room to pace/flail) I managed to sit through both, albeit through splayed fingers. Turns out their was good reason for their box office success. Both approaches - one more psychological, the other good old-fashioned gore - are really, really clever. That these directors in their twenties produced mega hits, well crafted and on tiny budgets is wildly promising.

Perhaps even more wince inducing was The Invite, where a couple’s already strained marriage is further tested when their neighbours come round for dinner. There are few setups I enjoy more than a formal occasion gone off the rails, when social decorum and the facade of domestic bliss become impossible to sustain and masks/gloves come off.

An adaptation of the 2020 Spanish film The People Upstairs, this is Olivia Wilde’s best directorial effort, which she managed to pull off while also giving a great performance in it. Costars Seth Rogen, Penelope Cruz and Ed Norton are all well matched in delivering the brutally honest, bitingly funny screenplay by Rashida Jones and Will McCormack (Wilde’s character proffering jamon? to Cruz in a Spanish accent made my eyes bulge).

It draws obvious parallels to the domestic drama Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, but it also reminded me of the brilliant quartet in Roman Polanski’s Carnage (underseen, worth seeking out). A classic stage play, the screen version exacerbates the feeling of intense uncomfortability by bringing on Yorgos Lanthimos’ editor and Dev Hynes to do the score. It’s a delicious car crash - how can the people we love the most imbue such deep wells of hate(?) - but also offers moments of real sincerity in the valiant, romantic attempt of growing together whilst growing separately.

Wilde turned down several higher offers from streaming platforms to ensure sure the film was seen in cinemas. A great conversation starter and depending on your situation a good, or terrible date night movie…

As everyone seems to have an opinion about The Odyssey and since I’m one of those people that has also seen it here is my review: I fucking loved it.

This coming from someone predisposed to view Chris Nolan films with a slightly critical eye. I’m not obstinately contrarian (most of the time) - my stance is perhaps unfairly rooted in his films’ blanket appeal to heteronormative men, when his female characters are marginal and poorly written, almost always either dead or dying. But I can acknowledge that I’m more inclined towards character study whereas Nolan is interested in exploring larger concepts - and in this he is head and shoulders above the rest.

Odysseus’ women still get little screen time, but their presence fills it when they appear (brilliant casting - the “woke” discourse is, per usual, moot). It looks and sounds amazing, Nolan is famously an analogue guy but the practical effects, especially the puppetry and animatronics used to render a sixty foot Cyclops are just staggering. I was similarly confounded watching Circe (a sublime Samantha Morton) transform the men into pigs - I'll gladly remain in the dark about that bit of movie magic.

This has has long been Nolan’s holy grail, if you look back at his filmography he has always been making some version of it. It’s a particularly neat follow-on from Oppenheimer’s “destroyer of worlds”, with Odysseus’ particularly on the nose line, “don’t look for gods in men, you’ll just be disappointed”.

I had reservations about the American accents - presumably necessitated by having Matt Damon in the titular role - but it works just fine, and actually makes the allegory within the epic all the more prescient.

It’s certainly not perfect, the dialogue is clunky at times and it could do with being a little less self-serious - my guy really sucks at planning trips? But it’s an *epic way to spend a few hours and deserves to be seen on the biggest screen possible.

Palio

Feeling bereft now that sporting events are no longer consuming your life? Missing the passion, the pageantry, the corruption?

I picked up the second edition of the beautifully made softcover photobook I Ragazzi, which catalogues the famous Palio di Siena that takes place on July 2nd and August 16th every year. British photographer Ed Aked has captured the medieval horse race from all angles, the vantage point of both participants and spectators - the intensity of their joy and heartbreak. Though the event is rooted in deeply conservative, patriarchal tradition, Aked was intent on showing a vulnerable masculinity - to which we’ve all become more accustomed the past couple of months!

The temps in London are rising again, I’m readying myself to go back to thrice daily showers. If only I were doing so at a Puglian Palazzo…I love so many things about this home (the orange bathroom cabinet!) but the old outdoor shower with navy blue and red trimmed curtains is inspired. Anything can look good if you frame it properly.

Now there’s a similar collective effervescence in New York with the Knicks long awaited triumph. Anyone with tangential ties to the city has suddenly become a diehard supporter - and it seems all are welcome. I’ve always held the lofty belief that art would save humanity but maybe it’s sports…?

And we’ve rolled right into the World Cup. I hold little feelings of patriotism, flag waving having been co-opted by the far right. But the England team, the majority of whom have immigrant roots, are representing the country right and ignite such levels of joy I’m happy to have the shouting…and horns…recommence.

I loved some of the arrival fits, especially from the Congo and Cote D’Ivoire teams. On the pitch France’s Jacquemus x Nike collab gets top prize for their pinstripe kit this year and cheering from the sidelines Haitian-Italian designer Stella Jean went all out with a collection of vintage inspired looks to honor her heritage, celebrating Haiti’s return to the competition for the first time in 52 years.

Fashion & sport is one of my favourite performative unions, so much peacocking it fits right in with Pride month.

My own gym attire is decidedly less camera ready. A fitting descriptor would have eluded me until I saw the term ‘Pilates Gremlin’ included in a headline for the FT Style section and thought, it me. Where the rest of class is smartly clad in sleek lycra co-ord sets, I typically thrown on one of a rotation of oversized T-shirts which loudly announce that my interests lie outside of exercising: restaurant merch, niche movie quotes, Prince in a feather boa, a Francis Bacon painting of a man necking a pint (that one is probably most incongruous in a place of health and wellness). Now apparently looking like a hot mess is…hot? I like this less intimidating, come as you are/personality lead approach.

The unfettered celebrations of late feel congruent with the recent backlash against Diary of a CEO podcaster Steven Bartlett and the three glasses of wine that derailed his life. Though I really think we’ve reached our quota of men with microphones, this seems less about Bartlett specifically and more a rallying cry against optimization culture and the algorithmic, datafied prisons we’ve created for ourselves.

Two great books on Millennial existentialism

Oisin McKenna’s debut novel Evenings & Weekends, centered on the interwoven lives of a group of thirty-somethings living in London, whose relationships start to unravel over a sweltering weekend in June. It’s about forging and finding identity, with the characters navigating queerness, class systems and a sense of home, all muddled by the confounding, messy nature of love.

I followed this up with Sophie Hughes translation of Vincenzo Latronico’s Perfection, a viciously sardonic takedown of how the digital landscape has flattened culture. Protagonists Anna and Tom, a young couple from Southern Europe are living in Berlin, where they have constructed an “ideal” life for themselves. But it’s all based off aspirational 2D images and they are having trouble making it three dimensional, constantly chasing goals to match how it feels to how it looks. Bleakly funny, a good pick for a plane ride (-3 hours).

Travel, being displaced to a different physical (as opposed to virtual) reality is perhaps the best antidote to the slop economy. I’m fortunate to have gone on several incredible trips over the past couple of months - two birthday celebrations (40 is the new wedding and I am 100% here for it), a hotel opening in Florence and a long weekend in Tangier, my first time in Morocco.

The latter in particular rewired my brain a little, both in its being new to me and in challenging how I typically travel. I arrived with a to do/to see list and a certain preconception of what it would be like: a bustling city with remnants of the louche, interzone decades when it served as a bohemian enclave for beatniks (like many tryhard teens I was obsessed with William Burroughs’ Naked Lunch).

But a place cannot be contained within photographs or literature and Tangier’s history has been rewritten over and over. It was like nowhere I’d been before - and yet I walked around with this weird, almost constant feeling of deja vu. Lying on the edge of Africa, Europe and the Arabic world, it sits at the point where the Atlantic Ocean and Mediterranean Sea converge. Layered with all these European influences, it is still resolutely Moroccan. It’s impossible to get a handle on it in a couple of days - nor should you try (lesson learned).

Tangier is also not a place to rush, and in the labyrinthine medina you’re best to forget google maps - it will spit you out eventually. I have a feeling repeat trips are necessary for it to fully reveal itself.

Observations from a slower pace of travel:

When I’m away somewhere for only a short period I tend to prioritise as much time “on the ground” as possible, regardless of whether it’s my first or fifteenth visit. In doing so I’ve unintentionally developed my own version of travel maxxing, always slightly overdoing it. It’s borne out of enthusiasm rather than a checking of boxes, but it’s not just about how much you see of the location, it’s also how you inhabit it.

Why we like holiday homes more than our own

One of the things that makes vacation homes so appealing is that they’re not crammed full of the massive amounts of stuff we accumulate. You can have personality that’s eclectic rather than cluttered.

In Tangier we stayed at Villa Mabrouka, the former home of Yves Saint Laurent and his partner Jacques Berge, which was revamped in 2019 by Jasper Conran. He’s kept it close to the original design by Jacques Granges, minus a bit of chintz. It’s a beautiful fusion of time periods with the main house dating to the 1940s, set within a sprawling garden that contains over 6,500 plant varieties.

Echoing the city, the decor is predominantly white, punctuated every so often with strong but soothing colours. It illustrates how to create a feeling of serenity without it being too staid or clinical.

“Blue and green should never be seen”. Nothing I hate more than an archaic design rule, especially when it rhymes. While I do love a bit of contrast, tonal layering of shades in the same colour can look lush together, especially when playing off the surrounding environment. The juxtaposition of monochrome against turquoises and dusty blues, malachite and lime green works incredibly well - it’s both understated but still dramatic?

Simple pleasures

I’m usually always keen to try out the local contemporary food scene when travelling - open to whatever trad dish or discarded vegetable part has been deemed ripe for reinvention. But after dissociating while a waiter spent 20 minutes explaining each item on the menu, I have been finding myself leaning into simpler dining options whenever possible.

The best meal we had in Tangier was at Saveur de Poisson - a hole in the wall restaurant with no menu, just several delicious fish courses composed of whatever had been caught that morning. In Florence I went to old faithfuls, casual trattorias are still king - Sostanza (one of the few places I will order chicken) and Cammillo (do not send anything back or expect it returned cooked within an inch of its life, my dinner companion learned the hard way).

The undersung value of niche skills

In my quest to conquer small talk/cut through the bullshit questions, I’ve started asking people about the niche talent or skill they’d most like to have. While at Villa San Michele for its opening weekend I had the opportunity to learn about ancient artistic practices, getting a brief lesson on Scagiola, a technique that combines powdered gypsum with pigment to create faux marble. At the end I received a gorgeous hockey puck souvenir - too nice to use as a coaster?

I jumped at the chance to visit a restoration specialist and watch them at work in their studio off Santa Croce. Although it requires years of training and great precision re chemical application, the process was much more intuitive than I had imagined.

I’ve an unfounded, long held belief that this is something I would be good at (as in reviving originals, not going rogue ala the Ecce Homo fresco). I’m dexterous and sort of arty, plus it seems quite relaxing (?). If I’m honest with myself I would probably most enjoy the ego trip of being associated with an Old Master...

Rothko & the horizon line

I made time to swing by the Rothko exhibition that’s currently on at Palazzo Strozzi, with satellite displays at Museo di San Marco and the Laurentian Medici Library.

I’d only ever viewed his work in larger, contemporary spaces and it was special to see them in a different setting, his Colour Fields placed to mimic the proportions of the Renaissance architecture. With the lighting dimmed in the palazzo it felt more intimate, the paintings more impactful. Rothko always insisted they be hung low to the ground, in order for the viewer to experience a sense of full immersion.

I’ve been thinking about the meditative aspect of his “horizon” lines, of horizon lines in general. On the footpaths that line the northernmost edge of Tangier you’d find people sitting on plastic chairs at all times of day, chatting and sipping tea, looking out to where the sky meets the sea. Younger me might have thought this boring and two dimensional, but now I don’t see it as flat, rather as unending, limitless potential.

While what was radical then is less so a century later, the impact of the movement still pervades, the spirits of those revolutionaries continue linger. I just whizzed through Deborah Levy’s latest book “My Year in Paris with Gertrude Stein”, where the narrator, herself a stranger on foreign soil, endeavours to write an essay on the American avant-gardist who once walked the same path. Communing with the ghost of Gertrude, flitting between the past and the present, she tries to get to grips with her chaotic, esoteric language and ponders what it means to be modern today. Does it, can still exist?

"Gertrude Stein wanted to kill the nineteenth century. The twenty first century seems to be killing itself."

The novel in itself defies genre - a stream of consciousness where fact, fiction and autofiction co-mingle, imagined conversations seem as plausible as verified historical anecdotes. It’s a rumination on the literary arts but also on the art of living - unlike many female writers of note, Stein lived a life guided by pleasure. Levy is similarly skilled in elevating all aspects of the quotidian - it’s an odd, ambitious, often delicious read.

Though Stein eventually garnered praise for her writing with “The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas”, she is of course much better known as a patron of the arts, with a gift for recognising and nurturing talent. If it weren’t for her purchase of Henri Matisse’s highly controversial “Woman with a Hat”, he may have well been resigned to a life in the shadows.

Of all the art I saw over a month in Paris (including the fab Leonora Carrington at the Musee Luxembourg), it was the Matisse, 1941-1954 exhibition at the Grand Palais that moved me the most. Which took me a bit by surprise, I’ve been fortunate enough to see much of his work in person, both in isolation and via big retrospectives - I didn’t anticipate being so affected.

The exhibition focuses on his later years, when after having narrowly survived cancer he began what he called his “second life”, with a renewed appreciation for the world around him. With over three hundred works on display it covers a lot of ground: simple still life sketches and tomato red interior paintings, figurative drawings and dancing Jazz compositions, culminating in his monumental Blue Nudes series. His glorious stained glass church windows and gouache collages seem to emit light through their dazzling colour, as the “painter of happiness” he aimed to imbue the viewer with joy. Here he shows that later life doesn’t necessarily equate to a trailing off, in fact his work was as vibrant and prolific as ever.

These pioneers of modernism would likely feel dismay over how much we romanticize the past, nostalgia being the antithesis of their ethos. Fortunately what has stuck around is a deep reverence for the arts - no longer reserved for the upper echelons but seen as integral to living - both enjoyed through the work of others and as a pastime.

You will always find people drawing or painting in the parks, reading a novel or flicking through a photobook at a cafe on their lunch break. Analog activities have not been as siloed as was once feared, in fact it seems to have really piqued the interest of young people which is reassuring.

Below are some of my favourite shops in Paris that would encourage even the least creative inclined to pick up a pen, or even a paint brush:

Art Supplies

Magasin Sennelier is the creme de la creme, located on the Left Bank near the Ecole des Beaux-Arts where it was once frequented by the likes of Picasso, Cezanne and Degas. If there’s one thing you pick up here make it a set of watercolours - Gustave Sennelier developed them himself and the original formula is still used, with honey added for extra smoothness. 3 Quai Voltaire, 75003

Charvin - another much hallowed institution just a few bridges down from Sennelier, known for its thicker oil paints in myriad hues. 57 Quai des Grands Augustins, 75006

La Maison du Pastel - dating back to the early eighteenth century this is the oldest pastel manufacturer in the world - to this day they are all still made entirely by hand. Open for just four hours a week on Thursday afternoons, if you’re able to visit in person they’ll let you trial your favourite colours before you purchase. 20 Rue Rambuteau, 75003

Pen & paper paraphernalia

While Louise Carmen and her leatherbound notebooks are charming - pun intended - the wait time and cost (+ the increasing ubiquity of these things) don’t strike me as worth it, unless you are a devoted journaler. I say DIY it and whack a few mini ornaments onto the elastic of a Moleskin…

The Bon Marche stationary section may be the best bit of the second floor - and that includes the shoe department. Here you can choose from a kaleidoscope of coloured notebooks, with the option to add custom embossing. They also carry cult brand Papier Tigre who have the best two-tone pens and neon notepads.

L’Ecritoire has greeting cards for every single occasion you could deem worth celebrating, in every possible shape and size. If you’re really wanting to go the extra mile with your correspondence they also have a big selection of waxes and seals. A jewel box of a shop in a small alley off Les Halles. 26 Passage Moliere

At Melodie Graphique, every corner of this cabinet of curiosities is chock full, from pop-out origami style postcards to serious writing sets and fine paper. The shop owners are professional calligraphers and can help you with any specific recommendations you might need. 10 Rue du Pont Louis-Philippe, 75004

Just next door, Calligrane is something of an antidote - a serene, modern space with stacks of beautiful handmade paper, heavily influenced by East and South Asian designs. Available in minimalist white as well as sherbet hues with gilt edges, you can mix and match envelopes and letterhead to your heart’s content. 6 Rue du Pont Louise-Philippe, 75004

Papier Royal - the latest venture from French-Moroccan multi-hyphenate Ramdane Touhami, an arbiter of taste and retro-revolutionaire who has made an name for himself in updating old heritage brands for the future (Officine Buly and Cire Trudon).

Touhami’s obsession with typeface is evident in this sliver of a shop off Palais Royal, with endless combinations available to create your perfect personalized stationery. Don’t see exactly what you had in mind? They have 12,000+ styles and symbols in their workshop - any idea you have they can likely implement. I am deep in an existential crisis re what is most “me” - stamped vs. printed, vermillion red vs. kelly green…?? 146 Galerie de Valois, 75001

Books

Shakespeare & Co - the one against which all others are compared. Established in 1919 by American expat Sylvia Beach, to her sales were secondary - it more importantly acted as a lending library and meeting place for literary minds to exchange ideas.

The 2.0 version that exists today was originally called Les Mistral, owner George Whitman renamed it in honor of Beach following her death in 1964. It’s iconic green and yellow facade has unavoidably become a major tourist attraction/trap - but shouldn’t we be glad that books can hold as much cachet as viral baked goods? You may not want to stand in line for this one but it has enough clout still to still attract some of the best author talks in the city.

An alternative English language shop can be found on the other side of the river, just off the Tuileries. Librairie Galgani is a right bank stalwart - there’s less of a chatty, casual vibe but the elegant, light filled store still has a warm atmosphere and is a beautiful place to browse for your next novel. 224 Rue de Rivoli, 75001

Ofr - Every time I’m in Paris I make a point of swinging by the Upper Marais just to see if there’s anything I have to have (always). An especially good Monday detour when so much else is shut - it’s unusually open seven days a week. Here you’ll find a plethora of niche art books with sections devoted to fashion, design, film and photography - a wall next to the register contains those harder to find/out of circulation. There are posters and prints in the small gallery at the back and a great selection of magazines in the front - both household names and emerging publications. 20 Rue Dupetit-Thouars, 75003

7L - Notorious bibliophile Karl Lagerfeld amassed an enormous personal library - over 30,000 books - which he housed in a former art gallery and studio in Saint Germain. While these private spaces are strictly invitation only, the store downstairs offers a wonderfully curated collection from a wide variety of publishers, displayed front facing on tables and shelves, like pieces of art. 7 Rue de Lille, 75007

Yvon Lambert Gallery - Not long after the famed Parisian art dealer closed his eponymous gallery in 2014, he and his daughter opened a shop of the same name. He’s still in the game of promoting up and coming artists, you’ll find exhibition catalogues in and amongst more traditional tomes. It’s easy to while away an afternoon in there - there’s a low table and stools available for you to properly stop and examine some of their limited edition publications. 14 Rue des Filles du Calvaire 750003

The bookshop at Palais de Tokyo - Inside Europe’s largest contemporary art center sits a proportionally large canary yellow shop. Located in the sixteenth arrondissement, an area I don’t often venture into, it’s worth a spin if you find yourself over that way. The building is open late - until midnight some days - and it’s the perfect after dinner dose of culture (plus a fun bar scene). I couldn’t stop myself from buying several books on sale and duly lugged my bargain bin trophies back home along the moonlit Seine. 13 Avenue du President Wilson, 75116

Going abroad always reignites the joy of shopping in person. In Paris one of my favourite things to do is buy groceries at the open air markets, walking up and down aisles of gorgeous produce, past cases full of oozing cheese and buckets bursting with peonies, only leaving with my purchases once I’ve slurped down a few breakfast oysters. It’s much more pleasurable to make choices that aren’t based off lists but instead on what looks good that day (also I never remember the stupid lists anyway).

I’ve surveyed several - Marche Aligre in the 12th is abundant and open six days a week, as is the covered Les Enfants Rouges in the 3rd where there are also stellar restaurants located inside - The Butcher of Paris and Les Enfants Du Marche are particularly good. At Marche Monge, located on a picturesque square in the 5th, you have to do your best to avoid eye contact with giant pans of steaming dauphinoise.

The Marche Bastille in the 11th is my favourite - along with a slew of visitors who trek across the city on Thursday and Sunday mornings. And yet it’s still very much a neighbourhood institution - I enjoy waiting in line while locals chat familiarly with vendors, picking up their poulet roti and an oily bag of potatoes cooked in the drippings underneath. It’s a multisensory experience that you just can’t replicate at Tesco.

Brocabrac

Another beloved ritual here are the weekend brocantes (fleas) and vide greniers (garage sales) that pop up across the city - their changing locations listed on the Brocabrac website. These range greatly in size and scope, from a few collapsable tables on a side street to professionally run tented stalls that take over large sections of boulevard. All are worth perusing, it’s about the thrill of the hunt - best to go without an agenda and just happen upon that mermaid shaped cork screw you never knew you needed.

Marche aux puces de la Porte de Vanves

Of the more permanent fixtures for scouring second-hand, one of the larger but still manageable is at Porte de Vanves, situated below Montparnasse in the 14th arrondissement. Here you’ll find a huge array of household items: paintings and posters, books, records, gleaming copper pots and glasses for every type of tipple. It skews more towards decor than clothing but you can usually find a bit of linen and broderie anglaise, as well as a solid selection of French chore jackets - you can bag the real version of Harry Styles’ copy by The Row for a fraction of the price.

Know before you go:

Most vendors still operate cash only.

Nearest station: Porte de Vanves

Timing:

Open Saturday and Sunday, 8am - 2pm.

The sweet spot seems to be somewhere around 9.30 -10am, when the maximum number of sellers have arrived and finished setting up. Around lunchtime you will start to see people packing things away - I’ve turned up at 12.30pm to slim pickings.

This is a bit of a single mission trip to Vanves as there’s not a huge amount around the area - although you can get your caffeine fix via a coffee truck along with 2026’s best baguette in Paris, only a few minutes walk away at Fournil Didot.

Marche aux puces de Saint-Ouen

There are few things I love more than spending a Sunday afternoon getting lost in the alleyways of les puces de Saint-Ouen, located just north of Montmartre in the city outskirts. Spread out over seven hectares, as you snake your way through its alleyways it quickly becomes clear that you’re never going to tackle it all in one trip. You can give it your best try though - there are several restaurants scattered throughout and even a hotel on the premises.

Now a major destination for the most discerning of shoppers, its origins date back to the nineteenth century where it started as a dumping ground for rubbish from the city’s growing population. Crocheteurs - “hook men” - used to sort through the discarded trash looking for treasure to repurpose or sell. An early visitor once scoffed that the area was nothing more than a "flea market” - a name that stuck and soon spawned thousands of copycats. As it gained popularity and legitimacy, alleys were paved over and proper stalls erected. After WWII it started to attract prominent clientele and in 1946 an underground parking garage was constructed.

Here you can find pretty much anything and everything - a button to match the one that fell off your coat five years ago, tiny metal toy cars lined up against stacks of botanical prints, Christofle fish knives nestled in among plastic ashtrays. Gaetano Pesce chairs and lacquered art deco side tables, wicker baskets and Birkin bags in every colour.

The crown jewel of the maze is Paul Bert Serpette, where knick knacks still abound but where you’ll also find serious design pieces - art, furniture, lighting and increasingly high quality clothing. Stands are both indoor and outdoor - I often think the vendors outside have the more interesting wares and are a touch friendlier, more open to negotiation.

You won’t be hassled by aggressive salesmanship - although dealers are more than happy to provide information they’re not always in situ, often to be found a few stalls over chatting with friends, drinking wine and sharing their packed lunch. Urgency is not a part of the game, take it slow and enjoy the activity as a whole, at minimum you will go home with a bit of a history lesson and a whole lot of inspiration.

Know before you go:

Cash is still king but credit cards are pretty widely accepted, especially for large ticket items.

Nearest Metro: Clignancourt or Garibaldi

Timing: Open every Saturday & Sunday from 10am - 6pm, Monday from 11am - 5pm. On Monday a good two thirds of the vendors are usually closed, but if that’s your only option to visit it’s still worth a wander. Additionally, if you see something you like but want to ruminate on it overnight they will generally reopen by appointment.

Strategy:

Brushing up on a bit of decorative arts knowledge before you go is helpful in assessing value. Vintage = anything older than twenty years, Antique = older than a hundred.

Go earlier in the day and you’ll get the full scope of inventory for the weekend, late afternoon you’ll have more bargaining power. Though it is open all year come rain or shine, on days of inclement weather fewer customers will mean you’ll have greater leverage in getting the price down. However there’s nothing quite so joyful as the market in the sun - even if you leave empty handed you’ll have whiled away a thoroughly pleasant few hours.

Where to refuel:

Harry’s coffee - a convenient stop to boost your energy and phone battery.

Bonne Aventure - for a relaxed lunch in a warm atmosphere, fresh, bright food and a good selection of natural wines. Be sure to make a reservation in advance.

My favourite vintage shops in Paris

Thrift shops have become almost as commonplace as boulangeries. It does require an eagle eye to sift through junk, but Parisians have nice stuff and they look after it - hence why so much of it comes back around.

Erem (3rd Arr.) A wood panelled, light filled shop with floor length mirrors - you can actually see the clothes. Particularly good selection of coats. There is a large concentration of vintage shops near here on Rue de Turenne - allocate a couple of hours in the area to properly browse.

Second Printemps (2nd Arr.)

A hidden gem on the top floor of the Printemps department store with a a lot of now defunct brands you’d forgotten about, as well as a really good kids’ section. When you have shopper’s fatigue there’s a large deck with a fab view of the city that hosts a coffee/champagne bar on weekends.

Skat (4th Arr.) Run by two Scandis, the pieces here are carefully considered and in excellent condition. Owner Agnes is extremely friendly and helpful with pulling items, making suggestions you might not have considered otherwise.

Preclothed (6th Arr.) An ultra chic selection in monochrome, with trays of covetable tortoiseshell hair accessories and jewellery. It’s very streamlined vintage, lots of 80s and 90s Alaia and Armani. They sell a few pieces made in house - copies of designer clothes that I’m hoping they will expand.

La Mode Vintage (11th Arr.) - Owner Carole can be a bit surly but the woman knows her stuff, it’s a well curated little shop with a lot of colourful Chanel, Jean Paul Gaultier andYohji, fun and fairly priced. I have also bought a couple of things by “no one” from her which I love. Only open Fridays and Saturdays.

Thank God I’m a VIP (10th Arr.) Much less exclusive or prohibitively expensive than the name would have you believe, in fact it is on the more affordable end price wise. There is almost too much here with several store fronts on one street but as it’s smartly arranged by both item and colour you can be sure to find that clutch bag or t-shirt in the exact shade of yellow you’d been looking for.

A perfect tomato, a piece of art or a pair of jeans, nothing replaces touching, seeing, trying on in real time, especially if it’s from a small business. Paris is keeping this aspect of commerce alive and well.

I’m in Paris at the moment (as are lots and lots of other people on their Easter Holidays) and find myself once again gawping at exploding flower stalls and colourful blooms sprouting in patches of grass. It’s mad, nature!

An endless source of inspiration across artistic mediums - I have always loved the still life photography of Irving Penn and Robert Mapplethorpe, who both had a view of taking the soft, ephemerality of flowers and exalting them as sculpture. Over the weekend I came across two gorgeous new books: Ines Dieleman’s Polaroids - where the art director used the basic flash of the camera to produce X-ray like images, exposing the raw beauty of plants at all stages in their life cycle. The other, Steve McQueen’s Bounty, is an homage to his parents’ homeland of Grenada, the title referencing both the pillaging of the land under colonialism as well as the resilience of its vibrant flora.

Florals for spring are groundbreaking - again?

The annual resurrection of the now decades worn phrase is finally pertinent again with the impending arrival of the Devil Wears Prada sequel. They were all over the runway during the couture and ready-to-wear shows - Jonathan Anderson’s cyclamen and water lilies at Dior, Connor Ives wisteria covered yellow silk, old world interpretations at Erdem and pixelated versions at Dries Van Noten.

I particularly loved Sarah Burton’s collection for Givenchy, where model Mona Tougaard appeared in this sensational, heavily embroidered dress dripping with fringe - a direct reference to Filipino artist Olan Ventura. I’m sure a savvy stylist will have snapped it up for this year’s Met Gala, where the theme is “Costume Art.”

Minimalist or maximalist - or both?

With the sun finally gracing us with its presence, peeling back that heavy outer layer means being confronted with a vexing conundrum - what the hell am I going to wear??

This past fashion month felt in many ways more attuned to now than the fall/winter season - it was lighter and less serious than it has been in a while. There were some romantic, effervescent flourishes but it was less about dramatic statements and a bit more in touch with how women dress in everyday life. Prada may have lost points for having Mark Zuckerberg seated front row but they gained some of them back in their savvy styling, sending models down the runway in layered versions of the same outfit. It’s a skill to look put together whatever the weather, one I have yet to master.

With the chokehold Ryan Murphy’s Love Story has had on just about everyone, it’s not a surprise to see minimalism trending again. I am one of the lone few who hasn’t seen the show although I understand it’s completely addictive, falling firmly in the “so bad it’s good” category. And I’ve certainly not escaped the mania surrounding it, I’m still being fed articles on how to dress like JFK Jr or Carolyn Bessette. How many ways can you wear a backwards baseball cap or slip dress?

The Kennedys are a permanent fixture in the zeitgeist - within days of the series ending Netflix announced their new show centered around patriarch Joe Kennedy Sr., starring Michael Fassbender and directed by Danish director Thomas Vinterberg (I really like the films he’s done with Mads Mikkelsen and a foreign/outsider perspective could be interesting?).

Despite this recent surge in interest, especially amongst younger generations who are discovering her anew, CBK has forever been a Pinterest board icon. What’s most appealing about her - more so than a tortoiseshell headband or her namesake Manolo Blahniks - is her unknowability, we’ve largely projected stories from snapshots of her off duty life. If mystery is part of the allure, mass replication cannot really be the answer. You kind of need to look like her to look like her?

Simplicity requires precision and perfect tailoring - there is a fine line between chic and well, boring. I think she would have been a fan of Michael Ryder’s work at Celine, who as a disciple of Phoebe Philo really knows how to make basics pack a punch. Even his monochrome looks have interest because of their proportions. The clothes are easy but not shy, with codes of dress I can get on board with: leopard is a neutral, always add a pop of red and sequins are ok at any time of day. Somehow he fit all kinds of weather appropriate attire for the schizophrenic season into just one show.

Shocking Schiaparelli

At what might be considered the opposite end of the sartorial spectrum was the Schiaparelli retrospective When Fashion Becomes Art - cataloging the history of the brand ahead of celebrating its’ centenary next year. I’m a big fan of “Schiap” and of current Creative Director Daniel Roseberry but I have to say I found it a bit underwhelming - both the inventory and layout left me wanting. Admittedly I went in biased, having been to a much larger/more encompassing exhibition a few years back at the Musee des Arts Decoratifs that was as the French - and Ken would say - “sublime”.

There are still some wowza items on show - I’m a sucker for a 1930’s bias cut - with a lot of crazy intricate beading and a scarlet red evening gown I would have liked to have gone home with. Schiaparelli is probably best known as a designer who aimed to shock, with a penchant for trompe l’oeil borne of her close relationships with Surrealist artists Man Ray and Dali. On display are her quilted Skelton and lobster dresses as well as several architecturally constructed pieces by Roseberry, including the infamous gilded lung necklace.

It was her early innovation in streamlining women’s sportswear and suiting which I found most surprising - she designed flying clothes for female pilots Amy Johnson and Amelia Earhart. An advocate for clothes to be radical and functional, she was avant-garde while still keeping the practical in mind.

Am I a jeans and t-shirt girl or am I more inclined towards an embellished cape (a capsule wardrobe necessity)? Maybe both?

Other things of beauty:

Dali and the duality of the humble egg

Leading up to Easter you couldn’t walk down the street without passing Rococo confections in chocolate shops, Faberges in display cases and knock offs in the markets. Even the supermarches had them arranged in precarious, towering configurations. It had me thinking about a trip to Cadaques last summer where we visited Dali’s home in Port Ligat, Cadaques, a former fisherman’s hut where he lived and worked for 40 years. For him the egg was a sacred vessel, impenetrable yet fragile, a representation of birth, love, hope and return (he claims to have memories of being in his mother’s womb…).

They are dotted around the house in various forms, including in giant size perched atop the roof. I don’t think it gets as much attention as other artist residences but it’s one of the more interesting ones I’ve visited. Full of eccentricities - although it’s as a whole a lot less weird than you’d imagine and is really quite dreamy, with lots of emphasis on the serenity of the view out across the bay.

A small exhibition amongst blockbusters

There’s so much great art on in London at the moment. Everyone has been raving about Rose Wylie at the Royal Academy - if you have energy to spare there is a solo exhibition of Gordon Parks photographs entitled We Shall Not Be Moved at the Alison Jacques gallery around the corner. I knew him primarily through his photojournalism, documenting race relations within the civil rights movement. It was eye-opening to realise the scope of his work - whether on the set of a high fashion glossy or in the bowels of a prison, he had an ability to imbue all of his subjects with dignity. As at home shooting on the streets of Harlem as he was a few blocks down, in the apartment of his partner Gloria Vanderbilt. A gift for capturing beauty - even in the ugliest of circumstances.

From ficus tree to Dutch garden?

I’m very much still in my potted plants phase of life - and while just keeping those alive can be a struggle I have developed a deep appreciation of gardens, seeking them out in urban spaces as much as I would a museum. In eastern Paris there is this magical elevated walkway called Promenade Plantee, which starts in the Bastille and stretches for three miles into the 12th arrondissement, ending at Bois de Vincennes park. It’s been renamed La Coulee Verte/The Green Corridor, and is so lush this time of year it’s easy to forget the city below your feet.

Built atop an old railway line, it served as the inspiration for the High Line in New York, which is such a welcome interlude from the concrete jungle. A lot of this is down to Piet Oudolf's design, whose approach to landscaping is thoughtfully curated but still feels loose and organic, not at all manicured. His Oudolf Field gardens at the Hauser & Wirth in Somerset are high on my list of places to visit.

Patientialy awaiting the arrival of REAL Spring!

This year the awards circuit has gone on for too long - seemingly every week there have been new photos from the red carpet, the parties, the pre-parties, the after-parties, enough variations on the same speech to make you completely lose interest before it reaches its culmination. And yet what started out as a predictable season has become unexpectedly unpredictable, now imbued with renewed energy.

For the first time in years there is a real “race”, one between two films that people have actually seen - and liked! It feels like a small boon for the industry, Paul Thomas Anderson’s One Battle After Another and Ryan Coogler’s Sinners are both auteur lead, highly ambitious, political films that have been met with wide acclaim from audiences and critics alike. Both were produced and distributed by Warner Brothers - with all the doom and despair around the Paramount acquisition this is at least an indication of interest in original storytelling. I thought it was a great year for cinema - the international contingent produced many of my favourites and received record nominations, giving Hollywood a run for its money.

In accordance with Academy rules I have abstained from opining on those I haven’t seen, nor those in categories I don’t feel as well versed in or have a critical POV. In some instances it remains extremely hard to call, I have a feeling there are going to be some real upsets on Sunday. It is the Ides of March after all…

The full list of 2026 nominees here.

The Craft Awards: Costume, Makeup and Production design

Predicted wins: I really hate to lump these all in together but there seems to be a high likelihood that Frankenstein will sweep all three. Fantastical world building is firmly in Guillermo del Toro’s wheelhouse, whether or not it’s your thing the amount of work and level of skill and craftsmanship is undeniable. Kate Hawley will win for costume, Tamara Deverell for production and Mike Hill for makeup.

My picks: The makeup for Frankenstein is a no-brainer, Jacob Elordi spent ten hours in that chair to transform into the monster. I loved the heightened naturalism in Hamnet - Fiona Crombie gets my vote there. A shout out as well to Miyako Bellizzi for the incredible wardrobe in Marty Supreme, in particular the oversized zoot suits that help colour the picture of 1950s Lower and Upper East Manhattan.

Cinematography

Predicted win: Michael Bauman for One Battle After Another. Using the largely dormant format of VistaVision created these sharp, high-res images which feel more tactile and lived in than digital. The camerawork during the car chase scene - bobbing up and over the undulating hills in the California desert is spectacular.

My pick: Adolpho Veloso for Train Dreams - shot almost entirely with natural light - every frame of this quiet film is beautiful.

Best Supporting Actress

Predicted win: Amy Madigan for Weapons. Within the acting categories this feels like the hardest to call, with no real consensus coming out of previous award ceremonies. Madigan’s turn as evil Aunt Gladys does seem to have some momentum and she really is what makes the film - I don’t think it holds together without her performance.

My pick: Teyana Taylor for One Battle after Another - a brief and front-loaded appearance but one that packs a punch and stays with you throughout.

Best Supporting Actor

Predicted win: Stellan Skarsgard for Sentimental Value. A bit of a wild card as he’s currently trailing way behind bookie’s favourite Sean Penn, who recently took home the BAFTA and Actor’s Award in this category. The Academy tends to favour the exaggerated over the understated, but Skarsgard is disarmingly charismatic, rendering a total narcissist endearing. I think voters also might try to right old wrongs - he has never been nominated previously - and allocate the award to someone with a body of work that has gone underappreciated (this is also a solid argument for a Delroy Lindo win).

My pick: Sean Penn for One Battle After Another. Over the top but still multi-layered, allowing the viewer to see a broken human behind the twitchy, robotic gait of the repulsive Colonel Lockjaw. My vote is for the performance in a vacuum (not the person - as a Stellan stan I’d be thrilled if he won).

Best Actress

Predicted win: Jessie Buckley for Hamnet - pretty much a shoo-in at this point, Buckley having thus far swept the board. Though some have complained about her performance as being overwrought I think she is incredible in it, her embodiment of grief is so visceral.

My pick: It was unequivocally Jessie - until I saw Rose Byrne in If I Had Legs I’d Kick You last week. Another story centered on the sacrifices of motherhood and one where she is in almost every single frame - it’s unrelenting. Jessie is sublime and should win all the awards for everything she does but Rose is fresh in my mind right now.

Best Actor

Oh how the tides have turned for Timmy - the once clear frontrunner has fallen afoul of public favour. His zany marketing campaign for Marty Supreme tipped over from amusing to insufferable and people seem to be taking it personally, conflating him with the deeply unlikable character he portrays in the movie. I still think he’s brilliant in it - a born actor - I’ve no doubt that if it’s not now his time will come.

Predicted win: Michael B. Jordan for Sinners, giving us a twofer with powerful and distinctly individual performances as identical twins Smoke and Stack. His humble, genuine surprise at winning the Actor’s Award also landed at the perfect time. It’s probably still a lot closer than people think - Chalamet’s recent dip in popularity after inadvertently dissing opera and ballet (the rebuttals are too good) largely happened after voting closed.

My pick: I really loved all the performances in this category - Ethan Hawke in the less seen Blue Moon delivers an immense amount of dialogue with unwavering magnetism - but I think Jordan is deserving of the win.

Best Film Editing

Predicted win: One Battle After Another. Though it’s almost three hours long the pacing keeps you completely enthralled - time flies by.

My pick: One Battle After Another

Best Adapted Screenplay

Predicted win: Paul Thomas Anderson for OBAA, loosely based on Thomas Pynchon’s novel Vineland. Having started the script over twenty years it’s just as relevant today - hilariously devastating.

My pick: Paul Thomas Anderson - I’m surprised that he hasn’t won in this category before.

Best Original Screenplay

Predicted win: Ryan Coogler for Sinners. An original story that combines many different themes, integrating vampires into social commentary on racism so naturally.

My pick: Eskil Vogt and Joachim Trier for Sentimental Value. This is less about narrative and more about the writing itself - this duo are uniquely adept at conveying the spectrum of human feeling without ever crossing over into cliche.

Best Casting

A new category this year and one that has been a long time coming.

Predicted win: Francine Maisler for Sinners. A massive cast where no one gets lost in the background - bringing old faces into the mix while showcasing new ones. This is also likely a nod of appreciation for Maisler’s storied CV, an imdb page littered with cult hits of the last thirty years.

My pick: Gabriel Domingues for The Secret Agent. Lead actor Wagner Moura is a familiar face but the supporting cast are comprised mostly of lesser knowns - in fact many are not actors by profession. It’s an artfully constructed collection of characters that weave a tapestry of life in 1970’s Brazil.

Best Director

Predicted win: Paul Thomas Anderson. This is by far his biggest movie and best shot at winning. Fourteen nominations later it feels like his year.

My pick: PTA all the way - and it’s not even among my favourites in his canon. He is one of, if not the greatest living director, certainly of his generation.

Best International Picture

Predicted win: Sentimental Value. Having receiving a total of nine nominations, if it wins nothing else it’ll likely take this one. The support for The Secret Agent is strong but may be too closely associated with last year’s winner I’m Still Here.

My pick: It was Just an Accident. This is a bit of a sour grapes vote as I’m annoyed at how little attention Jafar Panahi’s brilliant psychological thriller has gotten - edged out of the Best Picture nominations by the totally forgettable F1 movie.

Best Picture

Prediction: An extremely close call - I think OBAA might still have the edge, having had support from critics, audiences and directors alike. Sinners is beloved - receiving the most nominations in Oscar history so I wouldn’t be surprised at all if it takes home the final prize of the night.

My pick: One Battle After Another. For me it’s just the best of the bunch.

Should have been a contender

The Testament of Ann Lee - Mona Fastvold

The little known story of Mancunian Shaker leader Ann Lee, who travelled to the U.S. in order to spread her radical religious message. It’s weird in a great way -categorized as a “musical-biographical-drama - but really it’s hard to assign it a specific genre (musicals are not my thing but this is more abstract than showtunes). Amanda Seyfried explores the far reaches of her talents, committing herself almost as much as Ann did to her religion. She should have received a nomination for Best Actress.

No Other Choice - Park Chan-wook

When family man (Lee-Byung Hun) suddenly loses his long term position at a paper company, he decides the only way to secure a new job is to kill off his competition. This blackest of comedies about the intertwining of identity and capitalism is classic Chan-wook, stylized vengeance that’s so extreme you can’t help but laugh. This seems like a gross oversight by the Academy, who should have included it in the Best Picture category.

My Father’s Shadow - Akinola Davies Jr

Two brothers travel to Lagos on a work errand with their absentee father , entranced by their first visit to the bustling big city. In the midst of the 1993 election crisis in Nigeria, they witness both his personal struggles as well as the political unrest that threatens their journey home. A beautifully shot, beautifully acted debut with lots of heart. It won awards at both Cannes and BAFTA, a significant moment for contemporary African cinema which is minimally represented outside of the country.

Peter Hujar’s Day - Ira Sachs

Famed photographer Peter Hujar (Ben Whishaw) recounts a single, inconsequential but chaotic day in his life to writer Linda Rosenkrantz (Rebecca Hall). The two waifish, English thespians are completely convincing as neurotic New Yorkers immersed in the downtown art scene. It’s an unusual film to have been greenlit, an hour and sixteen minutes comprised of non-stop dialogue. This low humming stream of consciousness is based off a transcript from an original conversation between Hujar and Rosenkrantz - i’d have given Ira Sachs a nomination for Best Adapted Screenplay.

For the first time the Academy Awards are available to watch globally on Youtube, airing March 15th at 4pm PST. Tune in to see how wrong I am!

One of my favourite stories was Alysa Liu’s comeback - from sixteen-year-old retiree to gold medal figure skater, returning to the sports by assuming autonomy over every decision around her career from scheduling to style and diet. Which clearly paid off - it’s so rare to see anyone in a high stakes environment exuding such palpable and free-flowing joy. I really believed she was just thrilled to be there, decked out in her gold sequins and striped “halo” hair, skating her heart out to Donna Summer. Achieving success while playing by her own rules, we love to see it.

Black, white and red all over…Emerald Fennell’s “Wuthering Heights”

It is impossible not to talk about the persistence of this cultural phenomenon. I’m not going to wade too far into the many, many online debates surrounding “WH” but I will say I’ve been thoroughly enjoying so many wildly different takes/ strident opinions - from critics and audience alike. A passionate, polarized response to a book that once garnered the same consternation feels like the ideal outcome?

I don’t have an issue seeing an adaptation as a separate entity to the source material - and I say that as someone with a visceral memory of sitting for hours on end with my back against a scalding radiator, completely locked into that book. The (never-ending) PR trail has constantly defended the film as a reimagining of the text - made explicitly clear by the inverted commas in the title (which some have also decried as making a mockery, when it used to be common practice for adaptations).

There seems to be an obsession with fidelity or accuracy, even though what we’re talking about with Fennell’s work is a kind of fan fiction - and I don’t mean that in a derogatory way. More like a love letter rather than a literal transcription, an ode to the limitlessness of a young girl’s imagination. Exaggerated and hyper stylized, she’s resurrected the romantic drama, a genre that had mostly fallen out of fashion. And while the liberties taken with casting are questionable (except for Martin Clunes who is perfect), those taken with the aesthetics are pure, adulterated fun. Purists should just take a day (or 2 hrs 16 mins) off.

Designed by Jacqueline Durran (of that dress in Atonement), Cathy’s fifty-one (!) costumes are a carousel of different black, white and red combinations, the girl wears her heart on her sleeve. Nothing is really period correct - although a lot of the shapes are Georgian era it’s a palimpsest of references - nods to Grimms’ fairy tales and 1950s pinups. Metaphors are heavy handed - dirndl style dresses allow Cathy to move freely across the moors where at Thrushcross Grange she is restricted, a perfectly preserved present wrapped in reams of shiny cellophane.

Pathetic fallacy is cranked up a thousand notches through the incredible composite sets, a throwback to the traditional soundstages of the 30s and 40s. The same lurid red is injected into everything, arteries in the landscape pulsating with Cathy and Heathcliff’s ardor. Subtle it is not.

Nature and artifice are impossibly entangled, constantly competing against each other. At Wuthering Heights spaces feel cramped - the ceilings are low and the land encroaches on the house, slowly breaking it apart. Conversely Thrushcross is a deceptively gilded cage, one that slowly suffocates its inhabitants. Animals are stuffed and jellied and sculptures of disembodied hands abound, circling ceiling rosettes and climbing the fireplace mantel.

Everything has a tactile quality - everything. There’s the much talked about “skin” walls - created using a magnified photocopy of Margot Robbie’s arm, printed onto fabric then stretched over latex. In the silver dining room, set designer Suzie Davies arranged perfectly round droplets in a Regency style to mimic condensation - or sweat. Surfaces are slick and glossy, fireplaces and chandeliers with double wicked candles throwing up flames of burning desire. And yet death is always lurking - the sumptuous, crystal encrusted drawing room meant to mimic Vivianite, a mineral that forms on corpses. It’s all so beautiful and so completely grotesque.

You can’t help but be a bit awestruck by the amount of attention to detail. There are so many of these delightfully nerdy easter eggs that infuse the inanimate with meaning - the garden swing for example is a direct copy of Fragonard’s controversial painting. Contained within the dolls house replica of the grange sits an even more miniature identical model. Even the entryway floor is a trompe l’oeil of the facade - every surface utilized to illustrate their trapped existence.

Fennell has established a signature style that is indisputably hers - part vamp, part camp, carefully considered excess. It’s not for everyone - clearly - but how brilliant that she was able to make it exactly as she had intended, ostensibly without much compromising. Its enormous success at the box office is a testament to doing things your own way and with as much verve as possible.

Literary Heroine # 2 - Virginia Woolf -“I am made and remade continually”

I scored last minute tickets to the final show of Woolf Works, Wayne McGregor’s ballet triptych inspired by Virginia Woolf’s groundbreaking, genre defying prose. Of the three texts featured - Mrs Dalloway, Orlando and The Waves - I had not read the latter but found it to be the most impactful, though they were all uniquely moving. Contemporary dance is not something I’m well versed in but have come to really appreciate - it’s so beyond me how someone is able to interpret writing through gesture and rhythm alone. If you have the opportunity to see it when it travels or via broadcast, I highly recommend - especially if Natalia Osipova is principal.

The liquid gold, punk rock outfits for the Orlando composition immediately recalled the brilliant modernist 1992 film adaptation by Sally Potter. *Interestingly Bronte is listed in the preface of Orlando as one of the individuals who influenced the novel. Woolf was full of praise for how she avoided being bogged down by realism.

I have huge admiration for VW but find some of her writing more accessible than others - Orlando was tough for me. Not for Potter, who upon reading it as a teenager felt immediately that she could see it play out on the silver screen. While retaining the spirit of the original text a script was devised that employed direct address, the unearthly Tilda Swinton drawing the audience in by repeatedly breaking the fourth wall - a precursor to Fleabag. Are there any greater creative visionaries than teenage girls?

Though it is nothing without its lead, the scenography and costume are really essential in bringing the story to life. Struggling to get financing for an “unmarketable” film and determined to make it on her own terms, Potter and a crew decamped to the USSR as the Iron Curtain collapsed, using the harsh winter landscape to sub in for a frozen river Thames. With a chronology spanning four hundred years and an immortal, gender swapping protagonist, there was room for experimentation. Still she pushed the envelope with her episodic, stylized structure and conflation of period and modern.

Underneath Elizabethan garb Tilda wears shiny Wolford tights, her 18th century pannier dresses are made out of saris found on Brick Lane. A loose attachment to “correct” attire helped illustrate the fluidity of the character and show time as a construct. The genius labyrinth scene where she travels through a century within seconds shows the ephemerality of fashion (and like WH that mist is intrinsically linked to romance/sex). Rather than another by the book “bonnet picture”, Potter instead conjured a kind of anachronistic magic.

Trailblazers on my radar:

Currently listening to Gisele Pelicot’s memoir, A Hymn to Life. This would be a difficult sell if not for the ingenious decision to have Emma Thompson narrate, whose voice can lift the darkest of subjects. I heard Pelicot speak with Lulu Garcia-Navarro in an episode of NYT’s “The Interview” and broke out into sobs, not only marvelling at her bravery but at the revelation that after everything she endured she has managed to find love again.

Rose - Sandra Huller

In the vein of gender-bending narratives is a new film by Austrian director Markus Schleinzer starring Sandra Huller (Anatomy of a Fall). Set in rural 17th century Germany following the Thirty Years’ War, depicting a real life case of a woman passing herself off as a man in order to ensure her survival and freedom. Huller, who is exceptional in everything she does took home the Silver Bear Award for Best Leading Performance at the the Berlinale this weekend. TBC when it is out although it looks to be landing in late Spring.

Michaela Coel is about to be in everything

After the cultural phenomenon that was I May Destroy You Michaela Coel has kept a relatively low profile, mostly appearing in other people’s work including two upcoming features: Mother Mary and The Christophers, both set to be released this April. She is also currently filming her own project entitled First Day on Earth, a ten-part series about a British-Ghanaian novelist who runs away from her life back to her homeland of Ghana. Also starring Thandiwe Newton, Ncuti Gatwa and Maxine Peake - I cannot wait for this.

Untitled Christmas film - Nancy Meyers

Having not directed anything since 2015, the queen of rom-coms and designer kitchens has finally gotten the green light (aka money) for a new film starring Penelope Cruz, Kieran Culkin, Emma Mackey, Jude Law and Owen Wilson. Due to hit cinemas on December 25th, 2027 - I’m hopeful for another Christmas movie to add to the rotation.

Nigella has officially started on the new series of Bake Off. Though I was never a habitual viewer of the show I feel like I could become one - I used to watch her on Food Network’s Saturday mornings when I was living in New York and missing England. I think she’ll be great and am looking forward to a plethora of soggy bottom innuendos.

The coinciding of Lunar New Year, Shrove Tuesday, Ramadan and a solar eclipse seemed to signal “let’s try this again”, even if inclement weather continues to rain on our parade. Hoping you are taking the fire horse by the reins Xx

I didn’t know this was a real thing that had been successfully implemented, politicians and businessmen building bridges in tiny towels. It makes sense - the sauna is a perfect example of a third place: somewhere separate from home or work, neutral ground dedicated to recreation and relaxation.

These have existed in some form since the beginning of civilization, from the Greek agora right down to the British pub (perhaps the greatest of them all?). Post internet and especially post Covid they have been in rapid decline, tending to reappear as a more formal, monetized venture, prohibiting those chance interactions with people who aren’t regularly in your orbit.

It’s no revelation that we have major problems with polarization and isolation, parasocial relationships usurping real human connection. In the shorter, colder months, having a third place feels even more vital - I can think of no better antidote to the January Blues.

A gallery/listening room/nap area at the Serpentine

On a wet and windy evening last week I traipsed across Hyde Park to the Serpentine, where Peter Doig’s latest exhibition House of Music is currently on display. Competing with driving rain I considered reversing course but upon heaving open the door to the gallery I was greeted by the upbeat rhythms of reggae and immediately lifted out of my soggy shoes and attitude.

Doig’s paintings have a miragelike quality, a feeling of displacement he knows well having been born in Edinburgh but moved around much of his life. Motifs of Lions of Judah, palm trees and musical instruments appear frequently, heavily influenced by his time spent living in the Caribbean. The exhibit includes some of his older work as well as recent paintings done in his London studio, inspired by a 1979 Calypso track, Dat Soca Boat by Trinidadian artist Mighty Shadow. Music is an integral part of his process - finding it impossible to paint without it.

Vinyl from his extensive personal collection is played on a continuous loop, emanating from enormous vintage speakers from the 1930s. The idea is for it feel as though you’re hanging out in someone’s living room - you’re encouraged to stay as long as they want, even have a nap if you like. On my visit people were relaxing in comfy loungers and chairs positioned around the periphery, others sprawled out on the carpet in the center room. There are Sunday and evening sessions where special guests come to spin their own records and the gallery becomes a makeshift club.

I found myself slowly going round and round, taking away something different from each artwork as the tracks changed over. There’s nothing like the mood boosting power of music - endorphins you just don’t get when plugged into political podcasts…

House of Music is on through February 8th

Ibraaz, a new creative hub

There’s a brand new third place in Central London dedicated to “arts, culture and ideas from the Global Majority”, a safe space intended to inspire conversation and debate, free and open to all. Previously operating solely online, Ibraaz has now expanded into a 10,000 square foot Grade II listed building which includes a large gallery, library and cinema. A bookshop and cafe flank either side of the front door, the latter filling the entrance with the warm aromatics of Tunisian spices. It’s become my go-to for a coffee break when in the area, stood away from the relentlessness of Oxford Street.

Earlier in the month I attended a screening there for the The Voice of Hind Rajab followed by a Q&A with its director, Kaouther Ben Hania. I knew it would be a difficult watch but a necessary one so I tried to assuage my nerves by chatting with the overwhelmingly friendly staff as we waited for it to start.

The docudrama details the events of January 29th 2024, when call operators from the Palestinian Red Crescent were connected to Hind, a five-year-old girl trapped in her uncle’s car with relatives who had been killed by the IDF. If you followed the story you will know that the rescue mission does not end well - it is a harrowing, heart shattering but totally absorbing piece of filmmaking, the real recordings spliced into the visual dramatisation.

I’m a big crier, especially at the cinema and within the first five minutes I was already in trouble. A woman passed me a packet of tissues and when I turned to mouth “thanks” I could see her similarly stricken face in the glow of the screen. As Ben Hania later put it, we were collectively bearing witness, honoring the life of Hind and those who tried to save her. Sharing the experience with a bunch of strangers going through the same emotions and then having the opportunity to talk about it afterwards was so much more valuable than I had imagined.

Relearning the library

As a student I was useless about taking advantage of the many wonderful libraries I had access to - the silence felt too oppressive, the chairs too uncomfortable. Of course now I think they’re heaven, but I hadn’t really considered becoming a member of one - I like buying books and slowly building my own collection.

But then my scroll control went completely out the window and I decided I needed an external force to impose restrictions. So I joined the British Library, hoping it would prove a reset for my screen time (the little screen anyway) and I’ve found communing in quiet to be both soothing and productive. It’s not exactly distraction free - I read that if you looked at five things a day it would take eighty thousand years to get through their inventory - but at least I know these diversions are not artificially generated.

Other things that have lifted my spirits of late

Lüften

The German practice of throwing open your windows first thing, allowing fresh air to circulate. Not exactly a groundbreaking concept but easy to forget in winter when you’re doing everything to keep the heat in. Even on dark, dreary mornings the Stoßlüften - or shock ventilation - feels pretty great.

The worst of humanity bringing out the best. It’s a tall order finding a piece of journalism that doesn’t leave me totally despondent at the moment but this was a really encouraging and uplifting article in the Atlantic by Adam Serwer, How Minnesota Proved Maga Wrong:

“The secret fear of the morally depraved is that virtue is actually common, and that they’re the ones who are alone. In Minnesota, all of the ideological cornerstones of MAGA have been proved false at once. Minnesotans, not the armed thugs of ICE and the Border Patrol, are brave. Minnesotans have shown that their community is socially cohesive—because of its diversity and not in spite of it. Minnesotans have found and loved one another in a world atomized by social media, where empty men have tried to fill their lonely soul with lies about their own inherent superiority. Minnesotans have preserved everything worthwhile about “Western civilization,” while armed brutes try to tear it down by force.”

Going ham at the greengrocer

I’ve just discovered that I have this amazing greengrocer only three minutes from my flat and have now been so many times it basically qualifies as another one of my third places. Subsequently I’ve been consuming an insane amount of produce, taking a real childlike delight in eating the rainbow. There will inevitably be a drop off in my enthusiasm but for now the meditative chopping and peeling is bringing me a lot of pleasure.

Finding a new perspective re my stupid little walks for my stupid mental health. I’ve been listening to this old BBC Radio 3 series Winter Walks, where five writers were asked to recount their journeys through the changed landscape of the season and it’s really romanticized the barren trees for me.

Postcards from the edge

I imagine a lot of peoples’ catch ups are roughly along the same lines right now:

How are you? Coping?

Yes, fine. Other than I’m deathly ill and it’s - 3000 degrees and I can’t stop obsessing about the state of the world.

Same!

Having amassed a pretty sizeable collection of postcards - mementos from galleries and weird souvenir shops - I decided to start sending them out to friends, for no other reason than to let them know I’m thinking of them. Snail mail is a dying art but there really is nothing nicer thing to receive, especially when it doesn’t warrant a reply. Extra points if it’s something silly. When you don’t know what to say, humour can lift the bleakest day.

But it’s certainly an apt descriptor of London as of late, a far cry from the expanse of blue sky over Egypt where I spent the holidays - starting in Luxor, floating up the Nile to Aswan and then on to Cairo. That is where I shall return to in my head/camera roll when in need of escapism.

Like many English school kids my introduction to the Land of Ra came via a history class at primary school bolstered by trips to the British Museum - while the Rosetta Stone was cool I was more excited by the scarab beetles in the gift shop. Following on from this was an inadvertent homage to queens past in the form of ill-applied winged eyeliner during my early teens - a look that would surely have Nefertiti rolling in her sarcophagus.

My exposure to pillaged artifacts and lite cultural appropriation had nothing on the real thing. One of our guides kept ending her sentences with “Can you imagine?” (actually a good tip for salvaging a boring story…). I really couldn’t - it’s mind blowing that so much still exists, or even came to be in the first place.

We covered a good amount of ground during the trip, though in some ways it felt as though we’d only scratched the surface. Each stop made an impression on me and I made a few mental notes to take home, with which to return in the future.

Factor in R&R at a special hotel

In Luxor we stayed at the magical Al Moudira Hotel, an Arabian style palace situated among fields of sugarcane on the West Bank. After a hellish journey getting there it felt like a secluded oasis, a feeling that met us each time we stepped back through the front door. Being set away from the city meant longer drive times to and from site visits - I would tack on an extra day to be able to fully enjoy the the glorious pool and wander the gardens. The food was all very good which is not a given in Egypt - about 80% of their produce comes from the onsite farm which I wish I’d had the time to properly explore.

Reset your internal clock to boat time

On a Nour el Nil Dahabiya boat the “clock” revolved around meal times, abundant spreads laid out at a communal table, with hot and cold mint flecked beverages on offer throughout the day. There was a daily excursion or two ashore - some with lots to see, others with less so - but in each case a welcome opportunity to leisurely stretch our legs.

Despite a considerable amount of downtime I still did not learn backgammon or complete a game of scrabble or even finish my book. There’s something about your body being forced into a state of relaxation that makes it fully succumb to fatigue. Time seemed best spent gazing out at the river bank - the constantly shifting scenery means you never got used to the view.

Being reacquainted with sun, watching it rise out of the water from bed and feeling the warmth of its dry heat was a welcome break during the darkest, dampest part of the year. Although the temperature never really necessitated cooling off, going for a swim was nevertheless a refreshing and silly bucket list type thing I don’t think I’ll ever grow out of doing (am thankfully parasite free - the only bug I’ve managed to contract so far is a wretched winter cold).

Open yourself up to Iwn

The colours along the river are vibrant and uplifting, the Nile counterbalances the lack of rain to produce perennially lush vegetation. Complementary shades of blue and orange shift with time of day, the water and sky butting up against the sandstone and tangerine tinged sunrises and sunsets.

“Iwn”, the specific word the Ancient Egyptians used for “colour” also translated to mean “disposition” or “character” - they were believed to have strong links to one’s essence. Artwork took direct inspiration from the surrounding areas, predominantly using naturally occurring minerals such as carbon, yellow ocher, carnelian red, malachite green, lapis and turquoise, even white…found in gypsum, limestone and alabaster. It’s a palette that’s both earthy and bold - accented with an occasional sprinkling of gold just to be extra.

Everything is Copy

The clean lines, geometric shapes and motifs that inspired Regency and Empire styles in the late 18th century are just as appealing today - some things they just got right the first go round. Simplicity and symmetry in repetition allow for the designs to appear powerful rather than cramped or fussy. Art Deco, the most widespread and popular period for the Decorative arts owes the most the Egyptians - honestly a lot couldn’t even be called a point of reference - it’s more like we hit copy-paste in the 1920s.

The columns of hieroglyphs that decorate the walls of temples and tombs - particularly in the Valley of the Kings - reminded me of the fab Egyptomania tiles by French artist Louis Barthelemy for British brand Balineum (I know I’m supposed to think this the other way round). Seeing as how we’re running out of space for mausoleums, how fun would it be to line a bathroom wall with those guys?

A worthwhile detour - Abu Simbel Temples

Though you do end up seeing a whole lot of variations on the same theme it’s kind of impossible not to marvel at each new location. Even with the faff of journeying to Abu Simbel - travelling to and from Aswan for the day - and the insufferable crush of selfie sticks at the site, it was probably my favourite set of temples we visited, completely jaw dropping in scale. The smaller of the two that King Ramesses II had built as a love letter to his wife Nefertiti - a “practice” one before work began on his own - is IMO the more appealing, with beautiful elongated paintings and relief carvings of goddesses on the inner walls.

GEM

Our trip aligned fortuitously with the grand opening of the very Grand Egyptian Museum - so vast you could easily spend an entire day there (quite comfortably, with a number of restaurants and shops on the ground floor). Immediately you are confronted with the monumental eleven meter statue of Ramesses II hanging out in the entrance, which is dwarfed in size only by the astonishingly well preserved 4500 year old cedar Khufu ship that sits just across the campus.

The sheer volume of stuff - which includes five thousand of King Tut’s possessions and a roomful of blinged out sarcophagi - is staggering. I was just as taken with the more diminutive objects, rows of delicately carved figurines and jewellery from Middle Kingdom - as well as all manner of weird kitchen equipment. It’s so well laid out that the argument for having looted items returned to their homeland feels increasingly hard to contest.

Embracing the chaos of Cairo

After having adjusted to quiet life on the water, things ramped up quickly upon arrival at the chaotic, crammed capital (which I really enjoyed, a true lover of extremes). With a population estimated at around 23/24 million, one of the reasons you need to allow extra time for everything is because the traffic lore is very real. That being said I loved the moments we were able to meander and explore on foot. We spent one evening zigzagging through downtown - jaywalking is a true artform in Cairo - followed by a peaceful morning stroll through Zamalek, the elegant, leafy district on Gezira Island, a base for embassies as well as numerous restaurants, cafes and shops.

Mosque Mile

While the Ancient world understandably gets much of the focus, one of my favourite things we did was spend half a day exploring the mosques that line the open air museum of Al-Muizz Street. With construction spanning the 11th to the 19th centuries, their range of size and design makes each one unique and worth a look in. One of my favourites was the Qalwan complex where Mamluk, Gothic and Byzantine styles overlap each other. Chock full of ornate details - stripes and lattices and arches, painted wooden coffer ceilings and shell motifs outlined in mother of pearl. More is more! It was definitely a highlight for me.

Bringing the past into the present

I would have really liked to visit Ramses Wissa Wassef Art Center, a creative enterprise established in the 1950s to educate young people in ancient practices and provide them with opportunities to work outside the home. It still functions today - you can watch weavers working with traditional dyeing methods, using ingredients such as pomegranate peel and natural mordants to help retain their vibrancy. They had tapestries on view at the National Museum that showcased the intricate work involved and just how well the colours have adhered.

A number of contemporary brands are also focused on preserving local craftsmanship - one of the better known being Malaika, a textile company that was recommended to me by pretty much everyone. The business came about when Ecuadorians Margarita Andrade and Goya Gallagher visited Egypt in 1992, fell in love with the country and decided upon a new home. With a background in embroidery they set about teaching underprivileged women traditional techniques, resulting in a business built on beautiful hand stitched linens.

Gallagher has recently gone on to expand the brand further under the name Anut Cairo, selling a variety of homewares that include gorgeous ceramics - similarly encouraging of local craftsmanship. You will see them pop up in a number of places around the city - including concept store MADU which is also deserving of a visit.

The expansive collection is available online - they ship worldwide but the price point is considerably steeper so it’s definitely worth lugging a few pieces home.

Didn’t hit - for next trip

There was/is so much to see and experience, I was constantly having to remind myself that I would be back. Here are a few other things I have earmarked:

• Although the major sites weregoing to take priority, I’d be interested next time in visiting the Gayer-Anderson Museum and spending a few hours wandering the small art galleries in Zamalek.

• Antique shops and markets requires diligently sorting the treasure from the tat - I wish we’d had more time to spend in the Khan el-Khalili bazaar

• Make restaurant reservations in advance, especially during peak tourist season. If looking for something with a view of the pyramids I’d pick Khufu’s, it was booked out for weeks. Zeeyara was also high on our list and unfortunately only had inconvenient times available.

• Cairo is not short on hotels but for a longer stay I love the look of the recently refurbed Immobilia Apartments situated downtown in Cairo’s oldest skyscraper.

• In my desire to squeeze everything into a carry-on I had not factored that with zero humidity it would feel significantly colder on the boat when the sun went down - I would pack an extra jacket.

• Cafes and coffee shops are institutions in Egypt and nothing beats sitting outside watching life go by. It’s something that should always be factored in when visiting cities, nothing better than people watching to understand the rhythm.

A few weeks ago I managed to fall down the stairs in a truly spectacular fashion, rounding a corner and turning on my ankle, plunging head first, face up (I know). As I slithered and bounced and ricocheted off the wall, I felt the horror and humour of the moment simultaneously, wondering as I hit each step which would be the one to send me to A&E. When I landed at the bottom I was amazed to find myself still in one piece - a few burns and bruises - but otherwise intact.

Everything felt upside down that weekend, even more so than usual. My tumble was a mere blip compared to the larger events in the news, a particularly catastrophic 48 hours to cap off a white-knuckle year.

A couple of days later I traipsed over to my dry cleaner Abdul, who is so good and so lovely I schlep my clothes completely out of the way - and past three others - to get to him. As I walked in he could see me wincing a little and immediately asked what was wrong, offering to get my things turned around as quickly as possible. Chatting with him about my stupid mishap and our respective holiday plans was all it took to tip me right side up again.

A nice kind of deluge

I love gifting a great present but when you’re having to buy multiple at a time the pressure can stifle the joy. This year my family borrowed from the Icelandic tradition Jólabókaflóð or“Christmas Book Flood”, where you trade books and chocolate, to be consumed together on Christmas Eve. It’s so simple and yet guarantees a successful outcome - not having to choose the next thing to read is its own small, sweet relief. The flood was a bit too extreme this year with extra heavy tomes stuffed into my luggage but it’s something I hope to keep up in the future.

Journalism to make you smile - for a change

One of the many joys the Crimbo Limbo period offers is respite from push notifications of ongoing political drama/melodrama. For when that ramps up again David Byrne’s Reasons to be Cheerful platform is a welcome salve to the all-caps-ugly-font headlines - a collation of positive news stories from around the world. The now rather exhausted Mr. Roger’s quote still rings true, always “look for the helpers”.

Some stellar end of year photojournalism has also got me feeling positive about about the relevance of media and magazines. Christopher Anderson’s up close White House portraits for Vanity Fair and Szilvester Mako’s images of Modigliani-esque artist Rama Duwaji for NY Mag - soon to be First Lady of NYC - are both stunning in their own unique ways…

Dressing for comfort and style

On NYE in 2019 one of my resolutions was to dress up more - less resorting to jean and jumper combos. Since I don’t feel like double jinxing myself by making that declaration again I’m going with a vibe that’s sort of in between, more loose and loungey, channeling the 60s styling of model and actress Donyale Luna. I’m tentatively reaching for heels after a years long hiatus (although the skyscrapers of my 20s are now for looking at only). Sorry to all the no-shoe households but nobody looks good dressed up padding around in socks!

Pretty Party Food

There’s been a lot of chat about retro party food making a comeback and much of it I’m here for - I’ve never wavered in my love of a prawn cocktail or devilled egg. Tis the season for making entire meals out of picky bits. The dessert table has also turned up the kitsch with elaborate piping, jelly molds and an obsession with trompe l’oeil fruit all trending.

I’m a big fan of Parisian pastry chef Andrea Sham, who creates whimsical looking confections that never veer into the realm of “naff”. These individual pavlovas look like they require finesse but having made meringues a handful of times (too many leftover egg whites) they’re pretty easy as long as you don’t obsess over uniformity. A bit of whipped cream and a flourish on top is enough to make it look professional grade. *I’ve bought edible gold in a kitchen supply shop before and while it is wholly unnecessary it is quite fun.

Cocktail Hour, every hour

I’m much more adventurous with food than I am with beverages, especially when it comes to cocktails where I have a tight rotation I rarely veer from. Listening to Keith McNally’s autobiography I Regret Almost Everything - a fabulously narration by Richard E. Grant - it really hit home just how much his establishments marked my time in New York. His LES bar Schiller’s ( RIP), was a place to convene with friends for a 2am debrief of the evening (and additional, necessary beverages). Despite being in possession of a NY State bartending license (it’s a thing!!) I bought a copy of the cocktail book on Ebay and it’s one of the better ones - twists on classic and seasonal drinks that don’t require obscure ingredients or go too far into the experimental.

McNally’s Instagram remains one of my go-to’s for reviews and musings on the state of the world - he has no time for pandering or currying favour, a rarity.

Keeping the party going past January 1st

I last wrote about feeling partly submerged at the start of the month I did not encountered a single person who wasn’t also trying to stay afloat within the festivities crammed into the end of the year.

Like this smart journalist at The Cut I’ve long thought we should extend the party into the New Year, celebrations abruptly coming to a halt at a time when there’s little to look forward to on the horizon. Though reeling in the excess is welcome - and necessary after shoving all manner of canape down your gullet, completely nixing pleasure in the month of January feels like adding misery to misery. Why not keep up the good cheer for a little bit longer?

Good Luck for 2026

For the first time since manifestation became a buzzword there has been little chatter about how “2026 is gonna be my year!” (secretly I do hope we can all just think it?).

I’m not one for being overly superstitious but I definitely pick and choose - e.g. will walk under a ladder but am often knocking on wood and picking up pennies. I’ve seen that people have clocked/grasped onto the Spanish “Las Doce Uvas de la Suerte”/Twelve Grapes of Luck, which represent prosperity and fortune in the coming months. They’re to be consumed in succession at the stroke of midnight, under the table for extra luck. Whether you’re opting for the classic black-eyed peas, lentils, long unbroken noodles or just crossing your fingers and necking champagne, there’s no harm in wishing good things for the year ahead.

In all the tributes to the late Rob Reiner and his wife Michele that continue to pour in, what shines through the most is what stand up people they were. There was always a strong sense of morality in his creative work as well as in his advocacy outside of it. He found a way to be present in the real world and still have hope for the fantasy one.

HNY Everyone Xx

We’re just a week into the December and already I’m feeling a bit of sensory overload - although I love this time of year so much that I’m willing to push through. The key lies in finding coziness within the chaos, embracing the dichotomy of tinsel and tartan. I really enjoyed this House & Garden feature of Callie Cole’s home in the Devon countryside, where humans and animals are welcome in the kitchen in equal measure - referred to as a “merry bedlam”. Such a good phrase for the festive period - much more jolly than Mariah Carey induced mental breakdown (no shade, love you forever Mimi).

Metallic by Nature - Jess Wheeler Studio

For a bit of sparkle that’s a little less bling, look to Jess Wheeler and her nature inspired light fixtures and sculptures, beautifully rendered in brass, bronze and plaster. The set designer moved from London to a cottage in Snowdonia just before lockdown in 2020, using the downtime to figure out metalsmithing by trial and error (or trial by fire..). What started as a side project has grown into a serious business - though she continues to make everything by hand, each piece with their own unique imprint. Her collections include sprawling chandelier branches and sconces set in vines of ivy - the one-off customs pieces are particularly special. For Christmas I really love the “nuts and spices” brooches and delicate mistletoe mobiles.

A Skarsgard double bill

Earlier in the season I went to a number of screenings at the London Film Festival, bookended by two wonderful films featuring Sweden’s foremost acting dynasty. While not technically Christmas themed, both contain a good amount of dysfunctional love, which feels just right for the holidays.

The first, Sentimental Value by Norwegian director Joachim Trier, starring Stellan Skarsgard, Renate Reinsve, Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas and Elle Fanning is one of my favourites of the year - as a big fan of Trier’s I’d been really looking forward to this one and it didn’t disappoint.

The film’s foundation is grounded in a generational family home in Oslo, at present the site for another seminal occasion - the funeral for Nora and Agnes’ late mother. When their largely absent father Gustav pitches up, the sisters aren’t sure what to make of his sudden reappearance. They soon find out the reunion has come with an agenda as Gustav - a once famous film director - presents Nora with his latest script and an offer for her to play the lead. Her abrupt refusal results in a celebrated American actress swanning in to take her place, inserting herself within the complicated dynamic.

The difficulties of navigating familial relationships are brilliantly encapsulated - maddening levels of miscommunication coexisting alongside a sort of unspoken “knowing” - frustrating and also deeply moving. It’s not out in the UK for another few weeks but I can’t wait to see it again.

Vulture did a great interview with Stellan which was refreshingly devoid of the careful hedging done by so many actors - where a publicist seems to always be hovering around the discussion. Or perhaps they were there and Stellan just doesn’t care...

It’s been hard to miss Alex Skarsgard on his months long press tour in support of his new film Pillion, exceptionally styled by Harry Lambert. I was lucky enough to get an up close and personal view at the Royal Festival Hall premiere, where he sat through the entire screening in a halter top and spray on trousers. About a third of the audience came dressed in full leather and honestly I’ve never had a more enjoyable time at the cinema/never wanted to be part of a subculture more?

In the film Skarsgard plays the strapping Ray, who encounters timid, sheltered Colin (played by an excellent Harry Melling) at a Bromley pub, forming an instant if unlikely attraction. Colin is soon swept up into Ray’s biker gang world, entering into a Dom/sub relationship that gives him a whole new lease on life while simultaneously putting handcuffs on it (quite literally). Based on the novel “Box Hill” by Adam Mars-Jones, it’s a really impressive directorial debut from Harry Lighton, at times laugh out loud funny while also being incredibly poignant (heartbreaking as well as heartwarming FYI).

Tekla in Marylebone

In keeping with the “Scandi’s do it better” theme, Danish textile brand Tekla has opened its first international store in London, just in time for the colder months. I’ve been wearing their pyjamas for years and am always eyeing their fun pinstriped bedding and hooded terry bathrobes, which are now available in special holiday editions. The new hot water bottles and blanket sets are ideal for when you’d rather divert funds from your heating bill to something more tangible…

Jeremy Miranda’s winter landscapes

Maine based artist’s Jeremy Miranda has always taken inspiration from his surroundings, interested in depicting the spaces that exist between the interior and exterior and how they evolve in the changing seasons. The way in which he’s able to capture natural light makes even the most barren of winter scapes look soft and inviting - although some of my favourites contain a joyful smattering of fluorescent bulbs. I came across his work on his social media which he updates regularly and I always find cheering. Though he mostly sells his work through galleries a number signed of prints are available for a very reasonable price.

Advice from Bill Nighy ft. Miranda July

I’ve been dipping into Billy Nighy’s new podcast series “ill-advised” where he moonlights as an Agony Uncle, answering listener questions and offering a weekly book recommendation and playlist. Coming in under thirty minutes the episodes are short and sweet, his responses seem refreshingly off the cuff and unrehearsed.

When a caller references Miranda July’s novel wildly successful novel “All Fours”, he professes a similar admiration for the book - so much so that he recorded his own narration over a series of voice memos (114 to be exact) and sent to friends. One such lucky recipient was the actress Alicia Silverstone, who relayed that Miranda had been bemused - and hopefully amused - that she’d been enjoying this alternate version. A petition for this to be released as a second edition audiobook, I’d absolutely buy it! They don’t seem an obvious pairing off the bat but I could totally see them dancing around together, him in his perennial navy suit and her in a pair of high waisted knickers.

In a Substack newsletter this week Miranda wrote that she is moving out of the infamous studio where she has created so much of her work for the past two decades. As a part of the move she will be selling some of her belongings in "The Estate Sale but I'm Alive Sale", to be held some time this or next month. If anyone is in LA then I can only imagine it will be a treasure trove of weird delights.

A mission to find the best mince pie

I didn’t much care for traditional English Yuletide treats as a child, save for the nightly excavation of chunks of brandy butter straight from the tub. I can still give marzipan covered fruit cake a miss but I’m now very keen on a good mince pie, an appreciation fostered by nostalgia when living to the US where they are almost impossible to find.

Since the bakery scene in London has exploded it seems as though they all try to one up each other, coming up with their own twist on the classic. It would take me several Decembers, a lot of traversing the city and a stomach ache or two to make a comprehensive list but I’ll give honorable mentions to Quince, Fortitude & Esters who all have solid offerings.

My favourite (thus far) are from Violet Cakes by Claire Ptak, an American pastry chef (and honorary Brit) who has adeptly taken on English ingredients and traditions. Her miniature pies have a good dose of citrus and a delicate pastry - they’re not too cloying and don’t sit like a brick in your stomach. Sold individually and in boxes of nine, you can buy them in store at the London Fields location (or the cafe at the Alaia shop on Bond Street…) but are now also conveniently available on Deliveroo. If you are able to pick up in person they have really lovely staff - and plenty of alternative seasonal sweets.

For anyone who is inclined to make them from scratch the recipe is in her Love is a Pink Cake cookbook - I’ve not yet been let down with anything I’ve made by her.

Hope everyone is able to carve out as much time as they can to eat, drink & be merry Xx

So when the Fondation LV in Paris announced a retrospective of his work I immediately hopped on their website to look at dates, perusing the “Events” section which often has interesting talks and performances. There I saw that in conjunction with an after-hours viewing of the exhibition they would be hosting two overnight performances of Sleep, an eight hour composition by German-British composer Max Richter (no relation, just to make this newsletter all the more confusing).

I was mostly familiar with Max’s classical/minimalist music through his film and television scores (including the soundtrack for the beautiful, absolutely wrenching Hamnet). Sleep is his landmark work, a “lullaby for a frenetic world”, designed with the help of neuroscientist David Eagleman to fit the rhythm of a human’s natural sleep cycle.

Since it was first played in full on BBC Radio 3 in 2015 - breaking the record for the longest broadcast of a single piece of music - it has been performed live a little over 20 times for a sleeping audience. The 10 year anniversary was marked with 2 concerts in London in September - the largest ever at Alexandra Palace with 900 people in attendance - and 2 in Paris this past weekend, a much more intimate setting with just seventy beds. A private tour of an exhibition, followed by a campout while a live orchestra lulls you to sleep? It sounded ambitious and romantic and totally weird. I was intrigued.

Woefully, I’d underestimated the numbers of dedicated superfans - both concerts sold out within seconds and with so few spots available I forgot about it. But in one of those “this never happens” strokes of luck I received a notification just a few days out that a ticket had suddenly become available. Immediately I hit purchase and reneged on pre-existing plans (sorry again, I love you and will make it up to you!). This seemed like too unique an opportunity to be missed.

My “sleep pass” granted me access to the building from 8pm, the concert starting at 11. Hurrying through a dark Bois de Boulogne park, I rounded the corner to see Frank Gehry’s behemoth, ship-like structure all lit up, with several people gathered below at the edge of the stepped waterfall. Their eyes were focused down at the prow and into the auditorium, full of inflatable beds laid out in neat dormitory style rows. I sped past to the main entrance where a black ribbon was secured around my wrist with a metal clasp - the chicher, French version of a golden ticket.

Within the first few seconds of entering the building the quiet magnitude of the nearly empty Fondation washed away the hours spent on crowded trains travelling from London and across town. I was shot through with excitement - the privilege of getting to see the collection unobstructed and without distraction - this was already worth the trek.

For much of it I was entirely alone save for a security guard (or several), very occasionally overlapping with other ticket holders, exchanging a raised eyebrow or smile at our good fortune.

The exhibition is completely mind boggling - 275 works spanning 60 years, seemingly no subject was off limits or deemed without merit. The chronological layout illustrates how his career evolvement was non-linear, rooted in classicism while pushing boundaries of style and genre in all directions, deliberate in his methods yet open to the whim of chance.

The contradictory nature of his work is evident in the first rooms which highlight the impact of his childhood growing up in Dresden in the 30s and 40s. Photorealistic paintings based off newspaper clippings and family portraits challenge our perceptions of reality, Gerhard’s signature overpainting technique blurring definition. The unreliability of personal and collective memory is one of the few constants in his massive ouvre, he only ever worked from a secondary image.

Paintings referencing Romanticism are particularly striking - especially the seascapes, created by collaging photographs of the sea and sky until they merged together. His imagined versions are all the more beautiful than the real thing.

It was also a delight to come upon the series inspired by Titian's Annunciation, which Gerhard had seen at the Scuola Grande di San Rocco in Venice. When he failed to recreate an adequate copy from a postcard he instead set about producing a set of increasingly abstracted iterations. Having been bought individually by private collectors and museums they are usually separated - a treat to be able to see them all together in one place.

Vast canvases of swirling brush strokes sit alongside large scale industrial colour charts. Painstakingly rendered still lifes and portraits of his daughter Betty and wife Sabine are softer, reminding me a lot of Vermeer. It is a trippy journey through art history.

I lingered over his abstract paintings inspired by the work of musician John Cage, layers of paint added and scraped away until arriving at a desirable outcome. I thought about the similarities in the layers of Max’s compositions, incorporating traditional orchestral arrangements and electronic elements, (upon further investigation I found that Cage was also an influence for the younger Richter).

Though I was not quite ready to leave the galleries, the increased chatter in the atrium told me it was time to move on to the next phase of the evening. A new wave of ticket holders had arrived to come listen to the first two hours of Sleep which would be played out over the speakers in the gallery rooms (FYI the late night events at the museum are great and generally far less crowded than during the day).

I headed back downstairs and slipped into one of the bathrooms with my wash bag and a change of clothes - in lieu of actual pyjamas I’d opted for an all black ensemble that I hoped would pass muster as streetwear in the morning. As I snuck back out into the crowd the murmurs and stares made it clear that I’d failed - and with my freshly scrubbed face I felt like a child at a dinner party, coming out to say goodnight.

A French podcast crew stopped me to do an impromptu Q&A. “What’s in your bag?” “What have you done to prepare?”. Um nothing?? Weren’t we supposed to be sleeping? I felt stupid for not having given it more consideration. But as a chronic overthinker perhaps the best thing I could do was go in with as little expectation as possible, ready to fully absorb the uniqueness of the experience.

Upon entering the auditorium I was directed towards a bed at the end of the second row. Positioned on the edge of the room, I had a good vantage point of the stage as well as being able to look directly up into the glass sails of the building. Both the interior and exterior lights were cast in a deep blue - presumably to lower everyone’s heart rates and help wind down from whatever we’d been caught up in that day.

For the next hour or so people trickled in and settled into their places, investigating their complimentary kits (program, eye mask, water bottle) and unpacking various belongings. I attempted to suss out the snorers and with a wrinkled nose noted the number of people (men) who’d already chucked their socks aside - bare feet in my eyeline of the orchestra wasn’t ideal.

Then, without fanfare in they walked - our composer/pianist, six string players and an accompanying soprano all dressed in black, wearing socks or slippers to minimise noise. With a short introduction from Max we were suddenly off and after the first few bars, any doubts or cynicism I had melted away.

Initially a low-level energy reverberated around the room, with many people sat upright, attentively watching. Despite being told there were “no rules” it was hard to shake the sense formality you typically associate with this genre of music, or indeed calibre. It feel sort of wrong to just pull the duvet up and roll over. But after the first half hour had whizzed by I could feel myself getting drowsy, and soon my head was on the pillow, eyes closed.

Waking up to a much more restful audience, I glanced at the count up timer by Max’s piano to check how long I’d been out. Only an hour or so. For the first half of the night I drifted in and out of consciousness, the music merging with my dreams. Though the clock and the other sixty nine other people should have reaffirmed my sense of reality, the otherworldliness of the composition made it feel as though we had transported to another realm, like we’d detached from the building’s foundation and were floating in space.

At 5 hours and 30 minutes in I woke again, staying awake for the remainder. I listened as they transitioned into the different movements - 204 in total - cleverly arranged so that each musician could take short breaks from playing. It is an endurance test but one clearly taken on with pleasure. At one point I saw two of the cellists - who must have been achingly tired - grinning widely (perhaps deliriously) at each other. Occasionally Max would leave the stage to walk around the room, quietly observing his slumbering children.

As we neared the end I suddenly became emotional at the thought of leaving the safe haven of this musical dreamland. The lights that had warmed to a deep purple in the last hour were now a pale pink - daybreak (November in Paris when it’s still pitch black at 7am - you gotta fake it to make it).

At the finale we all stood and clapped, the musicians looking exhausted but triumphant (I wanted to yell “Encore!” but decided a few laughs was not worth ruining the moment).

After brushing our teeth we padded up to the breakfast provided in the main restaurant, Le Frank. I was glad that it wasn’t yet light out and we could remain cocooned for a little while longer. We chatted in hushed voices, recounting the night, exchanging more about ourselves and where we’d come from - some local, many from around Europe, even some who’d flown overseas. Though some of us had full days planned it wrong not to let this all sit with us a while longer.

Finally at twenty past eight, having overstayed my welcome…I collected my coat and stepped out into the silent city. I had been moved - overwhelmed really - by the art, the music, the communal aspect of sharing something so intimate with people I’d never met before. Above all I felt grateful for the generosity of the many people who had contributed to an unforgettable evening. To have been a part of something created simply for the experience, with no objective of financial gain (I would imagine it actually cost them quite a lot) was the most surreal and magical part of it all.

Points of reference:

The Gerhard Richter retrospective is on until March 2nd 2026

A documentary featuring Max Richter’s 2018 outdoor concert of Sleep in LA

A clip of Sleep being performed at the Sydney Opera House in 2019

I don’t think that holiday decor should ever read primarily as tasteful, trying to be too serious or “elevated” can really suck the fun out of festivities. That being said, the staple Halloween orange and black is pretty low on my list of colour combos…This tablescape from a dinner hosted by Saint Laurent in Venice last month (designed by the ubiquitous and fabulous events firm Bureau Betak) struck me as being better suited to colder, darker evenings. The alternative palette of deep pinks and purples is so much more inviting - it looks like a sort of moody coral reef. I love the messy abundance of vegetation, let’s just hope they made use of all those melanzanes afterwards…

Horror flicks high on style

For a long time I maintained that horror films were just not for me, largely due to the excess of garbagey slasher franchises that were everywhere in the 2000s. I’m still a bit of a wimp when it comes to jump scares but I’ve learned to appreciate the wider scope of the genre - with the right cocktail of suspense and style I’m happy as Chucky.

Among my favourites this year was Ryan Coogleys Sinner’s, a vampire movie framed through the lens of the Jim Crow era, soundtracked with Blues music. Within that same category I also really enjoyed Robert Egger’s remake of Nosferatu - visually stunning and with a brilliant performance by Lily-Rose Depp.

One of the all time greats of the last century is 1973’s “Don’t Look Now” directed by Nicolas Roeg, based on the novel by Daphne du Maurier (queen of gothic lit in my mind, I have a visceral memory of re-reading Rebecca late at night with my back against the radiator).

A book on this cinematic masterpiece has just come out - Don’t Look Now and Then - over 400 pages of photos and documents featuring the film’s stars Julie Christie and Donald Sutherland - until now unpublished. I had a flick through at the BFI and if I hadn’t already spent an exorbitant amount on movie snacks it would have come home with me.

The Hounding by Xenobe Purvis

When Xenobe Purvis stumbled upon the true case of the five “barking” sisters she was immediately fixated on learning everything she could about the story and its historical setting. Her research spawned the idea for her first novel, “The Hounding”, which centers on the orphaned Mansfield girls who live with their half-blind grandfather on a rural farm in Oxfordshire. In the neighbouring village a long, dry summer has given rise to an air of both boredom and hysteria. When the drunk, misogynistic ferryman Pete accuses the sisters of having transformative powers, their “strange” aloofness leads the villagers to project something more sinister on to them.

This is more of a thriller than straight up horror, with obviously parallels to the Virgin Suicides - we are given multiple perspectives on the girls without ever gaining access to their own thoughts. I also found it reminiscent of Ottessa Moshfegh’s writing both in style and subject, encapsulating the difficulty faced by non-conformists trying to exist in the world. An entertaining, atmospheric and weird read.

The witchy world of Leonora Carrington

The Gothic and Expressionist movements may be most closely associated with All Hallows’ Eve but there is perhaps no one more attuned to the occult than Surrealist artist Leonora Carrington. Growing up in 1920s Lancashire, an interest in mythology and mysticism was sparked at an early age through stories of Celtic folklore told to her by an Irish nanny.

Rebelling against the confines of her patriarchal, Catholic household, she left home for the Continent to further explore her fascination with alchemy and the spiritual world and reclaim her own narrative as a woman. After the onset of WWII and a stint in an asylum at the order of her father (see her wonderful novel The Hearing Trumpet) Carrington escaped to the US and then onto Mexico, where she continued to create her dreamlike art until her death in 2011.

Though widely celebrated in her chosen country, it has only been during the past decade or so that she has received proper international recognition through the feminist reassessment of the Surrealist movement. Her increased popularity could also be due in part to the massive resurgence of tarot - providing for many an alternate sense of order in our messed up reality…

References to her work have emerged across various mediums, including a glorious 2017 editorial piece in iD Magazine, “Stranger than Paradise” with Tilda Swinton, shot by Tim Walker. Her paintings were also a source of inspiration for set designer Shona Heath - Walker’s longtime collaborator - during the construction of the fantastical world for the 2024 film “Poor Things”.

Carrington’s first solo show in Italy is currently on at Palazzo Reale in Milan until January 11th.

DIY costumes turned up a notch

The best costumes are always homemade (also last minute creative panic for the win), something that is clever and avant-garde - although not so niche as to warrant a lengthy explanation…Exhibit A: this brilliant feature entitled “Window Dressing” in last month’s World of Interiors, an homage to Jane Asher’s DIY Fancy Dress Book, (out of print but I just looked and you can still find copies on resale) that showcases the new fabrics for the season - I particularly love Jo Brand’s Delft tulipiere and Richard E. Grant as a candelabra.

I know I’m not alone in obsessing over the details of the Louvre heist and the joy of a good old fashioned caper (obviously theft is bad etc etc. but it’s quite hard to cry over stolen diamonds of all things right now…). Disappointingly the purported fedora wearing detective turned out to be just a snappily dressed passer-by - but if you can secure a couple of high-vis vests, a trench coat and a bit of fake bling it would still make for a fab ensemble costume.

The heist excitement had me rewatching a couple episodes of “Lupin” which lead me down the path of wondering when - if ever - the long promised “Call My Agent” film will happen. I sort of assumed they’d killed the idea but good news - it turns out it’s in production and arriving in 2026.

Across the Channel, less didactic fashion rules allow for a freer, more eclectic approach to fall dressing. While we’ll always have Saville Row we can now also lay claim to Aldi’s new jacket potato-jacket, available in giveaways via the supermarket chain’s social media outlets. A love for spuds knows no bounds…

Berghain by Rosalia

Rosalia’s new single from her upcoming album “Lux” feat. Bjork and Yves Tumor has sidelined Lily Allen - at least for the moment. With lyrics in both German and English and support from a choir and the London Symphony Orchestra, it’s a completely different world to 2022’s “Motomami” which is when I first became aware of the Spanish singer/songwriter. She in fact sings in thirteen different languages on the album, having spent the past two years studying in order to deepen her understanding of other cultures and expand her reach. Though she’s never been definable as an artist this is really next level, not least in showcasing her operatic vocal range. The music video is full of hauntingly beautiful symbolism - and some great vintage fashion.

Pierre Yovanovitch reenvisioning the opera

I love a baroque flourish probably more than the next person but increasingly I’m just as impressed by the dramatic effect of contemporary stage design. Interior architect Pierre Yovanovitch has been busy creating costumes and sets for several prestigious global venues, a series of minimalist but highly impactful designs including the current production of Wagner’s Die Walkure at the Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia in Rome. The hope is that this fresh, more modern approach will draw in a new audience who might not otherwise have connected with the classical art form.

Happy Halloween - however you choose to celebrate Xx

The attraction of an it girl is as much about physical presentation as it is about attitude, a brazen disregard for how women are “supposed” to look and operate in the world. Breaking away from conformity, inevitably setting new trends of her own.

The term became diluted around the Millennium, the beginning of the “famous for being famous” era. But the real ones are those whose legacy well surpasses their 15 minutes, leaving an indelible imprint that places them forever in the zeitgeist.

Teenage dreams (or nightmares) Marie Antoinette & Joan of Arc

In many ways they are diametric opposites - one deeply pious the other devoted to partying - a frugal vs. frivolous outlook, etc. Joan was critical in restoring the French monarchy to power, Marie saw its demise. But there are clear similarities in their trajectories - mere adolescents when thrust into the public arena, both at the receiving end of intense public adoration and humiliation.

Marie Antoinette Style

The impressive exhibition at the V&A emphasizes the breadth of her influence, a consolidation of over 250 artifacts - dainty slippers and colossal jewellery, inlay furniture and embroidered textiles. And of course the clothes, which unsurprisingly dominate the rooms in sheer volume alone - those exaggerated panniers that spawned a host of copycat designs well beyond her reign. (*Also included is the simple sheath she wore to her execution, as well as a piece of the guillotine by which she was beheaded - a grim reminder of how this all ended.)

I particularly enjoyed the illustrations of her signature, vertiginous coiffure known as “Le pouf”, with styles that sometimes reached two feet tall. While we have not seen heights the like since, it did have an unfortunate resurgence in the 2000s - far too many hours and bobby pins were lost to that decade...

I was thrilled to attend a talk between Sofia Coppola and V&A curator Dr. Sara Grant where I learned more about how she developed her 2006 film which served as a jumping off point for the exhibition.

From my initial viewing I thought it was brilliant but my opinion was not widely shared, panned by many as overly sympathetic, superficial fluff and historically inaccurate. Her stylized interpretation of what is essentially a coming of age story has latterly gained a cult following and a sort of retroactive critical appreciation.

One of the sticking points for naysayers were the anachronistic references inserted into the 18th century court of Versailles - added with the intention of making the protagonist and story more relatable to a modern audience. The predominantly American and English cast speak in their native tongues, the soundtrack placed The New Romantics and The Strokes alongside Mozart. We even see a fleeting shot of a pair of Converse trainers nestled in amongst the Rococo trimmings (in one of the best movie montages of all time). I especially love the opening shot of the film, a reference to one of Guy Bourdin’s iconic, provocative ad campaigns from the late 70s.

Though Marie’s fashion choices were excessive and often uncomfortable, they were in fact her way of breaking from the didactic, formal codes of dress. The Oscar winning costumes by Milena Canonero (responsible for at least half of Scorcese and Wes Anderson’s filmography) are really sensational, the saturated pastel palette inspired by a box of macarons Sofia gave her as a guide (unknowingly setting into motion the globalization of Laduree). Milena commissioned Marie Antoinette obsessive Manolo Blahnik to design custom shoes - he’s just come out with a with a retail collection in honor of the exhibition, of which he’s also a sponsor.

She reappears time and again as a woman of influence in fashion, with numerous examples on display at the V&A. Even this recent season, when the background noise of a crumbling French government made her a particularly odd muse, she emerged at Saint Laurent, billowing gowns of parachute nylon set dramatically against the Eiffel Tower.

Medieval becomes Modern

When Joan traded her peasant dress for men’s clothes and a boyish crop she would have been far more concerned with the practical/protection than making a sartorial statement…But her androgynous, ascetic look has inspired many designers - in 1998 Alexander McQueen dedicated an entire collection to her, fire swirling around the model during the runway finale. At the Louis Vuitton Cruise show in May Nicolas Ghesquiere put his own spin on Medieval-core with a collection he called “women’s armour for everyday life”.

Baz Luhrman’s Jeanne D’arc (working title)

After a lengthy search for his lead in the retelling of The Maid of Orleans, Luhrmann found her in 18 year old British actress Isla Johnston (best known as the younger Anya Taylor Joy in the Queen’s Gambit).

While the 1928 silent film, “The Passion of Joan of Arc” by Danish director Carl Dreyer resides in the cannon of greatest films of all time - Maria Falconetti’s heart shattering performance is second to none - I’m looking forward to seeing what Baz does with his version. Though shooting is set to take place on location in Rouen, given his body of work I’m not expecting this to be a straightforward biopic. With a script by British playwright Ava Pickett (who wrote on the brilliantly camp “The Great” TV series) it sounds promising, especially if he can chill out on the distracting VFX and get back to the aesthetic of his earlier work ala Romeo & Juliet.

Most meta costume

Before she was directing films Sofia Coppola was already directing culture through other mediums, in 1994 instigating the now infamous X-Girl guerilla fashion show on the streets of downtown New York with her then partner Spike Jonze. A book of photographs from the show by Angela Hill has had a second run printed after the first quickly sold out. This impromptu event still managed to pull in a number of familiar faces - Linda Evangelista, Kyle MacLachlan, and Padma Lakshmi - as well as a then unknown Chloe Sevigny.

Jay McInerney’s piece in the New Yorker dubbing her “the coolest girl in the world” brought her more notoriety - praise for her edge style followed by a backlash for her edgy artistic choices. She then of course responded to public scrutiny with one of the most brilliantly meta costumes of all time - a reference to lyrics from The Smith’s song Bigmouth - “Now I know how Joan of Arc felt/As the flames rose to her Roman nose/And her Walkman started to melt”.

Wallis Simpson’s last years

Though youth is typically on the side of an influencer, some come to the spotlight later in life. Another Joan (Collins) - will soon be back on the big screen, returning to acting age 92 to star in “The Bitter End”, focusing on the final years of Wallis Simpson’s life and her complicated relationship with her French lawyer and confidante Suzanne Blum, played by Isabella Rossellini. Despite Wallis being a hugely polarizing figure she was an undeniable trend setter, making her unconventional looks and older age work for instead of against her. I am living for this promo photo taken during filming this past summer and am so pleased that these two phenomenal actresses are carrying a film, still at the top of their game.

A new era at Chanel

There’s not a photo of Matthieu Blazy’s Chanel show last week that I haven’t come across a million times already, and I’m still not sick of seeing them. Watching the livestream in my gym clothes I could not have been further away from the Grand Palais and yet for the first time the brand felt accessible (the decidedly Millennial soundtrack certainly helped).

As always the set design was mind boggling - this time fitting the whole solar system under that glass roof, a metaphor for the “Universe of Gabrielle Chanel” who was so groundbreaking in redefining the 20th century woman’s wardrobe.

Blazy’s reinterpretation of the codes softened the structure of the classic suit with deconstructed knits and tweeds, the iconic quilted bag now twisted. An invitation to embrace both masculine and feminine with the ability to look put together but also supremely comfortable. No one appeared more joyful than model Awar Odhiang closing the show, swanning around in a silk t-shirt and feathered skirt with a big grin on her face (she also wore one of those incredible fibreglass jackets at Bottega Veneta, I’d also be smiling after the fashion month she’s had.)

La-dee-Diane

While some icons we love to hate or hate to love, Diane was someone we loved to love.

So consistently and wonderfully oddball that it sometimes seemed like it had to be part of a bit, or at least an exaggerated quirkiness - this transcript from a deposition she gave confirms she was always exactly herself.

Her unique style was intrinsic to both her on and off screen personas, wearing menswear so effortlessly it became less gendered and just trademark “Diane”. She redefined what a leading lady could look like - unpolished and complicated, free-spirited and independent.

I read over the weekend about how integral she was to the making of Gus Van Sant’s 2003 film Elephant, the most quitely impactful film about gun violence I’ve seen to date. Her creative eye could see the power of restraint, even when it extended beyond herself.

I caught wind of the “Great Lock-in” trend a little late, after it had migrated from TikTok and made its way to more mainstream media. While I’m on board with the general premise - using this time as a period of goal setting instead of waiting until January 1st rolls around - the title for me is problematic. At best it conjures an image of heavy snowfall - at worst, prison. With the persistent feelings of Weltschmerz we’re all experiencing, adding self-imposed austerity does not much appeal.

But how to stay on the straight and narrow? There’s a wonderful essay by David Schurman Wallace In this Essay I Will: On Distraction that he wrote for the Paris Review about how “The fugitive moments in between our lifelong undertakings”- can end up being what we were searching for all along.

So while I have been taking stock, trying to figure out what to wear and how to live my best life, I’ll continue to take pleasure in diversions that comfort, excite and inspire, making it all the more easy to keep on keepin’ on.

90s Nostalgia

While we know everything is cyclical, this does seem to be the decade that comes back around the most - case in point the outsized, rapturous response to the Oasis reunion. It’s a romanticizing of a simpler time, when mobile phones weren’t appendages and the major collective anxiety was the world ending with Y2K (on a certain level that prediction wasn’t entirely wrong…).

Rizzoli just published a new book, Pamela Hanson, The 90s, a compilation of the renowned fashion photographer’s work throughout this more carefree decade. Her photographs remind me of the magazines I have stashed at my parents’ house which still provide a hit of serotonin every time I flick through. What’s most striking is that the models are often featured smiling and happy - if only we could just summon that emotion through emulation!

Fellow Anglo-American Mark Ronson has a memoir out: “Night People, how to be a DJ in 90’s New York”, looking back on the early days of his music career in the downtown club scene. Though an award-winning songwriter, I didn’t expect his writing skills to translate to long-form prose - I was pleasantly surprised. It’s a snapshot of a magical time, including some wild, name-droppy anecdotes from his uber privileged, starry upbringing (sleepovers with Michael Jackson, getting tucked into bed by Robin Williams) but it’s his intensely nerdy passion for music that I found most engaging and endearing. If you need further proof he’s got stories to tell, the film rights were snapped up before it even hit the shelves.

There were some real showstoppers at the Venice film festival this year, but in and amongst the trains and tuxedos it was a classic 90’s inspired blazer, dress shirt and jeans combo - a preview of Dario Vitale’s impending Versace collection - that stole the show. After Julia Roberts debuted the look on the red carpet Amanda Seyfried borrowed it to wear for press only a couple of days later - it was just as good the second time around. The outfit formula is of course nothing new but the proportions and styling are what make it feel fresh. Good inspo for reworking your closet - and for rooting around in your girlfriends’ wardrobes!

*Roberts is interviewed by her pal George for the inaugural edition of EE72 magazine - I just bought it and I have to say it’s really great. They’ve chosen to forgo conventional advertising (for now), instead incorporating it into the photoshoots - I can’t tell you how much nicer it is to have every page filled with thoughtful content.

Feel-good Advertising

Since Zac Posen took over the helm of the struggling Gap Inc. last year the company has been on an upward trajectory, aided by the resurrection of the iconic commercials that gave a basic brand some cool cachet. The most recent campaign for their Denim collection put the Sydney Sweeney-American Eagle controversy to bed - it’s clear here who has the better jeans/genes. If you’re looking to create your own dance routine at home I recommend the Gap Play Lists Instagram account for some old school, AI proof reminiscing.

In the vein of upbeat choreography it’s hard to beat the 1974 performance of the Italian song “Prisencolinensinainciusol”, starring Adriano Celentano with Raffaella Carra. Celentano wrote the lyrics to mimic the sound of US English but they are in fact absolute gibberish - proof that the joy of music transcends logical meaning. It is both so stupid and completely genius. The full video has been taken down but there is still so much joy to be found in this abridged clip.

Remembering what it means to be “All-American”

RIP Robert Redford, a rare breed of human who possessed an immense talent, objective good looks and a solid moral compass (there are very few people who cross over into the intersection of this Venn diagram).

His steadfast integrity and commitment to truth-telling was evident in all aspects of his life, most notably professionally in his being instrumental in the making of All the President’s Men. While that film is always worth returning to, the lesser seen Quiz Show - which Redford directed and produced -is definitely worth a watch. Based on a cheating scandal at NBC in the 1950s, it’s a commentary on the corruption of fame and greed in American media - never not relevant! With stellar turns from Ralph Fiennes and John Turturro and a sharp screenplay, this is a morality tale that still entertains, a thriller without explosions. They don’t make them like this anymore.

There has been much melancholy eulogization - saying goodbye to the last of Hollywood’s “Good Guys”. As a person who believed that the pendulum always swings back, maybe it’s best to think of his passing not as a “loss of good” but his existence as proof of it.

British Pride?

Where once being a US/UK dual citizen was like having the golden ticket, it’s a hard graft to muster feelings of pride for either country these days (although as far as political clusterfucks go, that’s obviously not a competition). Having now spent equal amounts of time on either side of the pond I’m happy to have had some American optimism - or at least hope - rub off on me. At my core however I’m more British, with a sense of humour that skews towards satire and sarcasm and a diehard love for the three Ps: the people, parks and pubs.

I thought the October issue of British GQ entitled "What’s so great about Britain?” hit just right. The interviewees - legends such as Emma Thompson, Ian Wright and Mr Blobby (!) are measured and honest in their responses - speaking to the country’s many flaws as well as the many reasons that do in fact make it great. Cool Britannia may belong to a bygone era but the incredible, melting pot of talent this island continues to produce goes to show that culture has had no greater importance than it does now.

Moroccan Mirages

I was completely wowed by this editorial piece in Sotheby’s magazine which features the work of Dutch fine art photographer Viviane Sassen, part of their Artist’s Portfolio this month. Styled by Alex Carl and shot in Essaouira, it juxtaposes this season’s fashion with Morocco’s centuries old dyeing techniques. I will keep coming back to these images as the days get shorter and I start to fantasize about escaping to sunnier, more colourful climes.

Ornamentation hyperfixation

After spying a copycat Sheila Hicks wall tapestry at a market last year (yes I regret not buying it about once a week!) I’ve been thinking about how to recreate something similar to adorn an empty wall in my flat that’s in desperate need of some interest/texture. Of all her textile sculptures it’s the bundled and wrapped yarn pieces, inspired by her time working in North Africa in the 60s and 70s that appeal to me the most. Hicks has collaborated with Jonathan Anderson on a bag for the next Spring/Summer Dior collection but I’m more partial to Dries van Noten’s take on passementerie - they always do the best colour combinations. Catch me down the hobby lobby trying to figure out how to DIY these…

A gold kitchen - because why not

Over the past few years stainless steel countertops have had a major resurgence in popularity - they’re dramatic yet chicly understated. But what about chic and overstated? In this Madrid project locally based design studio Casa Josephine brought a touch of Venice to Spain, combatting the lack of natural light by infusing the space with warm hued materials. Is a gold (brass) kitchen practical? Maybe not. Is it kind of spectacular? Definitely yes - I’m sure especially so at night when those Pierre Forsell candle sconces are lit. Probably best to just order Deliveroo and admire your reflection in the cabinetry…

Stories that shows the human will to survive

I recently finished and “The Names”, the much celebrated “Sliding Doors” novel by Florence Knapp, which explores existential questions around identity - how a shift in circumstance, big or small, can set you on a completely different path.

Knapp asks us to consider “what’s in a name?” as we head with Cora to the post office on three separate occasions in order to register her son. Following along with her family for the next several decades the ramification of each choice and the carried weight of legacy and projected dreams reveal themselves.

From the first chapter I was completely absorbed and despite heavier themes of difficult family dynamics and some domestic abuse, I never lost hope that there was a way for each character to reroute their course - that their fates weren’t entirely predestined. That by making decisions to veer off a treacherous path you can end up in greener pastures.

We may have passed peak summer (although there’s still technically a month left) but while fashion always looks ahead August calls for staying present and lingering in the moment. It’s the most pleasant of holding patterns, a sweet lull of repetition. Though not typically a creature of habit I’m always happy to return to tried and true simple pleasures, the symbols and motifs forever synonymous with the season.

This particular juncture is also best suited to my favourite “dishevelled glamour” look - which isn’t so easily pulled off the rest of the year (it’s giving more confused than cool). No one epitomised this more than Kate Moss a few weeks ago in Ibiza, her beaten up Birkin fashioned as a beach tote. An insanely casual disregard for an accessory with that price tag but I imagine it would please Jane (and is much preferred to the awful fluoro editions possessed by many a Real Housewive).

I’m currently engrossed in “Slow Days, Fast Company” by Eve Babitz, a collection of essays detailing her hedonistic early days as an artist and writer in Hollywood. I’m not sure dishevelled is quite apt as a descriptor but certainly glamourous is - although the delicious party scene gossip fodder is tertiary to her razor sharp wit and descriptive prose.

Retro outdoor fun

A dark cinema is one of my happy places but right now it feels imperative to maximise time spent outside. Whether at home or abroad I’m always researching open air movie screenings - pop ups seem to have become increasingly more common and inventive each summer.

In Athens a couple of years ago I discovered these to be far more permanent fixtures in Greece, with the first “therina cinema” dating back almost a century. They offer a superior viewing experience - most films have very civilized intermissions that include significant snack upgrades - souvlaki > popcorn. Some also have a setting to rival the film itself - at Cine Thisio you have the added backdrop of the Acropolis - pretty mega.

However DIY at home setups can be made just as much of an event and a rigged bed sheet works just about as well as anything for a screen. I’ve been on the hunt for a decent quality portable projector and landed on the Kodak Luma which is small and lightweight enough to transport to your vacation destination - or just your back garden. There you can indulge in any kind of intermission snacks you please.

Dog day recs: You can’t go wrong with any of Eric Rohmer’s summer films but The Green Ray, following a newly single woman who’s holiday plans fall short of her aspirations, is perfect for late season. The Swimmer, starring Burt Lancaster as a man who decides to spend the day swimming home via the pools in his neighbourhood, is tonally different but contains similar themes - in some aspects they are neat inversions of the other.

No shirt, no shoes, no problem

I only vaguely knew of Tod Papageorge by name when I read about the exhibition “At the Beach and In the Pool: Influence”, currentlyon at MoCA CT. A pioneer in the NYC street photography, his “Passing through Eden” shots of Central Park are particularly astonishing - a biblical garden in the hustle of the city (though there is some comic realism in some).

On display in Connecticut are large scale black and white photographs taken on his trips to LA in the 70s & 80s, alongside work from former graduate students - the “In the Pool” bit - he was a highly regarded teacher at Yale for over three decades.

I love the casual candidness of youth in the scenes he captured - they made me think of the work of French photographer Claude Nori (or maybe vica versa) who’s images of coastal France and Italy are immediately transportative. I found his book “An Italian Summer” at a second hand bookshop last year - they aren’t so easy to come by so if you happen upon one snap it up.

The sea, the sea!

Los Castillo Bottle Openers

When it comes to summer accessories the line between kitsch and classic is blurred - give me all the literal references and cheesy/unnecessary accoutrement. I’ve had my eye on this Mother of Pearl Svenskt Tenn bottle opener, an update of a 1960s articulated fish design by the silversmith Los Castillo in Taxco, Mexico. The silver plated versions - there are a number on 1st Dibs and ebay - are more expensive but are also great looking (and still a bargain compared to Gucci’s interpretation…).

Ouvres Sensibles Embroidered table linens

A self taught artist, Sarah Espeute’s tablecloths are imbued with nostalgia, as much in the dinner settings they depict as in the way they are crafted. With an emphasis on sustainability all fabrics used are vintage - the embroidery done by hand in Marseille and the rest using a traditional Cornelli method on a 19th century machine in Paris. I am partial to the “Repas de Bistrot” as well as “La Sardinade” but all her summer themed runners, placemats and napkins would be fab on any tablescape. Custom add ons - initials or a short message are available for a small fee - these would make a really special wedding or host/hostess gift.

Simuero jewels

I tend to gravitate towards sculptural and organic shapes when it comes to jewellery and Valencia based brand Simuero fits the bill - their “Uva” ring is on heavy rotation right now. Each silver or gold plated piece is handmade in incremental sizes with bespoke designs available - anything from a casual toe ring (very 90s) to something more significant (although diamond toe rings are allegedly becoming a thing?!).

Some of the milkier gemstones remind me of sea glass - as does this pretty Lizzie Fortunato candy necklace (though they’re priced much more steeply than compressed sugar).

Stripes & colour blocking

Polka dots and gingham may have taken center stage this year but stripes will always be my #1 summer print. While a classic cabana or breton are never out of style I love the less obvious combinations in the new Martens & Martens collection of towels. They’re based on the project “Colours on the Beach”, where in 2017 the dutch graphic designer Karel Martens was commissioned to paint the traditionally white cabanas in the French city of Le Havre in celebration of its 500th anniversary. The different widths and shades used in rotation created a unified code that emulate the city’s motto “united in diversity”.

Pipe dreaming about: a Euro country compound

A lofty aspiration…Pinterest planning is almost as good as the real thing? I started imagining mine in 2010 - around the same time Christian Louboutin started actually building his in the village of Melides on the Alentejo coast of Portugal. What started as a vacation home (complete with a party tower) for the shoe designer has expanded into a larger hospitality venture and while I may not covet his red soled shoes as I once did I certainly do his red hotel - Hotel Vermelho. He’s just attached two of his personally owned villas to the property that are now available to rent.

The interiors clearly show a love and respect for the country in his colour choices - red yes, but lots of soft blues and bright yellows - as well as the materials, with locally made tiles adorning the most unconventional surfaces. He’s managed to balance a sense of play with a sense of calm - it’s maximalist fun but done in a relaxed way - there’s enough white and light that it doesn’t overwhelm.

Bringing the sunshine in

If one day I’m lucky enough to have a beachside retreat of my own (perhaps a slightly smaller version), I already have the entry lighting fixture sorted - a mid-century Spanish “Sunburst” flush mount. This one just sold but there are numerous variations floating about - some better than others - and I like Studio Ashby’s modern take on it (there’s an almost identically copy on Etsy although it’s hard to discern the quality). To be honest it would also look great in a dark powder room, a year round reminder of golden sunshine.

Having returned with friends the past two summers I’ve gotten a clearer picture of its complexities and contradictions - a culture as layered and diverse as the street art and graffiti tattooed on its buildings. I’m one of many who have been flocking recently - enticed by its urban cool and rugged coastal beauty - an affordable, laid back alternative to more pristine neighbouring holiday spots.

It is cool and it is beautiful. The rougher aspects of a city plagued by social inequality and high crime rates are still omnipresent (which I’ve seen come as a surprise to those who arrived expecting the filtered version) but there’s a truthfulness to Marseille that is so much more appealing. I passed a mosaicked plaque one night that encapsulated the pervasive dichotomy of the place, “ici en manque de tout mais en manque de rien” - “here we lack everything but we lack nothing”.

Even the buzzier hotspots feel thoughtful and authentic. New and older generations coexist naturally because as Marseille has gone through several periods of renewal it has remained steeped in its history. There’s no whitewashing here - instead they just add another colour.

GETTING THERE:

The international airport isn’t far from the center but the train station Gare Saint Charles is also extremely well connected to both northern France and the southern coast line. Spain is within easy reach at a little over four hours to Barcelona and Italy is not too far off, in fact this summer they started an overnight sleeper route to and from Rome on weekends, the Espresso Riviera (lol).

If you’re travelling by car I strongly recommend dropping it off outside the city or at the station. The Marseillais are known as erratic drivers and navigating the inner areas is not for the faint of heart - speaking from first hand experience.

GETTING AROUND

There are sixteen arrondissements, the first eight being the most central - sprawling outwards from the Old Port. The city is very walkable and it’s a wonderful way to explore, wandering through each neighbourhood and along La Corniche - the 3km “balcony” that runs parallel to the waterfront. It is quite hilly however and restaurants and accommodation are widespread - Ubers seems to operate everywhere and there is a reliable tram system (the bus less so).

DOING THINGS

Swimming

While the glittering sea immediately beckons, beaches in Marseille are few and far between. Below the Corniche you’ll find rocks and jetties encrusted with human molluscs - sunbathing, picnicking, partying - even painting. People while away hours down there, dipping in and out of the water late into the evening. It’s a pretty fantastic setup if not so easy to get in and out - a good incentive for purchasing those water/jelly shoes you were on the fence about.

Some restaurants have direct access to the water - Le Bistrot Plages and Le Baie de Singes in the fishing village of Les Goudes will let you use their high-vis orange sun loungers as long as you purchase food - probably not the meal of your trip but it’s a pretty good trade off. At the now infamous Tuba (see below) you can also go for post-meal swim - although both times I went in it was very choppy - not the best digestive aid.

Les Calanques

This national park between Marseille and Cassis stretches for 20 km along the coastline - endless limestone cliffs plunging into turquoise water. You can access it from land but the trails are apparently extremely crowded in summer - we went by boat which allowed us to visit multiple coves within the park, stopping in each to swim. There are a number of companies that are licensed the area - we used Bleu Evasion for a four hour excursion which felt like a good amount of time.

La Cite Radieuse - Le Corbusier’s modernist residential complex - a pioneering example of high-density, communal living. Guided tours are available but they’re popular so it’s necessary to book in advance. We went without and were still able to walk around on our own - there are shops and an art gallery on the 3rd and 4th floors as well as access to the rooftop which has a great view of the city.

Notre-Dame de la Garde - this Catholic basilica known to locals as La Bonne Mere is the city’s most visited site, located atop the highest point in Marseille. With a glorious gilded ceiling, neo-byzantine stripes and maritime ex-votos it is definitely worth a visit - and definitely worth taking a vehicle to get there (I learned the hard way).

I haven’t yet gone it to Mucem - the Museum of European and Mediterranean Civilizations - but it looks fantastic.

EATING & DRINKING

With its large immigrant population hailing from all over Europe, Northern Africa and the Middle East, food here is greatly varied - there’s no risk of tiring of the local cuisine*. It’s also very, very good - see Anthony Bourdain’s Parts Unknown episode. I had started to add “amazing service - super friendly staff!”- to many of these but actually I found that applied pretty much everywhere. Be advised that most places keep specific hours - with some only open for lunch or dinner.

AM:

You can get a coffee or a pastis at most any cafe but if you’re looking for something a bit more sophisticated (or iced) try La Brulerie Moka in the 5th arrondissement, Deep in the 1st and Boujou on the Corniche.

For coffee with a little something else:

Petrin Couchette - a newly opened hybrid bakery that does delicious cakes and breads which you can watch being prepared in the kitchen while you order.

Carlotta With - an all-day deli with a large selection of freshly baked pastries as well as options for a sit down breakfast. Their Pompe a l’huile - a provencal brioche made with olive oil - is supposedly one of the best in the city.

Chez Moe - located to the west of the Old Port in Le Panier, here you can order a coffee in the morning and come right back for a glass of wine in the evening.

Oh Faon - a vegan pastry shop that easily competes with (if not surpasses) its more traditional competitors - heaven if you’re dairy free or if you’ve simply been going too hard on the croissants.

PM:

Cours Julien - an elongated square in the 6th arrondissement lined with bars and cafes. It’s always full of people hanging outside in the evening - a great place to grab a beer or glass of wine.

Limmat - tables at this hole in the wall restaurant spill out onto the graffitied staircase under the Cours Julien. Their young, female chef designs the seasonal menu of unique vegetarian and fish dishes - everything we ordered was good. It is always packed so book in advance and get a table on terrasse for some prime people watching.

Le Plongeon - a modern french bistro with a set menu that changes daily, the chef uses a short circuit market to source his ingredients. There’s good seating in the light filled dining room and on the terrace - we were able to walk in - but in high summer it can’t hurt to book.

Le Vin sur le Main - natural wines from Provence that are recommended rather than listed, complemented by small plates using fresh local produce. I don’t even really remember what we ordered but this tiny spot on a dead-end street had the best vibe - what was meant to be a quick meal ended up lasting for several hours.

La Mercerie - the place that kick-started a new wave of dining. Their “global” menu is prix-fixe but extremely well priced for both lunch and dinner.

Tuba - This chic boutique hotel and restaurant went viral when it opened in 2020 with images of its yellow and white striped loungers and dining tables that practically fall into the sea. To its credit the location and the food - incredibly good sashimi and grilled fish - are definitely worth the hype (and the 30 minute car ride). Having been for both lunch and dinner I would opt for the latter reservation - it has the advantage of both a spectacular sunset and a better chance of avoiding an influencer photoshoot.

Chez Yassine - Tunisian cuisine with generous portions at an extremely good price point - classic dishes such as stews with chickpeas and merguez sausage as well as lighter fare - big, fresh salads with grilled vegetables, tuna and egg. The homemade citronnade is bitter but refreshing - perfect for offsetting some of the spice.

L’Eau a la Bouche - Pizza is a big part of the food scene due to a large number of Neapolitans settlers in the early 1900s. The signature order is a half-cheese half-marinara with anchovies - and it’s delicious. There is typically a long wait here so the best tack is to put in an order early, go for a swim or grab a glass of wine next door at Cecile Food Club while you work up an appetite.

Cafe de L’Abbaye - near the roman abbey Saint-Victor overlooking the port, this casual spot is populated by locals all day long. We just went for a sundowner but the homestyle food is meant to be great as well.

Julis - a cocktail bar with good tapas set in a garden overlooking the old port. Sepia, it’s sister restaurant just down the road is supposed to be excellent and is on my list for the next trip.

*Marseille is the birthplace of bouillabaisse but not all fish soups are created equal. The classic establishment Chez Michel and the Grand Bar des Goudes are known for having two of the superior versions.

ICECREAM (it always needs its own category)

Le Glacier de la Corniche - Over 140 flavours - peach on the grapevine, black sesame, lavender…even their mint choc chip is next level.

Glacier Vanille Noire - the name stems from their signature salted vanilla which is black in colour (from charcoal, not squid ink).

SHOPPING

Of course one of the reasons the food is so good is because of exceptional ingredients - the Marche des Capucins in the Noailles district is the biggest farmer’s market and is open every day except for Sunday.

Provisions - a beautiful bookshop with an epicerie in the back selling high-end groceries, flowers and natural wine.

Maison Empereur - the oldest supply shop in France (dating back to 1827) is not your standard DIY but is instead a completely lovely place that along with more practical home improvement tools is crammed full of kitchenware, table linens, provencale soaps and antique toys. I’d allocate the better part of an hour here - at least.

Le Pere Blaize - this two hundred year old herbal pharmacy is now very on trend - stocking an extensive selection of natural remedies, balms, oils, teas and tonics for any ailment you might have - or think you might have.

Jogging - a nice sized concept store housed in a former butcher’s shop with a cool edit of clothing, accessories, homeware and beauty products.

WHERE TO STAY

There aren’t a lot of great hotels in Marseille (unless you’re shelling out for Le Petit Nice Passedat) although no doubt that will be changing soon.

During this most recent trip we stayed at La Pension Edelweiss - a wonderfully decorated B&B with an eclectic mix of 20th century furniture - amassed by the owners over several decades. Rooms are spacious and with breakfast in the communal dining room included it’s a serious bargain at around 100 euros per night. Being near the train station has its obvious drawbacks and advantages but I would definitely stay there again.

Les Bords de Mer - the major selling point here are the sea facing rooms, many of which have balconies or terraces. We stopped in at the rooftop bar - which was nothing to write home about - but with those views and the sea mere steps away I would not say no to staying there.

La Releve - I’d looked into booking one of these rooms as the design and location are both really fun but it was full months in advance. Among the mostly positive online reviews the only complaint seems to be occasional noise from the bar next door so I’d bear that in mind if you’re looking for a more serene sejour.

Rentals

In general I think a rental home is the way to go, especially for more than two nights. There are a lot of good options out there although I noticed a massive jump in price this summer compared to last - for a bargain look to the shoulder seasons (which are probably the nicest times to go).

Endoume, an area in the 7th arrondissement is where we stayed last year and where I’d probably opt to stay again - removed from the hustle but with the center still easily accessible.

Villa Medje - yes to the outdoor kitchen and shower

Villa by the Sea - we stayed here last year and loved it - note the top bedroom with the sloped roof is small.

Sunny Terraced House

Les Cabanons des Goudes - these spacious, nicely appointed cabins look like a better alternative to Tuba’s chic but small rooms.

House & Garden with sea view of the Corniche

Architect’s House 5 minutes from the Sea

Maison Empereur back room - in the same building as the shop this is a step back in time, looks perfect for an autumn or winter getaway.

European cities are noisy in June/July - the sound of music, animated chatter and clinking glasses, balls being hit, kicked, throw around. Everything is live - an abundance of festivals, sports matches, carnivals, creepy crawlies getting into pints and picnics. People - and bugs - are out and making the most of it.

The buzz is infectious, fields filled with kids’ sports days and concerts - the soft din of chants and sing-a-longs emanating from parks and stadiums throughout London. Witnessing the camaraderie at the Wimbledon men’s final was almost as enjoyable as the match itself - regardless of who anyone was rooting for no one left the pub downcast (I’m all for some dramatic flair but a tennis smashing tantrum is not what anyone is feeling right now).

When the Lionesses made it to penalties last night in a mad volte-face of a game against Sweden, I went across the street to my local where there were as many men as women watching the screen in anticipation - the win resulting in a celebratory roar disproportionate to how well they played. *It feels very English to celebrate more when winning by a tiny margin than when doing so by a lot…

The growing support for women’s football - for women’s sport in general which is dominating this summer with the Euros and Rugby World Cup - has been so heartening to see. Where once it received little coverage the media blitz has been amazing - even Vogue now has a dedicated Sports Desk. It’s inspired a whole new network of players - I loved this article in the FT last weekend. But it’s also inspired a whole new audience, one that is way more inclusive across age and gender. Though I will whine forever about the never-ending roster of events at Emirates stadium clogging the tube station, seeing little boys and girls with their parents and grandparents on the way to an Arsenal Women’s match does kind of make up for it.

A band, a sports team, a tv show - ok Love Island may be brain rot but it’s a chance to find common ground - any time we can come together and cheer people on right now we should embrace it.

The dark side to these sunnier days has been making itself more apparent than ever as of late. I have found reassurance in Rebecca Solnit’s No Straight Road Takes You There, a collection of essays in which she presents a not completely dire outlook on the range of crises we are facing, with several entries devoted to climate change. Her more encouraging perspective comes from the knowledge that progress isn’t always predictable or linear and that indirect actions - big or small - can have real consequences.

Solnit’s writing is somehow both poetic and logical - hope when grounded in evidence doesn’t seem too lofty or idealistic. She sees it less as a passive state than one that is actionable:

“We must have landmarks and dreams ahead of us to orient ourselves, to remember that it has been different and could be different. We must have a vision of what our toil is for and how we will know when we get there”.

The essay “Changing the Climate Story” cautions against resignation, underlining the importance of narrative in finding “stories of a livable future”.

Against growing societal isolationism, she emphasizes the importance in seeing everything as connected, both as a scientific fact but also as a psychological and emotional reality. Nowhere is this more evident than after a natural disaster - we need to extend that sense of urgency, solidarity and empathy to aid in prevention rather than just recovery.

Poetics of Relations - Black Artists getting recognition

Ahead of a major overhaul starting this September, the Pompidou staged its last major show - Paris Noir - an attempt to fill a large gap in the country’s record of art history. Though Paris is well known as having been a haven for Black artists in the early 20th century, the city hasn’t been as forthcoming in championing their work and cultural contribution. This final exhibition aimed to serve as a wakeup call to other institutions and to signal a commitment to a fuller history of global art upon its reopening in 2030 - the museum acquired more than fifty of the paintings on display.

It was overwhelming in the best way - a labyrinth of African, African American and African Caribbean art organized around a central space that acted as a metaphor for the Black Atlantic - what the late poet Edouard Glissant termed the “Tout-Monde”/ “All-World”.

His philosophy of interconnectivity stemmed from his upbringing in Martinique - island living meant encountering and being influenced by the culture of neighbouring islands and continents while still maintaining a singular identity. Glissant believed that small shifts on one side of the world could have a significant effect on the other. He was clear to separate globalization from homogeneity, instead asserting that an individual alternity can exist:

“I can change through exchanging with others, without losing or diluting my sense of self.”

Oceans - David Attenborough

That this documentary is still in cinemas over two months past its initial release shows that people are engaged with environmental concerns - rarely does a documentary hang around this long. Attenborough’s plea to protect our oceans from overfishing - specifically the devastating impact of bottom trawling - seems to have had a significant effect, raising awareness ahead of the UN Ocean Conference last month. The High Seas Treaty, which will establish 30% of the ocean as protected area (currently only 3% is covered) has been ratified by 50 countries, with the UK committing to passing legislation later this year (60 in total is needed for it to come into force).

Unsurprisingly the footage is spectacular - time lapses of marine life in all its weird and wild shapes and colours are like something out of an acid trip - proving nature superior to any CGI. In making the documentary it was uncovered just how much the world below sea level affects that above it, how dependent the climate/humans are on its health. Though the amount of damage shown is stark, it’s juxtaposed with the miraculous discovery that the ocean floor is able to regenerate quicker than ever thought possible. All we have to do is leave it alone…

Available to stream on Disney+ and Hulu.

A redesign for the £ note

Could Attenborough’s national treasure status be cemented beyond his film catalogue? The Bank of England is redesigning pound notes for the first time since 1970 and is calling on the public for suggestions - D.A.’s name has been circulating. While I fully support this I’d also like to throw in the Beckhams, a fox - they are going to be 1:1 with humans at this rate, Helen Mirren as the Queen - just to mess with everyone? Really how much longer are we going to be using cash anyway…

You can submit your ideas here up until the 31st of July.

Art in Nature at Chateau la Coste

At the end of June during a 48 hour stop over in Provence I was lucky enough to visit Chateau La Coste, the biodynamic winery and sculpture park that sits on a 600 acre estate near Aix. Despite scorching temps restricting movement (the walk around the grounds is meant to take approx. 2 hours, I did it in about 4…) it was absolutely worth the trip - the art and landscape so inspiring that I could still feel my serotonin levels rise even as I was sweating through my eyeballs.

Highlights for me included Andy Goldsworthy’s “Oakroom”, Frank Gehry’s Music Pavilion and Tadao Ando’s chapel, as well as the interactive installations by Sophie Calle and Yoko Ono - where visitors are invited to write down their secrets and wishes, to then be buried in the ground and hung on trees. Nothing like 37°C to bring out your most vulnerable side.

There was more levity in Calle’s visiting exhibition “Chasse Gardee” at the Richard Rogers gallery. Inspired by personal ads from an old hunting magazine, she began to investigate the evolution of desire through the past 125 years. Placing old marriage proposals and more recent dating profiles alongside images of wild animals she makes the direct comparison of hunting to dating - showing just how much we have in common with the natural world. In a preview of the exhibit for Wallpaper Magazine she condensed some of the main qualities sought by men and women over the decades:

Less a positive spin on collectivism…more like collective trauma? But too funny for me not to include.

My favourite installation was Prune Nourry’s Mater Earth, an immersive twenty-seven metre long sculpture of a reclining pregnant woman shown emerging from the ground. Different body parts expose themselves depending on your position within the park - her entirety revealed only as you near the end of the walk. Stepping inside the sculpture, a feeling of discombobulation soon gave way to tranquility - the overhead fractured glass casting a light that mirrored human veins - or tree roots.

Though only installed in 2022 she appears as if she has always been there. In respect to the site Calle and her team used entirely sustainable materials, including a protective layer of ash - a method of preservation employed by the Romans. By connecting her to the original mother - Earth - Pourry makes the allusion to the creation cycle that women have been propelling for hundreds of thousands of years - I found it quite moving.

A delicious rose tasting really capped off the incredible if slightly arduous trek. I can’t wait to return - next time in Autumn.

Gisele Pelicot’s Legacy

Rebecca Solnit’s point in regard to reworking storytelling feels salient on any number of issues - not to damp down the severity of our very real, frightening problems but in order to conceive of a path forward - that for any setback there are still consistent wins happening. It was announced this week that Gisele Pelicot is to receive the Legion d’Honneur, an award of the highest national honor in France. Less than a year ago she was to the public a pitied, largely faceless victim, and while the crimes she suffered are no less abhorrent today then they were then, she has become a hero who will have changed the culture of the country forever.

Anyone else been feeling a tad warm recently? The heatwave may be in a downturn for some of us but this summer is projected to be a scorcher - and there are two more months of it. Given an abnormally long run of glorious sunshine we really can’t complain…except that we can and we do. It’s funny how a few degrees can so quickly shift the vibe from exuberant to murdery - rational, happy dispositions melted down to reveal crazed, feral beasts in sundresses.

Below are some sweaty cult classics that will make you feel seen - the pressure cooker of the summer sun reducing everyone to their most primal behaviour.

Do the Right Thing - Spike Lee, 1989

On the hottest day of the year tensions are running high at Sal’s Pizzeria, an Italian American owned joint in the predominantly black neighbourhood of Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. When one of the regulars questions why the “Wall of Fame” doesn’t include any people of colour - the largest contingent of customers - it sparks a flame of contention, hostility continuing to escalate as the temperature rises.

With both gravitas and humor Lee explores racial tension, community and police brutality - issues as starkly relevant today as they were thirty-five years ago. “Do The Right Thing” became a seminal film for its tackling of complex social problems but also because of Lee’s radical stylistic choices - his tilted camera angles and use of vibrant set and costume design went on to have a huge impact on cinema and pop culture at large. Among the stacked cast were then newcomers Samuel L. Jackson, John Turturro and Rosie Perez - her dancing to “Fight the Power” remains one of the best opening credits sequence of all time. And that’s the truth, Ruth.

La Piscine - Jacques Deray, 1969

Marianne and Jean-Paul’s idyllic holiday is abruptly interrupted when her former lover decides to drop in at their villa - his teenage daughter in tow. Languid, lazy days spent poolside are soon unsettled by a pernicious undercurrent of jealousy and suspicion - everything seeming to pulsate with the heat of the sun and pent-up desire. Though the film suffers from a thin plot it is compensated for by the actors’ irrefutable magnetism - the impossibly good-looking Alain Delon and Romy Schneider, with Jane Birkin starring in her first major role. The shimmering backdrop of the Cote d’Azur is almost upstaged by utterly perfect costumes from Courreges - not enough is made of Birkin’s black funereal mini dress - this is your summer moodboard come to life.

A Bigger Splash - Luca Guadagnino, 2015

Making a strong case for remakes is Luca Guadagnino’s 2015 adaptation, “A Bigger Splash” - the characters more fully realised, the harsher, stranger landscape of Pantelleria aptly reflecting the baseness of human nature. That’s not to say it isn’t just as visually appealing - Guadagnino’s signature sensual aesthetic is ever present in the cinematography and styling - again with extremely good clothes, designed here by Raf Simons. It is in my opinion some of Ralph Fiennes and Tilda Swinton’s best work - despite the fact that she is essentially mute throughout.

FYI the droolworthy dammuso used in the film is available to rent - a great setup for a murder mystery party…

La Cienaga - Lucrecia Martel, 2001

Late ‘90s Salta, Argentina - two families decamp for the summer to their decaying country home situated on a pepper plantation away from the city center. Despite the change in location they haven’t managed to escape the oppressive heat - a thick, drunken, haze perpetually hanging over their puzzle of limp bodies as they lie draped across the furniture. A feeling of claustrophobic inertia is amplified by a non-linear narrative - this is about creating atmosphere rather than following conventional plot points.

In portraying the decline of Latin America’s bourgeoisie class Martel drew upon her own memories from growing up in the area, with sound and colour playing vital roles. Here they are characters in their own right - a chorus of chirping crickets accented by gunshots and chairs scraping across the ground, the same lurid red in abundant glasses of wine, red peppers and open wounds. It’s a sensorial experience that will make you feel grateful for your own messed up family dynamics.

Rear Window - Alfred Hitchcock, 1954

One of my top three Hitchcocks is the eminently watchable “Rear Window”, whose story is set in a sweltering New York City. When an accident grounds nomadic news photographer Jeffries - confining him to a wheelchair in his apartment - he channels his focus into obsessively surveying the goings on in the building across the street. (*if you’ve been feeling sorry for yourself the image of Jimmy Stewart trying to scratch an itch with a full leg cast will set you straight.) As the viewer we are trapped with him, moving back and forth between the framed vignettes of other people’s lives - their relationship ups and downs and secret single behaviour. Playing into our voyeuristic tendencies Hitchcock puts us on uncomfortable moral ground, juxtaposing the right to privacy with our innate desire to snoop. That hasn’t stopped watching it several times over…

24 hour pajama party - the best way to keep cool

While attempting to beat the heat may be futile, there are ways in which to at least get along with it - they keyword being “loose”. Taking a queue from Jimmy S, this is the perfect time to lean into the pajama trend. These are some I’ve been eyeing up:

Fan Fare

I long debated where folding fans fell on the line between elegant and pretentious - a number of fashion houses started reintroducing the accessory a few years ago but that didn’t exactly denote a clearcut place in either camp. Eventually deciding they belonged in the former I’ve recently been noticing a number of men and women in alignment - I counted six being waved about on the top deck of a boiling hot bus yesterday. They’re just much more attractive and streamlined than the battery operated alternatives or the makeshift classic - a folded wedding programme/menu card.

A couple of years ago I was gifted an extremely chic one from Duvelleroy - a Parisian fan house dating back to 1827 which has been recently reinvigorated by introducing more contemporary designs. I’d be very into resurrecting their old code of communication, “The Language of the Fan”, instead of relying on my less than subtle facial expressions.

Etsy is chock full of infinitely customizable options - both of the Japanese “sensu” style as well as some beautiful African versions in Ankara, Kentu and Kitenge fabrics.

Avene Thermal Spring Water

Ok yes it’s water in a spray bottle - but it’s special water…? I saw a number of people misting themselves and their kids with this particular brand in France last week - it’s got a specific PH level that means it’s good for sensitive skin and doesn’t totally dry you out. While it may be hard to buy into it as a concept it definitely provides some relief and my 50ml bottle has lasted me ages.

Ole Henriksen Cold Plunge Pore Mask

After spending the day with a face coated in sunblock and sweat this refreshing face mask leaves you squeaky clean - I don’t really know what the cooling element is but it feels amazing on. It used to come in this insane turquoise colour - I see they’ve rejigged the formula so it’s now a less radioactive shade - not as fun but also probably less mess.

Non-cooking hacks for when you don’t want to turn on the oven

Benriner Mandolin

I originally purchased this mandolin with stodgy potato dishes in mind but have found that I’ve used it more for raw veg than anything else. The adjustable setting means you can slice to your desired thickness - creating ribbons out of the hardest root vegetables. A simple salad suddenly looks like an elevated dish when you’ve barely done anything.

-Also worth getting a cut resistant glove if you’re nervous about accidently ribboning your finger…

I love a good gazpacho but like many my digestive tract does not love raw onions. Chef Jose Andres raves about his wife’s recipe which he shares in the Immigrant Cookbook: Recipes that make America Great (I also found it online here). It’s super simple and thankfully onionless - I made a batch last year during a particularly hot week and was very happy to eat that for several days on the trot.

I’ll leave you with this Wolfgang Tillmans to come back to - I saw at the Centre Pompidou last week when it was 36 degrees C and even just looking at it returned my frazzled temperament to a place of zen.