. . . a warm october night and we’re cosy by the fire in the country, for we shall take...
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. . . and it was a perfectly lazy sunday: a quaint café with p, after an early afternoon of...
. . . and in the midst of all the busy-ness this week, a few moments to leaf through wallpaper...
. . . rich italian coffee and wool tartan dresses, soft caramel-coloured suede and chilly hardwood floors — these are...
. . . and after all the shades of mustard, wheat, and honey from recent photographs of our weekends away,...
. . . the soft colours of the recent runway shows — feathery pink, whispy violet, muted coral and ecru...
In 1990, a young Japanese photographer named Kyoichi Tsuzuki began capturing a rarely seen view of domestic life in one of the world’s most densely populated cities. Over three years, he visited hundreds of Tokyo apartments, photographing the living spaces of friends, acquaintances and strangers.
P'S THIRD PLAYLIST was published this weekend, and I managed a quick late-night Sunday Letter, despite being caught up in a new project at the moment. Last week, I saw The Substance, a recently released film starring Demi Moore that left me unsettled and introspective.
As autumn descends, the air grows crisp and the world transforms into a canvas of amber and gold. This fleeting season, with its gentle decay and whispered promises of renewal, invites introspection.
LAST WEEK, we revelled in what might have been the final beautiful days of summer. We basked outdoors, perhaps for the last time this year, as autumn has officially arrived and the weather seems to have followed suit.
At one point in Matthew Perry’s memoir, Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing, there’s a story about his 2021 stay at a swanky five-star rehab facility in Switzerland, where he was housed in a villa with a breathtaking view of Lake Geneva and assigned a personal butler and gourmet chef.
THIS IS the time for fiery mid-September sunsets, which you might have caught a glimpse of in our Instagram Stories, along with a few snippets of the past days and weeks of autumn in London.
Oh my, there’s quite a barrel-full of assumptions in this question, Wassan — not least the fact that there are a great many famous philosophers either still alive or in living memory. But I shall take the question in the spirit it was intended, which is to wonder about the decline in philosophy as a discipline more broadly.
In July 1990, President George H. W. Bush issued a presidential proclamation to mark the dawn of a new and exciting era of neuroscience. The ’90s, Bush said, would be the “decade of the brain”—a 10-year scientific blitz that promised to render the human brain, “one of the most magnificent—and mysterious—wonders of creation,” a bit less mysterious.
Imagine a place where you can taste some of the finest wines in the world, enjoy delicious gourmet meals, hike on sea-sprayed oceanfront trails, explore deep ancient caves, surf world class waves, and meet some of the friendliest people anywhere on earth.
