Issues

The most anticipated hotel openings to keep on your radar

Palazzo Ventidue
Puglia

Berlin residents Manuel Strebinger and Stefan Davids fell for Nardò after chancing upon the town during a trip to the southern Italian region of Puglia. Despite being just a 10-minute drive from pristine turquoise waters, the town feels less undermined by the waves of tourism than many places closer to the coast. “For me, it was one of the most authentic towns in Puglia,” says Strebinger. “It’s still very chilled and there’s a nice international crowd.”

The couple invested in a 300 sq m property called Palazzo Ventidue, restoring it and filling it with art and vintage furniture. Sleeping up to eight in three bedrooms, the rental property opened to the public last year (on dates the couple aren’t in town, that is). Working with architect Luigi Albano, Strebinger and Davids had the original paintwork on the vaulted ceilings exposed and installed a stunning marble table made by local artisans. There is a rotating collection of paintings by the likes of Angola’s Ál Varo Tavares D’Guilherme and Lisa Vogel from Germany too, plus a terrace from which to take it all in. “All in all, it’s quite minimal,” says Strebinger. “But also respecting the place and the surroundings.”
palazzoventidue.com

Teranka
Formentera

This laidback bolthole – perched amid a rugged pine forest on the smallest and wildest of the Balearic islands – is accessible only by boat. There are 35 guest rooms and suites spread across three stone-hewn buildings, Mar (sea), Tierra (earth) and Cielo (sky), each with art-filled interiors and an abundance of natural light. In between wild swimming and hiking through fig and pine trees, guests can sign up for activities including meditation, yoga and pilates classes. As the sun sets, the hotel’s rooftop becomes the preferred spot for sundowners, tapas and seasonal crudo, before guests wander down to the terrace for the best in fresh island fare, which often means grilled pulpo, fat prawns and sizzling Iberian pork.
teranka.com

Lilou Hotel
Hyères

This hotel in Hyères is an homage to the glory days of the French seaside hideaway. Formerly the Hôtel du Parc, this Haussmann-style gem from the 1890s opened its doors in April 2024, following a three-year transformation by hoteliers Lisa and David Pirone (pictured). Despite its grand setting, there is a warmth and conviviality here. “Lilou is just like its name: easygoing and global,” David tells Monocle. “We wanted to create a place where people love to gather.” The lounge has seagrass wallpaper and white trellises, comfy rattan sofas upholstered in textured fabrics and a long palatial bar made in burr poplar veneer. There’s no reception per se; guests are instead greeted by a charming front-of-house team and encouraged to make themselves at home. The restaurant and kitchen lead out to a terrace adorned with Palladian columns and trailing vines. The 37 guest rooms feature works by 14 emerging and established artists from the region.
lilouhotel.fr

The Fifth Avenue Hotel
New York

On a busy corner in Manhattan’s NoMad, The Fifth Avenue  Hotel straddles a 19th-century mansion and a contemporary 24-storey glass tower. Designed by Martin Brudnizki, the Swedish architect also responsible for the riotously colourful Broadwick in London, this property is anything but dull. Its 153 guest rooms feature emerald-green walls, bubblegum-pink couches and mustard-yellow curtains. At restaurant Café Carmellini, diners are taken to old-world New York via velvet booths and mirrored walls. Dishes such as rabbit primavera and duck tortellini have been dreamed up by US chef Andrew Carmellini. In the Portrait Bar, guests can sip punchy cocktails containing unlikely combinations, from sesame-oil washed whisky to cherry bark vanilla bitters. Everything here is amped up and all the better for it.
thefifthavenuehotel.com

Hotel Bella Grande
Copenhagen

The new Bella Grande sits in a building close to Copenhagen City Hall and has been a hotel since 1899. Alongside its 108 guest rooms and suites, it features an Italian-style interior courtyard and a buzzing Italian restaurant, Donna. “For inspiration, we went to Italy and found a Venetian palazzo with an atrium, with natural lighting, gorgeous arrangements of flowers and peach-coloured walls,” says Malene Bech-Pedersen, who revamped the interiors along with Mette Bonavent of design agency Tonen. For those who want to spread out, there are family rooms and junior suites, plus two larger suites with private roof terraces.
hotelbellagrande.com

The Japanese capital’s five-star legend is closing its doors for a timely refresh

Ever since it opened, audaciously, on the top 14 floors of Kenzo Tange’s newly completed Shinjuku Park Tower in 1994, Park Hyatt Tokyo has enjoyed a mystique like no other hotel in the Japanese capital. Few establishments emit their pheromones so effectively. From day one, people in Tokyo and the fortunate travellers who came through its doors, knew that this place was special. The location was always unusual but its sense of detachment only added to the allure and gave guests the Tokyo they dreamed of. There is no better view of the city or of the tangle of streets below. From this sky-high eyrie, the uneven jumble is transformed into a mesmerising tapestry that stretches out as far as the eye can see.

Now, after 30 memorable years, the 177-room hotel has closed its doors for a lengthy period of refurbishment. The last of the guests have gone, the packers have boxed up the artworks and 350 of the best-trained staff in the business have been dispatched to other properties and temporary offices. A chapter in Tokyo’s story has, for now, come to a close.

French architecture and interiors studio Jouin Manku has been commissioned to lead the design refresh. Its plans are still under wraps but the hotel is at pains to reassure customers that the much-loved restaurants and public areas will be “restored rather than transformed”. Even now, slow-growing bamboo is being nurtured in a nursery in Okinawa, ready to reinvigorate the bamboo grove that flourishes, unexpectedly, on the 41st floor.

The big change will come in the rooms. While many guests still appreciate the analogue charm of a proper light switch and a Braun alarm clock, others are seeking more mod cons and an updated experience. Being able to cast from a mobile device to a television wasn’t an issue in 1994. Priorities have shifted.

It is a fine balance that the hotel’s general manager, Fredrik Harfors, is well aware of. “Certain things change over time, such as guest behaviour and expectations,” he says. “How we do things at the hotel needs to evolve too, so we see this as an opportunity for a reset, a pause while we do some housekeeping.” Deluged by questions from loyal customers about what the redesign will entail, Harfors has had to steer the process with the aplomb of a seasoned diplomat.

Those who have never set foot in the hotel or been to Tokyo will know the Park Hyatt as the setting for Sofia Coppola’s irresistible 2003 film Lost in Translation. Drenched in the atmosphere of the city at that exact moment, the film still inspires people to come here. Guests will point to their own favourite hotel details: the whistling gush as the lifts speed skywards or those views that reveal Tokyo’s immensity (and, on a clear day, Mount Fuji). For many it will be the warmly elegant service, honed over three decades, the sheer glamour of dinner and timbrous jazz at the New York Grill, or the hush that settles on the bedroom corridors. “This hotel could be completely full and you’ll only realise when you see people at breakfast,” says Harfors. Enveloped in this vertiginous cocoon, the worries of daily life seem far away.

Design has always been core to the hotel’s appeal: a coming together of one of Japan’s greatest postwar architects with the Hong Kong-based interior designer John Morford – at the height of his powers – and a visionary building owner, energy utility company Tokyo Gas. Such a company might not suggest the last word in hospitality but Morford once said, “Their soul is in the hotel.” The owners had the good sense to stand back and let the creative talents get on with their work.

Tange’s stark building, a 235-metre-tall hulk of granite and glass, was the ideal scene-setter, an example of the architect’s ability to express Tokyo’s gargantuan prowess in structural form. (He also designed Tokyo’s epic City Hall next door to the Park Hyatt.) Putting a hotel on top of an office block is common practice today but at that time it was a bold move, unseen in Tokyo.

The tower’s staggered three-peak design, unmissable on the skyline, created an intriguingly convoluted layout that allows for dazzling views and dark corners too. Each of the pyramidal summits has its own feature: the Peak Lounge on the 41st floor, the much-photographed swimming pool on the 47th and – some might say – the crowning glory, the New York Bar & Grill on the 52nd. Tange gave the front face of the tower a slimline appearance, which was intended to minimise the loss of sunlight on the children’s park across the street.

John Morford’s touch is everywhere and not just in the sage-coloured fabric on the walls or the atmospheric lighting (he always insisted on doing his own). He took care of every detail, down to choosing the library’s 2,000 books and setting out where each would be placed on shelves and in rooms. Today, that interior work would likely be divided up but Morford was given complete control. He once compared the idea of carving up the design of a hotel to commissioning a piece of music and then asking five composers to each write a part.

The Park Hyatt has always had a strong local clientele, providing the backdrop to countless business lunches, afternoon teas, weddings, birthdays, parties and proposals (hundreds of those and only one refusal apparently). For well-heeled members of the spa and gym (politicians and popstars among them), a swim in the scenic pool is a fixture of daily life. They are now on the hunt for a refuge until the hotel reopens in the second half of 2025.

Peep behind the curtains here and the dedication and kindness of the staff is revealed: chefs who head out to the coast at an unearthly hour to see how fishermen handle their catch, concierges who manage the most challenging requests with charm, doormen who turn out to be senior members of staff happy to pitch in where needed and give some training to younger colleagues, an events adviser who can recall with perfect clarity the décor of a party back in 1994. Many of the staff – the Park Hyatt’s greatest asset – have been at the hotel since the opening and the sense of family is strong. Consistency across the board has been key to the hotel’s enduring success. Everything else in the city might succumb to change but diners know that the New York Grill will still have Caesar salad, mashed potato and wagyu steak on the menu.

Early 1990s interiors and architecture are as unheralded as mid-century design once was, suffering from being dated enough to look tired but too recent to seem worth preserving. There has inevitably been some anxiety about fracturing Park Hyatt Tokyo’s singular, highly specific picture. On announcing the commission, Patrick Jouin and Sanjit Manku said that their intention is “to create an elegant and unique design experience for guests while respecting John Morford’s original vision”.

The opening of the Park Hyatt announced the arrival of international luxury hotels in Tokyo and for a long time it had no rivals. Tokyo’s tourism situation could hardly be more different today. In 1994 there were fewer than 3.5 million visitors to Japan; there will be more than 30 million this year and the Japanese government would like to see 60 million a year by the end of the decade.

Hundreds turned out for the hotel’s “appreciation night” in April, just before the closure. It was a classic Park Hyatt evening of delicious food, good cheer and top-drawer singers giving it their all in the bar. Guests greeted staff as old friends and new connections were forged. Baseball legends mingled with artists who had made their own contributions to the hotel. The weather was obligingly clear and, after a radiant sunset, even the moon shone pink. Regulars who have been in the restaurant 100 times were still trying to capture the view.

Morford once said that a good hotel experience “begins down the street”, which is certainly true here. Driving towards the Park Hyatt and pulling up to the understated, almost austere, entrance is never less than a thrill. Its temporary absence will be felt by many. Fashions change and numerous new luxury hotels have opened in Tokyo – each with their own charms – but the Park Hyatt never rushed to respond. It has always been uniquely itself – and all the better for it.

The colourful story behind the Danish paint giant’s state-of-the-art coatings

Farrow & Ball is known for its outré colour names that include “Elephant’s Breath”, “Arsenic” and “Dead Salmon” but the company that owns the UK paint-maker has more than the luxury interiors market covered. Hempel A/S, a 109-year-old Danish company that owns various brands such as Crown, also manufactures cutting-edge coatings including those that adorn London’s Tower Bridge, the Louvre Abu Dhabi and Amsterdam’s Schiphol Airport. Elsewhere, its innovations can be glimpsed on the exteriors of oil rigs and gas platforms, as well as wind-turbine blades and ship’s hulls. All are rigorously formulated to reduce drag and pollution, and dazzle for far more than their hue.

Watching paint dry has never been this fascinating or this lucrative: in 2023, Hempel’s revenue grew by a record 13.7 per cent to €2.4bn. “Our marine business has seen huge growth in the past three years,” says Michael Hansen, Hempel group president and CEO, when Monocle meets him just north of Copenhagen at the company’s headquarters in Lundtofte. “Shipping is experiencing a paradigm shift. The focus now is on the environment and decarbonisation. Our marine coatings are here to help these organisations achieve their goals and if we can solve the biggest challenges facing the wind-energy industry, there is potential for real growth there too.”

The technicians in the research and development technology centre downstairs are busy tackling these issues. As we don anti-static overshoes, goggles and white coats, formulations specialist Camilla Holmberg informs photographer Mathias Eis that, due to the solvents used, this is an ATEX (“explosive atmosphere”) zone. For safety reasons, he’ll need to shoot at a minimum height of 80cms.

First we visit the Colour Room, which is painted the most neutral of greys, where colours can be assessed under all sorts of lighting conditions. Next, Holmberg hands me a tongue of polyurethane paint that is used to coat the blades of wind turbines. Rain is an existential threat to offshore wind farms. In testing, Hempel subjects the blades to its helicopter-engined weather simulator and they come out looking like they’ve been gnawed by a colony of vicious rabbits. The paint’s rubbery texture counteracts this by enhancing wind resistance and providing protection against adverse conditions. Another of its miracle paints can help to maintain the integrity of burning buildings by puffing up to 50 times its original volume. It can withstand temperatures of 500c and is typically used for oil refineries but also coats the steel frame of Schiphol Airport.

Hansen is particularly proud of Hempel’s newer marine coatings: one protects hull interiors against brutal cargos while also being easy to clean, enabling a quick turnaround in ports; another super-slippery, self-polishing, silicone-based external paint can reduce drag, and therefore fuel usage, by more than 17.7 per cent. There’s even a special paint to smooth over vertical welds on a ship’s outer hull. “This is really cool because welds are structural and you can’t grind them down,” says Hansen, taking nerdy delight in the details. “Using our paint on welds alone can reduce fuel consumption by 2 to 3 per cent. And it’s biocide-free, so it’s non-toxic.” To demonstrate the challenges faced when applying marine paints, Holmberg shakes a bottle of tomato ketchup. “To paint a ship, you need to be able to spray it but it mustn’t run or drip,” she says. “Just like ketchup when you shake it out of the bottle, it has to flow with the perfect consistency.”

In this context, Hansen’s move from shipping to paint, after 19 years at Danish shipping giant Maersk, doesn’t seem like such an odd career change. As he notes, Hempel started out in 1915 and Maersk was its first major customer. It was responsible for formulating the trademark “Maersk blue”. There are similarities between the company’s founders too. “Like Maersk, JC Hempel was a very entrepreneurial, outward-looking and innovative man: he went into the Middle East and Asia in the 1960s, for example,” says Hansen. “In addition to this, he firmly believed in moral responsibility.”

This mindset led Jørgen Christian Hempel, who died 1986 aged 91, to effectively give away his fortune in 1948 when he created the Hempel Foundation, which is still the sole owner of the company. “He did it primarily to protect the group from a hostile takeover but over the past 20 years it has grown as a philanthropic foundation, giving more and more to charity,” says Hansen. Many of Denmark’s larger organisations, such as Lego, Maersk and Carlsberg, have separate charitable foundations but it is rarer for an entire company to be owned and run by them. It does have implications when the company needs to raise funds, though. “True, it means that we have to live from our own retained earnings but we want to be the industry leader in sustainability. For that, it is an advantage to have the foundation’s long-term approach. Above all, the fact that our dividends go to philanthropy gives the people who work here a huge sense of purpose.”

“The foundation is a major reason why so many people are drawn to roles at Hempel,” says Pernille Fritz Vilhelmsen, chief people and culture officer. “When we go to work, we know that our proceeds are not going straight to shareholders or an owner but towards doing good. It is a unique proposition in terms of employer branding and we do use it in recruitment.”

This purpose-driven loyalty is one of the reasons why Hempel is considered to be among the best companies in Denmark to work for. Its HQ is appealing too. Built by Swedish architects Sweco, it has a central spiral staircase that emulates a can of paint being stirred. There is a fully staffed canteen and working hours are flexible. “Our Danish business is [financially] insignificant but we are still inspired by the country’s values,” says Hansen, who took over the top post a year-and-a-half ago. “We put our people first because innovation doesn’t come from nowhere. It also makes sense to be in Denmark. It’s easy to reach the rest of the world from Copenhagen; the reputation for quality of life here means that we attract overseas talent; and we have access to educated labour.” Since 2017 the Hempel Foundation has supported a science and technology centre within The Danish Technical University (DTU) that specialises in sustainable coating solutions. Once they have concluded their studies, many graduates join the organisation.

Hempel’s business is divided into four sectors. Besides its marine, infrastructure and energy ventures, it also runs a decorative operation. Under this umbrella is paint and wallpaper company Farrow & Ball, which was founded in 1946 in Dorset, England, where it is still based. In 2021 it was bought by Hempel from US private-equity firm Ares for a reported €580m. The decorative arm also includes Crown Paints and JW Ostendorf in Germany. Farrow & Ball showrooms and Crown Decorating shops make up some of the 200 or so high street shops that Hempel runs in the UK. “Sometimes I wonder why we aren’t solely available online but the painting and decorating industry is surprisingly conservative,” says Hansen. “It turns out that professionals love to come into the shops for a cup of coffee before they start their day. It’s a big part of the appeal.” The decorative sector boomed during the coronavirus pandemic but has been hit by energy and material price hikes over the past two years. “There are still real challenges,” says Hansen. “Decorative hasn’t recovered yet.”

Ana Henriques, Hempel’s executive vice-president, head of decorative, is partly responsible for nurturing the sector back to health. Henriques joined the company from AB InBev in New York and has faith that the consumer brands can innovate their way back to greater revenues. “Farrow & Ball has always been a pioneer: we were the first to have showrooms rather than just traditional paint shops,” says Henriques.

“We have also embraced working with colour consultants, e-commerce and collaborating with designers. These days we are very well connected with influencers and a have a more-than-two-million-strong following on social media. But what comes first is the quality of our products, which are known for their richness and depth of colour.” In total, Farrow & Ball uses 12 different pigments to blend its 132 current shades. Historically, pigments would have come from a wide range of unusual sources: “India Yellow”, for instance, was once made from the urine of cows fed on a diet of mango leaves. Today they are all chemically created. The company is in the middle of gently revamping its colour range – something that happens every five years. The expectation this year is that surfaces that were painted at the height of the coronavirus pandemic will be looking a little tatty. “It has been a while since everyone redecorated,” says Henrique.

The air that we breathe in our homes and offices is a major topic among Danish architects right now. Volatile organic compounds (VOC), which are released when paint is applied, and over the longer term, are of particular concern. “Farrow & Ball was the first company to go 100 per cent water-based,” says Henriques. “People want their homes to feel healthy: they don’t want the smell of paint to linger, which means that they are going for low VOC options [Farrow & Ball paints are low-trace VOC – the best rating]. They also want to use colour to create specific moods.”

Customers can enlist the help of Farrow & Ball’s colour-consultancy service, which sees a representative visit homes to suggest a palette of calming tones or energising combinations. Before the end of the year the company will also offer an upgraded virtual service. It will then be possible to scan rooms, furniture included, on your phone and see the effect of different paints.

As a global company, Hempel employs a cross-cultural approach to colour and finish. “We have colour-trend teams who keep an eye on textiles, fashion, ceramics and social media,” says Henriques. “For instance, customers in the Middle East look for external paint in natural shades, you won’t see dark colours on houses and finishes need to withstand sand erosion. Cooler climates tend to like yellowish hues. In hotter climates, where the use of whiter indoor lighting is more widespread, colours appear differently. Big, bold reds are having a moment in Germany but in Scandinavia everything is white. Different countries are also drawn to different textures: in the US, smooth surfaces appeal whereas in Germany more ‘movement’ is allowed.” Even the way in which professionals work with Hempel varies. “In Germany, people prefer to use an oval paint bucket so that they can dip the roller straight in, unlike in other places, where they use trays.”

Looking ahead, the popularity of cold greys is waning and warmer tones might be returning to favour. But right now, Henriques detects a definite lust for coatings with depth. “Very rich green is having a bit of a moment,” she says, nodding emphatically.

The Greek members’ club that’s courting favour with the nation’s elites

Athens is well known for its chaos and hedonism. Perhaps that’s why the neatly tended Tatoï Club, nestled beyond the urban bustle in the suburb of Acharnes, feels so refreshing. The white, single-storey building, recently redesigned by Kois Architecture, doesn’t give much away from the road but there’s plenty to divert members inside. Spread over 100,000 sq m, the club offers 15 tennis courts, most of which are clay and meet the highest professional standards, as well as two for padel. There is a guesthouse and two swimming pools: one for families and another for adults only. Landscape practice H Pangalou & Associates has overseen the grounds, whose botanical gardens and lavender fields reflect the rugged terrain of the nearby Mount Parnitha in their choice of plants.

Members’ clubs remain a rarity in Greece so Vizantiou had the enviable task of visiting others around the world as part of her research. “We didn’t follow anyone else’s model,” she says. “Instead, we created our own. We didn’t find a place in Europe that matches our approach to sport, socialising, food and family.”

A simple premise underpins all that goes on at the Tatoï Club. “We wanted to create a sports-and-wellness space that would make both its members and its team proud,” says Vizantiou. Accordingly, the club is open to ideas and strives to evolve according to members’ needs. When it launched, the initial focus was on tennis; now, there are more activities and a greater family feel. You can book a personal trainer, join a fitness class (Vizantiou recommends the yoga sessions next to the lake), receive personalised nutrition plans, book in for cryotherapy or treat yourself to an Augustinus Bader facial.

You might even pick up a new hobby. “There are food classes in our cookhouse,” says Vizantiou. “You can stargaze with us in the summer or join the running, book or theatre group. There are clubs within the club. Members can forge new friendships, which isn’t always easy after a certain age.”

The club’s restaurant has a lot to offer too. The serene, sun-filled space features wooden furniture, neutral hues and the scent of freshly cut flowers, bringing elements of the natural world inside. “No matter where you are, you should be able to see daylight and feel in touch with nature,” says Vizantiou. The menu’s simple, hearty dishes range from freshly prepared vegetables to seafood risotto. These are made using organic ingredients, much of which are from the farm nextdoor. “We believe in growing our own fruits and vegetables without chemicals,” says Vizantiou. “That’s why we made a huge investment in our own farm. It might not make commercial sense but it aligns with our purpose. We grow a lot of seasonal produce – such as apples, tomatoes, strawberries and aubergines – and these cover most of our menu’s needs.”

The Tatoï Club team also bakes its own bread (try a slice of the carob-flour loaf) and makes broths, gelatos and cakes in-house. Restaurant staff make a point of knowing every member by name and familiarising themselves with their personal nutrition plan (if they have one). “Our members want to keep educating themselves,” says Vizantiou. “They understand the importance of investing in themselves, not just by playing sport but also by finding new hobbies and taking care of what they eat.”

Personalised service and attention to detail are central to the Tatoï Club experience. A dedicated team is always on hand to reposition out-of-place pillows and replace anything that has broken. The club also caters to its members’ children, with dedicated kitchen areas in which to prepare their meals, playgrounds for them to play in and various activities for them to get stuck into. Stroll around the club and you’ll hear their laughter and see long tables at which family members from across several generations break bread together.

By catering to families and establishing personal relationships with members, Vizantiou and her team have struck a fine balance between luxury and providing a friendly, welcoming atmosphere. You immediately feel at home but have access to a standard of facilities and services that you might expect at a five-star hotel. That’s why, over the years, its community has grown from 50 to 450 families (there’s a long waiting list). And the club is continuing to evolve. A larger spa is in the works, while the guesthouse facilities are being renovated. “We are listening to our members, observing their needs and emotions, and changing accordingly,” says Vizantiou. “That’s the magic of this place.”
tatoiclub.com

Simple pleasures
Rules at members’ clubs can be rather arcane but the Tatoï Club is refreshingly unfussy. Membership is currently only by referral but there are plans to expand this to international markets in the near future. Non-members are, however, welcome to stay in the club’s guesthouse for €600 a night to enjoy its sport and wellness retreats – a perfect way to sample what’s on offer.

New perspectives: Brave openings and what to catch at the Venice Biennale and Art Basel

The Culture pages of Monocle’s June issue include a dab of inspiration, a splatter of fresh ideas and a rather fetching art special. First, our editors whisk you around three bold new openings, from the gallery making Carthage cool again (and rallying Tunisian talent) and a Valencian palace-turned-nightclub that’s welcoming an altogether artsier crowd, to the canny conversion of a military building aiming to put Kristiansand in Norway on the contemporary art map.

Elsewhere in these pages, we offer a not-to-be-missed preview of Art Basel, the 10 things to see at the Venice Biennale and share come secrets from a Canadian art collector par excellence. Sometimes the hardest thing about making a masterpiece is knowing when it’s finished – we hope that you enjoy our portrait of the best to see, buy and inspire this summer.

Emerging art scene
Carthage cool
Tunis

Selma Feriani took a gamble when she decided to open a contemporary art gallery in Tunis’s commercial district Le Kram, far from the city’s arts neighbourhood. “When you take the initiative, other people follow your lead,” says Feriani, who is perched on an orange George Nelson sofa on the vast third floor of her industrial gallery, which was designed by Tunisian architect Chacha Atallah. The space, the largest of its kind in the country, deliberately feels out of place. Feriani wanted to redefine the city’s arts boundaries by positioning her gallery downtown, rather than in the bourgeois neighbourhood of La Marsa, where you’ll find the residence of the French ambassador and the whitewashed bohemian village of Sidi Bou Saïd, which Paul Klee came to paint in 1914.

It’s a bold move but this is Feriani’s third outpost (she first opened in London’s Mayfair in 2010 before inaugurating a smaller space in Sidi Bou Saïd in 2013, now closed) and she isn’t afraid to take risks when it comes to championing her country’s art. More challenging, however, has been finding Tunisian artists who remain in the country. Under the dictatorship of Zine El Abidine Ben Ali, Tunisian creatives emigrated en masse to Europe in the 1980s in search of freedom of expression and, since his overthrow in 2011, their return has been slow and gradual. But Feriani intends to do everything she can to keep them here.

Tunisia gained independence from France in 1956 and the European population that had settled in Tunis under the French protectorate dissipated. “The identity of the arts and culture scenes experienced a vigorous Arabisation as a result,” says Atallah. That Feriani’s eponymous gallery has moved from a location in a converted convent in Sidi Bou Saïd to a slick white cube in Le Kram in the time since the dictatorship was dismantled is a useful barometer for measuring how the country’s changed politics have given the arts space to flourish.

Nevertheless, ever a product of its time, art here remains politically charged. Wider social tensions have calmed but the sector is experiencing significant growing pains. As a result of heavy taxes imposed on importing and exporting artworks, as well as the weakness of Tunisia’s currency, making a living as an artist in Tunis can be complicated and arduous. Relocating elsewhere is not an option for most. The US, for example, only offers 55,000 visas to Tunisians seeking to emigrate via an annual lottery.

But the community is persistent and is making headway at home. “In Tunis, you always have to have a plan B because nothing comes without a fight,” says Feriani. “As Tunisians, we know never to ask anything of the government. Instead we support each other.” In a country that dedicates a tiny percentage of its budget to the arts, the scale of the new Selma Feriani Gallery sets a precedent for a city with a distinct absence of space for exhibitions.

Feriani’s aim isn’t just to contribute to her native city’s burgeoning art market; she wants to take it to the next level. “I looked to build a gallery that would become a reference point for the region and for the continent as a whole,” says Feriani, who hopes that by exhibiting works by Latin American and Middle Eastern artists, alongside the domestic output (which remains the focus), she can create a cultural mix, harnessing renewed links, particularly within the Middle East and North Africa. She wants to channel her energy into bringing art to Tunis, rather than sending it away. “I don’t want to be everywhere and nor do my artists,” she says. “When artists from here become international, they’re no longer accessible to the Tunisian market, which disenfranchises the industry further.”

One way of doing this has been to create an artist-in-residence programme. “We want to invite international and Tunisian players to spend time in Tunis, to integrate into the tight-knit community and to produce site-specific projects,” she says. In a converted garage in Bhar Lazreg, a rural area in the northern suburbs, Franco-Tunisian visual artist Férielle Doulain-Zouari, who studied at the École Duperré Paris, is currently using the programme to hone her craft. “In Bhar Lazreg, it’s much easier to engage with people who don’t find the city’s art to be very accessible,” she says, motioning to curious onlookers peering in, including a flock of sheep – a reminder of how recently this area has become home to an artistic community. Industrial workshops here make raw materials that Doulain-Zouari, who uses scraps from an ironmonger and a Syrian glassblower based nearby, can easily access to celebrate what she refers to as the behind-the-scenes Tunis.

Feriani’s dynamic artist-in-residence programme is nurturing local talent and helping to democrtise the industry. “Before the Tunisian Revolution, the art world was reserved for those who could afford to study in Paris. Now emerging creatives are being granted the space to get involved, challenging the Western idea of the art world as elitist,” says sculptor and filmmaker Malek Gnaoui, who is also the artistic director of the video art section of the Gabes Film Festival. The trope of documentation appears in one form or another across much of Tunis’s modern artwork. “Our government is still very secretive when it comes to archiving,” says Gnaoui.

Established in 2007, the work of cultural ngo L’Art Rue is another driving force behind the opening up of the city’s artistic spaces. Tucked away in the Unesco-protected medieval Medina, L’Art Rue’s lively programme runs workshops funded largely by the French and Swiss ministries of culture. “We’re trying to break down barriers, in terms of the spaces themselves but also economically: some of the most marginalised people live in the Medina, which is home to one tenth of the population,” says production manager Aicha Zaied. Cultural centre 32bis, which is in the former Philips HQ in downtown Tunis, offers free access to its media library to make arts publications more accessible. “We don’t publish enough art books in Tunis,” says Feriani, who has a budget to produce one publication a year. Removed from the pressurised environment of Europe’s most lucrative markets, artists choosing to return to Tunis feel some sense of relief. “Here my work has the space to breathe,” says landscape painter Fares Thabet, who studied fine art in Madrid before returning to Tunis in 2016 to take over his father’s ceramics workshop. “In Madrid, the art world has become very intellectual.” As we sip fresh mint tea on the studio balcony overlooking the coastal fishing village of La Goulette, it is clear why Thabet feels calmer away from the noise of Madrid.

The same goes for other key European centres. “Paris is a bubble,” says photographer and calligrapher Nicène Kossentini, who studied fine arts at the Sorbonne University and whose calligraphy poetically preserves medieval Arabic texts, the language tha forms the bedrock of her Maghrebi identity. After exhibiting in Algiers, Tehran and Alexandria, Kossentini found the most fertile artistic territory in her native North African nation, returning in 2010 despite her family’s base in the French capital. It’s a familiar feeling that Feriani wants to harness. “In Tunis, your work won’t be judged. That’s very refreshing,” she says.

But without a comparable proliferation of arts institutions throughout Tunis, the new generation will continue to migrate. “It’s still the norm to study abroad because we only have 12 art schools,” says Kossentini. This has led to an undervalued Tunisian market. “Art here isn’t always meritocratic because people are still scared to give native artists a platform,” says Benjamin Perrot, co-founder of El Warcha design studio in Le Kram. “Until we fully commit to investing in the art produced within our borders, the scene here will lag behind.”

Though Tunis’s arts infrastructure continues to be hampered by political, economic and logistical constraints, there is a fresh sense of optimism pulsing through the city, which is still suffering from post-revolutionary trauma. Organised by L’Art Rue, the city’s biennial art festival was exported to Brussels for the first time in April. It is a clear indicator that there is a growing European appreciation for North Africa’s rich artistic offering, a trend that Feriani intends to nurture. The festival is aptly named Dream City – a reminder that Tunis has always dared to dream.
selmaferiani.com

The palatial gallery
Hortensia Herrero Art Centre
Valencia

Art collector Hortensia Herrero’s plan to establish a museum that would be the pride of her hometown, Valencia, has been a decade in the making. Herrero, a part-owner of Mercadona, Spain’s biggest supermarket chain, wanted to create a world-class venue for cutting-edge international artists and worked with curator Javier Molins, her advisor and artistic director of the project, to make the museum come to life.

“We had to think about what would be good for Valencia,” says Molins as he shows Monocle around the Hortensia Herrero Art Centre, obviously excited by the opening day ahead. “It’s about bringing together artists who would normally only exhibit in London or New York. By having this art here, we are making Valencia more beautiful and international than before,” he adds, peering out of a window towards the sun glinting off the golden roofs of the historical centre.

The Mediterranean city is already home to a clutch of well-pitched commercial galleries – among them, Luis Adelantado, Vangar and Ana Serratosa. But, until now, there were few hallmark spaces dedicated to bringing contemporary art into the public sphere. From works by Alexander Calder, Eduardo Chillida and Anselm Kiefer to Georg Baselitz, Olafur Eliasson and David Hockney, the collection is a hit list of modern visual art. The building is inviting, with the works presented against a deliberately accessible backdrop of whitewashed walls.

For some Valencianos, the structure is part of the pull. Many hadn’t stepped foot inside the building since its time as a club in the 1980s, when the owners are said to have kept lions in the basement (Monocle is still trying to find out whether this is apocryphal). The property was originally built as a palace in the 17th century but also served as a printing press for Las Provincias newspaper from the early 1890s until the 1970s. By the time the architects at Erre studio were tasked with reimagining the space in 2016, the building had been abandoned for decades. “It had completely deteriorated; it was in ruins,” says Amparo Roig, a partner at Erre and Herrero’s daughter, while standing in the light-filled inner courtyard. “But you could see that it was magical. We were sure that it would be great in the end.”

Remarkably, it is the only place in town where you can catch a glimpse of the city’s ancient Roman circus, the remains of which are hidden beneath the streets. During the renovation work, the architects uncovered a medieval oven, Moorish fountains and a tiled passageway from the former Jewish ghetto. All of these signs of the city’s past are now displayed alongside the gallery’s main collection. “You know that you’re going to find a prize when you start digging in the centre of Valencia,” says Roig with a chuckle. “There are so many layers of history.”

The biggest challenge for the studio was to adapt the residence to displaying art. The team decided to build a vast, hidden elevator platform to bring hefty works all the way up to the top floor, as well as a new wing to house multimedia projects. Much of the debate between the architectural and curatorial teams centred on whether it was possible to keep all of the original windows in place – or whether it might be better to cover them up to create more wall space on which to hang the art.

The former idea – and seemly fenestration – prevailed. The refit feels more sensitive and airy as a result. The team was keen to involve artists in shaping the structure from the beginning of the process, commissioning six site-specific installations to maximise all the display space.

Argentine artist Tomás Saraceno’s bulbous glass sculptures give the brick-lined courtyard an iridescent glare, while Cristina Iglesias’s “Transito Mineral” – a reproduction of large tree trunks in stone – creates a seamless passageway between the museum’s two wings. The building’s former chapel was given to Sean Scully, who produced a striped painting and two colourful stained-glass panels to add to the space’s sense of solemnity.

British artist Mat Collishaw’s video installation, “Left in Dust”, plays a seemingly infinite loop of galloping horses that eventually reveals itself to be a chariot race. For him, the project was an opportunity to connect with the location and showcase its layers of history. “It’s good to evoke some of the ghosts of this spot,” he says, surveying his piece’s final placement. “In a lot of my work, I explore primal impulses and I am also interested in celebrating spectacle.”

Madrid-based artist Blanca Muñoz has a small sculpture on show in the building’s most atmospheric room – the former granary, under the old roof – and has collaborated with Herrero on a number of bespoke projects in other locations. She appreciates the value of a patron. “Working with a collector is the best thing that you can do,” she says, taking a seat on the breezy terrace. “It’s great to adapt your inner world to a concrete space.” Thanks to these artists’ efforts to fit in, the Fundacíon Hortensia Herrero is all the better for it. 
fundacionhortensiaherrero.org

The museum
Kunstsilo
Kristiansand, Norway

A bird’s eye view of Kristiansand, a city on Norway’s southern tip, only a short ferry ride from Denmark, reveals a neat settlement nestled on a rugged coastline. A smattering of red, yellow and white wooden houses perch on the waterfront opposite a port where cruise ships from the UK and Germany dock and disperse little crowds at intervals throughout the day.

Beyond the fish restaurants, wine bar and ice-cream parlour lies what is putting this city of nearly 117,000 people on the map: art, specifically Kunstsilo, a new quayside museum on the island of Odderøya, a former naval base in southwest Kristiansand. The space houses the Sørlandssamlingen (the South Collection), the Christianssands Picture Gallery and the Tangen Collection, the world’s largest, most comprehensive body of 2oth-century Nordic art. The last of these takes its name from Nicolai Tangen, the manager of the Norwegian Sovereign Wealth Fund, who bequeathed his collection of Nordic art to Kristiansand, his hometown, in 2015.

As custodian of the donation, Kunstsilo received more than 3,000 ceramics, paintings, photographs, installations and conceptual works. Tangen believes that the new museum will make Kristiansand a more interesting place to live. “I love that this small place will be able to challenge some of the big national museums,” Tangen tells Monocle from Olso. “The museum will be important for the children who grow up there. It will also be good for visitors.”

Kunstsilo is within a former grain silo that was designed by renowned Norwegian architects Arne Korsmo and Sverre Aasland in 1936. The structure had stood unused for almost 20 years. And now Mestre Wåge Arkitekter, the practice that won the international competition to repurpose the silo – beating more than 100 other proposals – has breathed new life into it. 

Kunstsilo’s industrial space feels akin to a cathedral. Its soaring silo cylinders have been cut open to enable free passage around the building. Monocle visits a month before its opening on 11 May. The atmosphere is giddy: everyone seems excited and not yet stressed about any last-minute snags. New staff are being ferried around to get the feel of the place. The menu for the downstairs café and rooftop restaurant is being sampled. Workers busily finish the plaza outside the building’s harbourside entrance.

When the museum gave out passes for its opening day, they were snapped up within hours. “It was like selling tickets to a rock concert,” says Kunstsilo’s CEO, Reidar Fuglestad, who joined the project in 2017 having previously run a nearby theme park for 17 years.

The opening exhibition, Passions of the North, comprises 600 works from the Tangen Collection. It was curated by Åsmund Thorkildsen, who previously worked with Norway’s Drammens Museum, in consultation with Norwegian art historian Steinar Gjessing, and showcases significant pieces of Nordic modernism, including Swedish impressionist Isaac Grünewald and Danish surrealist Rita Kernn-Larsen.

“We have had a lot of fun developing this exhibition,” says Thorkildsen as he directs us through the exhibition rooms, some of which are painted in inviting hues of yellow, green, blue and pink. “We’ve done away with the neutral way of showing art,” he says, pointing at a group of paintings that hang close together as if in a huddle. He then stands next to a work that’s hung high up on the wall. “The placement does something to how you view the art,” he says with a mischievous glint in his eye. “The exhibition should be a bodily, as well as visual, experience.”

But the process of showing the Tangen Collection in a functionalist grain silo hasn’t been fun and games from start to finish. “We endured six-and-a-half years of political opposition and only six months of support,” says CEO Fuglestad.

He explains that scores of Kristiansand’s residents opposed tax payers’ money going to the art museum. Kunstsilo became such a hot potato that local politics shifted against the project. However, once interest from beyond Norway’s borders started to trickle in, Fuglestad noticed a significant change in people’s attitudes and the positives of having the museum there became apparent. “Now it is a source of pride that residents can show to visitors,” he says. “I joined this project because I believe in it and I am convinced that it will bring real benefits to the people who live here.”
kunstsilo.no

Sensei Porcupine Creek: A mid-century marvel that embodies the spirit of Palm Springs

If the brochures are to be believed, Frank Sinatra crooned and caroused his way around much of Palm Springs. It’s a claim to fame that hotels and bars in this Californian desert city still trade on – especially at the Purple Room, a cabaret lounge built in 1960 at which Ol’ Blue Eyes would sometimes get up on stage.

“Palm Springs was the playground of the stars,” says Michael Holmes, who revived the Purple Room almost a decade ago and caters to healthy crowds every night. “At the time, actors weren’t allowed to be more than 100 miles [161km] away from the studio when they were in production – and this is 100 miles from Hollywood.”

Holmes, an accomplished jazz singer who also performs a stage show dressed as Judy Garland, first came to Palm Springs to flee a cold Chicago winter. This oasis city of perfect blue skies has long been a place that people escape to. In the 1930s it was the desert hideout for stars seeking refuge from the Los Angeles press. Then it was a seasonal bolthole for sun-seeking retirees. More recently it has been a pit stop for festival-goers on their way to Coachella.

Palm Springs holds a special place in the American imagination – people say that they can feel their shoulders drop as they cross its city limits – but having a captive audience has meant that some of the hotels and places to eat were resting on their laurels. The past few years, however, have brought a fresh breeze that’s ruffling the city’s fronds. The extraordinary collection of mid-century buildings – homes created for California’s elite by leading American modernists such as John Lautner and Albert Frey – now attract a global audience. In February, more than 130,000 people descended on Palm Springs during its annual Modernism Week, when the people living in many of these restored houses open their doors to the public. In 2022, Palm Springs provided the backdrop for the martini-swilling fictional utopia of the film Don’t Worry Darling. These houses, with their crisp roof lines and 1950s panache, have soared in value as people decamp to the desert to seek open spaces and a place where the sun shines every day.

With this renewed interest has come a swath of new hoteliers and restaurateurs catering to a changing crowd. During the week that Monocle spent in Palm Springs, a new hotel by Life House opens and a Hyatt Thompson downtown is nearing completion.

Despite all the space, there are only 22 places to stay on the property, comprising standalone villas dotted through the grounds and suites in the single-storey estate house, which also contains a Nobu restaurant. The bedrooms are understated, verging on spartan, with light wooden interiors and vast windows that frame the gardens beyond. Staff say that the design is about drawing the eye to the estate’s abundant nature rather than the hotel itself, even if it is choreographed: the waterfalls that bubble through the grounds subtly change their cascade according to the time of day, calming to a restful flow after dark.

“There’s science to all of it,” says Julie Oliff, the Swiss-born general manager, as she drives Monocle along one of Sensei’s canyon trails in a golf cart. Stretching out below us is the hotel’s canopy of 4,000 palm trees and one of its bright-blue tennis courts, where a bobcat is known to sleep in the midday heat. Like many of her colleagues, Oliff came to Sensei from running premium hotels around the US and takes a high-minded view of the work they are doing in the Coachella Valley. “Our mission is to guide the world to greater wellbeing,” she says.

Ellison co-founded Sensei with David Agus, an author and physician whose book on healthy living sits on the hotel’s bedside tables. Sensei offers guests an “intention-setting” session with a member of its dedicated wellness team to find out what they would like to get out of their stay, whether in terms of fitness or rest. In practice, this means having your blood pressure and some biometrics checked and signing up for yoga, exercise or meditation.

“Wellness is a term that has been used too loosely and way too often, just as ‘boutique hotels’ was about 25 years ago,” says Alexandra Walterspiel, Sensei’s German-born president and CEO. “We just help guests to find opportunity in carving out time for themselves.” That said, Sensei is still a resort that keeps an excellent wine list and will serve a club sandwich poolside. It’s also a premium hotel that sets a new bar for an overnight stay in this valley.

Back in town, the most sought-after table is at Bar Cecil, a corner restaurant where trays of oysters and martinis are whisked through a candlelit dining room. Over the din of a Tuesday evening, co-founder John Janulis explains that there’s fierce competition to get a reservation here. He came to Palm Springs to restore and reopen the once-derelict Villa Royale and believes that now is a moment of great opportunity for those who want to refresh hospitality in town. “It’s the most unique city in America,” says Janulis. “For a lot of people, coming to Palm Springs means instant vacation.”

Entrepreneurs such as Janulis say that it’s not a case of reinventing Palm Springs but re-energising what is already there. Even the Ace Hotel and Swim Club, which opened 15 years ago and was the first to tap into the Coachella crowd, is soon to be remodelled. “The property was originally a Howard Johnson motor lodge and we turned it into a desert retreat,” says Roman Alonso, founder of LA-based Commune Design, which was responsible for the original Ace and is coming back to spruce it up. He says that Palm Springs is being born again.

The past few years have seen several sensitive restorations take place that have breathed fresh life into old lodgings. Azure Sky, which reopened in 2022, took the bones of an old motel and brought a sense of spaciousness and light back into the rooms. Casa Cody, in downtown Palm Springs, is a hotel that hosted Hollywood stars throughout the 1930s and once belonged to Harriet Cody, a cousin of cowboy showman Buffalo Bill. “We wanted to keep the residential feel of the estate in the design and the renovation,” says Carolyn Schneider, co-founder of the Casetta Group, which added muted colours to Cody’s old home that emphasise the bright bougainvillaea spilling over the walls and roofs. Orange and grapefruit trees give shade to the gardens.

Preservation is a relatively new phenomenon in Palm Springs. After the mid-century boom, the city stagnated. By the 1990s its architectural marvels had been mostly forgotten. “They were intact but neglected,” says Peter Moruzzi, an architectural historian who formed the Palm Springs Modern Committee in 1999 to safeguard mid-century masterpieces around town that were threatened with demolition, starting with Albert Frey’s Fire Station No 1.

Moruzzi and his partner, Lauren LeBaron, first came to the city in 1991. “I instantly loved the mountains, the air, the palm trees,” says Moruzzi. “Then we noticed all this mid-century stuff just sitting there, still in pretty good shape.” The couple have meticulously restored a 1950s “tract home”, built for the middle classes in the modernist designs favoured by Hollywood stars. Every February they let the public in during Modernism Week, to sit beside their twinkling pool, in the shade of two crossed palms, and admire the oddity that is the indoor barbecue. “A short-lived fad of the time,” says Moruzzi. These houses were undervalued in the 1990s, when nobody cared about Palm Springs modernism, but nearby houses now sell for millions of dollars. “We get a lot of guests booking to stay here because they would like to buy a house in Palm Springs,” says Bruno Santos, the general manager of Colony Palms, a grand old hotel with verdant verandas and green-striped parasols. It opened in 1936 and was reputedly owned by mobster and bootlegger Al Wertheimer, who ran a speakeasy and gambling den in the basement; a mural has survived from the time showing a bacchanalian scene of cavorting women.

The Colony Palms was restored by Steve Hermann, a Montecito-based designer turned hotelier who has recently expanded L’Horizon, his other hotel in town, with bungalows that take cues from mid-century design. Spend enough time in Palm Springs and the pools and palms start to blur together; one blue-skied David Hockney painting after the next. Like the shifting lines that dance across a swimming pool in the midday sun, the city is moving with the times while retaining its sense of mid-century allure. Celebrated artist Phillip K Smith III, a self-professed “desert rat”, grew up in the Coachella Valley and returned to Palm Springs after studying at the Rhode Island School of Design. “I missed the brown mountains, the horizon,” Smith tells Monocle. His sculptural light pieces change colour almost imperceptibly, creating an effect similar to that of a gentle sunrise or sunset in these parts. “The desert I’m talking about doesn’t necessarily have tennis courts, golf courses and pools,” he says. “It’s about going there to disconnect.”

From the windows of his studio, Smith can watch a grand light show as the mountains change from red to black. “It is a totally natural phenomenon that happens every day,” he says. “All you have to do it is to stop and look.”

Mallorca’s cosmopolitan creatives find a new hub at an old leather factory

It’s Friday night and more than 200 people have come to 110, a studio space in the town of Inca in the heart of Mallorca. They are here for an evening of Pecha Kucha, a Japanese presentation format where every speaker has to show 20 slides and talk for no more than 20 seconds about each one – speak too fast and there are hard-to-ignore silences before the next image appears, speak too slowly and suddenly the automated slides are whizzing past and you lose your chain of thought. But it’s a generous crowd: they have beers and, like all seven speakers, are drawn mostly from a diverse mix of creatives established on the island – gallerists, writers, photographers, potters, furniture makers and at least one philosopher. They are here to be supportive.

The host, who is the owner of this vast studio, is Italian-born interior and product designer (and educator) Chiara Ferrari. She has organised every element of this night, from designing the social-media promotional campaign to securing the beer sponsor. She seems to know everyone and is a strong advocate for Inca, even though she only bought this then-derelict 1934 leather factory in December 2021 and moved into the space in April 2023. She’s that kind of person: a connector.

Before we meet Ferrari and tour this two-storey, 400 sq m building (her home takes up the top floor), you need to know where we are. Inca is an industrial town where, at the start of the 20th century, nearly everyone was employed in the making of shoes, whether in the factories themselves or in the suppliers of everything from rubber soles to laces. At its peak, there were more than 2,000 factories here; today that has dwindled to a handful. The trade was hit in the 1980s and 1990s when, faced with a barrage of cheap competitors, many companies either moved production offshore to places such as China or collapsed. (Camper is still a key presence, even if much of its production is elsewhere; Carmina makes its high-end footwear here.) Inca has had some testing times and even now, right in the centre of this important town, there are many empty industrial buildings. But something is stirring.

The speakers – an island of creatives

Esmeralda Gómez Galera
Curator and educator
Gómez Galera is opening Highlights Contemporary, an art office and platform for curatorial research in Inca.

Juan Palencia
Architect
Palencia runs Isla architecture and design practice with partner Marta Colón. Their work is deeply rooted in place.

Xim Izquierdo
Photographer
Izquierdo is a photographer who produces work that ranges from commercial to art, fashion and music.

Gemma Salvador
Co-founder
Salvador is the co-founder (with Eugenia Marcote) of Llanatura, a circular wool company.

Roberto Paparcone
Potter
Italian-born Paparcone (founder of Paparkone) is a longtime resident whose work is often inspired by island traditions.

Xisca Homar
Philosopher
Homar is an Inca resident, neighbour of Ferrari and author of Filosofia Salvatge (“Wild Philosophy”).

A couple of days after the Pecha Kucha, Monocle catches up with Ferrari, whose career before Mallorca included stints working in Milan (for Piero Lissoni), London (Zaha Hadid, Ross Lovegrove, Thomas Heatherwick, Amanda Levete) and Los Angeles (running her own studio and teaching at ArtCenter College of Design). How did she end up switching California for Inca? “I was shuttling between LA and a client in Germany and I got tired of it,” she says. “I thought, ‘I need to find somewhere to live in Europe that I know a little and where I can ride my bike.’ I used to come to Mallorca with my father and so I chose here. I thought it would be for a few months but I just stayed.” And she’s not joking about the bikes. Her great-uncle was Alfredo Binda, a champion cyclist, and she was born in the Alpine town of Edolo, so her passion for the saddle is understandable.

Ferrari initially looked for space in the capital, Palma, but prices were high for even the most compact of properties. “Then Inca popped up as an idea because of the building,” says Ferrari. “I came to see it, fell in love with it and reserved it – without knowing what it would take financially to refurbish it.”

It would take money and time to transform the building. It needed structural reinforcement, windows had been blocked up, services were absent, the top storey had been unused for years, while the ground floor had been a car park. Ferrari reused everything she could from the site and had the original terrazzo flooring buffed back to life. There were also a thousand versions of the plans, simplified again and again (she worked with a Mallorcan architecture practice, ar3, at this stage) to keep costs down. Ferrari made key interventions, including cutting out part of the first-floor slab to allow for the creation of a courtyard garden at the rear.

The outcome is breathtaking. You enter through epic grey sliding doors, emblazoned with a giant “110” (the building’s street number), into the studio space with a glimpse of the foliage in the rear courtyard garden. There’s a curtained-off space here that contains Ferrari’s archive and a bed for visitors. Then you ascend to her private world, where a small shock of colourful furniture and design, and an impeccable selection of art, punctuate the room like exclamation marks (her father, another person who has shaped her tastes, was a sculptor). It’s pristine, a world where consideration has gone into every detail.

But something happened as the work on this building progressed. “During the renovation, I started thinking about events, about how to bring the space to life,” says Ferrari. “My ideal was what Carla Sozzani did in Milan when she opened 10 Corso Como [the celebrated concept store and dining space]. I have invested everything I have in this place – so now I have to get the best out of it!”

Getting the best out of 110 started almost as soon as the paint had dried. She offered 110 to a philosopher neighbour for the launch party of her new book. “The place was packed,” says Ferrari. Since then she has moved quickly. “My passion is to do something for the island. There is no point of reference for design here – a place for people to meet physically. I’m open to ideas but we need events that are out of the box. I’m doing this because we need to be an island of creatives.”

People could have been cautious of a new arrival in town with so many ideas and such energy. But Inca has taken the irrepressible Ferrari in: she’s working with the town hall, has made friends not only with the creatives but the likes of the fishmonger too. What does she make of Inca? “The people are open-minded and welcoming, and it is picking up,” she says. “The city is doing lots of things culturally and there’s energy propelling things forward.”

At the Pecha Kucha, I end up speaking with several people in the process of searching for buildings in the city – there are a lot of incredible projects taking root, artists hunting for studio spaces, fashion shops opening. Inca, it seems, offers the chance to experiment.

There are many reasons to celebrate this project but perhaps what’s best is the idea that you can set about making a personal, private space but allow it to become somewhere that can host all manner of collaborations. A simple “for sale” sign triggers a chain of events that leads to 200 people descending on an industrial town reimagining its future, all for the promise of a cold beer – and of being part of something bigger, of joining forces.
110mallorca.com; chiaraferrari.com

Inca address book

1. Miceli is a celebrated restaurant in the nearby town of Selva but it has an outpost at Inca’s indoor market where you sit at the bar (pictured below) and eat the freshest of produce. It gets its fish from the neighbouring counter belonging to Peix Can Mateu.
miceli.es

2. Café Inca is in a wonderful linear building by AR3 and MDBA architecture studios. It’s run by Amadip Esment Fundació, an organisation that works with people with mental health issues – the site also includes a residential element. It has a great design and great food.
esment.org

3. Llanatura is a non-profit wool company, housed in a vast former factory (pictured above). It makes rugs, furnishings and clothes, and has numerous collaborations with designers. Llanatura works to protect the island’s ecology.
llanatura.com

4. Museum of Footwear & Industry is housed in a former barracks in which it details the long history of the trade in Inca.
museu.incaciutat.com

5. Architecture. It’s worth wandering the streets to take in the scale of the industrial heritage still awaiting resuscitation. Plus there’s the remade Teatre Principal, some gems of Catalan modernisme design and a great brutalist petrol station.

A historic neighbourhood that’ll show you the slower side of Sydney

The Crows Nest neighbourhood might be just 5km from the skyscrapers of Sydney’s financial centre but it has its own distinct identity. The 19th-century property that gave the area its moniker is long gone; instead, you’ll find a low-rise neighbourhood huddled around Willoughby Road, a bustling high street.

If things are livelier here than elsewhere on the Lower North Shore, it’s probably because of its youthful population: the median age is 36. You’ll see young professionals (and those who are well heeled enough to snap up the remaining Federation-era cottages) making the most of independent businesses such as gourmet grocer The Essential Ingredient and thrift shops stocking designer hand-me-downs. When it comes to food, you’ll find it all, from cheap-and-cheerful Italian restaurants to Vietnamese joints and superb Japanese and Chinese options. The best watering holes include The Hayberry, The Captain’s Balcony and wine bar Knird. Our pick of the cafés is Only Coffee Project. Let’s take a swoop.

1. To read
Pick up a copy of quarterly magazine Northsider at Italian barber shop Antica Barberia and read it over a flat white at Double Cross Dining Room.

2. To stay
You’ll find the Crows Nest Hotel (or “The Crowie”) at the top of Willoughby Road. Its rooftop bistro is the place to go for a chicken parmigiana and a drink or two. Then head down to its venue space for a dance later on.

3. To see
Amble along Burlington and Alexander Streets to take in their charming Federation-style cottages and terraces. Tempted to buy one? These properties sell like hotcakes when they become available and even a two-bedroom cottage will set you back about AU$2.3m (€1.29m).

4. To taste
Chef Josh Niland has made a name for himself as a seafood specialist. Sample his abalone-schnitzel sandwich at his restaurant, Petermen.

5. …and to buy
Your meal will inspire you to raise your fish-cooking game. Pick up a pair of bone pliers at Petermen – they’re essential for any kitchen arsenal.

6. To read
The Constant Reader bookshop is well stocked with Aussie titles. Buy Possabilities by Victoria Alexander, the late Bill Granger’s Australian Food and children’s classic Alphabetical Sydney by Hilary Bell and Antonia Pesenti.

7. Book this
Opened in 1973 by brothers Rudi and Max Dietz, who still run the floor, German restaurant Stuyvesant’s House is a Sydney institution. Expect old-school service, hearty dishes including pork knuckle and a stein. Sehr gut!

8. Perch here
Picnic under the fig trees at St Leonards Park, a popular jogging spot. It hosts a sunset cinema in summer and there are cricket and football matches at the oval year-round.

9. To meet
Peter and Kathy Xenos started Xenos Cafe in 1969 as a milk bar. Order the spanakopita (savoury spinach pastry) or the slow-cooked Greek lamb. You can still spot Peter, who is now 80, on the floor every day. “I love it,” he tells Monocle. “Regulars are now friends. They have come here for 30 or 40 years.”

10. Don’t miss
The brutalist Oxley Business Centre was designed by architect Geoff Malone shortly after he graduated from the University of Sydney and completed in 1972. It is now expected to be refurbished, with the possible addition of apartments. One to watch.

The French guide to summer style

HAIR & MAKE UP: Yoana TG

Inside The Luxembourg Freeport that’s part fortress, part transit lounge

On the far periphery of Luxembourg Airport, among a collection of low-slung lorry depots is The Luxembourg Freeport, one of Europe’s busiest air-cargo handlers. Its large, angular, grey brutalist base is clad with stone-filled gabion fencing punctuated by thin window slits. It resembles a modernist fortress, or perhaps a contemporary art museum. In truth, this strange building is somewhere in between.

Designed by Swiss architects 3BM3 Atelier d’Architecture, the 22,000 sq m building opened a decade ago as the Luxembourg Freeport, a place where high-net-worth individuals could store anything from precious works of art to rare bottles of wine, behind myriad layers of security, within walking distance of a runway and immune from taxation. Though a freeport is discreet by nature, the world got a glimpse, of sorts, of the concept in Christopher Nolan’s 2020 film Tenet, in which a similar, albeit fictionalised place (the “Oslo Freeport”) played a central role. “Sort of a transit lounge for art?” asks one character, when hearing of the place.

Freeports are nothing new. As early as the 1500s, ports such as Livorno and Marseille were granting tax benefits and less-onerous customs controls to merchants, believing that it helped to boost trade. In 2012 the UK announced the rollout of eight new freeports, at locations including Plymouth and East Midlands Airport. (The country’s prime minister, Rishi Sunak, wrote a pro-freeport paper while a backbench MP.) Opinion is divided on whether they are economic spurs or simply tax havens.

The Luxembourg Freeport, along with sister properties in Geneva and Singapore, also designed by 3BM3, was the brainchild of Yves Bouvier, the now-notorious Swiss art dealer who last year reached an out-of-court settlement with Dmitry Rybolovlev over a decade-long case in which the Russian billionaire alleged that he had been the victim of a billion-dollar overcharge on art purchases. For Bouvier, whose family owned Natural le Coutre, a 160-year-old Swiss firm specialising in the transport and storage of fine art, the freeport was a sort of natural extension: not just somewhere to store art but a marketplace where art could change hands in a “suspensive VAT regime” (ie, tax-free). It was a site tailor-made for art’s increasing status as a global investment vehicle.

But as Bouvier’s reputation began to suffer, so, seemingly, did the Freeport’s. A member of the European Parliament’s Special Committee on Finance Crimes, Tax Evasion and Tax Avoidance demanded an investigation into the Freeport, noting that it had “been alleged to be a fertile ground for money laundering and tax evasion” (a claim rebuffed by the European Commission’s former president Jean-Claude Juncker, who, as it happens, used to be prime minister of Luxembourg). Amid a more general anti-money-laundering campaign in the country (often viewed as a European tax haven), the Freeport reported a loss of €730,000 in 2022, according to the Luxembourg Times. Bouvier had pulled out, new management had come in, and various changes were afoot. Monocle travelled to the Freeport at Findel Airport to learn more.

The first sign of change comes via Google Maps. Though locals might still refer to “Le Freeport”, the facility is listed on the map as the “Luxembourg High Security Hub”, the result of a 2020 rebranding. It is not the easiest place to get to. What looks like a 1km walk on the map actually requires a taxi ride (albeit a ridiculously short one); when the driver drops Monocle off at a security entrance for the larger airport cargo facility, the guards explain that Le Freeport is actually further along, requiring another short taxi ride.

At the facility’s rear, entry is through a rotating steel door, set into a high fence topped with razor wire. The push of a button summons a security guard, who leads us to an interior room equipped with an airport-style security gate. Once through (after removing belt and watch), we meet Philippe Dauvergne, CEO of the High Security Hub, as well as Olivier Thomas, a French investor (he has backed start-ups including Zenly, which was recently sold to Snapchat), who last year became the property’s “unique” shareholder, after buying out Bouvier, his one-time partner. They wear stylish suits and long coats, which they keep on, owing to the fact that the facility is kept at a constant cool temperature.

Speaking in an austere lobby, with poured concrete walls that have been dyed ivory and patterned to resemble wood, Dauvergne has the world-weary, mordant air of the lead inspector in a European detective drama. As well as an anti-money-laundering consultant for the UN Office on Drugs and Crime, he’s a lieutenant colonel in the réserve citoyenne of France’s Gendarmerie Nationale. He stresses that the Hub has nothing to do with Bouvier these days. “We do not mix,” he says. Art is still a focus but the Hub is trying to market itself as also attractive for the storage of precious metals, such as rhodium, which are used in both industry and jewellery. “You have two legs on the ground and it’s very stable.”

There are myriad vaults, ranging from 100 sq m to 400 sq m – numbered randomly as a security measure to confuse those who don’t belong there – which tend to be leased in three- to seven-year blocks. Dauvergne can’t divulge precisely what is in those vaults, because he does not know. The Hub cannot enter the vaults; nor does it even handle the incoming and outgoing goods. Instead, the Hub has a handful of “licensed operators” (companies such as Brinks), that work with Luxembourg customs, which has a small office on-site.

This opacity would seem catnip for illicit activity but Dauvergne notes that the national customs office inspects 100 per cent of incoming and outgoing goods (in typical warehouse environments, he says, the figure is closer to 1 per cent). The fact that more than €200m of Russian assets were seized from the Freeport in 2022 is, he says, proof that the process is working. Goods are not free from inspection and laws, they are exempt from taxation: if a painting stored here were to be sold, say, to the US, no VAT would be assessed because the good never technically entered the EU. “We are based in the territory but we are not in the tax territory,” says Dauvergne.

He leads Monocle to an adjacent room, a garage-like space where trucks enter to unload. “Before being granted access, the licensed operator has to inform us 24 hours in advance, without giving us any information about what is inside,” he says.

He ticks off the Hub’s security features with the well-practised patter of an estate agent. The garage door, he says, is “not anti-missile but anti-ballistic” (good “up to .50 cal”). Retractable bollards will resist up to 44 tonnes of force. There are thermal detection and X-ray cameras, explosives detectors and a ceiling-mounted mirror. A magnetic sensor is used to detect vibration; it’s sensitive to the point where the heartbeat of a stowaway mouse was once detected (and triggered a police call-out). The Hub, monitored by some 300 security cameras, state-of-the-art cooling and nitrogen fire-suppression systems, has a secure rating of 99.85 per cent from the firm Axa, up from 97 per cent a few years ago.

This security, says Dauvergne, leads to reductions in insurance costs, which is one of the Hub’s common sales pitches. Another is that unlike the freeport in Geneva, the Hub is distinct in that products can enter directly from the tarmac. Another garage door, towards the rear of the building, opens onto the airside environment of Luxembourg International, but requires various clearances, from security to air-traffic control, to be opened. From a small rooftop terrace, there is a direct view over a fleet of CargoLux jets; a high-pitched whine and the smell of jet fuel fills the air.

Touring the Hub is a bit like walking through a Delphic riddle. Dauvergne notes that the massive elevators can accommodate cars; when he’s then asked if there are any cars currently in the Hub, he exclaims: “Good try!” Walking down a seemingly blank corridor, Monocle asks Dauvergne if photography is accepted. He shakes his head with a vaguely mournful smile. But what’s the risk in taking a picture of such banality? “There is always something when you know what you are looking for,” he says, his words echoing in the emptiness. One of the few concrete details that Dauvergne reveals while leading Monocle around the Hub’s art-restoration facilities is that a painting by Frank Stella – “Karpathenburg II” – was stored and worked on at the Hub. The work was acquired at a Bonhams auction in 2016 for $277,500 (€258,000) and shown in a nearby exhibition in 2022.

The tour concludes in the Hub’s “ballroom,” a soaring atrium with polished concrete floors, a few minimalist furniture arrangements, a small bar and, dominating the space, a looming fresco in raised cement by the Portuguese artist Vhils (whose work, ironically, typically adorns outdoor public walls). Occasionally the Hub will host security-minded events. One of these was a new BMW car launch in which visitors’ phones were confiscated. Off to the side, behind a slanted, opaque wall of glass, are a series of small “showrooms” in which dealers might tempt purchasers, or insurers might value works. While goods could theoretically linger forever in the Hub, “this is not a cemetery”, says Dauvergne. “Tenants prefer to have a lot of movement for merchandise, because movement is money.”