After more than 20 years in France and a Michelin-starred restaurant in Paris, Mexican chefs Kike Casarrubias and Mon Estrada are opening Papalote in Barcelona, bringing Mexican memory, French technique and Mediterranean influence into the next chapter of their story. A restaurant can be a new address. For Kike Casarrubias and Mon Estrada, Papalote is something more complicated: a new chapter in a story that began in Mexico, developed in France, and is now arriving in Barc

We've spent so long being told that female suffering is intrinsic that we've begun to buy into the lie ourselves. It's time to take back the responsibility of advocating for ourselves. Fifteen hours into what was supposed to be a magical family holiday in Kauai, I found myself in a narrow bed with a scratchy blanket in the island's only emergency room. I waited for the combination of morphine and Dilaudid to kick in while I vomited into a hospital-issued bag that my mum said

When good taste becomes too easy to replicate, looking strange might be the ultimate status symbol. Margiela Tabis look like hooves. Chanel sent models down the runway in sandals designed to make them appear barefoot. Moschino turned an apple into a handbag. Miu Miu made the kind of fleece you might expect to see on a tech employee grabbing coffee before work into a luxury object. None of these products is conventionally beautiful, and that is increasingly the point.

Yasmin Suteja has spent the last decade being both the person in the image and the person making the image. Now she is questioning the machine that decides what we see, what we want, how we see ourselves, and even whether our choices are really ours. There is something pretty surreal about interviewing someone you have been told is your double, literally... Yasmin's mother had already decided we were alike before we met. By the time we sat down together for the interview,

As I sit in my childhood room, reading Pretty Little Liars, I envy a time that I barely know. I yearn for the days when, if you wanted a shirt, you had to wait until you could go to the mall to buy it, when your phone was used for calls and short text messages. Or when you waited until Sunday evening for the new episode of your favourite show. I miss when my life wasn't so consumed by a world that isn't even real. When I doomscroll on my phone at 3 pm, I wonder: if I were nin

I see so many successful, beautiful women building businesses, creating ecosystems for other women, growing communities, achieving wealth and becoming an inspiration to women around the world. Outspoken women who stand firmly and unapologetically in who they are. Women with so much inner power that you cannot miss them or ignore their message. Women you admire not only for what they have achieved, but for who they are and the path they took to get there. And yet, somehow, the

I recently got laid off from my architecture job because of budget cuts, and, to be honest, I gave my blood, sweat and tears to land that position. Five years of studying, two internships, volunteering, and hundreds of applications that led to hundreds of rejections. I should also admit that I applied to the same studio twice before finally landing the position. After the initial shock and a little reflection, I had a wave of realisation: the economy is fucked, so I might as

As women, we are taught from a young age that beauty is all that matters, and that age is the enemy of beauty. Who didn't love fairy tales like Snow White, when we were innocent of the subliminal societal conditioning behind “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?” We're seeing this reflected in our current beauty standards, where what was once considered tacky and dangerous is now desirable and fashionable. The media's reaction to changes in celebrities

I am a social being through and through. I like talking to people, getting to know them, getting to know what they do. Over the last three years, I have noticed a pattern. A pattern that holds true across our lives, is multifaceted and is becoming more and more real to me year after year… Have we lost our feelings about everything because it's not cool anymore? I joined a dating app almost two weeks ago. Back on it, yeah, didn't want to, but I did it. The vibes instantly felt

Ever wonder why it’s so hard to let someone go? No matter how hard you try, they’re just there. In your head, in your dreams, in your chest. Ever consider the possibility that maybe a part of you doesn’t WANT to let them go? Regardless of the type of love or loss. I’m no relationship expert, but I think we’ve gotten so bad at processing things that letting go can feel like a complete system shutdown. Or maybe it’s just me and a couple of others (who I hope find this article).

Today's image of a charming prince is so dismantled that women are fantasising about being Samantha Jones instead of Carrie Bradshaw. We can definitely say that a large percentage of women have returned to the dream of being a Pilates mum, but at the same time, women have grown so tired of dealing with men that many would prefer to get just one thing from them and then say bye-bye! We know women's vision of life changed as soon as they could become independent. But the real q

There is a specific, quiet kind of exhaustion that comes with sitting in a dark room, staring at a phone screen that hasn't changed in twenty minutes. Nothing dramatic happened. There was no emergency. It was just five words in a blue chat bubble, but somehow it felt like an unsolved riddle. I read it over and over, trying to break the code. Do they mean this? Do they mean that? How do I reply without looking like I care too much, or too distant?

Historically speaking, faces had character. Whether it’s a simple mole near the mouth, natural wrinkles, scars, or even naturally colored teeth. But something happened between the rise of Instagram and the popularity of plastic surgery, where we slowly and surely lost the meaning of real beauty, and this equally affects both women and men. We didn’t lose our original faces overnight; we lost the reference point. Just as you forget a language, you stop speaking. Children today

Vanilla has escaped the kitchen. It lingers in perfume aisles, where bottles promise notes of crème brûlée, pistachio gelato, and toasted marshmallow. It drifts through candles scented like brown butter and Italian espresso. Lip gloss tastes faintly of birthday cake. Hand cream smells like oat milk lattes. Beauty brands borrow dessert language to market serums, body washes, and hair products. Somewhere along the way, food stopped belonging exclusively to the table.

He seemed so sure of himself, of who he was in the world. As he drove me home in his Ford Mustang, my date started sharing little anecdotes about his life. When he mentioned being close to his mother, I responded, “That makes sense.” He asked, “What's that supposed to mean?” I responded, “You just seem comfortable with yourself.” It was true, not just his ease with himself, but also with who he was in the world. Something of an epiphany dawned on me that night: I was jeal