Listening, Reading, Thinking, Shopping, Watching / 28
A brief history of tennis; an ultra boutique hotel in Marylebone; the headscarf makes a comeback; tan lines as aesthetic markers; my experiment with nanocurrents, and more
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about timing. Recently read that Kate Moss's beauty and wellness brand, Cosmoss, collapsed into voluntary liquidation after less than three years in operation, burning through nearly £3 million of creditor money in the process. The post-mortems were predictable: overpriced products during a cost-of-living crisis, underwhelming formulations, the incongruity of a notorious party girl peddling wellness wisdom. But these explanations miss the fundamental truth that haunts every venture, every relationship, every pivotal moment in our lives: timing is everything. The brand might have been a wild success if it had launched a decade earlier, when Kate was the ultimate It girl.
A Pinterest aphorism tells us to “trust in the timing of your life” – a phrase so vague it borders on meaningless. It’s rarely acknowledged that the selection of the exact time or speed at which to do something can determine success or failure more powerfully than talent, effort, or even luck. Sometimes we control this timing through careful choice and strategy. But often, we don't. Events beyond anyone's control simply arrive at the wrong moment – what we resignedly call “bad timing” – or fortunately align when we need them most, earning the label “good timing”.
Perhaps the irony of timing is that understanding its power doesn't help us master it. We still must act, still launch our ventures and make our moves, knowing full well that we might be Kate in 2022 instead of Kate in 2012. The alternative – waiting for perfect timing – is its own failure, because perfect timing only becomes visible in retrospect, when we can look back and say that was the moment. So we're left with a peculiar kind of hope: not trusting in the timing of our lives, but trusting in our ability to keep moving despite timing's indifference to our plans.
This week's edition of Listening, Reading, Thinking, Shopping, Watching includes a brief history of tennis; an ultra-boutique hotel in Marylebone with only six rooms; the headscarf's journey through time and its modern comeback; tan lines as aesthetic markers in fashion and social media; my experiment with nano and microcurrents; and much more.
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TRENDING /tan lines
Tan lines have evolved alongside changing beauty ideals and social attitudes towards the sun. In ancient Greece, Rome, and other civilisations, pale skin was associated with wealth and leisure, while tanned skin signified outdoor labour. This preference for fair skin persisted through the Georgian and Victorian eras, where pale complexions were considered a mark of aristocracy. The shift came in the 1920s when Coco Chanel's accidental sunburn on a cruise made bronzed skin fashionable, symbolising health, leisure, and modernity. By the 1950s and '60s, with the rise of the bikini and the golden age of sunbathing, tan lines became emblematic of summer, youth, and sexuality. In the decades that followed, artificial tanning methods (beds, sprays, lotions) emerged to help achieve the same look year-round, with visible tan lines often presented in media as provocative and aspirational. However, the 2000s brought increased awareness of the risks of sun exposure, leading to a decline in tanning culture and the rise of SPF protection. Today, tan lines have come full circle, once again celebrated as a coveted aesthetic marker in fashion and social media—though naturally, not for those of us who never skip the SPF.
RECENLY /at hyperreality
In case you missed our last letter, we're starting something new: Dispatches & Dreams: Letters to Hyperreality. Every week, letters arrive from readers around the world writing about leaving one city for another, about work that might actually matter, about trying to live with more intention. So we've decided to make space for this – a place where the questions that keep us awake at 3 AM can be examined in daylight. Each edition, we'll respond to one letter, though respond hardly captures it – more like collaborative archaeology, digging through the layers of what we think we want to find what we actually need.
STAY /henry’s townhouse
Tucked away behind a discreet black door in Marylebone, Henry’s Townhouse is one of London’s most beautiful ultra boutique Townhouse hotels. With only six bedrooms, this former 18th-century residence offers an intimate and elegant retreat in the heart of the city. Thoughtfully restored with rich fabrics, curated art, and Georgian flourishes, the interiors pay homage to Henry Austen (Jane Austen’s favourite brother) who once lived at this very address.
Guests are looked after by a dedicated house host, with daily housekeeping and a beautifully prepared British breakfast. A quiet sense of luxury, combined with warm, attentive service, makes Henry’s Townhouse a sophisticated hideaway in one of London’s most charming neighbourhoods.
SKINCARE /nanocurrent
I've recently added four minutes to my morning routine – unusual for someone known for keeping things minimal, but here we are. While I haven't bothered downloading the app due to laziness, I'm sticking with the basic four-minute routine that comes built into the device. P is concern that it will mess up my face (I am too, a bit, as you can actually feel the electrical currents), but the product promises a professional facial in the palm of your hand. The microcurrent is intended to lift and tone facial muscles, while the nanocurrent works at a cellular level to improve skin health and promote collagen production. My current schedule is two days on, one day off, for six days a week. I'm committing to this routine for six weeks total, after which I'll report back with the results. Fingers crossed!