Coffee and Musings

 This year doesn’t feel loud in the way previous years did. It feels intentional. Almost like a collective pause where people looked around, took stock, and quietly decided that something had to change. Not through grand gestures or sweeping declarations, but through choices made daily and often unnoticed. There’s a sense that society is tired—not just physically, but morally and mentally—of excess, noise, and constant urgency. You can see it in the growing resistance to overconsumption. People are buying less, repairing more, re-wearing clothes, questioning trends instead of chasing them. The excitement of constant hauls and upgrades has dulled, replaced by an awareness of waste—of resources, money, and attention. Thrift stores are no longer a last resort but a first choice. Digging through racks, repeating outfits, wearing things with history feels more meaningful than owning something brand new. Minimalism isn’t just an aesthetic anymore; it’s a coping mechanism. Owning less fee...

 When I think about the women who define 2026 for me, they don’t all come from the same world, and they definitely don’t operate at the same volume. What connects them is that they feel in sync with the moment, not ahead of it, not trying to explain it either. Rama Duwaji stands out because her presence feels rooted rather than constructed. Her art is a statement, shaped by her Syrian background and a clear political consciousness, but it never feels simplified or performative. Art, politics, identity, and public life overlap around her in a way that feels lived-in rather than staged. It’s work that asks to be engaged with, not decoded for palatability. Zara Larsson’s current era works for a similar reason. She’s clearly enjoying herself again, leaning into colour and pop without irony, and there’s something refreshing about how little she seems to care about narrativising it as a comeback. RAYE is loud in a way that feels necessary. Her voice moves fast, chaotic, almost breathless...

It feels like every morning the news wakes up heavier than we do, carrying disasters with a strange sense of routine. Another protest crushed. Another institution embarrassing itself. Another official statement explaining why something awful was actually unavoidable. The world hasn’t lost control. It has settled into a rhythm of damage management. Iran enters this picture quietly, the way long-ignored problems usually do. For years, everyday life has narrowed; money losing value , rules tightening, choices shrinking, dissent treated as a threat rather than a right. When people finally filled the streets, the response was swift and violent. Security forces moved in, arrests followed, and the internet disappeared so the rest of the world couldn’t see events unfold in real time. Order was the official justification. Silence was the real outcome. When visibility itself becomes dangerous, the intent no longer needs explaining. Outside Iran, the reaction has been depressingly familiar. State...