By Sara Bright We have a habit of resurrecting our dead rock stars. Not literally, of course, but forensically. We dig them up, dust off…
By Maria Bregman, writer, literary and art critic January is usually the time when the art world hides. The champagne from Basel Miami has worn…
By Alexander Stone I have a jar of pickled ginger in my fridge. It’s been there for six months. I bought it for a stir-fry,…
By Sara Bright The Winter Olympics have kicked off. Again. I was in Milan on Friday, watching the whole thing unfold at the San Siro,…
By Sara Bright Venice is doing it again. It’s February. The city is damp, cold, and impossibly crowded. And yet, for the next two weeks,…
By Sara Bright The Grammys have always been a bit of a circus. We know this. It’s part of the deal. You get the red…
By Sara Bright So, The Traitors is coming to the theatre. I know. My first reaction was an eye roll too. The announcement dropped this…
For twenty years, Kill Bill: The Whole Bloody Affair existed as cinema’s most tantalising ghost. Quentin Tarantino screened it at Cannes in 2006, then locked…
By Sara Bright It happened. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, a body usually allergic to anything that goes bump in the night,…
By Sara Bright So, he’s gone. Valentino Garavani. The man who arguably invented the concept of the “lifestyle” designer before Instagram made it a chore,…