I have spent my entire adult life going to the gym. There was a time when I would hand over whole chunks of my salary to personal trainers in the hope of suddenly transforming into some muscle-rippled god. Of course, this never happened. Instead, I would find myself standing with a group of people as they indulged in some fitness banter, debating the merits of various classes or routines, until one of them would inevitably turn to me and say, “How about you Andrew, do you ever work out?” Don’t worry, I have workshopped this with my therapist and moved on. 

Anyway, at this stage in life I am just grateful that they don’t ask me if I have a Zimmer frame parked outside. But you’d think that I would at least feel at ease when heading to a hotel gym for the first time or especially when using one of my regular hangouts. But no, it seems that I am one of those people who suffers from gym panic.

Like lots of folk who are not very fit, I am excellent at paying for gym memberships and currently have two to my name. One in London and one in Palma, Mallorca. The Spanish addition is relatively new and is for the very beautiful Palma Sport & Tennis Club. I can see this low-slung 1960s beauty of a building from my apartment. Indeed, sitting on my terrace, I can hear the music from various classes, see people swimming, whacking balls on the clay courts. This summer, after two years on the waiting list, they buckled and let me join. On my induction day, the lovely staff gave me a detailed tour, explained how the lockers worked and informed me of the various protocols to be obeyed. And then it was over to me.

In the gym, free of my chaperones, I felt like a child joining a new school where everyone knows the routines, how things work. I found myself watching people to make sure that I wasn’t breaking any etiquette codes, that I had the dress code covered. Staring at people in the gym, especially handsome ones, however, needs to be done with extreme caution, so I tried to observe them out of the corner of my eye as though I was in an old-school espionage movie. It probably just marked me out as a bit furtive.

While most of the machines were contraptions that I had unfortunately encountered before, there were several that were new to me and which I approached with the sort of trepidation that a cowboy might display when edging up alongside a particularly troublesome steed. Deep down, I feared inserting myself into a device back to front, or upside down, and hearing the rest of the gym break out in roars of laughter. I read the little charts attached to the machines and finally devised how you were supposed to get yourself into what looked like a fighter pilot’s cockpit. 

I occasionally search for workout-routine ideas on my phone to be prepped and primed but this is especially irksome when using Instagram because suddenly the algorithm starts serving you up invitations to accept all sorts of fitness challenges. “Start your 30-day calisthenics workout tomorrow and by Christmas nobody will recognise you!” declared a recent one. Fine – but I am not sure that it will be helpful sitting down for Christmas lunch and my other half asking, “I don’t mean to be rude but who are you exactly?”

I put in an appearance at my London gym this week – I have been going there for years yet still avoid certain sections that I consider to be for the big boys. There’s a vast muscly guy who I often see in the morning – he’s about the size of Malta – and on Monday I suddenly saw in the mirror that he was heading in my direction. I panicked. Was I in his favourite spot? Had I broken some secret gym rule? I took out my ear-pods. “Grrrrr,” he said a little menacingly. But then he laughed and fist-pumped me (maybe my first-ever first-pump, what a day!), said “Well done” and walked away.

I have tried to workshop my encounter with various people and while the exact meaning might be hard to divine, I am taking it as a compliment – otherwise I might never return. But the gym panic? I think it’s here to stay. 

To read more of Andrew’s columns, click here.

Manhattan practically invented Christmas shopping. In department stores such as Barneys, Bloomingdale’s and Bergdorf Goodman, festive window displays, Santa’s grottos and gift wrapping were perfected and exported worldwide. The release this year of They All Came to Barneys, a memoir by Gene Pressman, co-CEO of his family’s store during its 1980s heyday, has rekindled nostalgia for when New York retail led the world. Many icons of yesteryear have since closed, including Barneys, while other storied names have lost some of their lustre. Yet there has recently been a multibrand-shop boom, with many global retailers entering the market. Here’s one of our top picks.

Printemps, 1 Wall Street
In March, French retailer Printemps opened its first US outlet in Downtown Manhattan. As well as niche designers such as Taller Marmo, plus many hard-to-procure French cosmetic brands, it offers a reason to linger, with five F&B offerings including a champagne bar. The cultural programming is ambitious: Jean Paul Gaultier haute-couture pieces have been on display, while an exhibition recently celebrated Balmain’s 80th anniversary.

Find the rest of the list here; and for Monocle’s complete City Guide to New York, click here.

London Design Museum’s jaunty exterior contrasts with a distinctly symmetrical exhibition this season (writes Brenda Tuohy). Wes Anderson: The Archives is an enchanting survey of the filmmaker’s unmistakable aesthetic. The show compiles more than 700 of Anderson’s signature items, including pastel-coloured building façades, original artworks, meticulously crafted puppets, iconic costumes, life-size vending machines and small-scale room models that seem to be waiting patiently for a tiny protagonist to wander in.

The curation does the heavy lifting: rather than lapsing into pastiche, it reveals how Anderson’s aesthetic is fundamentally architectural, rooted in proportion, geometry and civic optimism. From Japanese ramen joints to Indian railcars, the show champions spaces that might otherwise be overlooked, an idea very much in keeping with the Design Museum’s remit to celebrate global design. Wandering through Anderson’s world is like stepping into a slower, tidier parallel universe. Soundscapes hum softly and wall texts are spare. For the Design Museum, it’s a crowd-pleaser with substance, a reminder that storytelling can be spatial as well as cinematic. And for Londoners seeking a mid-winter lift, there’s little better. 

‘Wes Anderson: The Archives’ runs until 26 July at the Design Museum, London W8.

From essential wardrobe pieces to luxury ceramics, Singapore’s retail scene will leave you spoilt for choice. If you’re in town or planning to visit soon, here are three places from our City Guide where you can pick up a little something to remind you of your trip. 

Graye, Tiong Bahru 
Graye’s flagship is an all-in-one shop, showroom and workshop from husband-and-wife founders Calvin Sim and Xie Qian Qian. The pair craft modern twists on traditional Asian silhouettes, such as the bestselling cotton kimono coat. Browse off-the-rack items, request alterations or customise looks.

Mud Rock, Tiong Bahru 
Founders Ng Seok Har and Michelle Lim have crafted ceramics and trinkets for diplomats and royals, including the late Queen Elizabeth II. Their handmade vases, crockery and colourful decorative tiles make charming and distinctive gifts – and they’re royally approved. 

Sifr Aromatics, Kampong Glam 
Third-generation perfumer Johari Kazura runs this independent perfume boutique that sources natural ingredients such as patchouli and vetiver – and he’s always present in-store to craft you a custom scent.

For more must-visit spots in Singapore, click here. If you’re elsewhere, check out the rest of our guides. 

Once you reach a certain level of success, true peers can be hard to find (writes Jack Simpson). An hour before the launch party for their joint collection, Monocle meets Studio Nicholson’s founder and creative director, Nick Wakeman, and American menswear designer Aaron Levine. The pair are adamant that they couldn’t have done this with anyone else. “This is not a brand collaboration,” says Wakeman. “We’re co-designing.”   

The duo took different paths to arrive at this point. Wakeman founded her brand 15 years ago; Levine spent the early part of his career revitalising some of the US’s biggest high-street names, including Vince and Abercrombie & Fitch, before launching his own label in 2024. Now, he’s challenging Wakeman to reinterpret Studio Nicholson’s distinct, minimalist aesthetic through a co-designed 26-piece capsule collection.

The line includes everything from knitwear and denim shirting to suede jackets, taking cues from vintage pieces and transatlantic references. It even ventures beyond the brand’s signature monochromatic palette. Here the two designers discuss how they work together and why experience, humility and integrity matter.

Aaron, you’ve admitted that you might have been let go from your role at Abercrombie & Fitch for not saying ‘yes’ enough. Why challenge ideas? 
Aaron Levine: I spent about 20 years working in big, publicly traded companies. There are boxes to tick and creativity becomes a pitch. Saying ‘yes’ is easier. With Nick, it’s not about selling an idea. It feels like being in a band again, playing music that you love. 
 
Nick Wakeman: