The AmiGo Edit 31: guest edited by Louis A. W. Sheridan

I recently had the ego-massaging pleasure of being dressed by The Parisian Vintage (the best curated and designer vintage in Paris, hands down) for a Yves Saint Laurent show. Whilst the 80s power suit felt good, it was the Mombasa shoulder bag that was a surprise hit. I’m not into bags—I hate carrying anything to be honest—and the whole idea feels a bit “it’s not a purse” from Friends. But Mombasa’s raw simplicity won me over and now I want this bag to be a mainstay. Designed by Tom Ford for YSL in the early 2000s, it has no logo and no nonsense, yet it’s still a statement in the right space.

I recently realized that Cire Trudon—the oldest candlemaker in the world, founded in 1643—is one of my favorite brands. It struck me as I walked into the lobby at The Connaught in London and the warm, hazy scent of a summer spent outdoors filled the space. Of course it was a Trudon candle, it always is. I unintentionally collect fragrances, and at home, we’re always burning candles (literally and metaphorically). I think of myself as having chaotic taste when it comes to scent, but it turns out what I’m drawn to is usually always smoky, leathery, and underpinned with a slightly animalistic edge—which sounds terrible when typed but makes sense in the air—like the Révolution scent that’s part of the current rotation.

It’s Monica Mendal’s show and I’m just sitting in the audience (clapping and cheering). But in all seriousness, there are few people as well travelled and informed as Monica, and if she speaks highly of somewhere, I know it’s real. I also always love Júlia/Outliers recs for the same reason. I know how often and how thoughtfully Júlia travels, so anything she suggests is tried, tested, and being measured against the thousands of other places she’s seen. And finally, Sam Youkilis, because his commitment to scoping out legendary local spots is surpassed only by his ability to turn the same places into pure cinema.

I just finished reading The Hare with Amber Eyes by Edmund de Waal. It’s ostensibly a memoir following the journey of a netsuke collection (Japanese figurines) through the generations of the Ephrussi family, which to me sounded charming if a little dry. It ended up being closer to a meditation on legacy, family, the importance of objects, and ultimately the power of memories and preserving them. I’m a collector of curios by nature, and this book delves deeply into what that really means and why our personal souvenirs matter in the long term. Separately, I’m re-reading AA Gill is Away, a collection of dazzling travel pieces from British journalist and writer A. A. Gill, and once again I’m reminded that no travel writer could wield a word like him.

I love Milan. I already thought I did, but a recent trip reaffirmed it (and then some). We stayed at Bulgari Hotel, drank at Bar Basso, and gawped at Villa Necchi Campiglio. Hardly a revolutionary list, but a total pleasure all the same. The lazy critique I’ve heard a few times over the years is that Milan is “too small” and “you run into the same people all the time.” Maybe I’ve been in London too long but that’s the dream, surely? Coming from a city where every plan takes two weeks at a minimum, Milan feels like a gift. I’m happy to run into friends by chance and pinball between bars on opposite sides of town. Total thrill.

I’ve fallen down a Jacques Tati (the French filmmaker and actor) rabbit hole lately after seeing his 1967 film Playtime. It’s a plotless commentary on our world becoming unbearably uniform. Nonsensical in terms of storyline but full of witty visual gags, the whole film is a masterclass in world-building through photography. Tati created an entire makeshift city from concrete and glass on the outskirts of Paris purely for the movie. The vast expense bankrupted him and his family, but it does mean that every single frame is ultra sharp and meticulously composed, with two or three stories playing out in each—watch and watch again.