Are you one of those people who are prone to post-party depression, or are you more the type who can celebrate a grand event, collapse, recover, and get on with whatever is lined up next? On this particular Saturday afternoon, I find myself wedged squarely between the two emotional extremes. A couple of hours ago, we officially wrapped up our landmark Quality of Life Conference in Lisbon, bringing to a close days of intense dialogue, shared meals, and urban exploration under the Portuguese sun.
As I said my final goodbyes to the diverse array of speakers, delegates, and international guests who had gathered for the occasion, I was suddenly overcome by a profound sense of melancholy. Descending the stairs at Lisbon’s esteemed Museu do Design, the reality that these forty-eight hours of concentrated energy had come to an end began to settle in. It is a peculiar kind of fatigue—one born not of boredom or exhaustion alone, but of the sudden cessation of a vibrant, high-frequency human circuit that had been humming along brilliantly for days.
To say that our annual global gathering is intense is not only to undervalue the sheer amount of creative and intellectual energy generated over the course of two action-packed days, but also to fail to capture the depth of the genuine connections formed within this varied group of participants. This year held a very specific historical weight for us. This was the 10th edition of our Quality of Life Conference, an event that conveniently aligns with a major corporate milestone: the fast-approaching countdown to our 20th anniversary. Naturally, these twin milestones prompted a great deal of reflection, encouraging us to look back at the founding days of Monocle and honor the people behind the scenes—those working tirelessly on the page, on air, and at events—who have over the past two decades built a truly unique, extended, and far-flung family.
For a moment, I was about to use that increasingly overworked, corporate-speak word “community” to define our crowd. But the truth is, they are so much more than that. The most loyal and engaged members among them do not fit neatly into a vague demographic category; they feel more like first cousins, or a dear auntie and uncle whom you look forward to seeing at every major family reunion. Over the years, through countless conversations across continents, you come to learn about people’s personal and professional stories in remarkable depth. Conversations about fresh business ventures and painful opportunities missed, the trials and triumphs of starting out in a new city, or even how a single, specific Monocle story sent someone off on an entirely new life trajectory, are common currency at these events. These interactions do more than simply inform how we shape our ongoing editorial agenda; they serve as constant, real-world reminders of exactly who we are speaking to, the vast scope of the world they inhabit, and the rich, complex lives they have lived.
Whenever we host a major party, summit, or conference, my primary goal is to speak to as many attendees as possible and, crucially, to attempt to make meaningful introductions between those who I feel simply need to know each other. We are immensely proud of the fact that over the years, these gatherings have helped form unexpected business alliances, sparked creative partnerships, and—thanks to a couple of extra glasses of wine on a sun-drenched terrace or just one more lingering cigarette on a balcony high above terracotta roof tiles—even been responsible for some long-standing romances.
Like any family worth its salt, our global network requires navigating the basic pleasantries and everyday logistics that come with bringing people together from every corner of the globe. Yet, perhaps because our attendees actively choose to opt in to the Monocle family of their own free will, the conversations that happen at these events can be far more candid, vulnerable, and raw than they might be with a biological brother in Oslo or an aunt in Phoenix. There is a liberating transparency that emerges when people are surrounded by kindred spirits who share a common curiosity about the world.
An illustration of this unique dynamic occurred just moments before I finally departed our farewell brunch in Lisbon. I was approached by a gentlemanly attendee who wished to offer a brief word of thanks and share a deeply personal story. He began by telling me that his partner had recently died suddenly. While he had the vital support of his immediate friends and family to lean on during the acute phase of his grief, as he searched for deeper comfort and some kind of enduring perspective, he found himself needing something else to turn to—something that could provide a subtle, steady lift through the fog of loss.
“I’m here because I started listening to your radio station and I immediately felt connected to the voices, the music, and the stories,” he explained to me, his voice steady yet filled with emotion. “I really appreciated the type of music you were playing and how you were looking at the world. It was a bit later that I became a subscriber, and that’s how I came to be here. I just wanted you to know that.”
That single exchange is an encounter I simply haven’t been able to get out of my head. It is precisely why I feel such a heavy, contemplative heart on this sultry Saturday evening, as the natural light slowly fades over the historic rooftops of Lisbon and I mentally gear up for what feels very much like an official “back to school” return to routine starting Monday morning. Moments like that remind us of the real, tangible human impact of the media we produce and the spaces we curate.
I want to extend my deepest gratitude to that most elegant gentleman for having the openness and generosity to tell me his story. It is a narrative that will undoubtedly accompany me and our entire team as we move forward, closing out our second decade and stepping confidently into our third decade of heading up this extraordinary, far-flung family we call Monocle.
