Alka Joshi knows how to subvert expectations. The US-based Indian author took up writing as her fourth career, joined a Master of Fine Arts programme when she was 52, and published her first novel in her 60s. She is also childfree by choice, and her debut novel The Henna Artist (the first book in the Jaipur trilogy, published in 2020) imagines an alternative version of her mother’s life in 1950s India—one where her mum didn’t have kids and forged her own path as a henna artist.

Recently, this book was picked up by Netflix, with Freida Pinto set to play the lead. Meanwhile, Joshi has been on a roll: in 2020, she became a New York Times bestselling author for The Henna Artist, and in March this year, she will publish a new novel, Six Days in Bombay, and visit the Hong Kong International Literary Festival.

We sit down with Joshi to talk about women’s agency against the backdrop of post-colonial India, and the empowerment to be found in taking the reins of one’s destiny.

Also read: Wellness retreats, healing villages and sustainability: Exploring Ayurveda’s lasting appeal

Historically, the home has always signified status. Owning a home—and making it look beautiful—is often accompanied by a sense of pride. For some, it signifies wealth and respectability, while for others, it is a gateway to much-needed safety and privacy. It’s not surprising, then, that purchasing a home is one of the most universal aspirations regardless of background—everyone dreams of having their own space.

While homes and family units look fairly varied today, and current generations walk creative paths to shape their domestic lives and define homemaking for themselves, the concept of home is often imagined to have been rather monolithic in the past. What Oxford history professor Matthew Cook unveiled with his research, however, looks much more colourful.

With a specialisation in queer 19th and 20th-century history, he started out examining the subject through a public lens, looking into streets, bars and social spaces in London and the UK. His focus shifted with a realisation; the home, so often overlooked, has historically been a key space not just for traditional domesticity, but for the queer community as well.

How did queer families shape their households at the time? How did queer men grow to be respected through the field of interior design? Why were art and design so important to queer households? And what role did gender, class and money have to play in all of this?

Don’t miss: Queering architecture: How architect Michael Jones is uplifting LGBTQ+ architects and designers

The late great Ernest Hemingway once said: “My only regret in life is that I didn’t drink more wine.” With today’s ever-evolving wine landscape, with plentiful options that often go beyond the old-money prestige and exclusivity of Burgundy and Bordeaux, there’s no room for that regret. Playing it safe is a surefire way to suck the fun out of any room. Of course, the comforting allure of Old-World wines remains rooted in tradition but there’s no denying the modern palate’s constant hunt for good quality pours from new regions waiting to be discovered.

Like it or not, the appetite for wine is growing for the next big thing in viticulture, and sommeliers, who have their finger on the pulse, know that all too well. To uncover these up-and-coming wine territories, Tatler Dining taps into the vinous expertise of Singapore’s top sommeliers for the best ones to watch.

Read more: The best gourmet wine bars in Singapore for a vinous pour

The meaning of “love” has been debated for millennia by philosophers and artists alike—but Gen Zs are challenging its mere existence.

It’s true that this generation has a tendency to need to categorise and (re)define everything—surely “having a nanoship” and being “boy sober” are just glamorised TikTok versions of having a connection with someone and being celibate respectively. But such categorisation is also a reflection of this generation’s growing disinterest in traditional romantic and sexual relationships. 

“I might be a Boomer, but apparently you guys [Gen Zs] are having less sex than me,” my father said laughingly to me recently, referencing a 2021 study by sexual health research centre the Kinsey Institute and British sex toy and lingerie brand Lovehoney showing that one in four Gen Z adult confesses to never having sex, as well as a 2023 study by UCLA’s Center for Scholars saying that Gen Z youth want less sex on screen.

Aside from my father’s dreadful sense of humour, the latter study deserves a deeper dive, as it also revealed what Gen Z actually do want: more content centred around friendships and platonic, rather than romantic, relationships. And the reason behind it has as much to do with gender inequality as the long-lasting misrepresentation of women in culture. 

You might also like: Why you should never let a romantic relationship overshadow female friendships and sisterhood