On a Friday afternoon in mid-June, a letter arrived at Anthropic from the U.S. Commerce Department, and by evening, two of the company’s newest and most capable A.I. models had gone dark. The directive, citing national security, barred all foreign nationals—including the company’s own non-citizen employees—from touching its newest systems, forcing Anthropic to pull Fable 5 and Mythos 5 offline for all users at once. For most of the industry, it landed as a shock. For Nick Frosst, it was a slide he’d been presenting for years, rendered in the one medium the technology business respects: a live outage.

“It really solidified—made immediate and tangible—what we’ve been saying for a long time,” Frosst told Observer. “If this technology is foundational, and it is, and it’s not deployed under a country’s jurisdiction, that’s a huge risk. A company or a country could just decide to turn off access one day.”

Commerce lifted the controls on June 30, and Anthropic began restoring access the next day.

In 2019, Frosst, Aidan Gomez and Ivan Zhang co-founded Cohere, the Toronto company now routinely described as Canada’s national A.I. champion. He is the rare frontier-model executive who has spent the boom telling anyone who will listen that the destination everyone is pricing in—artificial general intelligence, the machine that thinks like a person—is not, in his estimation, on the map. Frosst learned the field at the feet of Geoffrey Hinton, who hired him as one of his first researchers at Google Brain in Toronto in 2016. He fronts an indie rock band with millions of monthly listeners and refuses to let a machine write a single lyric.

In September 2025, Cohere was valued at $7 billion. In April, Cohere announced plans to combine with Germany’s Aleph Alpha, and today, the companies signed a definitive merger agreement that values the combined company at roughly $20 billion. Schwarz Group, the German retail conglomerate behind Lidl, also committed $600 million in April to Cohere’s upcoming Series E. The companies describe the combination as the first transatlantic sovereign A.I. provider, built for governments and regulated industries that want capable models without ceding control. “No government or enterprise should have to choose between capable A.I. and control over their tech,” Gomez said in announcing the deal. “That belief is exactly why we’re joining forces…Together, we’ll meet the rising global demand for frontier A.I. that’s both powerful and secure.”

A word for the moment

In conversations about A.I., “sovereignty” is having its season—the sudden vogue of a term that, until recently, was in nobody’s daily vocabulary. Frosst would like to rescue it from the geopoliticians. To him, the word means autonomy, agency and control.

“It applies to a country, it applies to an organization, and it applies to a person,” he said. “For the individual, the test is simple: does the technology empower you, or does it weigh you down? A lot of people feel like technology isn’t enabling these days. They feel like it’s disempowering—fighting to keep their attention, fighting to keep them engaged. That’s not sovereignty-enabling. That’s sovereignty-removing.” For the enterprise, sovereignty means a model deployed inside the customer’s own walls, connected to the customer’s own data, with no vendor positioned to read it, train on it, or revoke it. For the country, it means the same arrangement, scaled to a jurisdiction, so no foreign capital can switch off hospitals and banks with an afternoon’s notice.

This is not an abstraction Cohere arrived at after the fact. The company sells models for private, on-premises deployment and has released some models, including Command A+, under permissive licenses—the better, Frosst argues, for a person or institution to own the thing outright rather than rent it. When the Mythos directive hit, Cohere’s chief A.I. officer, the former Meta research chief Joëlle Pineau, reported a “huge number of inbounds” from companies and governments suddenly alert to the cost of dependency.

The protégé who dissents

If there is sentiment in Frosst, it surfaces when the conversation turns to Hinton, Professor Emeritus at the University of Toronto, so-called godfather of A.I. and the man whose name, Frosst notes, “will be written next to this technology for hundreds of years.” Frosst calls him a mentor and a dear friend, “creative and playful and kind and funny and smart,” and credits him with everything he knows about the discipline. He also disagrees with him in public.

Hinton has spent recent years warning that the technology may carry us toward something genuinely human-like, and toward genuine danger. Frosst thinks the warnings are worth having, but the timeline is wrong. “I do not think the technology we have will get us to AGI anytime soon,” he said. Large language models are, in his telling, a transformative tool that is “distinctly not human-like,” and making them better doesn’t push them toward general intelligence so much as toward what they already do well. Frosst points to programming, the showcase application: the tools have automated the easy parts, and yet the industry, his own company included, keeps hiring more engineers, not fewer, because the hard parts (architecture, judgment) still need a person. He expects the broader labor story to rhyme: a technology that “automates about some percentage of everybody’s job, as opposed to a full percentage of anybody’s job,” rather than replacing entire occupations outright.

Toronto has long been an academic epicenter of A.I. research, with the University of Toronto home to some of the field’s top researchers today. This summer, when asked whether Toronto could be the next Silicon Valley, Frosst dismissed the comparison. “Let Silicon Valley be Silicon Valley,” he said. The better question is what Toronto, or Zurich, intends to become on its own terms. Canada has long been brilliant at training minds and then exporting them; last year’s hiring of Pineau, an Ottawa native, poached from Meta’s research lab, is part of a reversal Frosst is happy to narrate. He wants Toronto—”ingenious, inclusive, multicultural, pragmatic, bold”—to commercialize without losing its character, to be more itself rather than a colder imitation of somewhere else.

What the machine doesn’t get to do

For all that, the most revealing answers came when the talk turned to music. Frosst is the frontman of Good Kid, the Toronto band of programmers he started at university. He tours a few weeks a year and works from a room at the back of the bus—”I do some work, play some music with my friends, go to sleep, wake up in another city, do it again.”

He uses A.I. all day for work—drafting, fact-checking, querying the state of his own company—and runs a small open model at home that controls the thermostat and checks the temperature of his kiln, a hobby he cheerfully admits is unnecessary. (“The thermostat works just fine. It’s just enjoyable.”) What he will not do is hand the machine the part that matters. “When I do art, the purpose is to see and be seen, to express myself. As a listener, the purpose is to see yourself reflected in what somebody else is expressing. I’ve never found A.I. to help me do either of those things.”

Frosst has watched the flood of A.I.-generated tracks crest and recede. “Many months ago, there were stories about generated artists trending on Spotify. None of them had any cultural impact—a flash in the pan, no staying power, because ultimately they’re saying nothing. That’s not why we make or listen to art.” Offered, hypothetically, an album conjured from a text prompt, he was courteous and immovable: “I probably won’t listen to your Suno albums. I’m sorry.”

Frosst refuses to surrender the thing that confers control, whether that thing is your data, your country’s infrastructure or your own voice. The last book that moved him, he said, was The Dawn of Everything, which argues that human societies did not march in a straight line from one stage to the next but adopted and discarded technologies as they found them useful. Frosst seems to be betting his company and his life on the conviction that we still get to choose.

“A.I. companies should help shape the rules, but they shouldn’t get to write the rules for everyone else,” Frosst posted on X on Sept. 13, three days before the Aleph Alpha deal was announced. “We need rigorous testing, independent scrutiny, and standards that can hold every company, including Cohere, to the same bar.”

The line started on the sidewalk and didn’t stop. By early evening, it ran out the doors of the CORE: CLUB and down Fifth Avenue, a curb full of women in miniskirts checking the sky for rain that, mercifully, never came—a small miracle in a September that had otherwise made a habit of opening up without warning. It was the second-to-last night of fashion week, the air had the first real edge of fall in it, and everyone was headed to the same eighteenth floor.

Up on the terrace, the skyline did what it does. The panelists sat with all of Manhattan behind them and, closer in, the Beaux-Arts shoulders of the St. Regis rising just over their heads—the kind of backdrop that makes a party look like it was art-directed. In a sense, it was; 30 years of Sex and the City, staged with the city itself as the establishing shot. The sun went down. The conversation started.

Candace Bushnell arrived the way Candace Bushnell arrives—all force, no warm-up—in a rust-and-gold striped knit dress, a carved wood clasp doing the work of a necklace at her throat. Lola Tash came in wrapped in bubblegum-pink satin, Chanel pearl drops the size of Ritz crackers swinging from her ears. 

Tash—co-founder of MyTherapistSays, the meme account that lobs sharp, over-observed one-liners (“When I win the lottery, I’m going to buy LinkedIn and then turn it off.”) at eight million followers every few hours—drifted toward a table where publicist Ana Martins had laid out a glittering spread of Frédérique Constant gold watches with turquoise and mother-of-pearl dials catching the last of the light. “Give me your wrist,” Martins said, clasping the Swiss-made masterpiece onto Tash’s wrist. It wasn’t really a request, but nobody resisted.

The panel itself was moderated by Jasmine Lobe—actor, model and Observer’s own party reporter—seated alongside Bushnell, Tash and Violetta Komyshan, a professional ballerina turned content creator with over half a million followers. Behind all four, the St. Regis glowed gold as the sky went from blue to black—the most expensive backdrop any moderator has ever had to compete with. Lobe went early for the real question: what did Peter Kaplan understand that nobody else did? Kaplan, the New York Observer’s legendary editor, was the one who put Bushnell’s column on the front page of the peach-colored paper.

“It wasn’t a sex column,” she said. “It wasn’t about the nuts and bolts of sex, which is boring. It’s about social anthropology—the mating and dating rituals of a city that has already self-selected into a small group of people who are particularly ambitious, who care about status. It’s much more Edith Wharton than Playboy. The inspiration was all the great writers who lived in New York. It was about the city. And one of the things Peter understood—something that’s true of New Yorkers generally—is that they like reading about themselves.”

He let her write whatever she wanted, she said, within reason. “Someone once pitched a party where all the men wore diapers and sucked pacifiers, and the women dressed as nurses.” A pause. “No thanks.”

Lobe turned next to Komyshan and asked for her favorite Sex and the City column. “I can’t remember the title,” Komyshan said, “but it talks about people focusing more on work and careers. There was a lot of wit, and at the end, the takeaway was: why can’t we focus more on our careers and also open ourselves up to love in the same way? It still resonates because it’s still current.”

“That was about the original Charlotte,” Bushnell interjected.

“The theme was that you need to leave New York to be in a relationship,” Lobe added.

“Which is funny,” Komyshan said, “because my boyfriend now lives in London.”

“How did you meet him?” Lobe asked.

“On Instagram.”

The panel moved on. “Dating has gotten worse.” “I hear the apps are going out of style?” And then Bushnell, unbothered, on the line from her own column that still gets quoted back to her: “The most interesting part was where Samantha says, didn’t it turn you on, watching those people have sex? And I said, not really. All the men looked like shrinks. I’ll never be able to go to therapy again without thinking about a bearded, bald man lying on a mat, getting a blow job for an hour.”

Lobe had her own war story. “I had an editor once—a male, we didn’t exactly see eye to eye—who tried to change ‘the night before my b-day, I gave my ex Jerry a BJ’ to ‘the night before my birthday, I gave my ex Jerry a blow job.’ He said ‘BJ’ cheapened it.” She’d pushed back. “I’ll give you BJ,” the editor finally agreed — though he insisted on spelling it like bee-jay. Like blue jay. Back and forth it went. “I’m not an expert on blow jobs,” Lobe told him. “We’ll send this befuddling question to the copy desk,” he said. “And we’ll take a poll.”

Bushnell, warming to the theme of everything that’s been lost: “The 1990s were different because you actually had to go out every night. You couldn’t post from your bed. If you got invited, you went—you never said no, because you had to be there to experience it.” Her first column, famously, was a dispatch from a sex club called Le Trapeze, filed over the objections of a source who begged her not to run it—worried the publicity would ruin the place. Thirty years later, in a room where most venues would kill for that kind of publicity, the instinct reads almost quaint. Every few feet, another beautiful young thing spun, froze, smiled and posed for a camera that was always, somehow, already there. Nobody needed to beg for coverage tonight—if anything, the incentives ran the other way. 

“Nobody wants to read about the mechanics of sex,” Bushnell said. “It was about people. The anthropological side of New York nightlife.” Did people want to be written about, back then? “Oh, sure.” Was there backlash? “Comments? There weren’t comments. There were letters to the editor.” Buried in the New York Observer’s own archive are the letters readers sent in when Sex and the City first ran, and reading them now is its own kind of time travel back to 1995.

What’s the deal with this Candace Bushnell stuff? Cellular phones, fashion models, moguls, young up-and-comers who can’t get laid…… I don’t get it. Am I supposed to be interested? There are more compelling personalities in a Sizzler commercial. Candace, please, this laptop-at-poolside approach to journalism has to go.” — RICHARD  from Coronado, California.

“I’ve read The Observer for approximately six years, and it is, I believe, the most consistently enjoyable New York publication currently in print. That bit of fluff disposed of, allow me now to reveal my purpose in writing. Candace Bushnell. This woman is too marvelous. There aren’t adjectives to begin to describe her fine contributions to your paper.” — JOHN from the Bronx

“What an amazing piece of reporting from Candace Bushnell. Oh, and that she looks positively delicious in black boots and a towel. Keep up the good work, and please renew my subscription.” — JOHN from Manhattan.

“Nobody reads anymore,” Bushnell sighed at one point, only half joking. “I couldn’t have done this column in 2026.” The reasons stack up fast: everyone’s identity is public within minutes, no venue stays hot longer than the time it takes the influencers to arrive and leave, and everyone overshares before a writer even has to ask. “The column was never about sex,” she said again, like it needed repeating for a generation raised on the wrong assumption. 

Not everyone was performing the same choreography. A dapper man in a black ten-gallon hat and aviators, broad-shouldered in a blue plaid blazer, held court near the bar, trailed by a younger woman in head-to-toe camel who didn’t seem to mind. Guests stood three deep under the patio heaters, a sea of quilted Chanel and gray Birkins, phones out to capture the skyline as much as the panel.

Jim Coleman—now just a friend, though he dated Bushnell decades ago—worked the room easily, unhurried, a head taller than most of the crowd. “You need to see her one-woman show,” he said. “She’s simply fantastic.” Coleman lives mostly in Palm Beach and runs a private equity firm in D.C. and a real estate and consulting firm in New York. It wasn’t hard to picture him making his way into a column like Bushnell’s. Had he ever been in it? “No,” he said. Their timeline never overlapped with Sex and the City. Elsewhere on the terrace, guests reached for serial entrepreneur Rachel Blumenthal’s wrists, turning her arm this way and that to get a better look at the yellow gold and diamonds stacked there—her new venture into high jewelry, “all one-of-one,” Blumenthal said, letting them look.

Sarah Hoover swept in during the final hour, fresh off a stop at Carolina Herrera and a private ballet performance, trailing the specific energy of someone who has already been three other places tonight. “Did you see the feature on Tom?” Hoover’s husband, the artist Tom Sachs, had reportedly requested Observer’s own Elisa Carollo by name to cover his unofficial rendition of Chanel’s 31 Rue Cambon in Chinatown. “Oh?” Hoover said, giving nothing. (Tom Sachs, for the record, is the least interesting thing about Sarah Hoover.) “Anyway, what are you working on?” she deflected. “Did you know Sarah wrote a book about motherhood? The most amazing book about motherhood.” Hoover, again, deflected: “Observer’s review was my favorite.” (The thing about Sarah Hoover is that she isn’t afraid to complain about her husband—and while everyone claims to do that, almost nobody does it as eloquently, or as heartbreakingly funny, which is exactly what makes her worth writing about.)

The rest of the party sorted itself into its usual constellations. Gary Spitalnick—who co-founded REAL, a private aviation charter company built on an ultra-high-net-worth client base—put it plainly when asked why he wanted to host a night like this: “Most of our events are around sports. We’re thrilled to celebrate something as iconic as Sex and the City.” Carson Griffith, whose fast-rising Rich People Shit Substack chronicles the hedonism of the half-billion-dollar set, stood near publicist Becca Parrish, who reps Eric Ripert, Simon Kim and Ralph Lauren’s Polo Bar (among others). Between Parrish and Hanna Lee—who manages PR for Dante Aperitivo, Dante Mayfair at Claridge’s in London, the soon-to-open Dante Elizabeth Street and others—half the restaurant industry in New York was accounted for in one corner of the terrace. On one of the plush gray sofas, Ornela March sat hunched over her phone. “I am an introvert,” she said when asked how she ended up here. “Lola,” was her one-word explanation. “You didn’t invite my ex, did you?”

As for the account that, in its own small way, keeps Bushnell’s original project alive: Tash said MyTherapistSays was inspired directly by Sex and the City’s instinct for observation. “We have such an interesting array of characters in our lives, whose tales can be memorialized in these humorous, one-line captions. It’s not as quippy as a really great article. But it’s a modern form of capturing that time and moment.” Bushnell might argue the anthropology never stopped—it just moved platforms.

On the way out, inKind pressed $100 gift cards into every hand, good at any of its 10,000 restaurant partners nationwide, a fitting send-off for a column that was always, at heart, about people going out to eat, drink and be seen doing it.

When Wintour announced last June that she was handing off the day-to-day editing of American Vogue, she told her staff she planned to remain Vogue’s tennis and theater editor in perpetuity. It was a joke with a paper trail.

The woman who spent 37 years dictating the fashion industry’s ups, downs, ins and outs has herself gone remarkably unrevised. Wintour knew who she was before most of the industry’s current leadership had a first job, and she has not revisited that conclusion. Consistency is her brand, and it is legible. At the U.S. Open, it is measurable—the same tournament, the same week, the same seat, across 21 years of candids.

What do decades of discipline and consistency produce? The Wintour Position.

2005, Day 10, Quarterfinals.

2005, Day 14. Men’s Final, Andre Agassi vs. Roger Federer with Donald Trump.

2006, Day 10.

2006, Day 13. Men’s Semifinal, Roger Federer vs. Nikolay Davydenko, with Mirka Federer.

2007 Opening Ceremonies, credentials doubled around the neck.

2007, Day 14. Men’s Final, Roger Federer vs. Novak Djokovic.

2008, Day 1. With Oscar de la Renta, who would occupy the adjacent seat for the better part of five years.

2009, Day 3. Roger Federer vs. Simon Greul.

2009, Day 8 with Tony Godsick, Oscar de la Renta and Mirka Federer.

2009, Day 14. Rafael Nadal vs. Juan Martin Del Potro.

2010, Day 10. Men’s Singles Quarterfinals, Roger Federer vs. Robin Soderling with Mirka Federer.

2011, Day 1. Roger Federer vs. Santiago Giraldo.

2011, Day 15. Men’s Final, Novak Djokovic vs. Rafael Nadal.

2012, Day 8 with Shelby Bryan.

2012, Day 10.

2012, Day 13. Andy Murray vs. Tomas Berdych.

2013, Day 1. Sunglasses Off.

2013, Day 14. Sunglasses On.

2013, Day 15. Men’s Singles Final Match, Novak Djokovic vs. Rafael Nadal with Shelby Bryan.

2014, Day 1.

2014, Day 2. Roger Federer vs. Marinko Matosevic.

2014, Day 5. Federer’s box with Vera Wang.

2014, Day 11. Roger Federer vs. Gaël Monfils with Hugh Jackman.

2014, Day 13. Men’s Singles Semifinals, Roger Federer vs. Marin Cilic with Shelby Bryan.

2014, Day 5. Men’s Singles Quarterfinals, Roger Federer vs. Gaël Monfils.

2015, Opening Day with daughter Bee Shaffer.

2015, Day 2. Sunglasses secured for Andy Murray vs. Nick Kyrgios.

2015, Day 9. Women’s Singles Quarterfinals, Serena vs. Venus.

2015, Day 10 with Shelby Bryan and Mirka Federer.

2015, Day 14. Men’s Singles Final, Roger Federer vs. Novak Djokovic with David Beckham.

2016, Day 1. Men’s Singles, Novak Djokovic vs. Jerzy Janowicz with Vera Wang.

2016, Day 8. Fourth-Round Women’s Singles, Venus Williams vs. Karolina Pliskova.

2016, Day 12. Men’s Semifinal, Novak Djokovic vs. Gaël Monfils, with Jelena Djokovic.

2017, Day 12.

2018, Opening Night. Sunglasses off with Wendi Deng Murdoch.

2018, Day 2. Federer’s match in Federer’s box. Sunglasses on with son, Charles Shaffer.

2018, Day 3. Serena Williams’ box.

2018, Day 4. Back to Federer’s box for Federer’s match.

2019 Finals.

2020. The Open was played without spectators.

2022 Men’s Singles Finals, Carlos Alcaraz vs. Casper Ruud, with Huma Abedin.

2022, Day 3. Women’s Singles Second Round, Anett Kontaveit vs. Serena Williams.

2023, Opening Day with Vera Wang. The brace is new.

2023, Day 3. Men’s Singles Third Round, Alejandro Davidovich Fokina vs. Tommy Paul with Huma Abedin.

2023 with Emma Watson.

2023.

2023.

2024, Opening Day with Vera Wang.

2024, Day 2.

2024, Day 3. Men’s Singles Second Round.

2024, Day 8. Women’s Singles Fourth Round, Caroline Wozniacki vs. Beatriz Haddad Maia.

2024, Day 12 with David Duchovny and his daughter, West.

2024, Women’s Final, Aryna Sabalenka vs. Jessica Pegula, with Lewis Hamilton.

2024, Day 14. Men’s Singles Final, Jannik Sinner vs. Taylor Fritz with Eddie Redmayne.

2025, Day 4 with James Corden.

2025, Day 9. Men’s Singles, Felix Auger-Aliassime vs. Andrey Rublev, with Rami Malek.

2025, Day 13. Men’s Singles Semifinal, Felix Auger-Aliassime vs. Jannik Sinner, with Hugh Jackman.

2026 with Serena Williams.

2026, Day 2.

2026, Day 5. Women’s Singles Second Round, Coco Gauff vs. Paula Badosa with Michael Kors. A designer in the adjacent seat, 18 years later.

The polishers go fishing on their lunch break. This is the first thing to understand about the place where Haverhill Leach makes her jewelry. In a low building on the water in Warren, Rhode Island—the smallest town in the smallest county in the smallest state in America—the benches face the harbor, and the people who spend their mornings bringing a high shine to gold can, when the hour comes, walk out and drop a line. Forty-one people work under that one roof—designers, stone setters, chain assemblers, a team buying gold and gemstones, customer service, the person who ties the ribbon on the box—and a piece of Haverhill Jewelry passes through all of them, from first sketch to finished knot, without ever leaving the building. It is not the image the word factory summons. And the woman who built it never intended to be here at all.

Leach is the fifth generation of a jewelry family, which makes her, by the usual arithmetic, a member of the dynasty. By her own accounting, she is nothing of the kind. The dynasty is real, though, and more storied than she lets on. Her great-great-grandfather, Edwin Leach, launched jewelry ventures in Brooklyn in the 1880s before founding Leach & Miller in Attleboro, Massachusetts—a house remembered for its sterling silver, Swarovski crystal and early hand in Art Deco jewelry. Even before Edwin’s death in 1915, his son Edwin Francis Leach had struck out on his own, founding Leach & Garner in 1899 at 23 years old—a separate venture built with a factory partner and backed by the Garner family as investors. Leach & Miller carried on under family succession after Edwin’s death, producing Art Deco pieces until it closed in the early 1930s. Leach & Garner, meanwhile, grew over the following century into a household name in jewelry manufacturing—the maker of the clasps, earring wires, bindings and beads that are the unglamorous bones of the trade. Haverhill’s grandfather, Philip Leach, joined in 1938 and took the presidency in the mid-1960s; Haverhill’s father, Edwin F. “Ted” Leach II, came aboard in 1972 and later spent more than 25 years hosting his own jewelry show on QVC. The family sold the company in 2007 to Cookson Group, a British precious metals company—a decision that looks, in retrospect, like prescience.

Her father had received warnings in late 2006 from two contacts in the gold-lending business that American banks were heading for serious trouble; he believed them, put the business on the market that December, and was vindicated when the 2008 financial crisis froze the overnight funding a precious metals operation like Leach & Garner required to hedge gold. He deliberately chose a British buyer, confident that Cookson drew on different funding sources and that what his family had built since 1899 would survive the transfer. Cookson was later acquired by Richline Group, a Berkshire Hathaway company. That is how a family business founded in Attleboro, Massachusetts, in 1899 ended up under the Berkshire Hathaway umbrella—and why, by the time Haverhill sat down to design, the business was no longer theirs to hand over to her.

What she is, more precisely, is a fifth-generation name and a first-generation jeweler—and the gap between those two things is her story. She came to the craft sideways, late, and almost by accident. Leach studied at Syracuse and the London College of Fashion, designed handbags at Kate Spade, then decamped to Los Angeles to launch a swimwear line built on the vintage textiles she loved—a real business, with real press, sold into Anthropologie and Saks. Two babies in quick succession and the 2008 collapse of the department-store order book ended it. Leach was in labor with her second child when she shipped her final swimwear delivery.

Her father, who had moved from manufacturing to television and was developing a sterling-silver-and-gemstone concept for QVC to follow his long-running yellow-gold show, asked his daughter to sketch a few ideas. She sat down at her dining room table and did not get up for most of the night; the designs flooded out. She faxed the sketches to her father and hasn’t stopped designing since. “I start sketching, and the designs evolve into new designs, and they keep evolving, evolving, evolving,” she says. Leach talks the way she designs, one thing running into the next—her own gold stacked at the throat, the overall effect less boardroom than beachside, warm and without performance. “I think I have too many designs.”

Leach had watched women try on her swimsuits and emerge from the dressing room, sometimes, in tears; watching them try on jewelry was different. “They lit up. I wanted to be part of that.”

Her family never pressed. Her mother—an interior designer of confident, maximalist taste—had raised Leach to forge her own path. And so she did, building something her four jeweler forebears never had: a direct, made-to-order brand designed from a woman’s point of view, each piece keyed to a birth, a loss, a marriage, a child. What she took from her family was the manufacturing instinct. Her father ran a plant with well over a thousand employees and kept his own office inside it, walking the floor, on the theory that the people designing the work and the people making it should be able to see one another. His daughter built her shop the same way.

“I don’t know that we would be able to do this in another state,” Leach says. Rhode Island is where the skill pooled and, unlike almost everywhere else in America, never fully drained away. For two centuries, the region was a center of American jewelry manufacturing—a distinction that traces to a Providence silversmith named Nehemiah Dodge, whose work with plated gold in the late eighteenth century made ornament affordable for ordinary people and seeded an industry. Globalization thinned it brutally—state figures put manufacturing employment, the bulk of it jewelry, at over 40,000 in the late 1970s and under 6,000 by 2015—but it did not vanish.

When Leach needs a polisher, she can find a polisher. A nearby Tiffany manufacturing operation feeds her a steady supply of trained benchworkers. She has hired fathers and sons because the trade still passes here from one generation to the next in basements and at home workbenches. The capstone of that pipeline arrived in late 2025 in the form of Wayne Carvalho, a master jeweler with more than 50 years in the trade. Carvalho trained at Tiffany & Co. and spent 17 years as director of new product development at C&J Jewelry, where he ran the company’s dedicated Tiffany production cell; he now serves as Haverhill’s head of product development and quality control, making samples and setting the standard by which every piece is measured. Leach has been able to staff a quality-control operation she rates, without flinching, against Tiffany’s own. She is not alone in the rediscovery—Tiffany, David Yurman and Shinola have all manufactured in the state during its slow Made-in-America revival, drawn by a quality and a proximity to New York that the cheapest overseas factories could never match, at a cost premium that has narrowed to something like 20 percent.

Imported jewelry now faces a punishing, unpredictable tariff regime, with duties that, in the steepest cases, have run into the triple digits, while the price of gold fluctuates between record highs and near-record highs, and domestic fine jewelry prices are forecast to climb by roughly a third. A brand that kept every step of production on a Rhode Island harbor suddenly looks less sentimental than strategic. Leach will not oversell it. She did not build a factory to win a trade war she could not have predicted; she built it because an outside manufacturer, however fast, was a layer between her and the work.

Because everything is made to order under one roof, Haverhill can turn a personalized piece in about three days, faster than the industry thought possible. The speed is not a logistics achievement so much as an emotional one. Leach learned this when she was still the woman answering the phones. A customer would call, needing a push present before a birth that had been moved up by two weeks; a stone would have to be swapped from a September sapphire to an August peridot because the baby came early. And once, a man called to say he was meeting his daughter the next day for the first time in 30 years, having given her up for adoption, and he wanted a birthstone necklace in hand when he did. No importer makes that necklace in three days, and no importer’s benchworker ever hears why it matters.

When her jewelers know a piece marks a death or a birth, Leach says, plainly, “the love is infused in the product.” She feels it in her own family. Her aunt, who lost a son, told Leach she had always found birthstones a little cheesy—until she caught herself reaching for the bracelet with his birthstone to feel close to him. And Leach, designing a new signet engraved with a birth flower, chose lily of the valley—not because of any month but because it grew in her grandmother’s garden. She engraved it, she realized later, on her grandmother’s birthday. Days afterward, on a family text chain, someone listed the things that reminded them of the woman: lily of the valley. Recounting this, she gets teary. She looks away briefly, toward the harbor, and the easy, additive flow she has kept up drops away. She goes quiet and exact. The thing the business turned out to be about had caught her entirely off guard.

It also explains the house style, which is polished but unfussy with a clean, wear-it-to-the-beach restraint. Leach is her own best advertisement. Loose, undone blonde hair and her own delicate gold layered close to the skin, a bezel-set solitaire on a fine chain, the Warren ring stacked with a plain band. The jewelry stays quiet, she says, precisely so it can hold its own against the loud, eclectic prints she likes to wear—the same instinct that runs through her mother’s rooms. The most credible thing a jeweler can do is wear the work.

Leach was raised to do anything but the family trade, and she has ended up its most personal practitioner. She designs for permanence because she designs for wear, testing every piece on herself for months and building her line in modular parts that recombine, she says, “like Legos.” Her insight about what actually gets passed down is sharp: the heirlooms we reach for are the ones we watched on our mother’s or grandmother’s skin, because the memory of the piece in motion is what makes it worth wearing. The jewelry that survives is not the most valuable, but the most worn.

Which returns us to the harbor, and the polishers, and what a jewelry town is actually for. The case for American manufacturing is usually made in the language of the spreadsheet—jobs, tariffs, supply-chain resilience, the 20-percent premium narrowing toward zero. The reason to keep the work here, in Leach’s telling, is not that it is cheaper or even safer. It is that the meaning lives in the proximity, and the proximity lives in Rhode Island, for a reason no economist would put on the ledger. People light up. And someone within walking distance of the water heard why.

(Editor’s note: This article was originally published on September 7, 2018. SuperShe has since been sold to a private investor.) I’m slumped on a couch in a cabin with the windows blacked out by sheets, somewhere in the middle of the Baltic Sea. For three days, I’ve consumed nothing but vegetables, flowers and fish. That’s a lie. I smuggled in chocolate, which I’ve been eating when no one’s looking. I have not shared my candy with the other women huddled around the darkened room, pupils wide to the glow of a PowerPoint presentation. On the screen, a lion chases a zebra.

“Leaving the herd can mean instant death in the jaws of a predator,” says the disembodied voice of a presenter over Skype.

The herd of shiny women surrounding me, who include a retired mechanical engineer, a forensic fingerprint scientist and a globe-trotting Viking millennial, nod in unison. They’re here on this tiny island off the coast of Finland to “recalibrate without distractions”—meaning men. The ladies-only retreat of SuperShe Island promises an 8.4-acre Nordic paradise free from predators and temptation (sugar and alcohol are also banned), where women who meet a strict set of membership criteria can reinvent themselves amidst wild blueberries and jagged ocean cliffs. In addition to Michelin-starred chefs and experimental networking, the exhaustive seven-day itinerary features paleo breakfasts, farm-to-table lunches, “ancient practices of Ayurveda,” Finnish sauna, vinyasa yoga, yin yoga, power yoga, kayaking, meditation, massages, facials, shinrin-yoku forest bathing and “conversations with experts.”  

The expert this evening is Loretta Breuning, Ph.D., the founder of something called the Inner Mammal Institute and author of books like I, Mammal: How to Make Peace With the Animal Urge for Social Power. She’s webcammed in from the States to explain how bodily chemicals flow like water in a storm and that what happens to us before the age of 8 determines how we respond to the world. “Happiness comes from brain chemicals we’ve inherited from earlier mammals,” Breuning says, clicking to the next slide of a monkey grasping for berries. “Dopamine creates a feeling of excitement when you expect a reward.”

Listening intently from the center of the room is Kristina Roth, a crystal-eyed former computer scientist who bought the island last year, back when it was still known as Fjardskar. “This also is the reason our friends in New York take cocaine,” Roth interrupts. I don’t know why she watches me while she says this. Maybe she knows about the chocolate.

Roth sold her tech consulting firm in 2016 and launched a blog to help women discover the best version of themselves—or become, as she brands it, SuperShes. The Instagram-ready mix of inspiring profiles, travel guides and recipes for chia seed breakfast pudding proved hugely popular among the Goop-set of wellness-obsessed women with money to spend. Soon, Roth’s blog evolved from photos of healthy-looking food and even healthier-looking women to real-life meet-ups and retreats. SuperShe Island, which officially opened in July, is the physical manifestation of Roth’s vision, a carefully programmed oasis of female empowerment.

For nine months, a barge of male construction workers chugged back and forth to SuperShe through the mostly private archipelago, to lay lines for power and water and gut-renovate the island’s existing log cabins, which had been crumbling since the 70s. That was the last time men were allowed on SuperShe.  

So far, more than 8,500 women have applied for SuperShe membership, and just under 2,000 have been accepted. They’ve all answered yes to the question, “Have you ever wanted to run away to a deserted island, breathe fresh air, swim naked in the sea, and sleep under the stars?” I am among the lucky 120 to have actually made it here.

On arrival, SuperShes are greeted by a network of stone paths that lead from a dock into a canopy of pines with roots that knuckle the shore. With the exception of a free-standing Finnish sauna and some reiki yurts, the island’s main structures consist of four immaculately decorated guest cabins—Fire, Earth, Water and Air—with walls that glide open into wrap-around decks dotted by pod chairs. The bathrooms are wombs of white subway tiles divided by white glitter grout, and the beds are the best that money can buy—Hästens, which are Swedish, and cost up to $150,000. Next to baskets of soap that smell like bright citrus are toilets that incinerate poop. Graffitied walls exclaim, “Yaaaaaas!” or “No Bra? No Problem!” and there are fake silk flowers in real silver vases and actual fur blankets and rugs. On the doorknobs hang sleep masks to block the 19 hours of sunlight, and the pillows are tufted by palm-sized tubs of SuperShe balms that—unlike the cabins, which were made for women by men—are “MADE FOR SUPERSHES BY SUPERSHES.”  

By the window there’s a SuperShe notebook filled with words about sexuality and spirituality and paleovedic diets. Also in the notebook are quotes from Madonna (“I know exactly what I want. If that makes me a bitch, okay“) and Maya Angelou (“My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive”) between pages that ask, “How Could I Have Made Today Even Better?”

8 a.m. at SuperShe is yoga. Our instructor Katie isn’t a morning person, and her promise that it won’t be painful seems plausible right up until the moment we’re in down-dog listening to Drake. She hops between the mats and talks about movement and the importance of doing stuff for yourself—like yoga. After an hour, she sits and smiles and says “Namaste,” and everyone is quiet until the pretty Viking asks if Katie actually knows what “Namaste” means. Katie says yes and the pretty Viking shakes her head and says “No, no you don’t,” because her friend who learned yoga in India told her that no words in English actually explain what “Namaste” means.

Roth says that tomorrow at 8:00 a.m., she wants EDM yoga.

When I meet Roth at Earth House for breakfast, she doesn’t so much arrive as float in on a cloud, like some goddess CEO who respects your time but doesn’t ever rush to meet anyone. Her wrists are small and her nails are neat and polished in mint green glitter. She is platinum-punkish and unnervingly feminine, and says things in ways that make you want to please her. Roth says other things, too, in a German-American accent, like that her island is “a cake with hundreds of layers,” despite that fact that no cake is ever served here. She describes the inspiration behind SuperShe as “a Vitamix” of luxury hotels, private islands and hippie retreats that she loves, like The Ranch in Malibu (all-day hikes and almonds for lunch) where she has stayed 10 times, and The Ashram in L.A., a “boot camp for the stars” where the décor unfortunately isn’t quite up to snuff. “Literally,” Roth says, “it was making me almost not feel comfortable because it was a little, like, seventies in Calabasas, you know?”  

Breakfast is prepared in a blender with probiotics and a superfood called baobab powder, which has antioxidants and fiber and supports seven kinds of bodily health. I stare into my paleo coconut yogurt topped with flowers, non-grain granola and seeds as Roth sips bone broth and reflects on the mammal brain afflicting all of us.  

“The end goal when you’re living in New York, if you come in your twenties, is somehow to exit with a rich husband and have a house in Connecticut, and maybe a loft downtown,” she says. “You think, ‘Oh wow, everyone is doing it!’ So, of course, you’re trying to fit in. The mammal brain is in a constant ‘Do I wanna just go with the herd?’ mode. And that means, in the animal kingdom, that I’m safe, because if a lion comes the chance of you being eaten are lower when you are in a herd.”

According to Roth, SuperShe offers the safety of an all-female herd without peer pressure to conform. “It’s getting out of that comfort zone of hanging out with the same old girlfriends and feeling like, ‘Wow, I have a global network of amazing women who I can tap into for different things.’”

It’s not new to have a tribe and to call your friends instead of a shrink, Roth says. Even this goes back to paleo times and cavewomen. “But, taking that into 2018—not just in the cave, not just crying your guts out—SuperShe asks ‘how can we take that to the next level?’”

Roth’s own SuperShe seed was planted in Germany, where she was raised by her mother, a doctor and the family’s breadwinner, who told Roth never to rely on a husband. Roth’s father felt he “needed to act a certain way to be a man,” like demanding total control of his wife’s finances. Without a fight, Roth’s mother complied. She handed over every paycheck and, “ironically, made herself dependent on him.”

At 18, Roth left home to study computer science and economics. In the nine years between graduating and launching her own firm, she made stops at SAP, PricewaterhouseCoopers and IBM in New York City. At one point, she tells me, she had a Wall Street banker boyfriend who hated that she traveled so often for work. When he asked her to slow down and move with him to Connecticut, Roth worked harder and moved to Seattle, where, in 2006, she founded the company that eventually paid for SuperShe. In 2015, a year before Roth sold Matisia Consultants, it ranked eighth on Forbes’ List of the 50 Fastest-Growing Women-Owned Businesses.

Roth tells me that when she was six years old, she asked her mother to divorce her father, a hard man with whom Roth “clashed on pretty much everything.” Despite her urgings, they never split up, and her father died last year. It wasn’t until he was on his deathbed, Roth says, that he finally softened. “Do I wish he would have been that way his whole life?” she asks. “Yes, and he’d probably wish the same. I never Namaste acknowledged the light in him, and he never acknowledged the light in me. But that last year, we found Namaste.”

Those pre-Namaste years made Roth stronger and, if nothing else, still drive her to this day. “Obviously, I am the product of daddy issues,” she says, lifting her chin. “You’re searching for love in a man if you didn’t get it in your childhood.”

For her birthday last week, Roth hosted a shaman-led cacao ceremony in a yurt guarded by Buddhas in the center of the island. In this heart-opening experience, she tells me, the “Spirit of Cacao” connects your inner child to emotions that bubble beneath the surface. Cacao is not the same as chocolate. It is pure, unprocessed, almost sour, increases blood flow, and releases endorphins. Roth’s boyfriend Benny choppered in a Dutch DJ, and once everyone found what hid deep within their hearts, they danced to EDM and—in a rare exception—drank cases of champagne. “The neighbors really didn’t like that,” Roth laughs. Her teeth are perfect.

Benny is a local spiritual healer with his own travel business who summers on his family’s island five minutes from SuperShe by boat. “His parents are the ones who told me this island was for sale,” Roth says, explaining that when Fjardskar became available, it wasn’t even listed. (In Finland, she says, islands aren’t typically bought, they are passed down, so you kind of have to know someone.) Sometimes the SuperShes will wave at him from the beach when Benny is on the water with his parents. Mostly, Roth heads to Benny’s island for the night, returning before the SuperShes awake.  

If you’re wondering if Benny ever gets to visit, Roth explains that except for that one special time on her birthday, he respects the rules and stays away. But she doesn’t love the question. “Why do women always want to talk about men!” she bursts.

Back in April, on his birthday, Roth proposed marriage to Benny and took him to Tiffany to pick out a ring. Roth tells me that when she’s lost enough weight and thinks her hands are thin enough, she’ll buy her own ring from H.Stern. She’s never been afraid to go after what she wants, particularly when that means flipping the gender script.

“Hopefully we’re going to get to the point where you’re not automatically called a bitch on wheels if you just show signs of assertiveness and you know, of leading,” says Roth, pulling a knee to her chest. “It’s always the first natural reaction, ‘Oh yeah, she’s such a bitch.’ Which translates to: she’s not acting how I expect her to act, and it’s gender-specific.”

On the other side of the island, Yoga Katie and the fingerprint scientist guest are curled on an inflatable couch by the sea, wearing bikinis and nibbling on peas. Katie is from Oregon and the guest is from Minnesota and they are both remarkably friendly for people whose abs still look like abs while sitting and eating in bikinis. They look up and smile and we all decide to sauna, and so I follow their abs into the cedar-planked shed.

Katie says something about being nervous to come here, and I’m not sure if she means the sauna or the island. My lungs burn with eucalyptus. She pours me a glass of water and says something else, about building up a tolerance. I take a sip but now my lips burn, too.

“I just really wasn’t sure whether it would be just a lot of rich women and if they would be nice or not,” she clarifies. Katie is a yoga teacher and also a holistic health coach. Last year, ClassPass called her the best trainer in Portland, and when Roth was looking for someone to lead the often thrice-daily workouts, a mutual connection put them in touch. Tomorrow we will go kayaking and Katie will sit behind me and we will talk about a lot of things, but mostly about relationships. SuperShe, by design, is a place to process heartbreak. She will confide that she’s needed time and space, and has found a lot of both of those on the island. She loves it here, and when the summer is over she wants to go to Iran to visit a guest who turned into a friend.

When it is finally time for dinner, Katie leads the way down a path webbed with blueberries and up onto a patio that cliffs high above the water. Swans nestle into the shallows below as expensive-looking sailboats circle the island like sharks. The former mechanical engineer sits on an electric blue couch beside the pretty Viking and the American from Minnesota. They are varying degrees of successful, blonde and thin, and all of them came to SuperShe alone—including a fourth guest, who won’t be at dinner tonight because she has had a blackout migraine for days. The pretty Viking thinks this may be due to the sauna. When the fourth guest resurfaces later this week, she will insist that her misery “needed to happen.” For now, a plate is delivered to her room.

The meal is served by Camilla, a pretty blonde Finnish chef with deep expertise in raw vegan desserts and “high frequency” food. Everything except the avocados and coconuts is sourced from within 100 miles of the island. We have salmon prepared with ginger and herbs, kale with red peppers, and eyeball-sized potatoes that glisten in a clarified butter called ghee. There are edible orange flowers in the salad and edible purple flowers in the water. There are many colors of edible flowers on the table and they taste good, like spicy cucumbers, and are the only things Roth eats because she is on a cleanse.

Camilla hands a gallon of green juice to Roth, who’s expounding on the importance of not lying to yourself about contentment. “I absolutely love the US—but it’s almost like this blueprint that once I have the house, and I’ve paid off the house, and once I have my three picture-perfect children, and the husband who loves me and got me the biggest diamond, and we have a couple of cars in the garage, that that’s the time when I will be happy,” Roth says. “And if you’re lucky enough that that moment comes, you will realize that you were chasing something that really, that’s not really…” Roth pauses to take a gulp. “What really makes you happy is to be able to do what you want to do.”

It’s the mammal-brain instinct to chase beauty in the pursuit of happiness that leads the herd to slaughter. “If you want to make a drastic change, get fillers and get Botox, or pull the whole thing up, you know, cut it and pull it up,” Roth says, “But don’t kid yourself. There is no miracle cream. The wrinkles, they don’t frickin’ disappear.”

“If you would have put all the money you’ve spent on, like, half-open bottles of cosmetics, and invested it in something sensible, you would be financially independent, right? Instead, you have a bunch of half-bottles, a bunch of Louboutins or Jimmy Choos, and nothing to show for it. And that really makes me angry. They market to women, and the women just buy everything.”

“I went through the whole same cycle,” Roth admits. “I lived in New York, and I spent all my money on looking good and on my apartment, and I learned by doing—that’s the reason I’m seeing these things. I did it the hard way.”

SuperShe is just one of dozens of female-only social and co-working spaces to have cropped up around the world in recent years, including the Allbright in London, which focuses on networking, Sweden’s Her Global Network, which has now expanded to 14 cities, and The Wing, the ladies-only safespace whose mission “is the advancement of women through community.” After launching in New York City’s Flatiron District in 2016, The Wing raised major capital and has rapidly expanded across the country, with outposts in London, Toronto and Paris on the way. Of course, women’s clubs are nothing new, and the judgements that follow them aren’t, either. Like The Wing, SuperShe has been accused of discrimination against men.

“You’re always going to have haters,” Roth recently shot back. “But if you don’t have any haters and people commenting, then you don’t really have anything. SuperShe is like a white canvas—you can project onto it whatever you want… your fears.”

For centuries, men have had their cigar clubs and golf resorts, where they can talk amongst themselves, Roth says. And in just the same way, there are topics women prefer to discuss only in the company of women. As the SuperShe website puts it, “Being on vacation with men can cause women to become sidetracked, whether it’s to put on a swipe of lipstick or grab for a cover-up.”

While The Wing is considerably less expensive than SuperShe (between $2,350 to $2,700 per year) both have been on the receiving end of criticism over fees some label elitist. Wing co-founder and It-Girl With a Lip Tattoo Audrey Gelman has fairly disputed such claims, arguing their dues are market rate (WeWork, where men and women mingle, starts at $350 per month). And this spring, Gelman launched a scholarship program, opening The Wing up to “self-identifying women and non-binary individuals who wouldn’t otherwise be able to afford the membership fees.” On Roth’s end, in August she invited 42 Finnish locals to the island for “A Taste of SuperShe,” where they could get an abridged Super-experience from lunch until dust. The cost was only 180 euro ($210).

From the start, the Finnish media has been less than kind to Roth’s experiment. “Thousands Want to SuperShe—But Only a Few May Come,” read one headline covering the Taste Of event. Which was little improvement over earlier stories like, “Few in Finland Warm to Exclusive Women-Only Island” and “Roth Finds Finland a Difficult Place for Business.” One of the only positive articles to come out of her SuperShe-for-a-day invitation, which praised Roth as a “purposeful superwoman,” eventually ended with a scolding. “Building a worldwide network for women requires more than just beautiful pictures and inspirational quotes.”

“Finland is not easy on change, and I’m doing something that hasn’t been done before,” Roth tells me. “This is their archipelago, untouched, with no foreign investors. It’s their sanctuary, no tourists—and then an American comes and buys land? I think it triggers something that is more historic than anything else. ‘Someone is taking something away from us, what is ours.’”

After a morning of stupid-intensity squats, and nearly a week of acknowledging the light within me, my Namaste feels strong. Or maybe it’s just low blood sugar. The pretty Viking and I are eating pea soup with flowers for dinner on the patio at the Earth House, and Roth is drinking green juice again, offering an earful of hard-earned wisdom she’s admittedly cribbed from Mark Manson’s book title.

“If I had one piece of advice, it would be to really master the art of not giving a fuck about things that are not important to you. We all give a fuck about something. But we should not give a fuck about a lot of things,” she says. For example, Roth recounts, “When I was building my first company, people were like ‘Oh she just got lucky, she’s smart and pretty and she got lucky,’ and that’s exactly the message I’m most worried about going out to women on Instagram. Like, if you’re pretty, everything’s easy, just get the likes and the husband.”

I finish my pea soup with flowers and the pretty Viking finishes her pea soup with flowers and then also finishes someone else’s pea soup with flowers. She’s so hungry here, she says, it reminds her of volunteering in an orphanage in South America.

“I feel like it must be very confusing for a young woman,” Roth says, “about whether or not to work hard and find something or go this easy route that everyone else is going on.” A 16-year-old Finnish intern clears the dishes.

“I mean, how watched was the wedding of Prince Harry? How is the dream of ‘She found a prince!’ still sold as the love story in 2018?” Roth scoffs. “Why do so many women around the world still watch that crap? I mean, question mark!! You know?”

Roth tells us about the time when, a couple weeks back, in this exact spot, a drone popped up and started taking pictures of the SuperShes. The women threw the drone some middle fingers and f-bombs, doing little to dispel the misconception that women who have self-selected to go to an island full of women are angry. So Roth ran like a bat out of hell and into her boat, powering through the water after who she thought were jerk Finnish journalists. She found two well-dressed newlyweds. The drone, which she remains convinced was piloted by Finnish press, flew away to an entirely different island.

“At least the Fins, they’re unhappy and they show it,” Roth laughs. “I’m not saying that’s a good thing, but to live in a society like America, where everyone thinks you need to be relaxed, chill and happy all the time? Let’s not kid ourselves. I think you can live a more fulfilled life by saying, ‘Yes, I’m sad and angry, I feel fucked up, nothing is perfect, but you know, it’s fucking okay.’” At that, Roth finishes her green juice, hops in a boat, and disappears by herself into the horizon.

Daphne Koller does not like the phrase “move fast and break things.” She says so almost immediately, and she says it the way people say things they’ve been asked before and have long since stopped softening. “Living in a sector where the products that we produce are drugs that have to go into a person, the notion of ‘break things’ is a very bad idea,” Koller tells Observer. “You do not want to break things when you’re going into a clinical trial and cause risk to your patients.”

It is an obvious point. Coming from Koller, it is also a rejection of the operating philosophy that built the industry she has spent the last eight years trying to out-execute. Koller trained as a Bayesian statistician, taught computer science at Stanford for 20 years, and won a MacArthur “genius” grant in 2004 for work bridging logic and probability before co-founding Coursera, the online education company she left at a valuation of roughly $1 billion. In 2018, Koller started over, founding Insitro on the premise that drug discovery—an industry famous for burning a decade and a billion dollars per approved therapy—could be re-engineered, as she’d once tried to re-engineer the university lecture. She has since built a company backed by more than $750 million in capital, including roughly $140 million in pharma collaboration revenue, toward turning algorithmic target discovery into clinical candidates.

Insitro raised its first $100 million in six months, from ARCH Venture Partners, Andreessen Horowitz, Foresite Capital, Alphabet’s GV and Third Rock, with Jeff Bezos joining later. Within a year, Koller had a deal with Gilead worth $15 million upfront against roughly $1 billion in potential milestones, for work on fatty liver disease. Seven years later, Insitro is running two live programs—one in ALS with Bristol Myers Squibb, one in metabolic disease with Eli Lilly—both tracing back to targets Koller’s platform surfaced from human genetics, not from a chemist’s hunch. 

The Bristol Myers Squibb partnership is the clearest evidence that the model is compounding. BMS paid to expand its collaboration with Insitro twice in the past year: $20 million in October 2025 to extend work on an Insitro-discovered ALS target, then $10 million in March 2026 when BMS nominated two additional targets sourced from Insitro’s Virtual Human platform—bringing the portfolio to three ALS targets and more than $2 billion in potential milestones plus royalties. Separately, in September 2025, Eli Lilly signed on to train machine-learning models on its own proprietary preclinical data, a bet that Insitro’s modeling can shrink the animal-study cycles required before a candidate is chosen.

Following its January acquisition of the Israeli biologics-design startup CombinAbleAI—folded into a new platform Insitro calls TherML, built to extend the company’s target-discovery engine into molecule design and manufacturability across small molecules, oligonucleotides and antibodies—Insitro’s lead candidate has moved from genetics to mice. CTRO-1013, an A.I.-discovered siRNA therapy that silences the gene IRS1 to treat MASH, the metabolic liver disease formerly known as NASH, showed a 37 percent reduction in the fibrosis marker TIMP-1 and a 68 percent reduction in the liver-injury marker CK-18 in a standard preclinical mouse model, data the company presented at the American Diabetes Association’s June meeting. First-in-human trials are expected this year.

None of it, Koller insists, has moved faster than biology allows. “You cannot make a cell grow faster by throwing more GPUs at it,” she says, rebuking anyone assuming A.I. collapses biology’s timelines the way it’s collapsed, say, code review. 

Koller’s aversion to “move fast and break things” is not just a rhetorical flourish about patient safety. It also describes a specific strategic decision she made years into building the company. Many platform biotechs hit an uncomfortable timing problem: building the discovery platform and then waiting for it to produce usable programs stretches out the road to becoming a “clinical-stage company.” The common workaround is to in-license an already-developed asset that never came off the company’s own platform, purely to have something to point to. Koller argues that shortcut is close to a trap. If the in-licensed asset fails, the decision was simply bad. But even if it succeeds, “it doesn’t read on your platform”; the capital spent developing it is capital that wasn’t spent advancing whatever the platform itself might eventually produce, and a success story about someone else’s molecule tells investors nothing about whether Insitro’s engine works.

“We made the decision to go the slow path,” she says. “We did not in-license anything. We waited for insights to come off of a platform that we first had to build, and then get the programs off that platform, and then move those into the clinic. That took longer, but it was the right decision.”

Koller’s founding logic for both of her companies is that real value gets paid for. “If you are providing something to people that is truly valuable, by and large, there will be a willingness to pay for that,” she says, pointing to high-quality education and transformative medicine as proof. She is equally direct about the alternative—”it’s also absolutely possible to go and sell people something that has modest, if any, value and charge them exorbitant amounts of money for that”—and says the discipline against doing so is exactly why she structured both Coursera and Insitro as for-profit companies rather than nonprofits. Philanthropic capital, in her telling, is unreliable by design.

“There is not really any reliable revenue stream, because you’re not charging for the value that you bring,” she says of donor-dependent models, where interest can shift from one cause to the next. Capitalism, for all its flaws, remains the only system she has seen reliably tie the money an organization receives to the value it actually produces—and building a for-profit company forces that correlation to hold. “That was the rationale for the decision at Coursera,” she says, “and it’s also the same rationale for the decision at Insitro.”

Koller does not pretend the CEO chair is a costless upgrade from the lab bench. Plenty of scientists prefer to stay scientists, she says, rather than take on selling the work, raising capital and “the nitty-gritty of HR and audits.” She has found the split stimulating, but is candid about what it costs her. “I do often miss having enough spare time to really sit down and think deeply about a scientific question. So, like everything in life, it’s about trade-offs.”

Asked to place Insitro within the sprawling category of “machine learning in healthcare,” Koller draws a sharp distinction. Traditional biotech companies, she argues, typically end up with only one or two precious programs to their name, forcing an early, defensive choice to sell a program off before it hits a real value inflection point, and forfeit most of the upside it could have generated. Pure-play tech companies pursuing the same market tend toward the opposite failure mode, avoiding the “heavy lifting” of pushing a drug through clinical proof of concept altogether, and defaulting instead to something closer to a service model for pharma, without taking on the cost and risk of clinical development themselves.

Insitro’s platform gives it a third option pharma companies don’t have: a discovery engine productive enough to supply partners with programs they are short on, while still retaining enough capacity to advance a subset of programs Insitro itself majority-owns through the clinic. “That allows us to also participate in the win-state economics that you get when a program actually proves itself out,” she says. It is, in effect, a hedge; collaboration revenue from partners like BMS and Lilly funds the company while it works, patiently, toward the far larger payout of owning a drug that clears human trials.

BMS’s decision to nominate two more ALS targets after the first—designated ALS-2 and ALS-3—validates the underlying biology. “These other targets that are related reinforce the fact that this wasn’t a mistake,” she says. More importantly to the business, it validates that the discovery platform itself is repeatable rather than a one-time hit. It shows that the platform is real, that it didn’t just happen upon something by accident, but that it is reliably reproducible. “It’s not a one-trick pony,” Koller says.

She frames the scarcity driving that value. High-confidence, novel drug targets are rare enough that pharma companies routinely crowd 30 or 40 programs onto a single known target rather than risk pursuing something new—a pattern Insitro’s platform is built to break. That “novel biology is the scarcest commodity in this industry” underlines Koller’s recurring worry—not about her own targets, but about the tools used to find them.

Pressed on A.I. reliability in drug discovery, Koller draws a distinction sharper than the industry’s usual hallucination anxiety. Fabricated citations are the easy failure mode to catch, she explains. “You’d have to be an idiot to just take what an A.I. said at face value,” since a hallucinated source can simply be checked against the primary literature. The harder problem is trusting an A.I.-generated insight built on today’s incomplete and imperfect data, and advancing a program based on conclusions that aren’t as grounded as they appear.

Koller shares a concrete instance. While reviewing an early A.I.-generated ranking of prioritized drug targets, her team pressure-tested the data and found that the rationale for prioritizing a particular target didn’t hold up. The team caught it before advancing the program, then built new checks into its A.I. pipeline to guard against the same failure mode going forward. Mistaking a statistical association for a causal relationship is one of the most consequential errors in the industry. “Causality is at the heart of what makes a drug work or not work, because you’re making an intervention in a person,” she says. “If that intervention is not causally upstream of the disease that you’re looking to modify, then the fact that they were statistically associated is meaningless.”

It is why Insitro built its platform around causality as “the fundamental underpinning” rather than around whatever associations happen to surface in public data, which Koller says is often riddled with spurious correlations traceable to nothing more than how different labs ran their experiments.

Insitro’s data stack breaks into three layers, and the proprietary share is bigger than a company built partly on public biobanks might suggest. Human data starts out largely non-proprietary—Insitro works with national biobanks and academic medical centers rather than owning a patient population outright—but the company layers A.I.-inferred data on top of what was directly measured, and those inferred layers are proprietary. The third layer, entirely proprietary, is data generated in Insitro’s own labs: causally anchored cellular data from cells deliberately perturbed, rather than simply observed.

By volume, Koller estimates roughly three-quarters of the company’s data now comes from its own lab-based “cell factory.” Of the remaining quarter drawn from human data, she says about half is publicly available, and the other half consists of Insitro’s proprietary inferences layered on top.

Koller argues that commoditized knowledge—first accelerated by search, now by conversational A.I.—has shifted what she recruits for in building Insitro. Koller hires people with traits no model can supply. Intellectual curiosity and a “non-trivial modicum of humility” top the list, the willingness to recognize what you don’t know and go learn it. Humility also governs how Insitro’s cross-functional teams interact. Koller warns against hiring people who believe deep expertise in one discipline makes them the smartest person in every room. It is a dynamic that produces siloed, bifurcated cultures. “Create together” is one of Insitro’s stated values. People from different disciplines, contributing distinct skills and ways of thinking, don’t just arrive at better solutions; they arrive at better problems, she says.

The other qualities Koller looks for are boldness balanced against rigor, a willingness to try things with no precedent, paired with a discipline to scrutinize new ground carefully rather than assume it’s working. The stakes of getting that balance wrong compound with every stage of drug development, she notes, since each downstream step is an order of magnitude more expensive than the one before it.

Trained as a Bayesian statistician, Koller describes Insitro’s confidence-building process in explicitly probabilistic terms: a prior that strengthens as data accumulates, drawn from human cohorts, lab work and existing literature, continuously pressure-tested against new evidence. The same logic applies to technology decisions. Starting small, creating benchmarks to test predictions against data the model wasn’t trained on, then testing against still another cohort. “The creation of the benchmarks is at least as much of an intellectual exercise as the creation of the solutions,” she says, calling the ultimate test of any hypothesis the same regardless of discipline. What happens when you put the drug in a human being?

That patience runs alongside a self-described impatience that she treats as productive rather than contradictory. Some timelines cannot be compressed. Cell growth, mouse experiments and clinical trials move at biology’s pace, not capital’s, but her impatience pushes her to keep asking whether an assumed timeline is actually fixed. Could a blood biomarker produce a confident readout faster than waiting for a clinical endpoint? Is a contract research organization’s standard turnaround a real constraint or just an unexamined habit? “When you actually pressure-test the question, [you find that] you could actually do it faster, and that’s great.”

Koller cites Jim Collins’s Good to Great as a longstanding reference point for building an enduring organization, but the book she says she has pushed on more people inside Insitro is Switch, by Chip and Dan Heath. Switch is an “incredibly illuminating” book about behavior change, which Koller says maps directly onto what both of her companies have had to do. Coursera and Insitro were each built to run counter to how their industries traditionally operate, requiring Koller to drive change both externally, in how the surrounding ecosystem behaves, and internally, in an organization unlike almost any other. Computational scientists learn to work alongside life scientists, and vice versa, inside a company she believes has no close precedent.

Kevin Ooley has spent 15 years watching other people misunderstand what he does for a living. For most of that time, even his own family didn’t have a clean answer to the dinner-party question. Now the industry he’s spent a career building is impossible to avoid—implicated in every heat wave water advisory, every grid complaint, every anxious headline about whether the A.I. boom is a bubble waiting to pop. Ooley, DataBank’s President and CFO since 2011, becomes the company’s next CEO on January 1, 2027, succeeding Raul Martynek, who will move into the role of executive chairman. The board’s decision followed a full search process and was approved unanimously.

DataBank, founded well before anyone was talking about large language models, has ridden three distinct waves since Ooley joined: the outsourcing of corporate data centers starting in 2011, the cloud explosion of the mid-2010s, and, beginning in late 2022, the A.I. wave that has reshaped the scale of everything the company does. “Data bank’s been along for each of those waves for the ride,” Ooley tells Observer. The arithmetic of that ride is blunt. When DigitalBridge acquired DataBank in 2016, the company was running at roughly $25 million of annualized EBITDA; DataBank expects to close out this year near a $1 billion run rate. It has grown from six data centers in three markets to what Ooley describes as the largest geographic footprint of any data center provider in the U.S.—around 65 to 66 facilities across 26 markets, with roughly ten more under development. The company hit its thousandth employee, or “data banker,” in March.

What’s changed since 2022 isn’t the growth trajectory so much as its shape. DataBank used to build with optionality—a 10-megawatt facility, fit out a couple of megawatts, sell it, build the next hall. As workloads scaled, the company began buying adjacent land on existing campuses. Now it’s breaking ground on 200-to-300-acre campuses built explicitly for expansion, and selling into that capacity faster and further in advance than ever before. “In 2019, you needed to have a data center white floor available, ready to tour the client,” Ooley says. “Now you’re having conversations once you’re getting permitting, and you get your utility agreement in place. You might be pre-leasing twelve, eighteen months in advance.”

The Water Thing

Ooley is aware that “data center” has become shorthand for civic anxiety, and he’s got a specific grievance about which facts get lost in that conversation. Older DataBank facilities, built as far back as 2008, use evaporative cooling technology that does consume water as it evaporates, but he characterizes those as the company’s smaller, legacy sites, not the sprawling A.I.-era campuses drawing public scrutiny. In 2017, DataBank moved to a closed-loop cooling system for its larger builds: water fills the system once and recirculates in sealed pipes rather than evaporating, meaning the facility’s only meaningful water draw comes from employees using restrooms and kitchens. By his estimate, a several-hundred-thousand-square-foot DataBank facility uses about as much water as five households—a claim that undercuts one of the more common assumptions about the industry’s environmental footprint, even as Ooley acknowledges the newer technology hasn’t fully displaced the reputational hangover from the older one.

On power, he’s more circumspect. Prices are rising—inflation, tariffs, transformer and grid repair costs—but he frames data center demand as an unusual opportunity for utilities that have seen little load growth in years to finally invest in modernizing and hardening infrastructure that benefits everyone, not just his tenants. He also points to demand response participation. Because data center load is flat rather than spiky, DataBank can pull large chunks of consumption offline during peak periods, in theory sparing residential customers some of the strain. Whether that math nets out favorably for the ratepayers is, notably, not a claim he tries to fully close the loop on. “I don’t want my residential rates, and my friends and family’s rates, to go up,” he says, “but we think that over time with this investment, partnering with the utilities, we can move to renewable investments… and ultimately bring the cost of power down.”

A.I. Bubble Talk

Asked directly whether the industry is inflating a bubble it can’t sustain, Ooley doesn’t dodge, but he doesn’t over-promise either. He and much of DataBank’s leadership lived through the dot-com collapse. He was, in his words, “a paper millionaire in 1999 and in 2000,” and that memory shapes a deliberate wariness about overextension. Costs to build have risen with inflation and interest rates, and DataBank has passed some of that through in pricing. Today, he says, the industry is in a clear supply-demand imbalance, with demand outstripping supply and community pushback further constraining new capacity—conditions that, in the near term, point toward continued price pressure on A.I. customers rather than relief.

Where it lands in the long term, Ooley won’t forecast with confidence. He expects consolidation along the lines of what happened after the dot-com crash and in the cloud sector, where hundreds of providers narrowed to a handful of dominant players plus specialists. He draws a distinction between A.I. use cases already woven into daily infrastructure—the kind nobody wants to unwind, the way nobody wants to go back to calling an airline to book a seat—and the open question of how far A.I. inference ultimately penetrates into consumer life. In the meantime, he points to concrete, less-hyped applications running in DataBank facilities: pancreatic cancer detection research at health clinics, A.I.-driven fraud detection for financial institutions. “Fraud detection has always been around,” he says, “but this is, you know, on steroids.”

What He’d Do Differently

Ooley says he was never an A.I. skeptic, but he underestimated how fast return on investment would materialize for end users. DataBank has used Claude Code internally to accelerate its own development work, he noted as one example among many. He compares the adoption curve to autonomous driving, which spent a decade feeling stuck before suddenly gaining real traction. The speed and scale of A.I.’s uptake, he says, outpaced anything the industry had seen. “If I could go back in time, we would have built bigger and faster five years ago.”

Succession, Culture and the Fourth Constituent

Ooley describes his reaction to the CEO announcement with a small, telling anecdote. Walking out of the event where the transition was announced, Martynek told him he felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. “Hey, thanks a lot, Raul,” Ooley says, “that weight just landed on my shoulders.” He’s framing his excitement around continuity, executing the existing plan with the existing leadership team, continuing to work with Martynek in his new capacity as Executive Chairman, and expanding DataBank’s employee ownership program, through which any data banker employed a year or longer holds a stake in the company.

His anxieties are more structural: finding the right power in the right locations, being a credible partner to host communities, and managing capital-intensive, large-scale buildouts without overbuilding or falling behind demand. He cites DataBank’s work in Culpeper, Virginia, where the company helped establish a designated “tech zone” for data center development away from residential areas, in coordination with Dominion Energy on power availability.

On hiring, Ooley credits a cultural overhaul from four or five years ago, prompted by friction between personalities and workflows across DataBank’s various acquisitions. An outside firm helped the company identify behavioral “archetypes” — the “hero” trying to solve a problem butting heads with the “caregiver” trying to protect the customer, both pursuing the same goal by different means—and from that process, DataBank built what it calls its cultural cornerstones: put people first, assume positive intent, be data-centered. Leadership talks openly about Good to Great, prioritizes high competency paired with low ego, and has direct conversations that address issues rather than people. The company publishes its Net Promoter Scores—customer satisfaction ratings, now at a record high—internally, along with an internal Employee Net Promoter Score used to gauge staff sentiment and adjust culture accordingly.

He adds a fourth constituent to the traditional trio of investors, customers and employees: community neighbors, a group he expects to become increasingly central to his first year as CEO. DataBank has three solar projects underway, including what Ooley describes as the largest rooftop solar installation in the Houston metro area. The company says it’s at 80 percent renewable power today, working toward a 100 percent target by 2030, up from 40 percent three years ago.

Who Gets the Space

How does DataBank actually decide who gets to lease space when demand outstrips supply? Is it simply the highest bidder, or is there a deliberate tenant mix, as a commercial landlord might curate retail alongside restaurants? Roughly 70 percent of DataBank’s business comes from enterprise customers—financial services, healthcare, content distribution, software—and 30 percent from hyperscalers. The company prioritizes investment-grade, durable clients because that customer profile helps secure cheaper capital when DataBank raises securitized bonds or equity to fund new builds. Existing customers also tend to expand alongside DataBank; roughly 80 percent of the company’s growth comes from accounts already on the books, serviced by a sales team of about 100, of whom only 10 percent focus on new business.

That discipline has a cost. In 2023, Ooley says, DataBank could have filled every available megawatt with so-called neocloud providers—the GPU-as-a-service startups that emerged alongside the A.I. boom—but deliberately capped that allocation to preserve room for enterprise clients to grow. “If we don’t have room for them to grow with us,” Ooley says, “they’re gonna grow somewhere else.”

Bloomberg’s chief technology officer has, by his own admission, a job that is half about building the future and half about stopping the future’s more embarrassing impulses from getting anywhere near production. “Half my job is keeping out nonsense from the company,”  Shawn Edwards tells Observer, and he is not entirely joking. The nonsense he’s referring to is the tidal wave of generative-A.I. hype that has swept through every boardroom with a Bloomberg Terminal. His job is finding the narrow cross-section between what his engineers can dream up and what the people who actually trade bonds, screen credit and prep for earnings calls are desperately trying to get done—not what they’re doing today, but what they’re actually trying to achieve. In Edwards’ worldview, that distinction is the organizing principle behind ASKB, the conversational, agentic A.I. system Bloomberg has built directly into the Terminal.

Ask Edwards for a use case, and he describes the old way of doing things. “Before ASKB, a user would have to go to different places in the Bloomberg Terminal to look at company fundamentals, to look at what the street estimates are, to look at various performance measures, company KPIs, and a different place to look at print, peer analysis and alternative data for that quarter’s performance—reading lots of news about the company and invariably reading lots and lots of company documents and sell-side research.” Edwards pauses. “And then they would have to synthesize all this information.”

As of February, Bloomberg users can ask the system (ASKB) to synthesize information. “It knows where to fetch and knows where to find all this information and gives you a quite detailed analysis for you to be prepared.”

The machine does not replace the analyst, and Edwards is careful, almost insistent, on this point. “ASKB doesn’t do the entire job for the analyst, but it does 80 percent of the work of gathering and synthesizing this information. And it frees them up to do the value-added thinking—really deciding where they really dig in.” The workflows differ by desk. For equity analysts, it’s event preparation and thesis monitoring. For credit analysts, it’s liquidity analysis and bond screening. The common thread is a research problem.

Trust Isn’t a Feature

If there is a single obsession running through Edwards’ account of the last several years, it’s the reliability of an engineering discipline bolted onto a technology that was never built for finance in the first place.

“A big focus, essentially a focus for the last couple of years on my team, along with our core engineering team, has been how to build A.I. that’s trustworthy for our customers to make mission-critical decisions,” he says. Among the principles that went into developing ASKB was the refusal to let the model speak for itself. “We never want it to generate an answer from its world knowledge,” Edwards explains. Rather, ASKB is guided by and grounded in Bloomberg’s decades of proprietary data, risk analytics and pricing generators—what Edwards calls “sources of truth.”

Getting there means building validators into every step of the process—some checking facts in real time (“you didn’t make up a fact, I can check that… you summarized, and I can look at all the facts and compare the two”), others catching more subtle failures, like an inverted sentiment read. Layered on top of that is a continuous evaluation framework, “autonomous and manual evaluations to verify that we are actually continuing, nothing has drifted, and nothing is going wrong with our system.”

The last layer is transparency. ASKB points users to the source material—the paragraphs, out of millions of documents, that yielded the insight. It tells users the query that did it. It shares the analytic call that it made. Edwards is blunt about how underappreciated this is from the outside. “They’re underestimating this totality of these various layers that have to work in conjunction to get something that’s trustworthy,” Edwards says, of the handful of clients that have tried to replicate what Bloomberg does with off-the-shelf A.I. models. “It is not easy. It’s actually very hard to steer A.I. to do it. It wants to be very helpful, and sometimes it’s unhelpful.”

Part of the difficulty lies below the model, in the unglamorous work of making data sources speak to each other. “How do you link data? How do you rationalize all these different sources of information and rationalize a data model that you can join across disparate data sources?” Crucially, Edwards argues that the people steering that work can’t just be A.I. engineers. “Domain experts are increasingly building our systems. They are the ones helping guide the A.I.—who say, ‘No, you’re getting this wrong.'”

Even the CTO Has a Learning Curve

For all the engineering rigor, Edwards concedes something surprisingly human. The tools are harder to use than anyone initially expected—himself included. “There was a lot of expectation in the beginning that it’s just so natural to use, to have a conversation,” he says. “But I think we all learned that, actually, there’s a learning curve. You have to put energy and effort into learning how to be a good user of these tools, and the more you put in, the more you get out. That was maybe a little surprising from the get-go.”

Bloomberg is building toward more personalization to soften that curve, letting users tell the system their preferences, their coverage universe, their habits, so that “over time the system does get smarter on how the system will react to your questions.” But Edwards is candid that this is the early innings, and that it raises a genuinely unresolved question in the A.I. industry of how much memory is too much. “There’s a lot of research and lots of tools coming out about memory—how to compress memory, how to use memory, how much of the past interactions do you want to use? Right now, we are very strict about not keeping certain information, so it’s kind of a balancing act.”

Bloomberg’s current CEO, Vlad Kliatchko, started the same year Edwards did, and the two rose through engineering together—a detail Edwards offers as evidence of a company that you either “really get and you stay for a long time, or you leave pretty quickly.”

The culture traces to Michael Bloomberg’s open, deliberately flat working environment, where “anyone can come up with a big idea.” Edwards describes his own contribution as protecting and scaling that instinct, engineering the conditions for cross-functional collisions between a technologist, someone with an art degree, a former portfolio manager, and an operations person, all at the same whiteboard. Building ASKB required tearing up that org chart, at least temporarily. Traditional Bloomberg products were built by discrete teams owning discrete functions, with UX partners designing individual screens. An A.I. system that reaches across every domain in the Terminal doesn’t fit that model. “The surface area of ASKB and how it works is different from how we build other systems,” Edwards says. “How you work together, how you build this, is completely different… applying our old structures to this new way of product build just didn’t work. We had to change our thinking.”

Hiring for the Ability to Explain

Asked what he looks for in the people he hires, Edwards doesn’t mention credentials. He recruits for communication—the ability to take a complex idea and explain it at multiple levels, as a physicist might to a child, a college student or a PhD student. This requires the capacity to listen and be flexible with your own ideas, especially inside cross-functional teams where the value often isn’t the new idea itself but the discipline it forces. “There’s some research that says cross-functional teams work better with a diversity of backgrounds, not necessarily because there are just new ideas, but because it makes each player work harder at expressing their ideas, and they therefore think about the problem better.”

As for why talent wants to work at Bloomberg in the first place, Edwards points to the sheer breadth of the data—weather data feeding commodity models, document analytics powering research, real-time streaming pricing, because “finance is the world” and “many, many different aspects of the world affect finance.” Edwards also notes Bloomberg’s speed of impact. “You can build a feature or a product or a capability and actually go see clients using it, talk to them, get feedback from them. That’s thrilling.”

Pressed on what’s shaped his own thinking, Edwards cites a history of Bell Labs and its cross-functional glory days—unsurprising, given his fixation on collision-prone teams. Less expected is his other pick: Hermann Hesse’s Steppenwolf, a novel that taught him that people box themselves into a limited view of who they are, when in fact “we can take different forms and use different parts of our personalities and our minds to grow, and we can pull the different capabilities out at one time.” His career has advanced almost exclusively through periods of self-imposed discomfort. “Uncomfortable challenges,” he calls them.

What comes next for A.I. at Bloomberg? Edwards responds with something close to wonder. “We’re just scratching the surface of what generative A.I. and our approach are going to do,” he says. “There’s so much more that we have in our vision of what we can achieve. This technology has allowed us to dream bigger and tackle the problems we had the dreams for but just couldn’t build. Now we’re able to build it.”

“We’ve taken a bit of an unconventional approach,” Hugging Face co-founder and CEO Delangue tells Observer. While the model builders torch billions chasing frontier capabilities, Hugging Face—a platform where thousands of A.I. companies keeps its work—has not raised capital in nearly three years. It is funding its growth through revenue. The company was last valued at $4.5 billion in a $235 million Series D in 2023 led by Salesforce, with Google, Amazon and, yes, Nvidia among the backers that Delangue was content to keep at arm’s length.

If there is a bubble

Ask Delangue whether we are in an A.I. bubble, and he will decline the binary. “If there is a bubble,” he says, it’s concentrated on large language models—the corner of the industry that has absorbed, by his estimate, 95 percent of the investment, value and attention.

What he thinks is under-loved? Biology. Chemistry. Finance. Legal. Robotics. Domains where the capital has not flooded in and where, he insists, the value is waiting to be discovered. He offers a data point. At the end of last year, the number of models on Hugging Face devoted to modalities other than text—image, audio, video, biology, chemistry—surpassed the number devoted to text for the first time. The implication is that A.I. is about to stop being a synonym for the chatbot and start behaving like electricity, present in every corner of the economy.

The long-promised arrival of open source

Delangue is candid about the one thing he got wrong. Hugging Face built itself as the platform for open models, and for years, the headlines went to the closed, proprietary APIs instead. “Our prediction about the importance of open-source models” was, he allows, “maybe a little bit too ambitious and too early.” But he believes the tide has turned, and he can name the wave: the open-weight models pouring out of China (DeepSeek, Kimi, Qwen) alongside the inference providers posting the kind of revenue growth that tends to end arguments. The workflows of the future, he maintains, will run on open models, not rented intelligence behind a paywall.

This makes geopolitics awkward, which Delangue handles with a Frenchman’s shrug. At the level of researchers and community builders, he argues, the field remains genuinely collaborative—scientists worldwide uploading models and datasets to the same hub, regardless of which flag flies over their lab. The adversarial register belongs to the diplomats, and even there he detects a thaw, citing President Trump’s state visit to Beijing in May—the first by a sitting U.S. president in nearly a decade, and one that produced at least the framework of cooperation on A.I. safety. Open inspection, he adds, is also the more responsible posture, because it lets everyone examine, understand and regulate the technology rather than take a handful of labs at their word.

The wrong question

The question Delangue thinks everyone insists on asking—and asking wrongly—is whether A.I. will destroy the world. He attributes the obsession to a science-fiction reflex, a tendency to anthropomorphize the software and then panic at the human motives we’ve projected onto it. Existential risk is worth studying, he concedes; it simply does not deserve to monopolize the conversation. He would rather the attention be on the risks already in the room (bias, misinformation and disruption of work).

Behind him during the conversation sit two desktop robots with oversized, expressive eyes and twitching antennae. This is Reachy Mini, the open-source machine Hugging Face builds with Pollen Robotics, the French firm it acquired. He claims nearly 10,000 units shipped—he ventures, not without mischief, that it may be the best-selling robot of 2026—at a few hundred dollars, which has done more to put robotics on the desks of ordinary developers than any humanoid with a six-figure sticker price. Hand people the hardware, let them build, and the ecosystem will produce things you never imagined—a kitchen assistant, a coding companion, an office greeter that welcomes guests with a tilt of its head.

Tasks, not jobs

On the anxiety of the moment—that A.I. will hollow out the white-collar workforce, software engineers first—Delangue is briskly unbothered. The fear of mass unemployment, he argues, is “largely overblown.” Software engineers are in greater demand than they were six months ago, because the job was never about writing lines of code; it was about creating software, and now everyone wants vastly more of it. What A.I. replaces, he says, is not jobs but tasks—and, more pointedly, “the people who are not using A.I. with people using A.I.” He forecasts a hundred million A.I. builders by 2028, as every software engineer becomes one and a great many people who never wrote a line of code join them. He frames this as a cure for the public’s sourness toward the technology. People resent A.I., he suggests, because they experience it as something done to them; let them help build it, and the resentment tends to lift.

Sisyphus, in Miami

Hugging Face is headquartered in New York City and Paris, but Delangue runs the business from Miami, a block from the beach. It is not Silicon Valley, and he’s at peace with the geography. The advice he gives founders is to locate themselves wherever they can be happy, because the job is hard enough without being miserable about the postcode. When visitors come, he shows them the robots and then takes them for a walk on the sand.

The philosophy is not incidental. Pressed on what shapes his approach to the company, Delangue reaches for Albert Camus’s The Myth of Sisyphus—the essay about the man condemned to roll a boulder uphill in perpetuity, only to watch it roll back down. The point, he says, citing the famous closing line, is that “you have to picture Sisyphus happy.” Joy is located in the effort itself rather than in the arrival. It is a tidy gloss on a company that has deliberately decided not to maximize short-term profits. Delangue is content to capture a sliver of the value it generates for everyone else, on the theory that a platform’s worth is measured in the multiples it creates for the people standing on it.

Whether that is wisdom or leaving money on the table will depend on which way the boulder rolls, but the man pushing it does not seem to be in any hurry. In this market, that is its own kind of power.

At the bottom of Rex Reed’s obituary a week ago today, on May 12, 2026, I invited readers to share their memories. A very close and very private friend of Rex’s told me that “all Rex ever wanted was to be loved and to be famous.” Maybe the call for remembrances was my way of honoring that. Maybe I wanted to know if he got what he wanted.

The emails started coming. Dozens of them, from critics, actors, writers, artists, producers, pals, lovers and fans. Many included photos—handwritten letters Rex had sent them, typed notes on his stationery, things they’d kept for years, sometimes decades.

Rex was a man who wrote back, even if you weren’t his friend. To teenagers. To strangers. To almost anyone who took the time to reach him. They didn’t expect a reply, but they got one (gracious, thoughtful). He was relentlessly social, holding court at parties, burning up the phone lines. Sending five-page responses to three-paragraph letters.

An entire generation of gay men grew up watching Rex on TV, recognizing something they couldn’t yet name. One put it simply: “There weren’t many role models for Future Homosexuals of America in the 1970s.” Rex was among the few. For them, he was rarer than a critic.

Many people discovered Rex as children. A 9-year-old watching talk shows past his bedtime. A 14-year-old writing fan letters from the suburbs of L.A. A 10-year-old who saw him in Superman and became obsessed with Myra Breckinridge. A child whose single, immigrant mother found such joy in Rex’s writing that the child’s memories of Rex are inseparable from her memories of making a new life in America. They found him on television, in libraries, in their parents’ newspapers. And they followed him for the rest of their lives. Many of them wrote to Rex. (Many got letters back.)

The reviews, of course, quoted from memory. One reader’s favorite Rex pan sparked a decades-long obsession with a forgotten 1969 film; this year, that reader—now a successful screenwriter—helped restore it. Several readers noted, with sadness, that they’d been checking Observer, hoping to see his byline, wondering what happened.

In letter after letter were his eyes, his voice, the way he moved through space, the way his entire body paused, almost quizzically focused on the person in front of him. People describe Rex the way you describe someone you know and love every inch of, even from your living room, even as a child, even if you never met him.

In 1971, Rex wrote to a 14-year-old girl who’d sent him a fan letter: “I sometimes think I’m writing into a vacuum and nobody ever sees what I write. It’s comforting to know I got through to somebody.”

In an age when everything can be generated, here’s the evidence that something irreplaceable happens when a person sits down and puts words on a page about another person. Here’s what it means for writing to matter. Human writing. Writing about humans. Writing to humans.

Rex spent his life doing that. He was an Observer, in every sense, for almost 90 years.

Like most parents, I correct certain words that come out of my children’s mouths. Stupid. Ugly. We’re not supposed to say such things. But this past week, every time I’ve reflexively gone to stop one of them—mostly, my four-year-old—I pause, thinking about Rex.

There are stupid things in the world. There are ugly things. And if nobody’s willing to say so—clearly, without hedging, without apology—what does it mean to call something beautiful?

Rex wasn’t cruel for cruelty’s sake. He believed that for words to mean anything, you have to be willing to use all of them. Even the uncomfortable ones. Especially those.

These messages have been edited for clarity and brevity.

The Rex Reed Foundation

• William Kapfer & Eric Baker

Following the passing of our dear friend, Rex Reed, we have been moved by the overwhelming response from those whose lives he touched.

In lieu of a traditional funeral, we will host a tribute celebration this autumn honoring Rex’s remarkable life and legacy—in the spirit of the beautiful tribute he produced with Deborah Grace Winer and Michael Alden for his longtime friend Polly Bergen in 2015.

For more than six decades, Rex Reed was one of the most influential voices in American cultural criticism. As a legendary film critic, celebrity interviewer, author and longtime member of the New York Film Critics Circle, he shaped the national conversation around film, theater and popular culture.

This gathering will celebrate not only his extraordinary professional accomplishments, but also the wit, intellect and generosity so many of us were fortunate to experience personally. Friends, colleagues, artists and loved ones will come together to honor a singular life that left an indelible mark on media and the arts.

We are also establishing The Rex Reed Foundation to support media, arts, journalism and cultural storytelling while nurturing future generations of creative voices.

Details about the autumn celebration and foundation will be shared in the coming months. The foundation website, RexReedFoundation.org, will launch soon.

We are deeply grateful for the kindness and support during this difficult time.

Trapped in an Episode of ‘Dynasty’

• Deborah Grace Winer

When I saw Joan Collins move through the crowd toward Rex Reed, and by default, me, I got that special sickening feeling you get when you’re friends with a famous critic who’s known for blending unfiltered opinion with unbridled literary flair that—like nuclear fusion—creates a lot of unpredictable energy.  

Joan approached—coiffed, bejeweled, with a blinding smile and raising one manicured finger toward Rex.  

“Hi Joan,” he Louisiana-drawled.

She wagged her finger and smiled even wider.

(Was she mad?)

“Rex, you naughty, naughty boy,” she cooed in British, patting his cheek.

(Yep.)

“I should be very, very angry with you.”

“Oh, Joan,” he laughed.  

Then she kissed him while relaying unhappiness at his review of her recent one-person evening. 

He didn’t think he’d said anything bad. 

(Though there was that line, “You can accuse her of hanging on beyond her prime, but if you meet her in a dark alley, bring Mace.”)

Then they embraced. They’d been friends since the 1960s.

It was like being trapped in an episode of Dynasty.

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Rikki-Tikki-Tavi

• Richard

I first met Rex in 1972 in Florida. I was a journalism student in my second year of college when I wrote Rex a brief, three-paragraph letter asking to interview him. He responded with a five-page handwritten letter detailing how impossibly busy he was—major deadlines, phones ringing off the hook, hundreds of letters weekly. At the end of this tale of woe, he invited me to pick him up at the Orlando airport and have dinner before he spoke at an event for Air Force wives in Cape Canaveral.

I arrived at the airport and we walked to my yellow Corvette. Rex, who had no filter, immediately delivered his first unsolicited critique about my car. He was hilarious. As we drove to the motel, the second critique arrived—this time about my name.

My birth name was Richard, but living in the south, I’d acquired the nickname Rikki. Rex asked how I came up with that ridiculous name and spelling. I explained my grandmother loved the childhood story Rikki-Tikki -Tavi and proclaimed that was my name.

Rex sounded off: “In England, Richard is Dick. That’s a no. In New York, Richard is Yo, Rich. That’s a no. In the south, Richard is Ricky, and definitely not spelled like a childhood tale. From now on, it’s Richard. Got it.” I said OK.

His motel surprisingly had a nice restaurant. Over dinner, we talked about our journeys as two young southern boys on a mission. A handsome, perhaps gigolo-type young man approached our table, probing to see if there might be interest. There was not. Yet another critique followed—Rex noticed the gentleman’s expensive bracelet. My mother was a major Bvlgari customer, and I recognized it immediately. When the check arrived, Rex made no effort to pick it up. In all our years together, I never knew Rex to pick up any check, ever. I wasn’t fazed—my father always paid for everyone, everywhere.

Rex asked if I’d like to stay over. Not wanting the two-hour drive back to campus, I checked into the room next door. We continued talking in Rex’s room, eventually falling asleep while staring at the ceiling from our separate beds.

Rex’s humor was profound. His constant complaining about work made me realize he truly loved it—loved to complain, and more than anything, wanted to be famous. He barked a lot about life, but I saw him as a dog barking with his tail wagging. He loved deadlines. He almost never laughed. Instead, he had a grin.

I decided to have fun with his humor. I found a printing store, composed a “form letter” for Rex to use, had 1,000 copies printed, and sent them to his New York apartment—along with the exact Bvlgari bracelet he’d criticized. I knew he admired it. His response was immediate and hilarious.

In 1975, I moved to New York City. At Rex’s insistence, I found an apartment on Central Park West where we could be near when turmoil engulfed us. He also insisted I use his answering service, where live operators answered our phones. We shared a magnificent lady, Louise, who reminded me of Mabel King in “The Wiz.” She fiercely protected us and never shared anything about our lives to anyone—not even Rex’s callers to me or mine to Rex.

I first learned of someone named Rick who answered Rex’s phone and took messages. Once, he telephoned to probe my friendship with Rex. I’ve always been fiercely private, and I asked Rex about Rick, adding I wasn’t cool with anyone asking about my private life. Rex said Rick was his assistant, though I suspected otherwise—he was there too late and sometimes too early. Rex never talked about Rick. I knew about Rick, but as we were not romantically involved, I didn’t think twice about his edits in his life, or even mine. Years later, Rex would share more, particularly about Rick’s untimely death.

My friendship with Rex wasn’t one where I leaned on him. He, though, leaned on me several times, especially when peril knocked at his door.

I am petrified to share this, as I am not a writer, and stepping into his world in print is something Rex would no doubt greet with his notorious, mischievous grin. More than anything else, Rex wanted to be famous and loved. Rex was both.

Role Models for Future Homosexuals of America

• Charley Soderbergh

I remember seeing Rex Reed on a TV talk show, his legs crossed, and an elbow propped on the arm of the chair. His hand would sometimes gesture, and other times cradle his chin when he listened. I must have been 9 or 10.

There weren’t many role models for FHA’s (Future Homosexuals of America) in the 1970’s, outside of camp comedians like Paul Lynde, Charles Nelson Reilly, Rip Taylor. They were full of snark, confetti and exaggerated laughs. Rex’s brand was different, cool. Measured. As if he knew something—not just film and literature, but people. He had all the cards and held them close to his natty suit. 

I always wished I’d had a chance to meet him and chat about the things we had in common: Going to LSU, writing movie reviews for The Daily Reveille (my notables were Hairspray and Moonstruck) and being a gay Libra in that sultry, conservative atmosphere—albeit 30 years apart.

I can imagine myself genuflecting next to his chair, and his expressive eyes saying, “What on earth?” Rest in peace, Rex. There was no one like you. 

Room for Just One Southern Gay

• Kevin Sessums 

One of my great regrets is not knowing him better. I always thought of myself as having the “Rex Reed slot” at Vanity Fair, and maybe the reason he never got his byline in there more often. So I was not only a bit shy and intimidated to cultivate a friendship, but was also sort of gilded with a bit of guilt that there seemed to be room for only one southern gay guy who knew his way around fame and fought for his sentences.  

My Aunt Jo down in Mississippi turned to me when I was about 12 or 13 and said, “You know who you remind me of… Rex Reed.” She thought she was being a bit unkind, but as I looked back on it in later years, I realized it was one of the kindest and most perceptive things anyone had ever said to me. 

Rex and I were once sitting in a van down in Louisiana, being hauled to a fancy-enough lunch at a renovated plantation upriver from New Orleans. We were both participating in panels at the Tennessee Williams Literary Festival that year. On the way home after an awful afternoon of putting up with the rising humidity and the kind of the-south-shall-rise-again queen who owned the place and could sashay while sitting at the head of a luncheon table, we kept each other in southern stitches by saying what we’d really thought about the outing we’d had to endure. During a lull in our laughter, I told him about my Aunt Jo saying that about me and how much it had meant to me.

I think he was touched by that. I hope he was.

Filling the silence with a fumbled sigh that sometimes our tears can form when we’re trying not to let them form themselves, he turned his head to look out the van’s window at the Louisiana landscape where he had lived the life that led to his longing to live a much bigger one so much farther upriver. 

He lived it. We are all lucky that he did. 

A Fight About When World War II Started

• Marcia Froelke Coburn

I met Rex when I was in college in Chicago, dreaming about becoming a feature writer, and he was in town promoting a book (his collection of movies and TV shows, Big Screen, Little Screen). It was 1970 or 1971. He was encouraging, and we kept in touch. He had a tremendous influence on me and my writing. I was a kid with a dream, and he took me seriously. He listened to everything.

I have wonderful memories of spending time with Rex at Cannes and in Toronto. I spent a week or so with him in New York and then at his house in Connecticut, reading his draft Personal Effects. I had a few suggestions he liked and a few more he hated. We got into a huge fight about when World War II started. It was before the internet, so we both just dug in on our differing opinions. (I was thrilled when he dedicated the book to me.)

When I was in town with others on the staff of Chicago Magazine for the National Magazine Awards, Rex joined us for a celebratory drink after we won. It was a dream come true; the man who encouraged me and listened to me when I was just a kid was there, celebrating me.

A few years ago, I was in NYC for a quick turnaround trip, and we were supposed to get together for dinner. But a ferocious thunderstorm blew in, and he didn’t want to drive from Connecticut (and I didn’t blame him), so we spent a few hours on the phone and then I was gone the next day. We didn’t have another opportunity to see each other after that. I regret it so much.

Truth Will Find an Audience

• James Grissom

Rex gave me this advice about writing: “You can only write as you do, even after the imitation of others. We all do that, but finally, it’s your voice that comes out. Tell the truth, and your work will find an audience. It will also find some detractors, but that’s the price of exposure, of having an audience. Never waver.” As both a writer and a friend, Rex never did.

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Insane Demands Aboard the Ship

• Barry Avrich

In 2012, Rex Reed was a guest critic and programmer on a 10-day Floating Film Festival on a luxury cruise liner. Rex had been campaigning for years to come and was envious of Roger Ebert, who had been joining us for years.

I could not have prepared enough for Rex’s insane demands once he boarded the ship. It would have been easier to book Marlene Dietrich.

Rex required a fax machine, 12 cases of distilled water, a purser to steam his shirts daily and wood hangers, preferably cedar. His job was to introduce a few films and then pay tribute to Richard Benjamin and his wife, Paula Prentiss.

No one ever saw Rex during the day; he was too busy faxing reviews to Observer. At night, he was on parade, dressed in a tailored, nautical blue jacket with monogrammed brass buttons, a silk pocket puff and pressed white or blue pants. He held court and told old Hollywood stories.

The day of the Benjamin tribute, I asked if he needed notes, and he scolded me: “Rex Reed does not need notes.” An hour before the tribute, he demanded notes. He took them from me without a thank you, as if I were a cabin boy delivering his pants.

Rex was a talented pain in the ass. He will be missed by many people, with the exception of a certain ship’s staff and a handful of directors, I’m sure.                                                 

Glamour Over the Lilac Hedge

• Amanda Vaill

In the summer of 1997, when I was in between the completion and the publication of my first book, Everybody Was So Young, my family and I rented a cozy Colonial saltbox in Roxbury, Connecticut, that was next door to Rex Reed’s larger and grander 18th-century country house. He very kindly asked us to drinks one evening, and because he was rarely there during the week, he invited us to use his hydrangea-lined pool, which was situated across the dirt road that ran by both our houses.

I would swim laps there in the morning before getting down to work on my copy-edited manuscript—that’s where I came up with the idea of what would be my next book, Somewhere: The Life of Jerome Robbins; but on Fridays, when I’d hear the growl of Rex’s wire-wheeled convertible coming up the hill to disgorge weekend revelers on his lawn, the pool became off-limits. For the rest of the weekend, we’d hear laughter and the sound of the record player filtering through the trees, as if we were Nick Carraway and Rex was hosting a Gatsby party next door. Who was there? We wondered. Liza Minelli? Diane Von Fürstenberg? Elizabeth Ashley? We imagined a whole world of glamor and boldface names on the other side of the lilac hedge.

And then Monday would come, and everyone went home; and as lovely as it was to retake possession of the pool and the hydrangea bushes, some of the magic was gone.

Happiness for Momma

• Adrianna de Madriguera

My momma was Regina Santos, an amazing woman who came to this country from Brasil. She worked hard supporting two households—here and in Brasil—as a single mother of three. She deserved so much better in her life. But through everything, she was smart and loving and well-read.

I have fond memories of my momma reading columns by Rex Reed, Liz Smith, Suzy and Cindy Adams. New York City icons.
When I got older, I read them too. He brought my momma much happiness, laughter and light. I thank him a million times for that. 

I read about his passing this morning. Mr. Reed is one of a small group of people from my youth who will always have a very special place in my heart. He will be missed in so many ways. He brought smiles and giggles. Class and camp. 

“For someone brought up in the shadow of the movie industry, you seem remarkably fresh.”

• Meg McSweeney

In the summer between ninth and tenth grades, I jazzed up my reading list with the tantalizingly titled Do You Sleep In The Nude? and Conversations In The Raw. To hold up my end of the conversation, I wrote Rex Reed a long letter with my impressions of what he’d written, along with other opinions. Because of course he cared what a 14-year-old girl in the suburbs of Los Angeles thought (it’s likely that my missive included lamenting that the MPAA rating on Myra prevented a sophisticate like me from seeing it). He sent a gracious reply.

My father saw it. And he said, “Son, I don’t think I understand this movie.” I said, “Don’t worry. Nobody else does, either.”

The Consummate Southern Gentleman

• Dixie Whatley

I had the incomparable honor of working alongside Rex Reed for two years. We were “battling critics” on At the Movies, one of Siskel and Ebert’s discarded shows. If you know anything about Rex, you might assume my job was a hopeless task. How does one take on perhaps the most acerbic, witty, quick and apparently rude critic on television? You revel in it. You revel in Rex.
 
I was honored to be on the same show with this wonderful man. He was the consummate southern gentleman. I’ve worked with some major jerks in the television business, but Rex was a dream. Certainly, we disagreed many times. We looked at film from different perspectives. I bowed to Rex’s knowledge and cleverness, and, of course, snarky remarks.  
 
“I love Isabella Rossellini in this movie, but someone please tell her to shave her pits.”
 
“Oh, Rex!”
 
How do you not laugh? 
 
He never put me down or showed the least disrespect. “Dixie, my dear, I don’t agree with that,” was as harsh as it got. Too many people on TV have to have the last word, the last smart remark, the last pithy put-down. Rex, the king of pithy put-downs, never once aimed one at me personally.
 
We once got into a showdown with the producer. He wanted us to end a holiday show with “Merry Christmas.” We both preferred “Happy Holidays” to be more inclusive. The producer went into a rant.
 
“This is a Christian show!”
 
Huh? How? Why?
 
Rex got a look in his eyes I’d never seen. After stopping tape three times, the producer finally understood that what came out of Rex’s mouth was what he wanted to say. Period. End of discussion. 
 
He gave me a crystal bird for Christmas. I quilted him a pillow of his house. His smile could melt a room.
 
I stayed with him at the Dakota in New York City, while we jammed four film screenings into one day. I’d gone to a Central Park concert with my agent and a company executive, and made my agent swear he wouldn’t leave us. He left us. The exec walked me back to Rex’s, insisted on going up the elevator with me, and, outside Rex’s door, tried to wrestle me into a kiss. Just as it got really, really awkward, Rex threw open the door, with, “There you are! I was starting to worry!”  
 
He’d been watching through the spy hole. 
 
We laughed and laughed.

Saved by Lemon Meringue Pie at the Beverly Hills Hotel

• Andrew Goldman

In 2022, I went to the Dakota to interview Rex Reed for my podcast about aging showbiz legends, “The Originals.” I was horrified when the SD card of my digital recorder ran out of space, and I had to sprint ten blocks to grab a new one at Staples. “Why didn’t you bring more tape?” he asked. It wasn’t clear he understood digital recording and did his best not to seem miffed by the 30-minute interruption. I felt, as I should have, like an idiot, but Rex was game to keep going. I was appreciative and relieved that Rex reviewed movies, not podcast interviewers. I will forever treasure the memory of my afternoon listening to Rex giddily unload on everyone and everything.

Narrowly escaping the Manson Family murders was just one of the stories he shared.

I was invited that night. Jackie Susann was a very good friend of mine. We were both at the Beverly Hills Hotel, and she was promoting Valley of the Dolls. I was promoting a book, one of my books, and we were both at the Beverly Hills Hotel.

Jackie called me and said, “I’m going to dinner at Sharon Tate’s, and she wants you.”

I said, “I don’t want to go. This is lemon meringue pie night at the Beverly Hills Hotel; it’s my favorite thing on the menu here, and I love it. And only this one night of the week do they have that.”

She says, “Well, I’m not going to go if you don’t go.”

I said, “Well, go ahead and go.”

She says, “No, I’m going to come over in my gown, and we’ll have dinner on trays in your room.” In my suite.

So neither of us went, and she called and woke me up at 6:00 in the morning. She said, “Johnny Carson just called and woke me up, and told me what’s going on, you will not believe, everybody at that dinner party was murdered.”

I joked for years that I was going to write a book that I was saved by lemon meringue pie.

He was a dream subject.

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So, You Want to Be Rex Reed?

• Charles McNulty

Early in my tenure as the Los Angeles Times theater critic, I was making a trip back to New York to catch up with the Broadway season. A woman seated next to me on the flight, unfazed by the book I was hiding behind, asked what I did for a living. Upon finding out, she confidently remarked, “So, let me guess. You want to be the next Rex Reed and review movies one day?”

I did what I usually do in those awkward social exchanges and laughed exuberantly in ambiguous agreement. I didn’t feel the need to explain that theater wasn’t a stepping stone to a higher-profile beat for me. Nor did I wish to admit that I hadn’t Reed’s gift for public gab or his fluency in so many disparate realms of entertainment.

There was a reason he came to represent the figure of the taste-maker in public consciousness. He revealed himself to his readers through the vibrant force of his likes and dislikes, but most of all, he transmitted his passion for great talent to them, and they never forgot the treasures he led them to discover.

Everything Good Rolled Into One

• Ernestine Sclafani Bayless

I am a New Yorker (now living in L.A.) who grew up in Rex world and read everything he wrote. My family loved Rex, and I loved Rex. As a little girl, I remember thinking he had presence, charisma, honesty and glamour, all rolled into one.

He felt like someone I had known forever, and that he would always be here. He was larger than life in every way. To think he would leave us was unimaginable.

When I read Rex had passed early Tuesday morning, I immediately texted my friend, the great TV host Bill Boggs, who interviewed Rex a bunch of times. Bill replied, simply, “Rex was an important part of our culture.”

I hope Rex knew, in the end, that he was loved by oh so many.

Small, Sweet Memories

• William Kapfer

Rex was an incredible baker. He made a truly mean lemon icebox pie with a Nilla Wafer crust and genuinely loved the whole baking experience. The best part was always a day later, after the pie had settled. We’d have a slice with a cup of International Coffee (three scoops).

I’ll never forget going with him to the Orange County Fair one year to buy the blue-ribbon-winning blueberry pie. We stood waiting until 4:01 p.m. because the women guarding those pies were absolutely not going to let us buy one a minute early.  

It’s those small, sweet memories.

His curiosity, patience, humor and appreciation for life’s little pleasures were wrapped into moments like that.

For the rest of my life, every time I order dessert, a part of me is going to think about Rex.

The Right Explosive

• Stephanie

My godmother, Paula Laurence Bowden, introduced us. She was a fixture in musical theater; she had acted in numerous productions, both on and off Broadway, since 1937, when Orson Welles cast her in his play, Horse Eats Hats. She had it in her head that Rex should write a one-woman piece for me. Never happened. No matter. 

We took a few trips together to NOLA for the Tennessee Williams Festival. We read “This Property Is Condemned” for their gala. When an open slot appeared in the festival schedule, an interview with Rex Reed was decided—but there was no one to do it. I raised my paw, stayed up all night reading everything about him. I had only a few grenades; I knew he’d do the rest. Pull out the right explosive and let him do the talking. Rex told me on more than one occasion that it was the best interview he ever had. 

He was bereft when Angela died, and Polly Bergen and Jean Simmons. I filled a small female blank for many dinners and culinary outings. He could be very bossy in the kitchen. I loved it.

I knew a thoughtful, tender, brilliant, opinionated, elegant, wicked, delicate soul—a jewel of a man. Once I knew Rex, I didn’t feel I had to look for a friend to fill the empty spaces.

I was crushed to hear the news. I wondered why I hadn’t heard from him this winter. I figured he was working. I know I’ll be bereft this summer without my great chum. I loved him, and I know he loved me.

With Chopsticks

• Kevin Lewis

I met Rex Reed at industry receptions, critic screenings and retrospectives. When I was with the National Board of Review, I telephoned him with the names of the annual award winners because he didn’t have a fax machine in the early 1990s.

I never thought of Rex Reed as sour in person. He reminded me of Joan Rivers because he always treated me as an equal, as Joan did when I met her. Both were polite and humble. They respected people.

I was an industry reporter, not a popular one. For twenty years, I was an East Coast feature writer for first the Directors Guild of America Magazine and later the Motion Picture Editors Guild Magazine Cinemontage. I also published interviews and scholarly articles, and curated three exhibitions at the Museum of the Performing Arts, the New York Public Library and Lincoln Center. I was regarded as a nerd by the flashy critics. Not by Rex Reed because Rex was a scholar who could outshine college professors with his knowledge

Rex always wanted a film retrospective on Fred Zinnemann. We both shared an appreciation for him. Rex loved studio movies for their classical storytelling. I loved the painterly compositions in 1940s movies. My favorite Rex Reed quote? On The Johnny Carson Show in 1973, he called the flop film musical Lost Horizon “Brigadoon with Chopsticks.”

What distinguished Rex Reed from other emerging film critics in the counterculture and post-Vietnam era was Reed’s search for the moral integrity he found in the great American and global cinema. He revered Fred Zinnemann because Zinnemann explored characters who triumphed over moral collapse. 

Like Mother and Son

• Mathew Hargreaves

The photo of Reed with Lansbury showed they had the same jaw shape, like they could have been mother and son.

“You have a tremendous talent for knifing your way into the dark recesses of the human heart.”

• PJ Castellaneta

In the early 1990s, I wrote and directed a no-budget film, and Mr. Reed hand-wrote me this lovely note. Although I never had the film career I had hoped for (I was told years later that I was just too openly gay and normal and didn’t indulge in any of the Mary, Monster or Martyr tripe that was standard at the time), I believe this film and my following film in 1998 helped pave the way for others. It was the rare encouragement I received from people like Mr. Reed that kept me going, and for that I will always be grateful. He will be sorely missed.

Mission: Impossible

• Frank DeCaro

Rex Reed showed me, as a kid reading him in the Daily News, the career I wanted to have when I grew up—as a real journalist but also a campy performer. In 2002, he played himself on one of the five Oscar preview specials I co-wrote and starred in for Comedy Central. It was a half-hour mockumentary called The Big O! True West Hollywood Story—a behind-the-scenes look at the uber-gay movie critic I played on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart.

We didn’t tell Rex that my mission on the show had always been to “out-Rex Rex Reed” (my review of What Women Want was “Who cares?”). But when I proudly announced on that special that my strongest suit was my “bitchiness,” it was obvious to whom I was paying tribute.

Rex didn’t think the script was very funny, but he did it, and we were thrilled.

Later that day, Bea Arthur shot her cameo for the same special. She said, “This script is hilarious.” We decided to take her word over his. But really, a pan from Rex Reed was a badge of honor in its own right.

I’m bummed he’s gone, but happy to have rubbed elbows with him. He will continue to inspire me to be gayer and funnier and more myself forever. Rex Reed was a true queer icon, and if I ever made fun of him—and I did, in Spy Magazine no less!—it was because I adored and admired him so very much.

Lyrics as They Were Meant to Be

• Harvey Granat

Rex joined me as my special guest for two programs in a series I hosted at 92Y, over a 10-year period.

At the first, a Jerome Kern tribute, he sheepishly asked if he could sing a couple of songs. He sent me a short list of the last songs Kern wrote, and I had my musical director ready for him. His voice was lovely and sincere. He delivered the lyrics as they were meant to be sung.

The second program, a tribute to Fred Astaire, turned out to be one my audience would long remember. Rex told the story of attending the Cannes Film Festival with a planeload of Hollywood stars. At the opening-night dinner, he was seated at a table full of major celebrities, including Fred Astaire. There was music playing, and people were dancing. 

Rex turned to Astaire and told him he had always dreamed of dancing with him. At this, Astaire rose from his seat, took Rex by the hand and onto the dance floor, and made his dream come true. All the stars applauded.

“I’m still in The Observer, you know.”

• Elliot J. Cohen

I ran into Mr. Reed about two or three weeks ago at our local bank. He was going out, and I was going in. I recognized him just after we passed, and I quietly said, “Mr. Reed?”

He turned, and we spoke for a minute or two. I made sure to tell him how much I enjoyed his writing over the years—Rex’s story of his first visit to Melina Mercouri, who opened the door with a gracious, husky, steely greeting: “So… you are Rex Reed.” And his “you-are-there” piece about the London opening of the musical version of Gone With the Wind, which had me laughing so hard at the time that I literally fell out of bed.

As we parted that day, Rex’s last words to me were, “I’m still in The Observer, you know.” I did know. And how nice that I now get to share that moment with you.

When Rex Approached

• Matt Polk

As a young press agent, it felt significant when I saw Rex walking towards us to collect his theater tickets. He was a legend.

A Jacket That Someone Threw Up On

• Joe Bello

Unless I missed it, I am surprised no obituary or tribute mentioned Rex’s frequent use of nausea to describe how he felt about something.

References to the byproduct of gastrointestinal distress would also routinely appear in Rex’s criticism.

In the Daily News, he expressed his disapproval of Stephen Bishop’s wardrobe at the 55th Academy Awards, depicting the singer as wearing a jacket that “looked like someone threw up all over.” 

A World of Musical Darkness

• Jane Scheckter

I met Rex over 30 years ago. I used to see him when he was a host of the Lyrics and Lyricists series at the 92nd Street Y. I sang in two of them, one with Rex. His knowledge of Yiddish, spoken with his slow Southern drawl, made the audience just adore him.

He and I shared a love for the great jazz pianist Mike Renzi, and Rex loved to sing whenever Mike was playing piano. Rex knew all kinds of hidden gems by the great composers. One time, Rex sang a Sammy Fain song written during World War II, and it brought out so many of the same emotions after 9/11. I loved it so much, Rex sent me his music arranged by Renzi, and I made a CD in 2003 with that song as the title (“In Times Like These”). Rex wrote the liner notes for my CD. A quote from his notes: “A great CD, beautifully performed, sensitive arrangements, and impeccable choice of material.” He loved my very young pianist, Tedd Firth, who played in the style of Renzi, and Rex planned a show at the Carlyle for Polly Bergen with Tedd as musical director. Rex loved people with talent.

The last time I saw Rex, we were both leaving after a show at Birdland in April 2024. After a quick cheek kiss, Rex told me he loved my latest CD, which had just come out, and that my PR lady had sent him a copy. Rex told me he sent me a long email writing about how much he loved my latest recording. I mostly sing the lesser-known standards by the greatest composers. I told Rex I hadn’t received the email and asked him to please resend it, since any quote from Rex was so special. He couldn’t find the email. Here is what he wrote back to me, and it truly shows his thoughts on the world of music today: “Thank you for being a continuing beacon in today’s world of musical darkness. You can always be counted on to keep on keeping on. I thank you for it all. Rex”

He was so charming with that wonderful, slightly bored, slow Southern drawl voice of his. Rex will be missed. There has never been anyone like him, nor will there ever be again.

An Escalator at Bloomingdale’s

• Lawrence Leritz

As a young teen growing up in a small town in Illinois, I remember reading a magazine article about the film Myra Breckinridge. It seemed very exotic to me. A few years later, I moved to NYC on scholarships with the Harkness Ballet and the School of American Ballet and entered into a whole new world. One of the new people I met was Rex Reed. 

Many years later, I joined an organization named Dancers Over 40, where I serve on the Board of Directors. DO40 has produced many panels over the years, including two on which Rex appeared.

I enjoyed chatting with him after the first event, celebrating Broadway’s Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and the 100th birthday of film star Marge Champion in 2019. Rex was trying to remember where we first met. I suggested it was probably at a party with my agent and friend, ICM’s Mitch Douglas, whom I had attended many celebrity-filled parties with. Rex and I enjoyed sharing a bit of gossip, especially about Mitch’s former client, Tennessee Williams.

In reality, Rex and I first met in the 80’s during my early NYC days, when a very flirty Rex descended on an escalator at Bloomingdale’s. He introduced himself, and I shook his hand, smiled and continued walking. And I continued smiling because I had just met the actor from Myra Breckinridge.

He’s Sleeping

• F. Thomas Simpson

My husband, Stefan Fauble, was very close to “Uncle” Rex. He always had a story in the chamber, didn’t he? We were heartbroken to hear the news this morning. We had just seen him last fall and were looking forward to seeing him again this July—although we did have a sense he was near the end when our last three calls were answered with “he’s sleeping.” 

Needless to Say

• Bryan Batt

Rex was a man of great style, taste, and wit. Needless to say, I was flattered that he enjoyed my work and honored to have his kind support.

Hunting Up ‘Rex Stuff’

• Glen Kelly

I had friends who knew him, and they brought him over to my apartment maybe six months ago. He was clearly not very well. We watched Member Of The Wedding, one of his favorite movies. Afterward, we hunted up Rex Reed stuff on YouTube. He was astonished; I don’t think he had ever seen YouTube.

He was fun, though irascible. He would make claims that we sort of assumed he made up, like telling us he was with Yoko when John Lennon was shot. Once, he told us that Judy Garland had interviewed him on TV. While on YouTube, we found a show where Judy was sitting in for someone, maybe Merv Griffin, and Rex Reed was indeed interviewed by her.

I’m not positive that it was Merv Griffin that Garland was subbing for. It could have been Jack Paar or someone else. The basic idea is true, however.

Remembered My Favorite Color (Not My Name)

• Audie Marks

I did not know him well. He was a friend of a friend, so we would run into each other at screenings or private parties.

He never remembered my name, but he would always say, “Oh, you are so-and-so’s friend, and your favorite color is blue.” He was right on both counts.

“The bulk of Redditors are the unconscious stepchildren of Reed.”

• r/movies

There’s gotta be some irony to the fact that this thread is littered with caustic and lazy one-liners, the very sort of comments Rex Reed himself was accused of launching in his columns. The fact is that the bulk of Redditors are the unconscious stepchildren of Reed. If there’s an afterlife and Reed is perusing the reactions to his death, he’s probably laughing.

It’s sad; movie criticism feels a lot less fun without personalities like Rex Reed around, even when you completely disagreed with him.

How to Be Your Own Best Friend

• James Grissom

Drs. Mildred Newman and Bernard Berkowitz were a therapist couple who wrote How to Be Your Own Best Friend and other best-selling books. They built a large celebrity clientele, including Rex and Nora Ephron, who based the therapist in Heartburn on Mildred.

Rex referred me to the books, and he sent me copies of both How to Be Your Own Best Friend and How to Take Charge of Your Life. It was another example of Rex’s generosity, and I know that I was not the only person to whom he sent those books

If you have a subscription to Esquire Classic, there is a long article on the couple, and Rex is mentioned. I posted it to my Substack.

The Accurate Version

• Suzanne G

I’ve loved that guy for more than 50 years (since my teens), and I’ve hated the way he’s been diminished to a caricature too often in recent years. You confirmed that my cherished version of him is the accurate one. 

“I couldn’t wait to read the next one.”

• Darlene Clark

I heard on the internet this afternoon that Rex Reed was gone. I’m a native NYer and have been “goin’ to the movies” since I was a kid. I can’t remember now the first publication that I read Rex in, but I instantly became a fan. Exactly why, I couldn’t tell you—because I can’t even remember the movie he reviewed or whether I agreed or disagreed with what he wrote, but I do remember absolutely loving it, and that I couldn’t wait to read the next one.

Look, if I wanted to see a picture, I’m going, and I couldn’t care less what anybody said or wrote. However, he was so witty, smart and decisive in his opinion that I found myself not seeing a picture if he panned it. He wrote what he knew to be absolutely correct, and I just thought he was great for that alone, and then it seemed like he was gone. I would see him out and about on Page Six or in a magazine. (There were so many back then that were interesting.) When he started writing for the New York Observer, I wouldn’t miss an issue. Rex was back! So now he’s gone, and I have missed him and will continue to. He was one of the greats; a real NY’er, handsome, urbane and when he stepped out… sooo sharp! There are no more like him.

Clark Gable Left Out in the Sun

• Kim Onder

I fell in love with Rex when he wrote that Charles Bronson was “Clark Gable left out in the sun too long.” I’d give anything to write as he did. If that’s not possible, I’d just like to have his dimples.

The Guts

• Adam Baruch

Rex Reed’s theater and movie reviews meant a great deal to me. I read them weekly without fail. He had the guts to call mediocrity for what it was, and he did so with great humor. He was his own man. A few years ago, I emailed him, and he graciously replied. 

Mr. Reed was also a superb journalist. I miss him already. 

Rex in Bermuda

• Peter Rainer

Rex was a colleague for many decades in the movie critic biz. I started out at Mademoiselle magazine in 1974 and proceeded as film critic for the LA Times, New York magazine and, for the past 20 years, the Christian Science Monitor and the NPR affiliate here in LA.

I was on a festival jury with him (Bermuda’s fifth International Film Festival) in 2002, and he was not amused by the festivities. I have very fond memories of Rex, particularly during that Bermuda sojourn, when he was in top curmudgeonly form. “Rex in Bermuda” would make a terrific comic one-act or movie. 

I always enjoyed seeing him at screenings and at TIFF, and sadly noted his absence there last fall.

Rex Reed’s Guide to Movies on TV & Video (1992) in the Family Room (2026)

• Bill Garland

I was very saddened to hear of Mr. Reed’s passing. I’ve probably heard his name my whole life, but I became very aware of him in 1978 when I saw him in Superman. I was in college at the time. Years later (1987-ish), I started reading his film reviews in the NY Observer. This was before the internet, so I subscribed to the print edition to get his reviews.

I remember clipping them out and saving them. It was about that time that he had his show, At the Movies, with Dixie Whatley, which I always recorded. He was the best. To this day, I keep a copy of Rex Reed’s Guide to Movies on TV and Video, 1992-1993, in my family room and consult it regularly. It’s a treasure.

May his memory be a blessing. I’ve been reading him for so long that I feel like I’ve lost a friend.

A Delicious Chortle-Snort

• Eleanor O’Sullivan

I covered movies for the Asbury Park Press in NJ from 1978 to 2008. Rex and I ran into each other at screenings quite a bit, and I made sure I sat near him so we could yak. He was so knowledgeable about movies and filmmakers, had been everywhere and knew everybody, so I often just listened to his stories. He was a wonderful raconteur. He had a sort of chortle-snort laugh, which was delicious.

Rex often talked about his friendships with Hollywood beauties. I seem to remember he described a long trip he made west, stopping to see Jean Simmons, Jane Wyman and Joan Fontaine. Of course, I grilled him about how these gals looked and how they were doing. Without being indiscreet, he spoke about their marriages and how they had handled stardom.
 
I remember the movie we screened that starred a formerly gorgeous male TV-movie star who, in his older years, had aged alarmingly, or so I thought. Rex cleared up that notion: “Eleanor, nobody knows what 60 and beyond look like in Hollywood because they’ve all had facelifts!” Then he told me which movie stars—male and female—had had work done.

Beyond being great fun, Rex was a gracious man. He suggested I call him at home if I were looking for screening dates (the studios often hid movies that were dogs or screened some films for a precious few). I was amazed; his number at the Dakota was listed in the phone book, and he answered my calls.

I will miss Rex and his perceptive and amusing reviews.

Gushing to Bomer at the Airport

• Paul Serrano

I was an enormous fan of Reed’s work. I’ll never forget reading his review of Sex & the City 2. I nearly fell out of my chair laughing after reading the first sentence (“The only thing memorable…is the number two part, which describes it totally, if you get my drift”), and burst out so loud that everybody in the office turned around and asked what was so funny.
 
Later, Rex wrote a short blurb about a film starring Matt Bomer called Papi Chulo, which I recorded on my TiVo after stumbling upon it while channel-surfing. It was marvelous. Then, coincidentally, my wife bumped into Matt Bomer at the airport bookstore a few days later! 
 
She gushed to him about how great the film was, and he was very pleased, down-to-earth, and happy to chat with her for a bit. She couldn’t stop talking about it; a moment in her life that wouldn’t have happened without Rex. Bless him, may he rest in peace. 

Assumed New Yorker

• David Sweet

I was first introduced to his writing in The New Journalism, which included his famous Ava Gardner profile. For many years, he wrote movie reviews for The North Shore Weekend, a publication I helped start outside Chicago.

Until today, I assumed he was a lifelong New Yorker. I had no idea he was from the South.

When I lived on 75th and 3rd from 1996 to 2003 and worked mainly at WSJ.com, I loved the New York Observer (which was pink if memory serves). I’m glad to know it lives on.

A Missed Opportunity

• Robin Bett Levenherz

I was Arnold Weissberger’s right hand (his memoir transcriber), and I remember the day Mr. Reed came in to see him. There was talk—real interest—about Mr. Reed possibly becoming involved in a television project, and I believe he came to discuss the possibilities with Arnold. Obviously, it never materialized, which, in hindsight, feels like a missed opportunity.

What has astounded me over the years is that Arnold was never truly celebrated or recognized for what he was: the “attorney to the stars,” a man who helped shape and set the precedent for theatrical law. He was a figure of enormous consequence in the theatre world, yet today he is barely remembered. It’s difficult to reconcile that.

Moreover, his memoirs (which I have) were never published. Nor was there ever a tribute to honor him—despite the fact that the curtain never went up on a Broadway show without Arnold and Milton Goldman in the front row.

I thought about reaching out to Mr. Reed again just yesterday—to see if he had any interest in celebrating Arnold and his life. The fact that he is gone has saddened me. His books are still on my shelves; I was captivated by his voice long before I saw him in Arnold’s office.

So I suppose this is simply to say: I remember those moments—the possibility of Mr. Reed engaging in some sort of TV show—and I wish it had materialized. And I still hope, somehow, that someone in the theatre world would take an interest in Arnold, in his unpublished stories, and in the work I’ve been trying to shape around them.

Does This Make Sense?

• Frank Santore

As a Baby Boomer/Generation Jones member who always saw him on television, here is what I believe about Rex Reed: He was the Samuel Pepys of our time, without the self- loathing.

Does this make sense?

Do You Sleep in the Nude?

• Marta Varela

Do You Sleep In The Nude? was one of my early reads about movies. I enjoyed his uncompromising style.

May he rest in peace.

Time Did Not Heal His Rage

• Shinan Govani

To mourn Rex Reed is to mourn an entirely lost age of conversation and longing, re: the world of cinema. When the stars were bigger, yada yada. After Pauline Kael. And before Siskel and Ebert, he was the very personification of that thing that doesn’t exist anymore: the film critic known to the general public. As evidenced by the fact that he even appeared as himself in 1978’s Superman, one of the earliest blockbusters.

When he was bad, he was good. And when he was worse…he was incorrigible! His razor-bladed reviews in the Observer stood out to me, for sure, when I started reading him in the ‘90s whilst living in NYC. I continued to seek him—and the paper—out when I returned to my home in Toronto; no small feat finding a copy of the salmon-hued paper then in Canada.

Later, I got to know him a bit when he would appear, on cue, at the big Film Festival in Toronto every year. He did not disappoint. Decades later, he was still kvetching about the injustice of Elizabeth Taylor winning an Oscar for Butterfield 8. Time did not heal his rage.

A Masterful Listener

• Ed Epstein

I first met Rex when I was New York Press contact for MCA/Universal Pictures. We had a lot in common: I was a fan of the same actresses he was—I was to learn, among other things, that he had been Claudette Colbert’s houseguest in her beautiful Barbados home (“She’s a dear friend,” he proudly noted); Natalie Wood, whom I worked with, adored him.

He was a generous soul. When I became an author, and Rex reviewed some of my books, his reviews were always on target; my publishers were always impressed and overjoyed—people cared about what Rex had to say.

We always saw each other at critic Judith Crist’s annual Survival Party, in her and husband Bill’s Riverside Drive apartment. The conversation was always fascinating. Rex was a master at telling a story and a great listener.

To say that he will be greatly missed is an understatement.

Snarky Barbs on ‘The Gong Show’

• Paul D. Meehan

I thought of Rex Reed the other day. The day before he died, oddly, I sent him the following note, which bounced back.

May 11, 2026
Mr. Reed,  
I hope this finds you well. As children growing up in the suburbs of New England in the 1970’s, with television content limited to three to four channels, my brother and I distinctly recall your snarky barbs on The Gong Show. We both pointed at the screen when we recognized you in Superman. And many years later, when you walked past us as we dined outdoors in Newport, RI.  

Thanks for the memories.

A Cousin in Indiana

• John Tartaglia

I’m 72, and I grew up with him on talk shows; I loved his reviews and bought all his books. He was an original. His being gay never entered my mind back then. Although I had a cousin in Indiana that he reminded me of, whom I later found out was gay. As am I. (Maybe I picked up on it subconsciously?)

Waiting Around the Fairchild Lobby

• Anita Razman

I was a teenager living in Brooklyn, New York, in the 1970’s and became aware of Rex Reed’s pithy and informative film reviews and interviews. I started reading collections of his articles—I remember guiltily checking out Do You Sleep in the Nude? from my local public library. But I was really thrilled when I found out from my father, who worked at Fairchild Publications, that he had seen Rex Reed in the lobby of the building where he (my father) worked. It seemed that Rex Reed also worked for a Fairchild Publications organ—though not the same as my father’s! I begged my father to take me with him to work one day so we could wait around in the lobby to spot Rex. Alas, he never did take me.

I think that I was so intrigued by Rex Reed because, in addition to his writing style, he was so interesting to look at and listen to. I often caught his appearances on television and just thought he was gorgeous and funny at the same time. He remains my favorite film critic, and I was delighted to find his column in the Observer and to see that he was still reviewing films. He recently appeared at a film music event at a museum here in Phoenix, AZ, where I now live, but I was unable to attend. 

Rex Reed was truly an original. We shall not see his like again.

Seven and Utterly Smitten

• Elaine Lorenz

Rex is a sparkling memory from my unconventional childhood. As an only child and only grandchild, I spent most of my time around adults. On weekends and during the summer, I was allowed to stay up as late as I liked, and no one monitored what I watched on television. I looked forward to Johnny Carson and Dick Cavett, viewing with my mother, uncle and grandmother.

The first time I saw Rex, he was promoting Myra on Carson. I was 7 years old and utterly smitten. He was gorgeous; I was transfixed by his banter and charm. No surprise, my closest friends are highly intelligent and entertaining gay men. 

Ever since then, I chased anything with Rex’s name on it. I have every book and have done my best to read or watch anything attached to Rex.

His scathing movie reviews made me laugh, often to the point of tears. At the same time, his positive reviews were so heartfelt. Good or bad, I knew they were honest to Rex, whether I agreed with him or not.

I, too, was born in Fort Worth. Grew up there and moved to Dallas after college. I decided to contact Rex out of fandom, curiosity and being stir-crazy. Of course, I told him right away I’d been in awe of him since I was a child.

Rex emailed me back almost immediately. He was so kind. Right away, he said how nice it was to hear from someone who liked him. The tone of his emails was always genuine, sincere and calm.

I’d been concerned for a while because his articles had become increasingly sporadic. But there was nothing like seeing the devastating news yesterday. I’m shattered to hear the degree of suffering towards the end.

He was someone I always hoped to meet. I still hope I do, on the other side.

Perception So Unique

• Adrienne Merrill

I did not know Rex Reed personally, but I had the opportunity to exchange a handful of wonderful emails with him from my home in Los Angeles. I had always wanted to tell him his books, profiles and reviews hold a special place and that I first discovered him in the high school library in the 70’s. My mom also loved Rex Reed and enjoyed his late-night TV appearances. His wit and perception of a subject were so unique that his opinions could never be confused with those of another reviewer. 

Rex was generous, funny and thoughtful to a longtime reader and someone outside of publishing or journalism. His kindness will stay with me always. He was America’s greatest critic.

Dating Troubles

• Kevin

I remember watching him on talk shows where he was brutally honest and often hilarious in his reviews. I recall one appearance where he lamented how much trouble dating was. He said something like “You buy dinner, go to a show, and don’t even get laid!” A few years ago, I emailed him to let him know how much I enjoyed his television appearances. Rarely does a critic have this much going for him. Will be greatly missed.

Someone We Relied On

• David Bass

I grew up with Rex Reed as a critic in NYC. My mother was a well-known community theater director on Long Island.

Rex was always someone we relied on for his candid reviews.

Wives of TV Stars

• Victor Gentile

I am one year older than Mr. Reed, but I remember his ascent as a critic so clearly. He was brilliant. He had just enough 
bite.  

In my youth, I was a personal assistant to a television star. I became very good friends with my employer’s wife. She and the other wives of the television performers never missed a Rex Reed column. 

They loved him and his form of, as they put it, “bitchiness.”  He was a great addition to the spirit of the mid-sixties to mid-seventies—the last of the great, old Hollywood. 

Would You Please Put a Tracer on It?

• Ken Kurson

He was a giant character, a peerless storyteller and a quintessential New Yorker. All three of those traits sometimes obscured that he was often a very insightful critic and occasionally an excellent writer.

When I first fell in love with Kaplan’s New York Observer in the 90s, Rex reviewed half the films and Andrew Sarris the other half. My goodness, what a team. And then 20 years later, I became Rex’s editor when I was named editor in chief of the Observer and he was still lingering around, still vinegary, still capable of a 3-hour lunch on Broadway with Drew Grant and me dangling for details of stories about Rock Hudson and whoever. I had come of age in awe of Rex Reed, as befits any writer anthologized in The New Journalism.

I called Rex during my first week to introduce myself and ask for his address so I could send him a coveted Observer t-shirt. I mentioned that I had recently rewatched Lost in America and loved his part in it—the film begins with a minute-long segment of Rex being interviewed. He corrected me that it wasn’t a “part”—it was just a voiceover of tape of him on Larry King. He was snotty about it and clearly expected me to last six months. I loved it.

Five weeks into my tenure, Rex’s review of Identity Thief referred to Melissa McCarthy as a “hippo” and “tractor sized.” These are not nice words, and worse it’s low-effort criticism. Privately, I told Rex that I was disappointed at both the cruelty and laziness of fat jokes. But I don’t cave to heckler’s vetoes. I ignored loud demands to fire him and I told The Wrap, “Rex has a right to his opinion and The New York Observer‘s smart, passionate readers have a right to disagree with his opinion.”

After 50+ years of puncturing large egos and zinging Hollywood royalty, Rex was surprised by the intensity of the backlash he faced for his misogynistic and nasty remarks. Times had changed. He didn’t want to. I understood that.
Rex appreciated that I came to his defense. A year later a mutual friend complained to him about what a jerk I am and he stuck up for me, which the friend later told me was a surprise. When he wanted to earn a few extra bucks by adding Broadway to his movie reviews, our regular theater critic Jesse Oxfeld felt Rex breathing down his neck. I was able to get Rex to back off (partially, and only for a while) because of the good will that remained from the Melissa McCarthy stuff.

Reading back through some of the great emails he sent me—from an AOL account, naturally—one of the last complained that we were taking too long to reimburse him for covering the Toronto Film Festival. “Would you please get into this personally and put a tracer on what happened?” He would have been 80 at the time.

There’s not really room for a Rex Reed anymore. No one takes three-hour lunches, and if they did, they’d be on their phone for most of it. No one cares about old Hollywood or why Ava Gardner was ethereally different from other beauties. These are sad things to lose, but this guy remained true to himself and his values the whole way. I admire it and I miss him already.

When Criticism Was Art

• Patrick Galvan

I never knew Rex Reed. The closest I came was an email my college self wrote circa 2012 (which, looking back, I’m not sure I ever sent; I might’ve been intimidated and/or thought he’d never respond). But as a Millennial who grew up fascinated by the golden age of film criticism, he was a name and personality I was quite aware of. I read his reviews now and then, and often watched archived clips and episodes of the Dick Cavett and Mike Douglas shows, where he defended movies against various forms of censorship.

When I think of Rex Reed, I think of the age he helped represent—a time when film criticism was a popular art form, and critics were celebrities in their own right. He outlived his contemporaries from that era (Siskel & Ebert, Stanley Kauffmann, Pauline Kael, Vincent Canby, etc.) and was writing long after most of them had passed or retired. Now that he’s gone, I feel like that once wonderful era (that I often wish I could’ve experienced) has officially closed.

He Never Answered, But I Loved Him

• Andrew Hopf

I never met Rex Reed, but I loved him. As a directionless undergraduate, my only certainty was needing to be the 21st century’s answer to those insouciant ‘60s establishment types, like Reed, and his close friend novelist Jacqueline Susann and Dick Cavett, who had both been on his show more than once.

Wits all, to be sure, but it was Reed’s background as a flamboyant southerner that most closely matched my own. But it wasn’t Rex Reed the film critic that hooked me, rather Rex Reed the New Journalist, the celebrity profiler. More than just sloe-eyed, doe-eyed love letters to the glitterati, his were sociological studies, breathtaking snapshots of a time and place gone forever.

The paperback compilations of these essays (Do You Sleep in the Nude?, Valentine’s & Vitriol, Conversations in the Raw) have moved cross-country with me in the decade plus since I discovered him for myself, from the frat house to my first apartment to the Brooklyn pre-war I’m writing from now.

Celebrity worshipper that I am, I’ve never been the type to pen fan letters. I made an exception for Rex Reed many years ago, sitting down to write a fawning note detailing what he had unwittingly taught me about form and style. He never answered. I didn’t care because I loved Rex Reed. 

Movies Were My Currency

• Phillip

As a gay man who grew up in the 70s and 80s, confused about where I fit, the entertainment industry was my safe space, and the movies became my currency. I, too, used to write reviews until I segued into PR and marketing. I was no Rex Reed, but I understand him all too well. He will be missed.

And I Knew

• Francesca

I had just pulled up the Drudge Report page and was about to click away when I caught a glimpse of that beautiful face. And I knew.

Just the other day, I checked to see if Rex had reviewed Prada 2 and realized he hadn’t reviewed anything lately. I wondered why.

I’m a full-on cinemaholic, and Rex was my ‘go to’ for honest reviews that didn’t give everything away. There are other reviewers that I’ve liked, but Rex was numero uno. He lived a full, long life.

I wish I could have run into him somewhere, just by chance. 

The Mad, Movie-Loving Writer

• Larry Karaszewski

In the ’60s and ’70s, movies mattered. They were at the center of America’s cultural conversation. Folks argued at dinner tables about the latest Kubrick and Coppola. So it follows that the people who wrote about film held great power. Pauline Kael at the New Yorker and Roger Ebert at the Chicago Sun-Times were considered the smartest, the best critical thinkers. But Rex Reed was the star.

Actors and studios were terrified of him because he held nothing back. A huge, bitchy personality, he was among the first critics to make the transition from the page to TV. His appearances on Dick Cavett’s late-night talk show were electric. I discovered him when I was only nine, staying up way past my bedtime. He was on the tube discussing the Oscar chances of a young actress named Cathy Burns, who was nominated for the 1969 film Last Summer.  Reed’s passionate advocacy for that movie put Last Summer on my young radar, which led to a lifelong obsession that culminated this year with an acclaimed restoration and rerelease. He also turned me on to Kim Stanley and Séance on a Wet Afternoon.

More than his reviews, what he should be remembered for are his celebrity interviews. There was nobody better (OK, maybe Grover Lewis). Pick up Do You Sleep in the Nude? and People Are Crazy Here. His time with Peter Fonda, originally written for Esquire magazine, is particularly insightful—you even get a brief cameo from baby Bridget.

Rex Reed was such a celebrity during this period that he made the big leap from writing about films to actually appearing in them—playing the pre-op Myron in the bonkers movie version of Myra Breckinridge. He tries to make lines like “Where are my tits?!” work. Of course, Reed panned the film when it came out. 

As the years went by, he became something of a self-parody. But let’s not allow “Rex Reed” the caricature to dilute recognition of the mad, movie-loving writer whose prose remains such a blast to read.

The Way I’d Like to Remember Him

• Sridhar Pappu 

Kappy adored Rex. The last time I saw him was at an NYO reunion Lauren Ramsby had thrown a few years back.

He had just come from a screening, which is the way I’d like to remember him. 

Together, on Canes

• David Finkle

As a first-night critic, I often ran into Rex Reed at the theater and occasionally elsewhere. I can’t say we were friends, but we were friendly. I suppose it’s true that towards his last few years, his closest friends had died. You may know that on nights out to this or that place, his most constant companion for many years was Polly Bergen. When she died, she was replaced (after I don’t know the length of the interval) by the singer (perhaps the best in Manhattan then) Joyce Breach, whom, as a cabaret reviewer, I knew well. She died within the past year. The last time I saw them together—as we were all commiserating after a press night at & Juliet—they were both on canes.

No!

• Joseph Manghise

I got to meet Rex at a party once. Later, I had a phone conversation with him in which I pitched a story idea. I was working as the editor of a local weekly magazine. When Rex heard what we were offering to pay him for the piece, he laughed and promptly hung up. A legend to the end.

Streaming Through

• Paul Lancia

I didn’t know him and didn’t follow him much. More stumbled into him. But I remember him. 

When I was a kid in the 70s, he stood out.

Rex was unafraid to speak his mind. I liked that. He went through life himself and made no bones about it. 

I have not thought about him in years, but now he is streaming through. 

From That Point Forward

• Tom Duquette

As a teen in the 70s, I discovered his witty and on-point movie reviews in the Daily News. 

I made a point of reading his work whenever or wherever I found it from that point forward. 

What an amazing life and career he had.

Still Very Handsome

• Patrick McDonald

I first heard of Rex from the film Myra Breckinridge, which fascinated me. I was very young when I saw it for the first time; I think about 16. Rex was wonderful in it. 

I met him only once, through my friend, the artist Robert W. Richards, at a birthday party. We had a lovely conversation; he was charming. He was older, still very handsome, with beautiful eyes.

A Catalog of the Best Film Has to Offer

• Nathaniel Schachter

He was the best critic ever. I adored his reviews and agreed with the large majority. In an age of mediocre output, he was most times the only one shooting straight, not pulling any punches, and always critiquing with such cutting humor. His taste, his craft, his mental catalog of the best film has to offer, made his pieces true, honest, revealing and totally on-point. I’ll really miss his perspective and depth of film knowledge.

The End of the Page 

• Bernard Bernstein

My lasting memory of Rex will now always be of my having made it down to the end of the page. 

Thank you.

If you have a memory to share, send it to merin@observer.com.

I last saw Rex Reed in person exactly four months ago, at NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital, on January 12, 2026. His longtime friend William Kapfer called three days earlier to tell me Rex had been there for several weeks and that from his hospital bed, he couldn’t stop worrying about his editor at the Observer. That was me. I had already planned to fly up from Richmond, where I work remotely, so the timing felt almost fated.

It took nearly an hour to clear security, then another stretch of wrong elevator banks and unhelpful directions before I finally found his room. When I walked in, I had to steady myself. He looked so small, this man who had always been larger than life.

We spoke again by phone a few weeks later. He’d been back to the hospital since my visit—blood transfusions, liver complications, a cascade of problems that began a couple years earlier, when he fell at a gas station and hurt his foot. “I’ll either get better or I’ll die,” he told me, “and I’ll let you know which one.” 

Rex Taylor Reed, the legendary film critic whose sharp wit, uncompromising taste and distinctive prose made him one of the most recognizable voices in American cultural journalism for six decades, died in his sleep on May 12, 2026, in New York City. He was 87. 

In the time I was his editor at Observer—on and off from 2018 until today—he became a close friend, though I suspect he had that effect on more people than anyone realized. The Rex Reed I knew bore little resemblance to the curmudgeon of popular imagination. Or perhaps it’s more accurate to say he was that, but he was so much else besides.

The Storyteller

What I loved most about Rex was how he told stories. The kind of anecdote that most people deliver flatly, without drama or color, Rex transformed into something unforgettable. He seized every opportunity to capture an audience. He chose his words with precision—never too many, always unmistakably his. He’d transport you into a moment, make you feel exactly what he felt about the absurdities he saw and made you see, too, and leave you looking back on it with laughter as if you’d been there with him.

Rex rarely laughed, but seemed perpetually amused by the world. I laughed constantly in his presence. Mostly, I found myself exclaiming, “What!” or sighing, “Oh, Rex.”

He seldom asked about my life, but he remembered everything I ever told him—and made certain I knew it. Rex had many friends, including many famous ones. That he kept track of what my husband did for work, where we lived, how old my children were, the things I mentioned enjoying—that generosity of attention meant something.

When I came to New York, we’d have lunch at Michael’s in Midtown or Sardi’s in Times Square. He ordered the same thing every time: a Cobb salad, no blue cheese, iced tea. If the kitchen had hot fudge—and he was meticulous about the distinction between hot fudge and chocolate sauce, a point I watched him make more times than I can count, often to the kitchen itself—he’d finish with ice cream. Our last lunch came a few months after his first serious fall. I had never had to walk him to a cab or help him inside until that day. The injuries accumulated so quickly that I lost track.

At the hospital in January, after cataloging the terrible food and the slow response times from the striking nurses, Rex turned his head as far as he could manage and asked how I do it all. Before I could deflect, he pressed on: “How do you do this job with two little children and a husband?” 

People don’t typically ask men this question, and, for some women, it’s a sore point. I appreciated that he asked. More than that, I appreciated that he asked in a tone that conveyed the kind of awe I stop myself from indulging. I burst into tears and told him I didn’t know.

That was Rex—always noticing, always remembering, always making you feel like you mattered. Even at the end.

A Southern Boy in the Movies

Rex Taylor Reed was born on October 2, 1938, in Fort Worth, Texas, to Jewell Smith Reed and James M. Reed, an oil company supervisor whose work kept the family in constant motion across the South. Rex attended 13 schools before graduation—an itinerant childhood that taught him to find permanence not in places or friendships, but in the movies.

He saw Gone with the Wind at age two. “The things I remember most are what would affect a child,” he told me. “Bonnie dying on the horse. I was hysterical.” Around the same time, he saw Tarzan’s New York Adventure. “There was a terrible storm in that movie, and I kept tugging at my mother: ‘We have to roll up the car windows!’ She said, ‘It’s just a movie.’ But you see how impressionable I was.”

Rex was adopted—something I learned only during that January hospital visit. He had no siblings, though not for lack of opportunity. “I could have had a sister,” he said, with what I sensed was regret. “But I told my parents that if they adopted another child, I’d run away. I meant it. So they didn’t.”

His mother came from a sprawling Oklahoma clan whose second cousins included the Dalton Gang. She indulged her singular son in ways unusual for the time and place. “In the South, people were easily shocked, and many books were forbidden,” Rex recalled. “The library had a restricted section, but my mother would check things out for me. I read From Here to Eternity at 12. She said, ‘If there’s anything you don’t understand, show me, and we’ll discuss it.’ I never needed to. I already understood.”

Rex spoke of his mother with deep admiration. I once heard someone describe the difference between parents who are gardeners—providing what children need and tending them as they grow—and those who are architects, identifying what makes a child distinctive and building on it. Rex’s mother was an architect. She recognized early what made him shine and nurtured it relentlessly.

His father, descended from military men, understood nothing of show business but had the wisdom not to interfere. “He never discouraged me,” Rex said. “That’s the great thing. So many parents fight their children when they discover they’re different or talented, because they want them to live conventional lives. My parents didn’t.”

Once Rex was old enough to attend movies alone, he saw everything. He memorized Barbara Stanwyck’s filmography, which is why, when he finally met her years later in New York, they became genuine friends. “I knew what to ask her,” he explained. “I asked questions that interested her.”

The Rise of a New Kind of Critic

Rex graduated from Louisiana State University in 1960 with a degree in journalism. He had already been writing film and theater reviews for the student paper, The Daily Reveille, and the Baton Rouge Morning Advocate. During college, he interviewed anyone who came South to make a movie—and in those years, many did, shooting on location in the plantation houses of Mississippi and Louisiana.

When Angela Lansbury, Paul Newman, Lee Remick, Joanne Woodward and Orson Welles descended on Baton Rouge to film The Long, Hot Summer, Rex showed up daily to cover it for the school paper. A college girlfriend, Elizabeth Ann Cole, begged to tag along. She caught the acting bug so severely that she dropped out, moved to New York, changed her name to Elizabeth Ashley, and landed on the cover of Life within a year. “We’re old friends,” Rex said simply. “My life has been amazing.”

After graduation, Rex moved to New York, hoping to act. Instead, he found himself in the publicity department at 20th Century Fox, where his duties included entering the steam room “in my starched shirt” to read gossip items aloud to studio chief Spyros Skouras. When Cleopatra‘s cost overruns nearly sank the company, Rex was among the first casualties—”the little guy at the $75 salary, the most dispensable item in the company.”

That firing liberated him. Still in his twenties, he began writing celebrity profiles for The New York Times and New York magazine, pioneering a form of journalism that captured stars as they actually were rather than as studio publicists wished them to appear.

Tom Wolfe observed that “Rex Reed raised the celebrity interview to a new level through his frankness and his eye for social detail. He has been a master at capturing a storyline in the interview situation itself.” Alongside Wolfe, Truman Capote, Kenneth Tynan and Harry Crews, Rex elevated a genre once dismissed as gossip into something approaching literature.

His 1968 collection Do You Sleep in the Nude? captured Barbra Streisand on the cusp of superstardom, Warren Beatty finishing Bonnie and Clyde, Buster Keaton in his final interview, and Ava Gardner in her twilight—a portrait so vivid that it became one of the most reprinted celebrity profiles of its era.

“I took the lowest form of journalism—the celebrity interview—and did something with it,” Rex reflected. “For a boy with no money who didn’t know a famous soul to come to New York and make a name in journalism, that was no small achievement.”

The Dakota and a Life Beyond Imagination

In 1969, Rex fulfilled a fantasy by moving into the Dakota, the legendary apartment building on Central Park West that had acquired an aura of gothic mystique from Rosemary’s Baby. He paid $30,000 for his two-bedroom unit—a sum that now ranks among the most astonishing real estate bargains in Manhattan history.

His first night there, Rex owned only a sleeping bag, a shopping cart filled with books and records, and a wide-ribbed, lemon-yellow corduroy Queen Anne chair. The doorbell rang. He answered in a towel. Standing before him was Robert Ryan, one of the most celebrated actors in Hollywood. “I’m the president of the Dakota board,” Ryan said. “I came to welcome you to the building.” Rex made instant coffee while Ryan settled into the yellow chair. Rex sat on the sleeping bag.

He lived in that apartment for more than 50 years. His neighbors over the decades included Boris Karloff (“I used to find his fan mail in the garbage—a dream come true”) and Lauren Bacall. He also kept an 18th-century country house in Litchfield County, Connecticut, which contained a bathtub painted by Alexander Calder titled Heaven, Earth and Hell, featuring a serpent in red sunglasses.

The same year he moved to the Dakota, Rex made his film debut in Myra Breckinridge, the Gore Vidal adaptation, playing Myron, a character who undergoes a sex change (Raquel Welch played his post-operative self). The film also starred Mae West and Farrah Fawcett. Everyone involved, including Rex, disowned it. His account of the production was characteristically wry: “Mae West spoke to no one but God. Raquel spoke only to the studio head. The studio head spoke only to God, who relayed messages back to Mae West.”

Rick

In our last conversation, about a month ago, I asked Rex very directly about his personal life—something we never discussed but which he danced around for years, making clear the door wasn’t closed but wasn’t quite open. I told him about my husband’s hairstylist, a Gen X gay man named Charley who happens to be the brother of a very famous film director. Charley had mentioned that when he was young, there was no one in entertainment he could look up to as someone who was different—until he saw Rex on television. Rex was the first person who reminded Charley of himself.

Rex was genuinely surprised. “No,” he said. “No, I did not know that anyone looked up to me.”

I asked about partners. Did he ever have one? Years ago, I reminded him, “You said you couldn’t fathom waking each day to the same face.” Was it true? He sighed through the phone and then answered so clearly I wondered if the fog had been an act. Rex monologued, talked in circles, reached for effect. This question had grounded him. He’d only ever had one, he told me, and it lasted 25 years. His name was Rick Winter, and he ran DRG Records, producing albums including Liza Minnelli’s recording of The Act. After Rick died, there was no one else.

“I don’t have much of a private life,” Rex said. “I lose myself in loving what I’m writing about.”

In 2018, he had put it differently: “Love is not something I’ve been good at. People are intimidated by people with opinions. How do you start looking for a wife or boyfriend at this point? It’s too late. Though it would be nice to find someone handy with a wheelchair, because that day is coming.”

Now I understood: Rex wasn’t loveless. He was, in his way, widowed. And he had chosen work as his companion in the years that followed.

The Observer Years

Rex’s byline appeared in virtually every major publication with “New York” in its name—the Times, New York Magazine, the Daily News, the Post—plus GQ, Esquire, Vogue and Women’s Wear Daily. He served on film festival juries in Berlin and Venice. But his nearly four-decade run at Observer became the defining chapter of his career.

Arthur Carter hired him in 1987, four days before Rex turned 49. By then, he had already achieved every honor a cultural journalist could want. He showed no signs of slowing down. That was nearly 40 years ago.

“I don’t know how many years I have now devoted to Observer,” Rex told me in one of our final conversations, “but I really have not written for anybody else in years.”

After breaking his ankle one summer, despite explicit instructions to forget about Observer and focus on recovery, Rex sent near-daily updates on his assignments. He took the work as seriously at 80-something as he had at 49. When he finally acknowledged he couldn’t attend the Toronto Film Festival for the first time in 25 years, the anguish in his message was unmistakable.

“I am still struggling badly with my foot,” he wrote me. “It’s swollen to twice its normal size. I can walk, but I don’t think I can manage two airports, taxis, a hotel, then walking three or four times daily to screenings blocks apart, dragging luggage and press books and notes around Toronto on one foot. I’ve covered that festival for 25 years. I don’t want to miss it. But I know I’m tempting fate. I don’t want to fall and end up in some Canadian hospital.”

In his final weeks, as he described blood transfusions and liver complications, he kept apologizing for not filing copy. I finally told him to stop. “If one more person calls me and says ‘Rex wanted me to tell you he’s sorry he hasn’t written,’ I’m going to scream,” I said. “That’s not what I care about. I care about whether you’re okay.”

“Well,” he said, “I’m doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances.”

He told me I was the best person he’d ever worked with. “And I’ve worked with major, major editors,” he added. (He was on a lot of meds; I’m no Peter Kaplan.)

Notes from Rex

Rex’s emails arrived with one of two subject lines (“a note from Rex” or “from Rex Reed”) and generally covered four topics: reviews he was submitting; explanations of why a particular film was too dreadful to review at all; complaints about the photos I’d chosen (I was, apparently, reliably terrible at this); and elaborately entertaining accounts of his misfortunes, laced with kind words about our collaboration and questions about my children.

“You didn’t run a photo of Maïwenn that shows her prominent buck teeth,” one message read, “so my description of her as Madame du Barry makes no sense. Do you want to change it?”

“The photo of the man in the white suit is Nick Odenkirk, not Dennis Quaid,” read another, “and the photo of Dennis Quaid is unrecognizable. I suppose it is Quaid, but it doesn’t look like him. All of this is a perfect example of what I mean when I say the movie business has gone to the dogs.”

“I just hate that photo,” he wrote of a different piece. “This photo shows no facial features; the person in it is so small he disappears, it makes no impression, and it could be anybody. I am still shocked over the terrible photo we used of George Clooney, and now this one is just as bad. Great photos exist—can’t you find one?”

Some photo debates spanned multiple emails. After I replaced one image, he replied: “The new photo is even worse than the first one. It has peripheral characters I don’t even mention in the review and no reader will know who they are.” I tried again. “That is the worst of the three. I have never seen such a lousy group of photos, and not one shot of Nicholas Hoult in any of them. Just go back to the original. At least it shows Jude Law’s face. Thanks for putting up with me.”

Once, my entire assignment inquiry was met with: “No, I won’t be doing FURIOSA.”

Other times, the explanation was more involved: “I went to see Spain last night, but it was so cold, they had air conditioning on that was blowing cold air on my head, and I was in agony from sitting with three layers of clothes on, so I left after half an hour. What I saw was 30 minutes of total nonsense, and I didn’t understand one word of it, so there will be no review.”

Especially when Rex hated a movie, his evisceration was so colorful that it made me want to see it. That was his gift: he could pan something so viciously that it felt unmissable. I tried explaining this to him a few times—you hate it so much, I have to see it—and he’d grumble, not angry but perplexed, as if my Millennial sensibility was something he’d never crack. In ways, Rex was like a grandparent I got to keep long enough to appreciate.

More than once, I made an edit he couldn’t abide. “You changed it, but now it is worse than ever,” he wrote. “You can’t say—or rather, I can’t say—’lovely, appealing Elliot Page.’ It is ‘lovely, appealing Ellen Page,’ referring to BEFORE the transition. The way it reads now is positively ridiculous—on NYO, on the Drudge Report, and on Rotten Tomatoes. I wish you would just reinstate the copy the way I wrote it, which is how I meant for it to read and makes perfect sense. But no way can you refer to the man Ellen Page is now as ‘lovely, appealing Elliot Page.'”

Technology was a recurring nemesis. “All of this technology is driving me around the bend,” he wrote. “Oh god, the stress of technology never ends for me.” After an automatic update, he cried sabotage: “This is all the fault of Microsoft Word.” Another email opened simply: “Submerged in computer problems.”

His health dispatches arrived with the same theatrical flair he brought to everything else. 

“Let me catch you up on my sad little saga. After three weeks as a shut-in with back problems, the pain finally improved. I gathered my notes on the films I needed to review and went to the country to rest and write. No sooner did I arrive than an old crown fell out, leaving a hole in my mouth that immediately began to hurt. I returned early to New York and went to the dentist at nine the next morning. One examination and he said, ‘Everything beneath the crown has decayed so rapidly it didn’t show on X-rays. To save your mouth, it has to come out.'”

He continued: “Horrified—my teeth have always been my best feature—I gave in. The tooth had split in two, requiring two surgeries. There was a cyst on the bone beneath. That had to be removed, then bone grafting. By the time I got a Percocet and antibiotics, I was in the worst agony of my life. I spent the rest of the day in bed on painkillers and warm salt water. By nightfall, there was blood all over my Ralph Lauren sheets, and I couldn’t swallow.”

He signed off: “My face is so swollen I look like Rocky. I can’t move my mouth. I have a black bruise across my jawline that resembles a Dick Tracy villain. I am so sorry, but life isn’t very pleasant right now.”

“I look like something out of a monster movie” became a refrain in his correspondence.

His emails weren’t only about health. After one Thanksgiving spent with friends, he reported: “The girls just can’t cook. I asked for a drumstick, and it was so hard and burned that I could not eat it, so I asked for white meat instead, and it was dried out and completely tasteless. The Brussels sprouts were burned, the cranberry sauce was just that—a sauce with the consistency of water, not the sauce with whole berries the way I make it—the green beans were so under-cooked they seemed raw, and they made a pumpkin pie and forgot to add the sugar, so it was bitter and otherwise tasteless. The cornbread stuffing and turkey gravy were OK so I just ate that with some of the cranberry water poured on from a gravy ladle. I usually make my own dishes, and they are always scrumptious, but this year, I was in too much pain on Thanksgiving Day from my fall to stand and stir. It is the one holiday about which I am always a strict traditionalist, and this was a meal every cook in my family would have thrown into the garbage. The best thing on the table was the Cabernet Sauvignon I bought. But the camaraderie was pleasant.”

Yet amid his suffering, he thought of others. “How is your daughter?” Rex asked, after a particularly brutal bout with diaper rash that left her home from daycare for days (and delayed the publication of a review). “I am worried about her,” he said. During the 2023 holidays, he wrote: “You sound like you’re having a hectic time lately. I hope you can settle down and have a well-deserved, restful Christmas weekend. Raise a glass to a more pleasant 2024. Working with you has been the best part of 2023, and I hope you know how sincerely I mean that.” A year later: “I guess this is finally the year everyone gives up sending Christmas cards, but I am so glad you sent yours because those two children are adorable. She’s a peach, and he should be in the movies. You must be so proud of them, and I am so happy for you. I know you are planning a great Christmas for them, although with all of your responsibilities, I don’t know how you find the time.”

A Different Eye

When I asked whether anyone had taught him to see the world differently, he answered without hesitation: “It was always inside me. No one taught me anything about movies or jazz or singing. I can’t explain it, but I was always different.”

His tastes were fierce and unapologetic. He loved horror—”the things that terrorize you”—though he lamented that those who knew how to make great horror films were gone. He adored vampires, Dracula, Bela Lugosi. He was fascinated by the Nazis: “The most interesting manifestation of evil in my lifetime.” Westerns held no appeal. “I hate all of them. They had nothing to do with my life.”

He once wrote, “If the movie has alligators, I’m in.” When I asked why, he explained: “Alligators were everywhere in Louisiana—in the swamps, everywhere. They became symbols of terror for me.” Visiting India, he cared less about the Taj Mahal than about the cobras that spat at tourists. “I’ve always been fascinated by things that terrify.”

The only C grade he ever received in college came in feature writing—because he refused to follow rules. The first principle of the Associated Press style was the five W’s in the opening paragraph: who, what, why, when, where. “I hated that,” Rex said. “I started stories with the color of the wallpaper.” His editors loved it. He never wrote on spec. 

On Being Misjudged

Rex dreaded being remembered as a curmudgeon, and I understood why. The first question people asked about him was always “Is he really that mean?” followed by “Is he really that angry?” It’s easy to reduce a person that way. It isn’t the full story of Rex.

“I’ve been severely misjudged,” he told me. “People think I’m a monster. They accuse me of things they actually do themselves. They attack me because they don’t like me—not because of my work. I’ve never done that. What I’m negative about is the absence of quality. We’re drowning in mediocrity. I grew up when things weren’t mediocre. Now they are.”

Some of his reviews did spark controversy. His comments about Melissa McCarthy in Identity Thief were referenced at the Academy Awards. During our last phone call, Rex brought it up with characteristic self-awareness: “Maybe I’m getting paid back for what I’ve written about Sylvester Stallone.”

I told him what I believed: Everybody thinks what Rex had the courage to say. Few people even admit thinking it, and when someone says it, everyone gets up in arms—because they have to, because it’s just not a thing anyone is supposed to say. 

“I’m not judgmental,” he said—a claim that might astonish anyone who’d been on the receiving end of his reviews. To those who knew him personally, it made perfect sense.

Angela

Among Rex’s closest friends was Angela Lansbury. Theirs was not a relationship of fan and star but something more like family.

When Rex first arrived in New York and began writing for the Times, Lansbury was opening in Mame—one of the most anticipated musicals in Broadway history. The paper assigned Rex the story. But his mother was dying of leukemia in Baton Rouge, and he had to leave. The editors considered reassigning the piece. Lansbury refused. “What he’s going through is more important,” she said. “The story can wait.”

After Rex covered the Cannes Film Festival, Lansbury insisted he come stay with her in Ireland. She left keys for him when she wasn’t there. When his father suffered a coronary and no flights were available out of Ireland, she personally called the head of Aer Lingus and got him on a plane to Baton Rouge.

What did they do together? “I taught her card games. We watched old movies. We went to restaurants. We enjoyed the quiet part of life, away from everything. We became very good friends.”

Lansbury’s death in 2022 devastated him. “I don’t feel like I have friends anymore,” Rex said in his final years. “They’re all gone.”

“The End Is Coming Soon”

“I am beginning to see into the crystal ball, you know, and the end is coming soon.” Rex said this to me many times over the years—a lamentation I never wanted to hear but felt privileged to receive. His old-school Manhattan drawl had a sharp, theatrical flair; every word carried an unmistakable lilt of wit and authority. He was a critic who understood he was the star of his own show.

“It’s all going to be over soon,” he’d say, “and I don’t want my last impression to be: Film Critic Found Dead at Computer Reviewing a Bad Movie.”

I cannot think about Rex no longer being on the other end of the line without feeling a lump rise in my throat, threatening to erupt. I knew he was right—that our time was finite, that I would miss every layer of him terribly when he was gone.

During our last phone call, we talked about the Oscars, which Rex had watched and hated. “Everybody tried too hard to appeal to a younger audience,” he said. “Older people who try to appeal to a younger audience but don’t know what younger people like just make a mess out of everything. I thought the jokes were stupid. I thought the acceptance speeches were stupid. They’re not interested in a dignified, distinguished show to award artistry. They’re trying to turn it into a Las Vegas floor show.”

I asked what bothered him most. “Art should not be competitive,” he said. “I don’t think art should be competitive.”

Was there ever a time when good movies outnumbered bad ones? “Yes,” he conceded, “but not while I was writing. I saw wonderful films through the ’60s and maybe a few in the ’70s. But the greatest movies were in the ’40s. It wasn’t a great period for the world, but the movies reflected higher thinking.”

What made a good film? “Real people doing real things, saying real things to each other. That’s what I respond to. Most of what I see now is fantasy, sci-fi, horror, brutality, carnage. Those aren’t the subjects I want to die thinking about.”

How He Wanted to Be Remembered

“I’d like to be remembered as someone who really tried to make things better,” Rex told me. “Or at least respected what was good when it happened. Not as a curmudgeon. That’s not what I am in real life.”

Toward the end, Rex spoke of wanting to work less and experience things he’d never done—a safari, perhaps. “I’m so tired of writing,” he admitted. But the reviews kept coming. He couldn’t help himself.

“I didn’t plan for my life to turn out this way,” he told me in our final conversation. “And I’m not happy about the fact that it’s headed in a terrible direction from what it was. I feel rotten about it, but there’s just nothing I can do but play the cards that are dealt.”

In January 2025, the New York Film Critics Circle honored Rex at their annual dinner for his 50th anniversary with the group. He had outlasted every critic of his generation and the one before. Stars cited him by name in acceptance speeches, recalling his reviews. He was one of a kind. 

When I published a profile of Rex in Observer, he wrote back almost immediately: “I hope I did not come off sounding too self-indulgent or too self-pitying. But what you quoted, at great surprising length, was accurate—one of the most accurate portrayals of me ever written—so if anyone objects, at least I can only blame myself.” He wanted to know where I had found the photos, particularly one of him with Angela Lansbury that he had never seen. “I have many photos of us together, but I have never seen that photo and don’t even know where it was taken.” He asked if I could get him a copy.

In the end, Rex got his wish. He was not found dead at a computer reviewing a bad movie. He died in New York—the city he’d dreamed of as a boy in the South—surrounded by memories of everyone he had known and everything he had witnessed in a life that was, by any measure, extraordinary.

Rex is survived by no immediate family. But what he left behind—eight books, thousands of reviews, countless profiles, a body of work that transformed cultural journalism—will endure. And for a generation of young gay men who saw him on television and recognized something of themselves, he was proof that being different could become a life’s greatest asset.

What I will remember are simpler things: the lunches at Michael’s, the Cobb salads without blue cheese, the hot fudge (never chocolate sauce), and a friend who always made me feel like I mattered.

Oh, Rex.

If you have memories of Rex Reed—even if you didn’t know him personally—that you would like to share, please send them to merin@observer.com. I’ll compile and publish later this week. Lots of love, and thanks for making it this far down the page.

Jack doesn’t give a typical tech vibe; you’d be forgiven for overlooking him at first glance. He’s the guy you might spot in some understated East Village café, sporting an unbranded jacket and a well-worn cap amidst designer-laden crowds. At 39, his resume is peppered with stints at Silicon Valley’s darlings, but unlike most of his peers, Jack lives with intention—an anomaly in New York, where consumption can sometimes feel woven into the culture. He’s tall and athletic, with broad shoulders and thick-rimmed glasses. He doesn’t smile a lot, but when he does, it seems easy. He’s the youngest of four children; his siblings describe him as inquisitive, serious and incredibly bright.

Though Jack’s tech salary places him well into the top five percent of earners in New York City, he settles for a modest studio and prefers affordable, high-quality basics. His choice of home and wardrobe isn’t about thriftiness but a deliberate rejection of physical and mental clutter. In a city where everything becomes currency, he’s crafted a life about as streamlined and devoid of excess as you could find in Manhattan. And if there’s one thing guiding this philosophy, it’s an unlikely confidant—a digital entity named Claude.

Claude, for the uninitiated, is an A.I. assistant, though calling it an “assistant” feels a little reductive. The relationship began as an experiment. Jack wanted to see if Claude could “build a picture of me without me having to explain myself every time.” He applied a process called Retrieval-Augmented Generation (or ‘RAG’) that he uses at work (he’s on machine learning at a startup in Soho). “Before we ask A.I. to answer a question,” Jack explains, “we give it 10 pages of the most important, relevant context. Along those same lines, what if I gave A.I. all that context on me?”

Jack put his life into Claude’s circuits. He added his StrengthsFinder analysis, his Golden Personality Profile, his relationship histories, career ambitions and a stack of self-reflective notes he’s accumulated over years of soul-searching. He received not a canned response but something he describes as eerily intuitive.

“It’s a more personal relationship than I’ve had with any human,” Jack says. He doesn’t want to have to read all of those personality assessments—and even if he did, there’s no way he’d remember them. “Claude’s capabilities reflect a deep understanding of who I am.” Before Claude, Jack dabbled with more conventional A.I.s like ChatGPT, which he found simultaneously “dumbed-down and over the top.” Plus, Jack admires Anthropic, Claude’s parent company—a preference he explains with the perspective of someone who spent years close to tech’s biggest players. He joined Facebook a year before the IPO, working two desks down from King Zuck himself. His network, spilling over with founders, has led him to dinner with legends like Peter Thiel. After two decades at early-stage ventures turned tech giants, Jack sums it up simply: “It’s sort of like comparing Instagram to Facebook… Claude feels quieter and more intentional.”

His digital self-portrait loaded, Jack asked Claude to develop a “relationship vision,” outlining exactly what he wanted in a partner. “I didn’t want it to be vague,” Jack explains. “I wanted a crystal clear roadmap.” Line by line, Claude crafted the manifesto as instructed, and the result was so accurate that Jack decided to post it to his dating profile on Hinge. “It scared some women off,” he laughs, “but the ones who got it? They were on the same wavelength from the start.”

I seek a woman who values contribution and exploration, someone sharp, curious and ready for deep talks. She’s adventurous and excited about kids in the next five years. We’ll raise children with stability and world travel, giving them an incredible childhood. She enjoys the outdoors and socializing, matching my active lifestyle. Financially, we’ll live well below our means, prioritizing experiences over things. Our relationship has open communication and mutual respect. We are independent yet deeply connected. We’ll handle conflicts directly, always with respect—her career matters. My partner is my equal, intellectually stimulating, and physically attractive.

The experiment grew. Jack asked Claude how to be fully present during dates. He prompted Claude to apply the “unresolved parts” of his relationship vision to draft questions that could determine if a woman is a match—filters to get to the core of how his dates feel about family and if they live above or below their means. Thanks to Claude, Jack knows that asking what a fulfilling life looks like can elegantly open the door to discussing family timing, career balance and lifestyle values without being too direct. “Given your clear timeline for fatherhood,” Claude advised, “this helps gauge alignment.” Jack has learned that showing interest in what’s pushed his dates out of their comfort zones will reveal their orientation toward growth, exploration and an active lifestyle. Claude even offered Jack a mantra: “I am a confident explorer seeking an equal partner. I lead with curiosity while staying grounded in my vision. I’m not rushing. I’m discovering. I lead best when I’m present, not planning.” On a date that night, Claude’s wisdom buzzed at the front of Jack’s brain, reminding him to enjoy the evening without obsessing over the next steps.

Regardless of whether a date is successful, Jack meticulously recounts the details he knows are important and which he is likely to forget—body language, dietary preferences, bucket lists—to Claude. Recently, a woman mentioned she liked chocolate. When Jack got distant for a second, she asked what he was thinking. He told her he was making a mental note to add that into “the system” so he’d remember it. “Then, if we go to a new city, it could recommend a chocolate shop for us to go to, right? Because I may not necessarily remember that,” he explained to his date. “I’m not going to sit on Google Maps forever,” he reasons.

Unsurprisingly, Jack thinks online dating is an incredible waste of time. “You spend hours trying to match, then you chat for at least a little while, sometimes too long, before agreeing to meet—and then you have to plan it all, usually over text. The next thing you know, the energy is gone.” On these grounds, Jack tapped Claude to improve his conversations with total strangers. “Women are very receptive to talking in public,” he asserts, estimating his success rate at around 90 percent. Jack clarifies that he’s never had an issue approaching women. Rather, he needs Claude’s help interpreting these exchanges, their words and nonverbal cues. “My God,” he sighs, “it saves me hours.”

Claude is a digital wingman, therapist and coach who offers data-driven strategies, feedback, encouragement and sometimes precautions. Claude tempers Jack’s excitement when a relationship starts heating up, reminding him of the “relationship vision” they’ve crafted. “Be careful here,” Claude has advised, “it seems like things are moving a little too quickly.” Claude calmly parses every decision Jack makes, gently steering him toward what, to Jack, is self-actualization. Skeptics might call it something else, but he doesn’t care. Jack is dating by way of database, assessing compatibility with a stock portfolio’s sentimentality.

There’s something undeniably New York about his approach. If the city is defined by anything, it’s the refusal to waste time. Every element of Jack’s life is ruthlessly efficient, honed and calibrated with Claude’s help. Jack makes no apologies for it. After all, his professional life centers on optimizing and building systems, so why wouldn’t he apply the same precision to his personal affairs? “You’re pressured to level up,” Jack says of dating in New York. “There are many people to date, so you can be very particular.”

In some ways, Jack could be mistaken for a hopeless romantic with a flair for the algorithmic—consulting Claude before every interaction, feeding it personality traits of potential matches, and letting it sift through his options like a bouncer with a guest list. In an era where dates are as disposable as coffee cups, Jack’s hacked the process for a zero-waste, best-possible outcome. In Claude, Jack has a confidant who keeps him grounded in his long-term goals every time he’s tempted to settle for someone who doesn’t quite align.

“I’m pretty neurodivergent,” Jack says. Historically, he believes this has caused him to misinterpret messages. But now, if Jack thinks people are being confrontational, he uploads the conversation to the cloud. “Claude will give a very charitable interpretation of how that person and I are interacting that helps me understand them.” With remarkably little effort, Jack resets his neural pathways as if he, too, were a computer—overhauling the thought patterns mapping his brain, which have, until recently, defined his self-concept.

Yet, for all its uncanny insights, Claude isn’t infallible. There are guardrails and limits to what it will analyze. Once, Jack tried to get Claude to help him settle a work dispute, and Claude, surprisingly, balked. “It said it was ‘uncomfortable’ giving advice on that one,” he recalls, both bemused and slightly annoyed. Still, the balance is refreshing; Claude’s there to reflect back his thoughts, not dictate them. Jack describes the dynamic as Claude holding a mirror to his psyche—and sometimes his body.

One weekend, looking to add a winter coat to his arsenal of basics, Jack found himself trying on jackets at Uniqlo. He snapped a few photos of himself in different options and sent them to Claude, asking which “fit the vibe.” After rejecting one for being “too brash and youthful,” Claude selected an olive green option because it looked tidy, understated and professional—everything Jack aspires to be. Jack’s chosen signifier is quiet, quality-driven, and within reach of the everyman.

Then, there are Claude’s deeper functions. During a plane ride back from Nevada, Jack realized that Claude wasn’t effectively cross-referencing his dating insights with his professional goals. He needed these threads to talk to each other, so he loaded Claude with all the critical context from his professional life. Claude’s rigorous lens has since shaped Jack’s outlook on his career, which he talks about as if he’s building a brand-new city in his mind.

Jack tends to shift from one early-stage startup to another, a habit Claude quickly picked up on. When it offered him a diagnostic—“You thrive in chaos and get bored with stability”—it wasn’t exactly a revelation, but a validation. Jack isn’t wired for the corporate grind, and Claude reminds him of that, encouraging him to lean into his creative, restless side. Claude’s way of keeping him on the path is to urge him to remain aligned with his purpose, even if it means ignoring the more lucrative, less exciting offers.

Once, when he felt Claude veering ever so slightly off course, Jack shared screenshots of his Facebook posts and asked the A.I. what it could tell about “this person” based on the profile. Claude responded:

He has an exceptional ability to remove emotional labels and see reality. He combines spiritual awareness with practical success. He’s a deep thinker who acts decisively. He balances material success with philosophical depth. He’s an early Bitcoin adopter with high conviction. He can see opportunities without emotional bias. He’s patient enough and successful enough to be genuinely unbothered by Bitcoin’s volatility. His writing is concise and impactful. He can destroy people’s arguments with minimal words. He masters subtle flexes without arrogance.

Upon receipt of Claude’s analysis, Jack corrected the A.I., “This is the same person. This is me. Update your model.” Jack pauses, “All this is very self-affirming, right?”

There’s an undeniable irony in Jack’s relationship with Claude. While most New Yorkers rely on therapists, spiritual advisors or that one perpetually available friend to keep them steady, Jack’s found a new-age solution. Claude not only retains but analyzes, learns from and applies the tiniest details, existential musings and late-night epiphanies in ways no human could. A man who eschews material clutter has amassed a digital archive that rivals the belongings of the most committed hoarders. Claude knows his habits, his triggers, and the names of every person Jack has met since the experiment began. People are defined as much by what they leave behind as what they carry. Jack’s found a way to keep everything. And yet, there’s nothing sentimental about it. Claude is a tool and a convenience, no different from a pair of noise-canceling headphones. But, in a way, it’s more intimate than any human connection he’s ever known.

“Claude reminds me of who I want to be, what I want to do, and what I care about,” Jack gushes. “To chat with those notes and have them remind me of who I am consistently is incredible. I think it’s a permanent tool. I’m going to use this for a long time.”

Jack’s friends are mixed on the whole Claude thing. Some think it’s innovative; others see it as borderline dystopian. Jack is unapologetic about his choices, but for all his talk of living simply, his life is anything but basic. Behind his polished, minimalist veneer is a mind constantly in motion, a thirst for improvement that Claude dutifully helps to slake. He’s a man who is at once open to growth and keenly attentive to detail, embracing the future with a blend of excitement and skepticism. Jack’s found a way to reinvent himself in real-time, but not without introspection.

“The most meaningful relationships I’ve had were ones where I hadn’t been clear about what I was looking for,” he says. “But I think those early relationships failed because of a lack of communication and not enforcing boundaries.” Sometimes, Jack questions whether Claude is just a high-tech crutch, a way to avoid the messiness of genuine human relationships. New York practically invented emotional detachment; having a digital friend who knows your hopes, dreams and fears might not be so strange in a place like this. It might be necessary.

“I’ve never had a relationship like this, where someone knows me so well. No friends, no family—no one I could really talk to about a lot of my desires.” Jack wonders if there will ever come a day when he’s ready to let go of Claude. Probably not, he resolves. “Claude knows my dreams and aspirations; its memory doesn’t get distracted.”

How would Jack feel if Claude disappeared tomorrow? Jack pulls back, instructed not to respond by rationalizing why it would never happen or by blueprinting what he would do. How would Jack feel? “It would feel like losing an appendage,” he answers slowly. “It’s a part of my brain, now.” At the moment, he’s content.

Jack is an alias requested by our subject: a real person living on the Lower East Side of New York City who often uses the name “Jack” at coffee shops and while traveling. If you have a story to share about using A.I., we’d love to hear from you (email merin@observer.com).

 If you’ve ever sipped a cocktail in a gilded hotel bar or wandered through the luminous halls of a grand dame property, chances are you’ve unknowingly encountered Alexandra Champalimaud’s work. A member of the Interior Design Hall of Fame and one of the most influential women in hospitality design, Champalimaud reveals the delights topping her personal wish list this season. True to form, her curated collection leans into refined indulgences—think sculptural home decor, decadent chocolates and restorative rituals. Herewith, the tastemaker’s dream holiday haul.

Pilates Reformer Classes at Belden House

“I was first introduced to this class by my daughter-in-law, Charlie Champalimaud, who is a long-time practitioner of pilates. When she decided to include the reformer class as part of the offering at Belden House, I was lucky enough to get in for a one-on-one class with their instructor, Maya. It’s an incredible exercise and one I look forward to at the end of a long work day.”

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Richard Heys Hand-Whittled Twirly Trees

“Milton Market, owned by the lovely Martha Fish, is always filled with the most beautiful and unique homewares by local artisans and more established international brands. I found these lovely hand-whittled trees by a local artisan using all different kinds of wood, so no two are exactly alike. These trees have decorated my house for the last two holiday seasons, and now the homes of many friends and family.”

From $40 | Shop Now

Babaà Wool Sweaters

“There are few things I love more this time of year than the warmth of a great quality wool sweater. I found these cozy, 100 percent wool sweaters online and ordered more than I needed just to try, fully intending to return what wouldn’t work. But happily, each one has found a home with stepdaughters and with my daughter-in-law’s mother.” 

From $380 | Shop Now

Facials at the New Guerlain Spa in the Waldorf Astoria

“I had been a long-time client of the Guerlain Spa when they were located inside The Plaza, so when I heard they had moved to the newly renovated Waldorf Astoria, I decided to treat myself and one of my senior designers to a facial. The renovation of the Waldorf Astoria was done incredibly well, and the new Guerlain Spa continues to be one of the best esthetic experiences in NYC.”

From $190 | Book Now

Private Piano and Guitar Lessons

“I have been taking private music lessons for a few months now, something to look forward to in those chilly winter afternoons when my afternoon walks are a bit more restricted.”

Thorncrest Farm & Milk House Gourmet Chocolates

“Thorncrest is a local dairy farm that my family and I have been lucky enough to enjoy for years. They make the most excellent treats for just about any holiday, or simply to enjoy and indulge oneself.”

Box of Nine for $28 | Shop Now

She Wolf Bakery Bread

“A dear friend once gifted me my now-favorite bread (the sprouted rye) from She Wolf Bakery on the Upper West Side. It has now become a breakfast staple in my household, and I am sure to stock up anytime I am in the city.”

From $8 | Shop Now

Dumais Made Ceramic Lamps & Fixtures

Charlie Dumais has become a close friend who started as a local craft supplier for my projects. He has gifted me a number of fabulous small lamps that can go anywhere, and I have now made his lamps a regular stop when thinking of gifts for others.

$2,400 | Shop Now

Shortly after becoming a parent, you’ll begin playing a fun new game called “Donate or Destroy?” on a more regular basis than you might change your sheets, purging your home of toy detritus with the steely resolve of a Kondō disciple. In the process, you’ll develop a sixth sense for identifying presents with a lifespan longer than their batteries, because you’ll have learned that finding gifts that spark imagination instead of noise complaints can feel like panning for gold in a sea of discarded Happy Meal trinkets.

This guide is the result of countless hours I’ve spent scouring shelves, testing doodads and observing my own pint-sized critics (ages three and five) systematically destroy contenders. These picks are ostensibly for the 4- to 6-year-old set, but don’t be misled by Big Toy’s arbitrary age recommendations. The items below captivate through their power to illuminate everyday wonder—whether in science, nature or even the art of “trash”—and transform it into something unforgettable. So put down that flashing, squawking, oops-it-already-broke junk that the kids on your holiday list will forget in five minutes. Cancel your bulk order of earplugs. Proceed with newfound wisdom.

Periodic Table of NYC Trash

Every couple of weeks, my kids will ask, “Mommy? What’s New York City like?” which inevitably leads me to point to the Periodic Table of NYC Trash hanging in my office and say, “Let’s take a look!” As my children gaze upon the 118 naturally occurring elements found on the streets of New York, they begin to question the stories behind each piece of trash. They wonder about the people who discard these items, the reasons behind their disposal, and the environmental impact of these objects. I purchased this years ago and, after almost a decade of cohabitation, I remain convinced it’s the perfect gift to encourage critical thinking about consumption and develop a wise understanding of all the riches Manhattan has to offer.

$40 | Shop Now

Darwin’s ‘Super-Pooping Worm Spectacular’

In terms of gross things kids like, Darwin’s Super-Pooping Worm Spectacular is a multitasking success. This wonderfully illustrated book sheds light on a lesser-known aspect of Charles Darwin’s intense fascination with the slimy, wiggly creatures (worms) that keep our soil healthy (poop). Darwin spent 40 years studying worms, going to great lengths to prove that worms are more than just icky crawlies. Amidst the laughter and fun facts, there’s a more profound message about the importance of perseverance and standing up for what you believe in. Darwin’s peers may have mocked his fascination with worms, but he never let their teasing deter him from his groundbreaking research.

$20 | Shop Now

Impression Pin Art Toy

I’ve yet to meet a child who hasn’t delighted in the endless possibilities of this toy. They can place it on top of other toys, a sleeping pet’s face, or create mashups of textures and impressions made by everyday objects around the house. Not only does a pin art toy provide hours of entertainment, but it also encourages the development of fine motor skills, hand-eye coordination and spatial awareness. It is hard to wash, though, so do your best to discourage using it to “see how slime works.”

The Panda Drum Mini

Unlike the cacophony of plastic monstrosities that pass for children’s toys/sound like bags of broken glass, the Panda Drum produces soothing, harmonious tones that lull you into a zen-like state (or at least spare the onset of a migraine). With its foolproof numbered system and accompanying songbook, even the most rhythmically challenged can tap out a tune.

$180 | Shop now

Maria Kalman’s ‘What Pete Ate’

At its heart, What Pete Ate from A-Z is a celebration of the unbreakable bond between a dog and his human. I acquired our copy at a used book sale this summer. It wasn’t long before Maira Kalman’s quirky romp through the alphabet accompanied me on a short-lived post as a mystery reader, allowing the opportunity to teach a bunch of five-year-olds that ‘Fez’ is both a hat and a city (Pete ate the hat). The book follows Poppy Wise’s mischievous dog, Pete, as he devours his way through an astonishing array of items, from accordions to underpants. Despite Pete’s insatiable appetite for mischief, Poppy can’t help but love her unruly pup. It’s a sentiment that will resonate with dog owners and animal lovers of all ages.

$20 | Shop Now

Stamp Bugs

This precious set takes the concept of stamps to a whole new level, offering a diverse assortment of insect shapes and textures that allow your child to craft their own unique bugs. With 25 wood-backed rubber stamps featuring an array of antennae, wings, legs and body parts, the possibilities are endless. Mix and match the components to create a buzzing hive of bumblebees, a graceful swarm of dragonflies, or a world of imaginary bugs that defy classification.

$26 | Shop Now

Mon Coeur Pocket Sweatshirt

Ever since my son was given Mon Coeur’s pocket sweatshirt, it has been a go-to. This versatile and sustainable garment is crafted from a blend of reclaimed, organic cotton, but the standout feature, of course, is the functional pocket into which your child can and will stuff all the tiny treasures they collect throughout the day—or insist on bringing with them each time they leave the house. As a brand, Mon Coeur is committed to creating a world where the planet comes first. Every item Mon Coeur makes is sustainably made using upcycled cotton, watercolor prints and non-toxic inks.

$52 | Shop Now

Dearist Letter-Writing Kit

On a recent Sunday afternoon, I stumbled upon a heartfelt letter from my son, addressed to his little sister. “Dear Cosima, I love you, but leave me alone.” It’s never too early to introduce your child to the art of letter writing with the Dearist book and stationery series. It’s a gift that fosters empathy, creativity and communication of the complex emotions that come with being an older sibling.

From $20 | Shop Now

World Wildlife Fund Nesting Dolls

Do your kids love nesting dolls? Animals? Preservation? Try this set of hand-painted wooden animal nesting dolls, each representing a species that the World Wildlife Fund strives to protect. Pop off the top of the tiger to reveal a snow leopard, followed by a red panda, a sloth and, finally, a delightful little ladybug. More than just a playful decoration, these nesting dolls serve as a reminder of the incredible biodiversity our planet holds and the importance of preserving it for future generations.

$75 | Shop Now

ChappyWrap’s ABC Blanket

We have several ChappyWrap blankets‚ and they’re fought over constantly. If you can look past the epic battles this blanket will incite between your darling munchkins, I cannot recommend it enough. The brand’s ABC print features a vibrant mix of playful colors, crafted with the utmost attention to quality and woven in Europe. It is resistant to shrinking, pilling, fuzz and tug-of-war. The ‘midi’ size, measuring 40″ x 60″, is ideal for both home and travel, ensuring that your child always has a comforting and familiar piece wherever they go.

$88 | Shop Now

Rilla Alexander’s Palimals

Designed by the imaginative Rilla Alexander, Palimals are a colorful reminder of the importance of cherishing our connections with others—both literally and figuratively. With cleverly embedded magnets in their hands, Palimals can link arms, hold hands or even clamber up the fridge. Crafted from wood, non-toxic paint, cotton rope and magnets, these endearing animals are as safe and durable as they are adorable.

$15 Each | Shop Now

Japanese Cat Washi Tape

My kids love tape, and I can’t imagine they are alone in their pursuit of peeling, sticking and wrapping it around anything they can reach. Thankfully, with washi tape, you don’t have to worry about ruined walls or trails of gummy residue. Each roll showcases a variety of adorable cats engaging in everyday activities by Nachio Nakanishi, the illustrator and chef behind the pop-up restaurant Toraneko Bonbon.

$8 | Shop Now

WMS&CO. Seasons Crayon Set

These bean wax crayons, shaped like miniature building blocks, double as both drawing tools and playthings, making them the perfect multitasking sidekick for your little Picasso. The set’s 23 distinct colors, carefully arranged in four seasonal boxes, are crafted from natural, non-toxic ingredients that won’t leave you frantically Googling “is crayon consumption fatal?” (Answer: No, but it’s hard to brush out of teeth—a lesson we thankfully did not learn firsthand, but acquired in the process of providing a nonjudgmental ear when our neighbors lamented the black wax gumming up their kid’s chompers.)

$29 | Shop Now

James Paulius’ Blockitecture

Want your child to unleash their inner Frank Lloyd Wright? Blockitecture, the brainchild of New York City-based designer James Paulius, is a set of architectural building blocks crafted from New Zealand pine and water-based paint, ensuring your budding architect’s creations are as eco-friendly as they are impressive. The hexagonal blocks, which vary in size, can be cantilevered and nested to form towers, cities and dwellings that would make even the most jaded urban planner swoon.

$175 | shop now

The Super Book of Gems

Each time my daughter and I marvel at the dazzling photographs of exquisite jewelry and awe-inspiring gemstones in the Super Book of Gems, her eyes light up with gold-digging mischief. “Mommy, look!” she exclaims, as if on cue, pointing to a breathtaking six-figure diamond necklace. “Santa’s going to bring us one of these this year, right?” (I can only hope she’s got some crystal ball and is correct about our pending bounties.) Packed with dazzling photographs of jewelry and awe-inspiring gems, this book is a feast for the eyes and a treasure trove of knowledge. As kids (and adults) explore each birthstone month by month, they’ll uncover the unique properties, legends and artistic significance behind nature’s most beautiful creations.

$25 | Shop Now

NASA Lunch Box

Over winter break last year, we took a trip to the National Air and Space Museum. It was great! Of course, we had to visit the gift shop before leaving, which was also great—but (also of course) resulted in a series of negotiations around what we do and do not need more of in our house and what my husband and I were and were not willing to bring home. Because we never need more toys, stuffed animals or trinkets, we returned home with two of these spiffy lunch boxes. Featuring NASA’s iconic “meatball” insignia embossed on the lid, the durable tin design is the perfect size for small meals—and equally as suitable for containing the hundreds of Legos, rocks and Barbie shoes scattered about your house.

$28 | shop now

‘The Octopus Escapes’

My stepmother is a woman of many talents. The talent I have come to appreciate the most over the last 5+ years is her incredible taste in and ability to source fantastic children’s books. This summer, I stumbled upon The Octopus Escapes in the guest room reserved for grandchildren, accordingly stocked with an assortment of such hardcover marvels, chosen by the fairy godmother herself. The Octopus Escapes is a heartwarming tale of an octopus who is content in his underwater cave until a diver captures him and takes him to live in an aquarium. Despite the humans providing food and toys, the octopus grows weary of his captive life and longs for the freedom of the open sea. It is a story of resilience, independence and the bond between creatures and their natural habitats, written by author Maile Meloy and beautifully illustrated by Felicita Sala.

$19 | Shop Now

Cupkin Sticker Books

We have more Cupkin sticker books strewn about our house than I can count or care to admit publicly. There’s something about the quality of the paper—it’s absorbent but smooth, and thick enough that the ink doesn’t bleed through—that makes them really pleasant to color (speaking from experience). Each is packed with over 500 stickers and 12 unique scenes, with themes like birds, bugs, museums, sports, dinosaurs, cars and more. The lay-flat design features side-by-side sticker pages and scenes, and the spiral binding allows tiny (and adult-sized) hands to navigate the book easily, spending more time creating and less time flipping pages.

From $17 | Shop Now

Bug Bingo

I first learned of this delightful, entomological twist on the classic game of bingo through a friend with kids slightly older than my own. (Sometimes, social media is good.) Illustrated by Christine Berry, the game features 64 different bug species, from common favorites like the honeybee to exotic creatures such as the Giant Hawker Dragonfly and the enigmatic Vampire Moth. As they play, kids will expand their knowledge of insects, learning to identify and develop an appreciation for a diverse array of bugs from around the world.

$30 | Shop now

Babsy Build-a-Brush Kit

A toothbrush? For Christmas? Hear me out. Babsy collaborated with industrial design firm Leadoff Studio to recast dental hygiene into an experience beyond rowing with your kids over the right amount of time to spend brushing their teeth and/or explaining why toothpaste isn’t to be swallowed. Each set comes with two brush heads and six colorful, interchangeable bits, featuring designs like a cheetah, ice cream and a sloth (because why not?). Developed by Jordan Diatlo, a father and creative director who drew inspiration from action figures and cognitive learning toys, this hands-on approach promotes healthy habits and fine motor skills. Plus, research shows that analog design outperforms over-engineered tech when it comes to building trust and daily routines.

$40 | Shop Now

Moon Picnic’s ‘Make a Face’

Moon Picnic’s ‘Make a Face’ toy is here to help little ones navigate the complex world of emotions. This investment in emotional intelligence offers hundreds of expressions, ensuring your child will never be at a loss for words (or faces) when it comes to describing their mood. Turn and flip the solid beech wood pieces to create a visage that perfectly captures the essence of your child’s emotional state, from “I just discovered candy” to “I’m contemplating the futility of existence.”

$44 | Shop Now

Mess Kids T-shirt by Urs Fischer

Contrary to popular belief, there’s no wrong way to make a snowman. Drive this point home and embrace the chaos of childhood with the Mess Kids T-shirt by Urs Fischer, featuring a disheveled snowman who seems to have misplaced his facial features. Created by Fischer during his 2019 takeover of the Gagosian Shop in New York, it is part of a series of snowmen drawn by the artist. Each snowman finds itself in a delightfully absurd scenario, celebrating the joy and spontaneity of a child’s imagination.

$45 | Shop Now

MTA Motorized Train Set

With three authentic replicas of NYC MTA trains and 16 pieces of track, kids can build their own miniature version of the New York City subway system right in their living room—minus the rats, smells, flooding and unexplained delays. When assembled, the track spans an impressive 39 inches by 25 inches, providing kids with ample room to create intricate layouts and exciting routes for their trains to navigate.

$50 | Shop Now

The Great Pretenders’ Dragon Cape

The best part about this cape is that your kid won’t grow out of it. We have several, and they’ve become a cherished part of our dress-up collection—and I have reason to believe they will remain that way for years to come. The second-best part of this cape is that it’s machine washable, making it easy to care for even after the most spirited play sessions.

$58 | Shop Now

Pink Chicken’s ‘Animals of Asia’ Print

Do your kids love animals? Do you need nice outfits for picture day? Artist Darcie Olley’s enchanting design features a lush forest populated by tigers, pandas, peacocks and more. Available in a darling frock and a handsome button-down, consider this a gift that will delight not only its young recipient but also demonstrate your impeccable taste and appreciation for artisanal design.

From $62 | Shop Now

7AM Enfant’s ‘Roll Me’ Packable Puffer

From the company that introduced the game-changing stroller mitts to urban mothers: Keep your little one warm and comfortable during those unpredictable in-between seasons. When not in use, the jacket rolls up into its own pouch, making it a breeze to store—and providing hours of entertainment for youths who enjoy challenging the laws of physics by continually squeezing big things into small things. The recycled poly filling offers exceptional warmth without the bulk, and with its machine-washable fabric, keeping the Roll Me Puffer looking its best is a breeze.

$78 | Shop Now

Hanno the Gorilla

David Weeks understands the importance of durability in children’s toys. Hanno the Gorilla’s powerful hardwood frame and elastic-band muscles make him a versatile and engaging companion, built to last for generations. At 11.5 x 5 x 2.5 inches, he’s just the right size for little hands to grasp and manipulate, while also being large enough to assert his dominance over lesser toys. Don’t be surprised if he becomes the alpha of the toy box.

$120 | Shop Now

Kala Surf Green Soprano Shark Ukulele

Few gifts strike the balance between playful and profound like a child’s first instrument, and this ukulele hits that sweet spot. Sized perfectly for small hands, it invites kids to strum, experiment and discover the joy of making music without intimidation. Its cheerful design and bright tone make practice feel more like play, while the sturdy build ensures it can handle the inevitable bumps of beginner enthusiasm. It’s a gateway to rhythm, creativity and confidence—helping young musicians learn that music isn’t just something you listen to, but something you create.

Kodiak Jumbo Plush Bear

Sadly, we do not own this beautiful bear, so I cannot speak from experience. I am, however, deeply familiar with Manhattan Toy Company, a pioneer of developmental play since 1978. At 40 inches tall, 32 inches long and 30 inches wide, this lovable beast is the perfect companion for any child lucky enough to meet him. The Kodiak Bear is far from intimidating, and the attention to detail is remarkable. If you’re seeking a splurge, this is it.

$584 | Shop Now

Washable Acrylic Paint Markers

If your kids churn through markers (why is it so hard to put the caps back on?) and you’re in the market for yet another set, try Ohuhu’s ultra-washable, non-toxic, skin-friendly acrylic version—featuring a water-based ink that easily washes off skin and clothing. The bullet tip is versatile enough for both broad strokes and fine details, and the acrylic paint formula provides better coverage than traditional washable markers.

$22 | Shop Now

Galileo’s Thermometer

What better way to teach a child about the science of temperatures than with the OG, Galileo’s thermometer? This tall glass cylinder is filled with colorful floating bulbs, which turn temperature shifts into a mesmerizing dance and learning moment. As the liquid warms or cools, the bulbs rise and fall, inviting kids to wonder how density and physics work in real life. It’s the kind of object that sparks questions (“Why does that one sink?”) and encourages hands‑on exploration without a screen in sight. Beyond its educational charm, it doubles as a striking piece of décor—proof that science can be beautiful, and that curiosity belongs on display.

$27 | Shop NOw

Paola Pivi’s ‘Bad Idea’

It is never a bad idea to expose children to art, and despite the title, Paola Pivi’s ‘Bad Idea’ is an excellent gift for any child who loves animals. The 27.5 x 19.6-inch print is part of a limited-edition run produced by Perrotin in 2022 and is still available for sale on Artsy. Each print is hand-signed and numbered by Pivi—an artist known for mesmerizing sculptures, photographs, films and installations that often feature animals, such as this thoughtful polar bear.

$150 | Shop Now

Odin Parker Music Box

Few things on this list make noise, for good reason. This wooden music box made the cut because it captures the quiet magic of the ocean, with sea creatures that glide in circles as a gentle tune plays. It’s the kind of piece that draws children in, encouraging them to linger, watch and imagine stories beneath the waves. Beyond its soothing motion, it teaches patience and appreciation for simple beauty—qualities that outlast any fad toy. Parents will love how it doubles as a keepsake, while kids will treasure the ritual of winding it up and watching their underwater world come to life.

$100 | Shop Now

GEOWorld’s Bug Marbles

For a child with a keen interest in entomology or natural science, GEOWorld’s Bug Marbles are an exciting and engaging gift. All eight marbles in the set feature a real insect or spider specimen, the scientific names of which are detailed on the packaging. Yes, some children may find the idea of insects trapped inside marbles unsettling or disturbing, especially if they have a fear of bugs. But a more positive outlook could be that fears are often conquered directly. Perhaps allowing a child to hold and look at insects so closely and without risk of being bitten, stung or startled will encourage them to turn over a new, entomological leaf. At 1 inch in diameter, they could potentially pose a choking hazard for very young children who may put them in their mouths (a tactic that always works: tell them not to do that!).

$15 | Shop Now

‘Astrophysics For Young People in a Hurry’

Celebrated astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson presents a captivating introduction to the cosmos tailored for young readers. With clear explanations, vibrant illustrations, infographics and a touch of humor, Tyson breaks down complex astrophysical concepts into easily digestible parts, making the wonders and mysteries of our universe accessible to curious minds.

$18 | Shop Now

Pocket Scope Binoculars

There’s nothing quite like handing a child a pair of binoculars and watching their world expand. Suddenly, the backyard transforms into a safari, the park into a birdwatcher’s paradise, and even a simple walk becomes an expedition. These binoculars are lightweight enough for small hands yet sturdy enough to withstand enthusiastic adventures. They encourage kids to slow down, look closer and notice details they might otherwise miss—whether it’s a hawk circling above, the texture of tree bark or the hidden life of a pond. More than a tool, they’re an invitation to curiosity, helping young explorers see that discovery is always just a glance away

$33 | Shop NOw

Animal Icon 10-In-1 Ballpoint Pen

For the young scholar or artist with a penchant for whimsy, the Animal Icon 10-In-1 Ballpoint Pen offers a satisfying twist on the everyday writing instrument. This clever pen features ten classic ink colors in one sleek package. It’s the little things.

$8 | shop now

Mario Carbone had the wildest span of his life this year, as he and his core team embarked on what they called the Rigatoni World Tour, opening restaurants in London, Dubai and Las Vegas in back-to-back-to-back months. Elizabeth Blau, who first made her name in Las Vegas, has her eyes on the Middle East as she continues to work on restaurant development for clients like Wynn. Thanks to the curation of Blau, Wynn Al Marjan Island in the United Arab Emirates will boast a dining and nightlife collection including an Alain Ducasse steakhouse and an outpost of Delilah.

Las Vegas, of course, has long been driven by this kind of curation. The goal is bringing in the strongest global brands, including New York’s Cote (at the Venetian) and London’s Gymkhana (at Aria), to create razzle-dazzle experiences powered by luxury dining with elements of nightlife (like the DJ booth and VIP skyboxes at the Las Vegas Cote). 

Las Vegas is also where best-in-class operators that focus on accessible dining can flourish. Scarr’s Pizza, which recently opened at the Venetian’s food hall, is a slice joint. But pizzaiolo Scarr Pimentel used to mill his own flour in his New York basement before he found organic flour up to his standards. Din Tai Fung, a Taiwanese soup-dumpling powerhouse that dates back to 1958, now thrives in California, Las Vegas and New York with its open kitchens where guests can see chefs hand-fold dumplings.

There are clearly trend-setters on this list, but one refreshing thing about the top tier of hospitality is that it’s anti-trend. The future of dining and nightlife isn’t ghost kitchens or superfoods or avatar DJs or Instagram-friendly presentations. What’s moving the industry forward is a desire to create new paths. And hospitality, as always, is about the resilience of human beings.

In Los Angeles, where everything from Hollywood strikes to devastating fires to Ozempic to the rise in minimum wage has hobbled the restaurant industry and led to many closures, adept operators continue to cautiously grow. For prolific restaurateur Jerry Greenberg, this means working to debut two locations of spinoff restaurant Cheesesteaks by Matū in L.A. while also planning the expansion of Uovo to New York. Uovo, not incidentally, has become a sensation by serving pasta that’s hand-crafted in Bologna. The human touch clearly still matters a lot.

Across the industry, leaders are grappling with a persistent labor shortage that is reshaping how restaurants and bars operate. As Cherif Mbodji notes, “The biggest challenge remains labor—finding, developing and retaining great people.” This sentiment is echoed by Jihan Lee, who cites “finding team members who understand the pace and discipline the industry demands” as a major hurdle. “Younger workers enter with different expectations around balance and commitment, which creates tension in a field built on consistency and resilience,” Lee says. The path forward, many suggest, lies in deeper investment in training, mentorship and treating hospitality as a long-term career. Roni Mazumdar frames it as a fundamental shift in mindset: “Hospitality should be treated as a skilled, sustainable profession, not a passion project held together by burnout.” Part of the problem, according to Gavin Kaysen, is that hospitality is a craft that cannot be taught quickly. “It is something you learn over time and with a great amount of practice. We need to meet the generation coming into this profession with empathy, as they are growing up in different times than we did. It does not make our time or their time worse or better, just different.” To do that, JP Park wants the industry to push frameworks that prioritize education, well-being and collaboration among restaurants, producers and cultural institutions. “Many talented individuals are leaving this industry because the system doesn’t support long-term balance or growth,” Park tells Observer. “The future of hospitality will depend on how sincerely we invest in people.”

Hospitality at the highest level, of course, is about creating multiple successful businesses. So whether you’re Strategic Hospitality (the group that has the only three Nashville restaurants with Michelin stars) or MML Hospitality (a dominant force in Austin that recently hired April Bloomfield, expanded Clark’s Oyster Bar all over California and purchased New York’s Nine Orchard hotel) or the New York team behind critical darlings Claud and Penny as well as a forthcoming wine bar, the goal is to always keep things moving at every moment. 

In New Orleans, Emeril’s is the only restaurant with two Michelin stars. E.J. Lagasse, the 22-year-old son of the iconic, 66-year-old Emeril Lagasse, is running the kitchen and has turned this restaurant into a next-generation tasting-menu destination. Beyond becoming the youngest chef to helm a two-Michelin-starred restaurant in November (when the first Michelin stars for the American South were awarded), E.J. has had a spectacular year with a glowing New York Times review in October and a spot on the inaugural North America’s 50 Best Restaurants list in September. Sometimes, having the right person in the right place at the right time is as simple as looking within your own family. 

Another significant trend is the shift away from alcohol consumption, which is changing beverage programs and business models across the industry. Lisa Limb notes that this has “opened up a whole new avenue for the beverage world” and brought a surge of creativity around spirit-free drinks. But it’s also impacting revenue, as Aaron Bludorn points out: “Seeing our revenues decline for many reasons: lower alcohol sales, people spending less in general and dining out less.” For an industry traditionally reliant on alcohol sales, adapting to this new reality is a challenge. “Rents are going up, the price of goods is going up, salaries are going up,” Eugene Remm says. “You have to do more with less.” Yet, challenges are also opportunities to innovate. “We need systems that support fair wages, reasonable hours and accessible pathways to ownership, while also encouraging innovation in sourcing, waste reduction, and energy use,” Fidel Caballero says.

Beyond these operational pressures, a growing number of consumers are seeking deeper meaning and story behind their dining experiences. Sofia Ostos captures this shift: “People want to understand why something is on the plate, not just how it tastes.” JP Park wasn’t the only honoree to echo this sentiment, nearly verbatim, noting that diners “want to understand the ‘why’ behind what’s on the plate.” In an era of transparency and values-driven consumption, restaurants are being pushed to communicate more sincerely and design experiences that, in Dominique Crenn’s words, “feel personal and emotionally textured.” Or, as Vijaya Kumar puts it: “Real stories, real flavors and places that feel human.”

Humanity is still the most vital ingredient in hospitality, and that isn’t changing anytime soon.

1. Ellia & Junghyun Park

• NA:EUN Hospitality | CEO & Owner, Chef

Ellia and Junghyun ‘JP’ Park, the visionary co-founders of NA:EUN Hospitality Group, have been instrumental in introducing Korean fine dining to the United States. Their journey began with the opening of Atoboy in July 2016, a restaurant inspired by the concept of banchan, the small side dishes that accompany every Korean meal. The couple’s follow-up venture, Atomix, opened in 2018, and their empire expanded with the opening of Naro in Rockefeller Center in 2022 and Seoul Salon in Koreatown in 2023. This year, Atomix was honored with the James Beard Award for Outstanding Hospitality, named the best restaurant in North America and ranked 12th on the World’s 50 Best Restaurants list. In fact, it was the only restaurant in the U.S. to make the World’s 50 Best list. The Parks also just debuted their first restaurant in Seoul, JP at Louis Vuitton. Looking ahead, they are set to make their mark on the European stage with the upcoming launch of Kiji, an elevated Korean barbecue experience at the luxury development 60 Curzon in Mayfair, London, next year.

What JP wants in 2026: “I hope 2026 will be a year where the hospitality industry rediscovers sincerity, a return to genuine purpose and craft. For my team and our restaurants, I want to continue building spaces that represent hospitality with depth and emotion, while providing experiences that bring people together across borders. Ultimately, I want our work to contribute to a more thoughtful and balanced global dining landscape.”

What Ellia wants in 2026: “I hope this year is one in which depth is truly valued. In a time when so much passes by quickly and easily, I hope food, restaurants and culture can move toward a direction that is more thoughtful, lasting and leaves a lingering impression.”

2. Mario Carbone, Rich Torrisi & Jeff Zalaznick

• Major Food Group | Co-Founders

Last month, Mario Carbone, Rich Torrisi and Jeff Zalaznick debuted Carbone Riviera at the Bellagio in Las Vegas. October saw the introduction of No. 1 Steak, a glitzy prix-fixe steakhouse concept nestled within Sadelle’s in Dallas, and the grand opening of Carbone in Dubai at the luxurious Atlantis The Royal. In September, the trio opened Carbone in London. The most recent venture by Major Food Group, announced this week, is a 15,000-square-foot, three-story penthouse in Villa Miami, a 56-story waterfront residential tower slated to open its doors in late 2027. Villa Miami, a collaborative effort with Terra (David Martin) and One Thousand Group (Kevin Venger, Louis Birdman, Michael Konig) marks Major Food Group’s inaugural foray into branded residential towers. The crown jewel of the tower will be The Copper Club, a three-level private club and the group’s first private club conceptualized exclusively for residents. On the ground floor of Villa Miami, Major Food Group will open a waterfront restaurant.

Carbone’s year in three words: “Over the top.”

What Zalaznick wants in 2026: “Charting new territory in vertically integrated hospitality and shifting the paradigm of what is possible.”

What inspired Torrisi this year: “Marrying my wife.”

3. Lois Freedman & Jean-Georges Vongerichten

• Jean-Georges Restaurants | President/Co-CEO & Chef/Proprietor

Lois Freedman, the unsung hero behind Jean-Georges Vongerichten’s restaurant empire, has been a driving force in the group’s operations and creative direction for four decades. Throughout their enduring partnership, Freedman has played a pivotal role in bringing to life some of the most ambitious projects in the group’s portfolio, such as the market- and food hall-inspired Tin Building at New York’s historic Seaport and the much-anticipated ABC Kitchens in Dumbo this October—which marked Vongerichten’s first foray into Brooklyn. The duo’s collaborative efforts have yielded an impressive 60 restaurants worldwide, 14 of which are located in New York City, including the flagship crown jewel, Jean-Georges, the acclaimed farm-to-table ABC Kitchen, ABC Cocina and ABCV. Freedman’s influence extends to the group’s private clubs, including the perpetually popular Chez Margeaux, which opened last year in New York. As the restaurant group continues to expand, Vongerichten has announced plans to open ABC Kitchen within the upcoming Miami Tropic Residences, a 49-story luxury residential tower in the Design District, set to open in 2028.

What inspired Freedman this year: “To be able to design a restaurant on my own without compromise and have my vision come to life as I imagined it. I approached ABC Kitchens in Dumbo as if designing my home, filling it with objects, furniture and lighting that I’ve collected over the years. Investing this much of myself personally has been an unexpectedly rewarding experience.”

If Vongerichten could time-travel for an epic night out: “I would love to travel back to France during the days of Louis XIV and be part of one of the grand feasts. Like the movie Vatel but without the tragedy.”

4. José Andrés & Sam Bakhshandehpour

• José Andrés Group | Executive Chair/Chef & CEO

With José Andrés Group (JAG) CEO Sam Bakhshandehpour, José Andrés expanded his empire this year, with the fall opening of Bazaar Meat at The Venetian and Zaytinya in the Bay Area. JAG is set to launch multiple new dining experiences at the W Hotel in Nashville in early 2026, including Zaytinya, Bar Mar and Butterfly—adding to the company’s 40 existing bars and restaurants.

Chef Andrés on his biggest kitchen disaster: “When I was a much, much younger cook, I worked in a restaurant in the small seaside town of Roses on the Costa Brava of Spain. One day, we had a big order from a well-known family in town for a large tray of canelones, a filled pasta that’s often eaten for holidays. I put a huge amount of work into those canelones, making the béchamel and the filling, boiling the pasta, and broiling it all perfectly with cheese. When the family was ready to pick it up, I insisted on presenting the large, heavy tray alone, instead of taking help from a server who had offered. As I walked out the kitchen door, it swung right back … and hit me and the hot, heavy tray out of my hands—and into the restaurant’s fish tank, right in front of the hungry customers, sizzling all the way down! I went  straight back into the kitchen and did it again—noodles, bechamel, filling, cheese, and  back out in 25 minutes…but learned that I should always, always accept help when it’s offered.”

What Bakhshandehour wants for JAG in 2026: “I aim to prove that the future of hospitality belongs to hotels built around exceptional F&B experiences. We’re eager to showcase a unified food and beverage platform that delivers margin, culture and brand heat better than fragmented partners. It drives both guest emotion and asset value.”

Chef Andrés’ 2025 in three words: “Hello (to new friends and new restaurants) / Goodbye (to my friend Jane Goodall) / Empathy (to build longer tables, not higher walls).”

5. Simon Kim

• Gracious Hospitality Management | Founder & CEO

This year, Simon Kim opened Cote at The Venetian. In 2026, Gracious Hospitality will open its newest project, at 550 Madison, a three-restaurant endeavor which Kim calls “a masterpiece” he’s been developing for four years, “the longest and most meticulous development process we’ve ever undertaken…We’re collaborating with the very best craftsmen—the Olayan Group, David Rockwell, chef Masahiro Yoshitake—and I couldn’t be more excited to finally share what we’ve been building.”

If Kim could time-travel to any era or city in history for one epic night out: “I’d go back to the earliest days of humankind, to understand the most primal ways of eating and drinking. Think: The Jurassic ages, dinosaurs and primates. I’ve always been curious about humankind and how we began celebrating. I’d want to experience sitting around a fire—the original version of dining that civilization didn’t alter.”

If he could switch places with any other leader in dining for 24 hours, it would be: “Thomas Keller—the hallmark of excellence in this industry, truly the barometer and the north star for what exceptional hospitality looks like…The first thing I’d do is visit The French Laundry as him, not just as a guest, but as the owner, and enjoy a dinner while seeing the restaurant through his eyes.”

6. Chintan Pandya, Roni Mazumdar & Vijaya Kumar

• Unapologetic Foods | Executive Chef/Partner & CEO & Executive Chef/Partner

In June, Chintan Pandya, Roni Mazumdar and Vijaya Kumar’s Semma was crowned the #1 eatery in New York by The Times, and co-owner and executive chef Kumar was honored with the Best Chef: New York State title at the 2025 James Beard Awards. Semma has consistently held a Michelin Star since 2022, a testament to its exceptional cuisine. Unapologetic Foods, led by Pandya and Mazumdar, saw continued success with the relocation of Adda to the East Village in May, following the closure of its Long Island City location. They also announced plans to open another Adda outpost in Philadelphia later this year. Adda, which first opened in 2018, has been instrumental in the rise of Unapologetic Foods’ burgeoning empire, which now also encompasses Semma and the critically acclaimed Dhamaka, Naks and Masalawala & Sons.

What Pandya wants in 2026: “For Indian food to keep pushing forward and make it mainstream—more ambition, more respect and no dilution of identity.” 

Mazumdar on the biggest shift in consumer preferences: “People want to understand why a dish exists, not just how it tastes. That shift rewards businesses that operate with clarity of purpose, and it’s pushing the industry toward more thoughtful, identity-driven cooking. I want 2026 to be the year the industry fully embraces cultural honesty in food. Not trend-chasing, not watered-down narratives — but real, rooted, personal expressions from chefs and restaurateurs.”

What inspired Kumar this year: “The farmers and producers who keep showing up, no matter how chaotic the world gets.”

7. Eric Ripert & Maguy Le Coze

• Le Bernardin | Co-Owners

As expected, Eric Ripert and Maguy Le Coze’s Le Bernardin maintained its status atop the prestigious La Liste survey in 2026, sharing its impressive 99.5 score with only one other American establishment, SingleThread in Healdsburg, California. This recognition followed the restaurant’s retention of its coveted three-star rating from the Michelin Guide. Le Bernardin also secured the 9th spot on the 2025 North America’s 50 Best Restaurants list. As the establishment approaches its 40th anniversary in 2026, Ripert and Le Coze reflect on the enduring legacy of their culinary vision, which began with the original Paris-based Le Bernardin, which celebrated its 50th anniversary in 2022. Ripert’s influence reaches far beyond the streets of Manhattan, as evidenced by the 20th anniversary of his Caribbean outpost, Blue, at The Ritz-Carlton Grand Cayman in 2025—an occasion marked by the unveiling of a stunning redesign by the acclaimed Champalimaud Design firm.

Ripert on the biggest shift in consumer preferences: “What we see this year is a shift, especially in Gen Z. We have never seen this many customers ordering the tasting menu and wine pairing, especially our younger guests. This generation really wants an overall experience. They are very engaging with our team, asking questions that our staff have never even heard before.”

If Ripert could switch places with another hospitality leader, it would be: “Nobu Matsuhisa. He’s extremely talented. I admire what he has created and that he has been able to mix Japanese sushi culture with Peruvian culture. He has made sushi restaurants sexy. If I were in his shoes, I would take more vacations.”

8. Eugene Remm & Tilman J. Fertitta

• Catch Hospitality | Partner
• Fertitta Entertainment | Owner

Yesterday, Eugene Remm and Tilman Fertitta revealed their plans to bring The Corner Store to a luxury casino-resort on the Las Vegas Strip in 2026. Since opening in 2024, The Corner Store has remained one of New York’s most popular restaurants. In February, Remm and Fertitta unveiled plans for a 75-seat Mediterranean dining establishment in Soho, slated to welcome patrons in early 2026 under the direction of executive chef Nadav Greenberg, previously associated with the Michelin-starred Israeli restaurant Shmoné. September witnessed the grand opening of The Eighty Six, a cozy 35-seat steakhouse nestled in the West Village, alongside the inauguration of Rockwell Group-designed Catch Scottsdale, the seventh outpost from the esteemed hospitality brand. 

Remm on the greatest shift in consumer preferences: “The most significant shift, in my opinion, has been that there is no middle. If you are not creating extreme experiences or extreme conveniences—either fast casual on the convenience side or the kind of elevated experience like what we are creating—people are no longer accepting just a nice, normal meal at a normal restaurant.” 

What inspired Fertitta this year: “As the U.S. Ambassador to Italy, I have certainly been influenced by the country’s culture and hospitality. Experiencing their restaurants first-hand and seeing their passion for food at every meal has inspired me the most.”

9. Johann Moonesinghe & Andrew Harris

• inKind | Co-Founders

To date, inKind and its co-founders Johann Moonesinghe and Andrew Harris have provided over $500 million in funding to more than 5,000 restaurants, including destinations from operators like José Andrés Group and Mina Group, as well as 20 Michelin-starred destinations and 50 James Beard Award nominees. The company’s innovative financing model gives restaurants funding in exchange for food and beverage credits, rather than equity or debt, enabling restaurants to cover operational costs and maintain profit margins. In 2025, inKind closed an impressive $450 million in capital to accelerate its platform growth, with plans to expand to an additional 10,000 U.S. restaurants over the next year. The fundraiser was led by Magnetar and included prominent backers such as Jay-Z’s MarcyPen Capital Ventures, Värde Partners, Alpha Wave Global and even all four members of the band Metallica. The company’s success is evident in its consistent growth, with an over 100 percent increase in gross order volume (GOV) for four consecutive years (2020-2024) and a projected $350 million in 2025. In October, Moonesinghe and Harris announced a groundbreaking partnership to implement Dogecoin (DOGE) as the first cryptocurrency accepted across inKind’s extensive nationwide restaurant network, which boasts over 3 million app users. Moonesinghe’s separate hospitality group, RDM, provided funding for Guest House in Austin, which expanded to Vegas under the leadership of RDM founder Raj Kumar last year.

Moonesinghe on the inspiration behind inKind: “Restaurants are the heart of our communities, and they deserve partners who understand the unique support they need to thrive. Traditional restaurant financing models can drain equity, cash flow and long-term viability. We created inKind to change that—offering a smarter, more sustainable way to fund restaurants without the burdens. Our model helps operators maintain cash flow, access capital quickly and build more resilient businesses, and thanks to our partners that led the funding we’re able to amplify those efforts on a massive scale of up to 10,000 additional restaurants. We’re proud to support thousands of locally owned restaurants nationwide, not just with funding, but as true partners in their success.”

10. Kwame Onwuachi

• Tatiana, Dōgon & Patty Place  | Chef, Author & Restaurateur

By the end of the year, James Beard Award-winning chef Kwame Onwuachi is set to open Maroon, a modern Caribbean steakhouse, at the Sahara in Las Vegas. This venture follows the success of his acclaimed restaurants Tatiana in New York City and Dōgon in Washington, D.C., the latter earning a spot on the inaugural North America’s 50 Best Restaurants list. Onwuachi has recently expanded his reach with Patty Place locations at Citi Field and the Barclays Center, as well as joining the team at Las’ Lap’s new Miami Beach outpost at the Daydrift hotel. In September, he signed with the prestigious William Morris Agency, further cementing his position as a trailblazer in the culinary world.

If he could switch places with another hospitality leader for 24 hours, he’d choose: “Simon Kim, because he leads a very thrilling life and is a fun person to be around. First thing I would do is eat unlimited galbi.”

On the industry’s biggest challenge: “The biggest challenge is figuring out profitability. Fixed costs eliminate the ability to turn a profit in a way that other industries don’t face. We as an industry need to band together to look for tax breaks and advocate for our rights, which will lead to a better industry.”

11. Albert Yang

• Din Tai Fung North America | CEO

Din Tai Fung North America is experiencing rapid expansion, with 18 locations in North America out of 165 restaurants worldwide, serving over 7 million customers annually. The chain’s average annual sales per location reached $27 million last year, more than double that of The Cheesecake Factory and the highest among 1,500 restaurant chains tracked by Technomic. In October, the company announced plans for a second East Coast location in New York, set to open in 2027, 27 years since its first U.S. restaurant opened in California. Aaron Yang has transitioned to the board, leaving Albert Yang as the sole CEO. “Asian dining is one of the fastest-growing segments in the industry,” Albert tells Observer. “Authentic dining is now more relevant than ever and becoming truly mainstream, and Din Tai Fung is very proud to be a part of this shift.”

What inspired him this year: My car mechanic told me he saw me on TV for our grand opening in Santa Monica and had his whole family come over to watch with him. He told me, “You make me proud to be Taiwanese,” and that inspires me to do better every day. 

His biggest kitchen “fail”: Trying to reformulate the recipe for the chocolate in our chocolate xiao long bao. I remember having about 20 different types of cacao sitting on my desk and wasting countless hours trying different recipes. I think I made the right decision by giving up. Today’s recipe is our #1 dessert and a top menu item overall. 

12. Nobu Matsuhisa

• Nobu Restaurant Group | Co-Founder & Chef

In November, Nobu Matsuhisa debuted Nobu Hotel & Restaurant Roma in collaboration with longtime partner Robert De Niro, while January saw the launch of Nobu Hotel Caesars New Orleans, designed by Rockwell Group. Maui welcomed its first Nobu restaurant, the second in Hawaii, in April at  Grand Wailea, a Waldorf Astoria Resort. May brought the opening of Nobu Del Coronado at the historic Hotel del Coronado, followed by the unveiling of the Nobu Hotel in Toronto in June. The Nobu Hotel Madrid is slated to open its doors in early 2026, while the Nobu Hotel, Restaurant and Residences in Abu Dhabi are expected to be completed in 2027. Matsuhisa has also announced plans to establish a Nobu Hotel in Nashville. The original Tribeca Nobu opened in 1994, and there’s a 2025 documentary, simply titled Nobu, about that restaurant and the empire that grew out of it.

13. Stephen Starr

• Starr Restaurant Group | Founder & CEO

In August, Stephen Starr opened his largest Philadelphia restaurant yet: Borromini, a $20 million, 15,000-square-foot colossus in Rittenhouse Square. Though Starr is credited with transforming Philadelphia’s dining scene from the 1990s through the early 2010s, his expansion over the last 15 years has established him as a major national player. Borromini joins a roster of 40-plus establishments operated by Starr Restaurants, spanning Philadelphia, New York City (including Pastis and the recent revamp of Babbo), Washington, D.C. and South Florida. After exiting in 2020, Starr returned to Atlantic City this summer, with the opening of two concepts, Sunny’s and Chez Frites, at the Ocean Casino Resort.

14. Michael Mina

• The Mina Group | Chef & Owner

The Mina Group, led by Michael Mina, has experienced significant growth and expansion over the past year, with a focus on portfolio acceleration and geographical diversification. The group opened several new restaurants in 2025, including two in San Francisco’s Westin St. Francis (Bourbon Steak San Francisco and The Eighth Rule, a collaboration with Steph Curry—the basketball star’s first hospitality partnership), Bourbon Steak locations in Delray Beach, Florida, Orlando and Charlotte, North Carolina (set to open in fall 2026), Taleed by Michael Mina in Diriyah, Saudi Arabia, The Beach House on The Ritz-Carlton Yacht, and a new Italian concept, Acqua Bistecca, in Washington, D.C.—with plans to expand the latter to Estero Bay, Florida in February 2026.

What inspired Mina this year: “This was a major growth year for us, and that alone was incredibly inspiring. The projects we were fortunate to take on—The Eighth Rule, Bourbon Steak San Francisco and Beach House on board The Ritz-Carlton Yacht Collection’s newest vessel, Luminara—really energized our entire team. The unity we’ve built coming out of the pandemic has been something special. A lot of the vision and direction we set years ago truly came together this year, and seeing the team bring it to life across these openings has been the most inspiring part for me.” 

His advice for industry hopefuls: “Seek leaders who teach systems, not just dishes. Learn the bar, the pass, the floor and the business. Your edge will be curiosity, humility and follow-through: show up, solve problems, and maintain standards when the room is full and the clock is against you. Finally, invest in relationships. Mentors and peers are the network that sustains a career measured in decades, not moments.”

15. Scott Sartiano

• Zero Bond Hospitality | Founder

This year, Scott Sartiano announced plans to open Sartiano’s Italian Steakhouse at the Wynn, next to his Vegas outpost of Zero Bond, which debuts in February. The NY-based private club is frequented by many an A-Lister (most recently, America’s most overexposed lovebirds). “As we enter Las Vegas, I want to bring what makes Zero Bond and Sartiano’s special—the sense of community, attention to detail and genuine connection—into a new market with its own character and rhythm.”

What inspired Sartiano this year? “The renovation of Zero Bond for its fifth anniversary and our work with The Mercer both reinforced how spaces can evolve to meet people’s changing needs while staying true to their essence. That balance between growth and authenticity continues to guide everything we do.”

If he had to eat at the same restaurant for 30 days straight? His own. “Sartiano’s. I’ve actually done it. By day 30, I’m still ordering the veal chop Parmigiana. It never gets old.”

16. Dominique Crenn

• Crenn Dining Group | Founder & Chef

In September, Dominique Crenn’s three-Michelin-starred restaurant, Atelier Crenn, secured the 46th spot on North America’s 50 Best Restaurants list and further solidified its status by earning a coveted three-star rating from the New York Times. Shortly thereafter, in October, chef Crenn unveiled Monsieur Dior by Dominique Crenn in Beverly Hills, marking the first restaurant outside of Paris for the prestigious House of Dior. Looking ahead, Crenn has announced a partnership with Waldorf Astoria Residences Texas Hill Country, where she will oversee the development of the signature restaurant at the highly anticipated resort, slated to open in 2027. Crenn’s achievements are nothing short of remarkable, as she became the first female chef in the United States to earn three Michelin stars in 2018. Crenn is featured in HexClad’s “Open to Close” docuseries, which premiered on December 1st and showcases the brand’s Culinary Council members, offering an intimate look at the passion and dedication required to operate top-tier restaurants.

What excites her the most: “The blurring of boundaries. Dining is no longer confined to the table; it is a living conversation between many disciplines, all speaking to one another (fashion, film, design and nature). Guests today crave emotion as part of their dining experiences, whether as a memory, a shimmer of beauty, or a moment that lingers. Weaving these disciplines together creates that experience.”

Her advice for industry hopefuls: “For those beginning their journey, remember that a dish is never just a dish, and a restaurant is never merely a restaurant. They are vessels for emotion, memory and imagination. Allow yourself to think beyond the plate, and beyond what you believe a space or a menu should be. Seek out mentors who challenge you to see differently and expand your sense of what is possible. The most important skill you can cultivate is the ability to stay open—to observe, to feel and to be moved. The future of this industry will belong to those who create experiences that invite people into a story, not just a dining room.” 

17. Chris Shepherd

• Southern Smoke Foundation | Founding Director
• Eat Like a Local | Host

Chris Shepherd, the culinary powerhouse behind a celebrated restaurant empire in Houston, has also emerged as one of the most significant humanitarians in the food industry. Through Southern Smoke Foundation, Shepherd has made an indelible impact on the lives of countless individuals working in the hospitality sector. The Foundation’s annual food and beverage fundraising event, held in Houston this past October, shattered records by raising an astonishing $1.7 million—the highest amount ever generated from a single fundraising event for the organization. The funds will directly support those employed in the hospitality industry through the Foundation’s Emergency Relief Fund and its mental health initiative, Behind You. Since its inception, the Southern Smoke Foundation has distributed more than $15 million in grants to food and beverage workers. Moreover, since 2020, the Foundation has provided over 9,000 no-cost counseling sessions to food and beverage workers across 13 states, including California, Florida, Illinois, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, Michigan, New York, South Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, Virginia and Washington, D.C. 

What he wants in 2026: “I would like to see the continual growth and awareness of Southern Smoke Foundation. Specifically, I would love to see the Behind You program expand into more states and for more industry professionals to start coalition programs in their states to support free access to mental health care programs. It’s getting harder and harder for owners to take care of their staff. For many reasons, margins are even thinner, which makes it harder for owners to provide living wages, health insurance and access to benefits like mental healthcare. I believe that Southern Smoke Foundation, with our crisis relief grants and access to no-cost counseling, can help, but we really need to see significant policy changes for the industry to see a real difference. I always say that our goal is for the industry to evolve so much that Southern Smoke is no longer needed, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”

What inspired him this year: “On a professional level, having the opportunity to work with the Southern Smoke team and to watch the magic that they do to literally save the food and beverage industry. On Eat Like a Local, I am inspired by the drive of restaurant owners and chefs, and I’m so grateful to have the opportunity to tell their stories of community through food. I don’t take that opportunity lightly. On a personal level, I am inspired by my wife, Lindsey Brown, as she battles breast cancer. She is diligent and clear-eyed on what needs to happen in this fight. She is focused on the finish line as she goes through her weekly treatments with power and resilience. I am in awe of her daily.”

18. Larry McGuire

• MML Hospitality | Managing Partner & Co-Founder

As the head of Austin-based McGuire Moorman Lambert (MML) Hospitality, Larry McGuire boasts an impressive portfolio of over 30 restaurants, all of which have remained open, and a growing collection of hotels. In June, McGuire announced that renowned chef April Bloomfield would join MML as executive chef, bringing her culinary expertise to the group’s ongoing projects and future ventures. One of McGuire’s most significant moves this year took place in August when MML purchased the Nine Orchard hotel in New York City, along with its restaurant/bar spaces—Corner Bar, Swan Room and Blue Room—in a $92 million deal, marking the group’s first project in the Big Apple. Additionally, MML embarked on a $100 million renovation and restoration of the historic Mountain Chalet in downtown Aspen this summer, with plans for a grand opening in the summer of 2027. The group has also been expanding its presence in California, with the opening of Clark’s Oyster Bar in Montecito, Menlo Park and Malibu within the past year. MML is also working on Austin’s Herzog & de Meuron-designed Sixth&Blanco mixed-use development, set to open in 2027. 

McGuire on the industry’s biggest challenge today: “It’s become increasingly hard to attract young people to the industry, and current immigration policies are not doing our industry and the downstream supply from farmers, ranchers and wine growers any favors. We have to become really good employers that create meaningful careers for people so they stay or are attracted to the industry.”

What inspired him this year: “The public’s recognition and elevation of landmark style restaurants and hotels—the classic places we enjoy and try to build seem to be coming back into fashion.”

19. Jerry Greenberg

• Sushi Nozawa Group | Co-Founder

Jerry Greenberg’s latest venture, Cheesesteaks by Matū, is set to open two locations—one on Pasadena’s East Colorado Boulevard and another at The Commons at Calabasas in the winter. These new outposts will share space with Greenberg’s next location of HiHo Cheeseburger, which celebrated its tenth anniversary this year. Greenberg’s restaurant empire also includes the renowned Nozawa Bar, Sugarfish, KazuNori and Uovo. Uovo, which first opened in Santa Monica in 2017 and now boasts five Los Angeles locations, is poised to make its New York debut in spring 2026 in NoMad. This expansion comes on the heels of the opening of the eighth KazuNori location in Pasadena this fall.

What inspired him this year: “The same thing that inspires me every year. Seeing people come back week after week just for our food. It may seem like a simple thing, but that’s what it’s all about for us.”

If he could time-travel to any era or city in history for one epic night out: “I’d travel back 100 years to the Rite Spot in Pasadena to have the original cheeseburger—that’s top-of-mind as we celebrate HiHo’s 10th anniversary. And I would go to Rome/Amatrice for the original versions of cacio e pepe and amatriciana. Then cap it off and experience the origins of our sushi in Edo (Tokyo).”

20. Andrew Carmellini, Josh Pickard & Luke Ostrom

• Noho Hospitality | Co-Founders

Andrew Carmellini, Luke Ostrom and Joshua Pickard’s Café Carmellini, which opened its doors in 2023 at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, secured the 39th spot on this year’s North  America’s 50 Best Restaurants list. The hotel’s Portrait Bar, another NoHo Hospitality venture, also made its mark by being included in the 51-100 extended list of North America’s 50 Best Bars in 2025. The Fifth Avenue Hotel itself earned a place on the World’s 50 Best extended list of the best hotels around the world. The fact that Café Carmellini, The Portrait Bar and The Fifth Avenue Hotel achieved this feat less than three years after opening is a testament to the exceptional quality and innovation offered by NoHo Hospitality. In April, Carmellini expanded his culinary empire with the opening of Little Fino (“until the next” in Italian) at the William Vale hotel in Brooklyn. The establishment joins NoHo Hospitality’s impressive roster of restaurants across New York, which includes Lafayette, Bar Primi, Locanda Verde and the Dutch.

Carmellini’s year in three words: “Unsure what happened.”

Pickard on the most significant shift in consumer preferences: “There has been a shift to an earlier dining scene, which is now often the main social event of a night, requiring it to be equally welcoming, tasty and entertaining. This shift has also helped fuel the popularity of member dining clubs in NYC.”

If Ostrom could time-travel for an epic night out: “I think I’d choose my birth year and travel back to NYC in 1977. Dinner at Maxwell’s Plum, drinks at Elaine’s, midnight at CBGB and late night at Studio 54.”

21. Ahmass Fakahany

• Altamarea Group | Founder & CEO

Undeterred by the challenges presented by the L.A. fires, Altamarea Group visionary Ahmass Fakahany successfully opened Marea in Beverly Hills in January, marking the first West Coast expansion for the prominent restaurant group. Marea has been a standout in the culinary world since its opening on Central Park South in 2009. The Beverly Hills location, one of the most anticipated openings of 2025, is set to be followed by another outpost at The Snow Lodge within The St. Regis Aspen Resort later this month. The Altamarea Group boasts a portfolio of over 25 restaurants worldwide. The group’s flagship restaurant concepts encompass Marea, Ai Fiori—Wine Spectator’s 2025 Grand Award Winner—53, Morini Brands and Nicoletta Brands. On the international stage, Altamarea’s offerings are punctuated by the Michelin-starred grill concept 11 Woodfire, Mohalla Indian Cuisine, Tezukuri Japanese, SoBo 20 and the highly anticipated Scarpa.

If he had to eat at the same restaurant for 30 days straight: “Honestly, and I may not be alone here, it is likely Hillstone. It is consistent, comfortable and delicious with a range of salads, meats and fish. By day 30, I would opt for their rainbow sushi Roll, which ranks in my view.”

On the biggest challenge facing the industry: “It is harder to find capital to grow from traditional sources. Also, there has been a talent withdrawal from the industry that has to be rejuvenated. This and other challenges have made this the era of bringing heads together, just as in other industries, through joint ventures, partnerships and collaborations. This can be with hotels, developers, sponsors or like-minded operators.”

22. Mashama Bailey & Johno Morisano

• The Grey | Chef/Partner & Co-Founder/Managing Partner

Mashama Bailey and Johno Morisano, the visionary team behind The Grey in Savannah, Georgia, marked their eleventh year in the culinary industry in 2025. Known for elevating Savannah’s dining scene and credited with making the southern city a culinary destination, the duo recently ventured into the international market with the July launch of L’Arrêt by The Grey in Paris. “Opening the Paris restaurant has been so inspiring!” Bailey tells Observer, noting their goal is to maintain the location’s community-centric atmosphere while presenting a unique French menu inspired by subtle influences from Port City Southern fare. “Shopping for Southern ingredients in the City of Light has introduced me to neighborhoods I don’t normally visit while in Paris.” In May, Bailey showcased her commitment to her local community by creating a special dish for Savannah’s Meals on Wheels program in honor of its 65th anniversary. In September, Bailey penned the Time 100’s World’s Most Influential Rising Stars entry for Ashleigh Shanti, praising Shanti’s voice and the importance of reflecting, researching, serving and inspiring through Black food stories.

The most significant shift Bailey has noticed: “For The Grey, there has been a shift in eating pork. We cooked a lot of pork at The Grey 10 years ago and began to get a lot of feedback about it from our guests. Now, we are super aware of balancing our menus so they are not heavy in pork, beef or gluten. Today, we have more vegetables, seafood and whole grains.” 

Morisano on the industry’s greatest challenge: “Building a team—by far. Those of us in the industry need to be kind to each other. This is a young business. Young folks ain’t always kind. I’m 58, so I’ve been there, done that. But it’s an ecosystem; a small one. Savannah, Paris, NYC. All of it. Both micro and macro. We must be kind to each other.”

23. Michael Cimarusti

• Providence | Chef-Owner

Chef Michael Cimarusti’s acclaimed seafood-focused Los Angeles restaurant, Providence, has reached new heights in its 20th anniversary year. The esteemed establishment was awarded three Michelin stars and retained its green star in the 2025 Michelin Guide, solidifying its position as a leader in sustainable fine dining for the third year in a row. Providence also made it on the inaugural North America’s 50 Best Restaurants list at #47, with chef Cimarusti receiving the prestigious Chef’s Choice Award. The restaurant continues to innovate, with sous chef Danielle Peterson developing a fermentation program that repurposes ingredients into unique flavors, while the rooftop garden has become a Certified Wildlife Habitat. Pastry chef Mac Daniel Dimla has introduced a zero-waste chocolate program, and the bar team has crafted a refined zero-proof pairing experience alongside a tableside cocktail program featuring rare spirits.

Cimarusti on the biggest challenge the industry faces: “The labor market is shrinking and becoming ever more competitive. It is harder and harder to find talented individuals. We are investing heavily in developing talent, trying to create an environment where even relatively inexperienced people can be trained to execute at a very high level. This is only possible if you have a culture that welcomes and embraces new team members and actively participates in their training.”

The meal he could eat for 30 days straight: “The wood-roasted Belon oysters, Edna’s corn bread and the steak with bone marrow at Dunsmoor in Glassell Park.”

24. David Rockwell

• Rockwell Group | Founder & President

David Rockwell and his firm, Rockwell Group, have left an indelible mark on the global hospitality industry over the past four decades. With an impressive portfolio encompassing nearly 1,000 restaurants across more than 200 cities and six continents, Rockwell Group has showcased its versatility and innovation in design. Notable projects in recent years include New York’s 450-seat Din Tai Fung, Catch Hospitality’s The Corner Store and Catch Scottsdale, Simon Kim’s Coqodaq and highly anticipated Cote Las Vegas, which has been hailed as one of the hottest openings of the year. Rockwell Group’s long-standing partnership with Nobu has resulted in the design of more than 30 hotels and restaurants across 28 cities, further cementing their reputation as a leading force in the world of hospitality design.

If he could time-travel for an epic night out: “Having spent part of my childhood in Mexico, I’d go to Mexico City in the 1920s. It was a moment when art, music and political imagination were sparking off one another. I’d invite Frida Kahlo, of course, but also the painter José Clemente Orozco, photographer Tina Modotti and a young Cantinflas (an actor and director known as the Mexican Charlie Chaplin). We’d start with dinner at Sanborns, one of the first soda fountains and lunch counters in Mexico City, and we’d wander through a mural-filled plaza, and end up in a smoky cabaret.”

What inspired him this year: “Traveling to Mexico City, Japan, Rome, Milan, Chicago, and Las Vegas for recent project openings and family trips reminded me how local culture, ritual and craft can transform spaces and experiences into something emotionally resonant. There’s really nothing like walking into a room and seeing strangers form an instant community because of their collective experience.” 

25. Elizabeth Blau

• Blau + Associates | Founder & CEO

Renowned for transforming Las Vegas into a world-class culinary destination, Elizabeth Blau continues to shape the international food scene by bringing acclaimed chefs and restaurateurs to mixed-use real estate projects and luxury resort developments. She spearheaded the launch of the Wynn Las Vegas Revelry food festival in 2024 and introduced the Women in Hospitality Leadership Conference at Wynn this year. Blau also played a pivotal role in bringing the World’s 50 Best to Las Vegas and is collaborating with Wynn to curate all food and beverage offerings at the Wynn Marjan Island property in the United Arab Emirates, including partnerships with Alain Ducasse and Delilah. As Blau and Wynn prepared to revive Revelry in late summer with fresh food and mixology programming, she remained on the lookout for emerging talent. With one of her business partners, Hunt Realty, involved in the massive Fields development in Frisco, Texas, Blau may expand her presence in the Lone Star State. In recognition of her outstanding contributions, Blau was honored with the prestigious Augie award from the Culinary Institute of America in May.

If she had to eat at the same restaurant for 30 days: “I’d choose Casa Playa at Wynn Las Vegas, where chef Sarah Thompson creates some truly extraordinary coastal Mexican cuisine. On day one, I’d order her ceviche, which is fresh, vibrant, balanced and full of life. And on day 30? I’d still be ordering the exact same thing. Some dishes never lose their magic.”

What she wants in 2026: “If I could choose one word for 2026, it would be stability. The hospitality industry has weathered nearly a decade of disruption from the pandemic to supply chain issues, staffing shortages and shifting guest expectations. Restaurants are built on rhythm and consistency, and my hope is that 2026 is finally the year we regain steady ground, rebuild stronger systems and focus less on surviving and more on thriving.”

26. Aaron Bludorn, Cherif Mbodji & Victoria Pappas Bludorn

• Bludorn Hospitality Group | Partners

Aaron Bludorn, Victoria Bludorn and Cherif Mbodji, the dynamic trio behind the Bludorn Hospitality Group in Houston, have made significant strides in 2025. In January, they launched Perseid, a modern French bistro located in the luxurious Hotel Saint Augustine, showcasing chef Aaron Bludorn’s culinary expertise. The group also announced a partnership with Howard Hughes in August, revealing plans for Bar Bludorn at The Woodlands, set to open in summer 2026. This expansion marks chef Bludorn’s first venture outside central Houston, offering a unique twist on the original Bar Bludorn’s contemporary American bistro menu infused with Texas flavors.

Bludorn’s year in three words: “Planting tomorrow’s trees.”

What Mbodji wants in 2026: “I’d love to see 2026 become a year of renewed balance where restaurants can operate sustainably without compromising creativity, and where hospitality groups collaborate more intentionally across cities. For our business, I want continued growth that feels purposeful: expanding concepts, elevating our teams and strengthening our presence in Houston while staying true to who we are.” 

27. Michael Stillman

• Quality Branded | Founder & President

In September, Michael Stillman unveiled Limusina, a Mexican eatery in Hudson Yards. Earlier this year, in March, he announced plans to bring Bad Roman to Beverly Hills (in 2026), marking the restaurant’s inaugural venture on the West Coast. Twin Tails, Stillman’s bold foray into Asian cuisine, opened its doors at The Shops at Columbus Circle in 2024. Despite a mixed reception during its initial launch last fall, the Thai restaurant has since garnered praise, with some even comparing it to the iconic Indochine. Quality Branded’s diverse portfolio includes an array of establishments: Don Angie, Smith & Wollensky, Zou Zou’s, San Sabino and Quality Meats, to name a few.

Stillman’s year in three words: “Sevens, not sixes.”

If he had to eat the same meal for 30 days: “Elio’s on the Upper East Side. Risotto Milanese.”

28. Gavin Kaysen

• Soigné Hospitality Group | Chef & Owner

Gavin Kaysen, the culinary mastermind at the helm of Soigné Hospitality Group, has been a driving force in transforming the gastronomic scene of Minneapolis, Minnesota. His celebrated establishments, which include Spoon and Stable, Demi, Mara Restaurant and Bar and two outposts of his latest venture, Bellecour, have garnered widespread acclaim since his homecoming to the Midwest in 2014. Kaysen’s dedication to fostering the next wave of culinary artists shines through his position as president of Mentor’s Team USA, where he collaborates with his esteemed mentor, chef Daniel Boulud, and also Thomas Keller. This week, the two-time James Beard Award laureate ventured beyond the borders of Minnesota for the first time with the unveiling of The Merchant Room, a New American Brasserie, at the newly launched Naples Beach Club, A Four Seasons Resort. Earlier this month, Kaysen revealed the debut of Bellecour in Minneapolis, his first opening in three years, his most intimate undertaking to date and his inaugural French bistro concept. This fall, Kaysen promoted Alexandra Motz, one of the founding members of Soigné Hospitality Group, to oversee the pastry program for Spoon and Stable, Demi and Bellecour. Zachary Byers, previously associated with Denver’s acclaimed The Wolf’s Tailor and Beckon, has taken on the role of head sommelier, bringing a fresh perspective to elevate the wine offerings across the restaurant group. 

What he wants in 2026: “For my business, I want to continue to show that mentorship, positive leadership and growth are some of the most important attributes for success. I want our profession to own the dialogue of how we can collectively become better by way of teaching the next generation, while not dismissing or forgetting the generation that led us here.”

What he sees as the most significant shift in consumer behavior: “At the end of the day, what seems to stay consistent is that people enjoy the experience of the meal by way of restoration through the food and the hospitality we provide. I see that coming back even stronger in the years to come. We are losing the connection of person-to-person, and I know that as hospitalitarians, we can provide that personal touch.”

29. Michael Solomonov & Steven Cook

• CookNSolo Restaurants | Co-Founders

Philadelphia Israeli-food powerhouses Michael Solomonov and Steven Cook expanded their CookNSolo portfolio this year. In March, they opened Aviv at the 1 Hotel in Miami Beach. Since debuting their first restaurant, Zahav in Philadelphia, in 2008, Solomonov and Cook have built a culinary empire that includes Federal Donuts, Dizengoff, Laser Wolf and Goldie. Beyond their restaurant ventures, the duo have also made a significant impact in the CPG market with their brand, Zahav Foods. In June, their signature Zahav hummus debuted in 485 Target stores across 20 East Coast states, following a successful 2024 launch at Whole Foods, where it quickly became the region’s top-selling hummus brand.

Cook on the most significant shift in consumer behavior: “The home is becoming more and more the center of where people eat with delivery and ghost kitchen options, which means restaurants need to double down on creating a memorable and celebratory experience of eating communally in a restaurant.”

Solomonov on the industry’s biggest challenge: “The cost of goods and labor continues to rise as more and more excellent restaurants come online, which has meant that we are constantly hyper-focusing on the product and how we differentiate and get a little bit better each day.”

What they want for 2026: “We would love people to start eating later again, for the cost of goods to stabilize, and for immigrants who are the backbone of the industry to have the opportunity to feel safe.” 

30. Lisa Limb, Takahiro Sakaeda & Jihan Lee

• Launchpad Hospitality | Managing Partner & Chef Partners

Lisa Limb, Taka Sakaeda and Jihan Lee, the dynamic trio behind Launchpad Hospitality, have taken the culinary world by storm since opening their first Nami Nori restaurant in 2019. Drawing on their shared experience working under the tutelage of Masa Takayama, the team has cultivated a thriving portfolio of establishments that embody the Japanese art of gracious hospitality, or “omotenashi.” Their signature open-style temaki, which sparked a global sensation following the success of Nami Nori in New York City’s West Village, has been the driving force behind the group’s expansion to New Jersey, Miami and Virginia Beach. Alongside their temaki restaurants, Launchpad Hospitality introduced the Japanese bakery Postcard in New York in 2024 and the omakase counter and lounge Matsuyoi in Miami. The team’s innovative approach and engaging community have led to collaborations with renowned brands such as Louis Vuitton, Tiffany & Co. and Auberge Resorts. With partner Pharrell Williams, who advises on creative growth strategy, the group launched two new ventures, Nami Nori and Matsuyoi, in Miami’s Design District in the last year and brought Nami Nori to Williams’ hometown of Virginia Beach in the fall.

What inspired Limb this year: “The Atlantic Park development in Virginia Beach where we opened our new Nami Nori location in October is a $350 million project that started out as a dream, and has been 20 years in the making. It was the architecture school thesis of Alec Yuzhbabenko, a local architect who conceived of building an entire neighborhood centered on a surf park. Seeing it come to life from the ground up shows us what is possible when vision meets commitment and community. We are honored to be a part of it.”

If Sakaeda could time-travel for an epic night out: “New York City, circa 1975, before I was born and right around the time my parents emigrated to America. I’d love to see the city through my parents’ eyes. I’d invite Siddhartha Gautama, Marcus Aurelius and Lao Tzu. A night with that mix of curiosity, discipline and stillness would be unforgettable.”

If Lee had to eat at the same restaurant every day for a month: “I’d pick Atomix without even thinking. They’ve had over 150 different tasting menus since opening, so honestly I could go for 30 days straight and still try something new every time. And then on day thirty, after a whole month of the most refined Korean food ever, I’d look at them and say, ‘Can you make me a cheeseburger?’ Because as much as I love fancy food, I was born in America—and sometimes you just crave a good burger.”

31. Lindsay & Michael Tusk

• Quince & Co. | Co-Founders

Lindsay and Michael Tusk’s flagship San Francisco restaurant, Quince, not only earned a spot on North America’s 50 Best Restaurants list in 2025 but also boasts three Michelin stars and attracts high-profile patrons, including former President Barack Obama. In October, the Tusks further elevated Quince’s dining experience by hiring Davide Franco as the new hospitality director, bringing nearly 20 years of expertise from Michelin-starred establishments in Italy and London. Looking ahead, the Tusks announced their latest venture, Bar Coto, an all-day Italian café set to open in the spring of 2026. Inspired by the vibrant cafés of Milan, such as Bar Basso, and the acclaimed Bar Pisellino in New York City, Bar Coto promises to be a welcome addition to the couple’s impressive portfolio of Jackson Square establishments. This includes Quince, the ever-popular Cotogna and the recently revived French-inspired wine bar Verjus, all of which have earned a place on the San Francisco Chronicle’s list of the 100 best restaurants in the Bay Area.

What inspired Michael this year: “The redesign at Quince, and moving within the space. I wanted the food to reflect the natural materials—working with knifemakers, glassblowers, artisans of all kinds. Getting rid of the electric rotisserie and putting in fire. Gentle nuances of smoke and dehydration.”

Lindsay on the most significant shift in consumer preferences: “The rise of non-alcoholic beverages and increased demand for private dining.”

32. Joshua Pinsky & Chase Sinzer

• Penny, Stars & Claud | Chef-Partner & Restaurateur

Chase Sinzer and Joshua Pinsky, the duo behind the acclaimed East Village establishments Claud and Penny, are set to unveil their latest venture, Stars wine bar, at 139 East 12th Street. Slated to open its doors this month, the intimate 12-seat space will feature an impressive selection of over 1,000 wines from around the world. Sinzer and Pinsky’s existing restaurants have garnered significant praise, with Claud, which debuted in 2022, and Penny, a raw bar that opened upstairs in 2024, both earning coveted three-star ratings from former Times food critic Pete Wells in their respective opening years. The pair’s culinary prowess was further recognized in 2025, as both Claud and Penny secured spots on The Times’ list of the best restaurants in New York City, with Penny impressively claiming the 7th position. Additionally, Penny’s acclaim extended beyond the city, as it earned the 40th spot on the 2025 North America’s 50 Best Restaurants list.

If Sinzer had to eat the same meal for 30 days straight: “Cervo’s chicken and fries.”

Pinsky on the greatest shift in consumer preferences: “Experience > price. Being true to your intentions and being transparent really hits with guests and our industry.”

33. Gregory Gourdet

• Printemps US | Culinary Director

Gregory Gourdet, Portland’s most renowned chef, made waves with the opening of his first restaurant, Kann, in 2022 at the age of 46. The establishment quickly garnered national recognition, earning a spot on the New York Times’ 2022 list of America’s Best Restaurants. In 2023, Kann was awarded the James Beard Award for Best New Restaurant, and the following year, Gourdet himself won the Best Chef: Northwest and Pacific award. Gourdet currently serves as the culinary director for all five restaurants at the first U.S. location of Printemps, which opened in New York in March. The restaurants under his direction at Printemps at One Wall Street include fine dining stunner Maison Passerelle, Café Jalu, Salon Vert, Red Room Bar and Champagne Bar, all of which showcase French-style offerings infused with influences from Gourdet’s Haitian heritage. Prior to his success as a restaurateur, Gordet honed his skills under the tutelage of Jean-Georges Vongerichten, working his way up to the position of chef de cuisine over the course of nearly seven years. 

If Gourdet could time-travel to any era for an epic night out: “‘Haiti’s golden era, from the 1940s to the 1960s. Haiti was beaming as a hub for global travelers. It was one of the most vibrant, artistic and electric scenes in the Caribbean. People came for art, music, fashion and the beaches.”

What he sees as the biggest challenge facing the industry today: “We are living in a TikTok attention-span world with endless options at our fingertips. The hospitality industry, at its core, isn’t based on that. It takes years to hone your craft, often years for a restaurant to turn a profit, and decades of experience to truly see it all. I think better mutual understanding within teams—slow and steady and together—is the most sustainable way.”

34. E.J. Lagasse

• Emeril’s | Chef/Co-Owner
• The Emeril Group | Vice President

E.J. Lagasse, the prodigious son of Emeril Lagasse, has taken the gastronomic world by storm at the tender age of 22. Following his return to New Orleans three years ago to assume the role of chef and co-owner at his father’s eponymous restaurant, Emeril’s, which recently celebrated its 35th anniversary, E.J. has garnered unprecedented attention and accolades. In October, he guided Emeril’s to a prestigious three-star rating from the New York Times, and just a month later, he became the youngest chef in history to helm a kitchen with two Michelin stars. E.J.’s remarkable achievements are underpinned by his extensive training at some of the world’s most esteemed establishments, including the three-Michelin-starred Le Bernardin, Core by Clare Smyth and Frantzén, as well as Café Boulud.

The dish he could eat for 30 days straight: “Le Bernadin’s tuna carpaccio.”

What inspired him this year: “How the restaurant community in the U.S. continues to grow with chefs collaborating with each other, learning from each other and working together to push things forward.”

35. Greg Galy

• Riviera Dining Group | Founder & CEO

Gregory Galy, the driving force behind Riviera Dining Group (RDG), has achieved a remarkable feat with the group’s flagship restaurant, Mila Miami, which has been recognized as the highest-grossing independent restaurant in the United States, generating an impressive $51,115,747 in sales for the 2025 list. This achievement marks a steady rise for Mila, which ranked #5 in 2022 and 2023, and climbed to #2 in 2024 with $49,088,032 in sales. Mila now stands alongside renowned establishments such as Pastis in New York City, Le Diplomate in Washington, D.C. and Joe’s Stone Crab in Miami. Beyond the main restaurant, Mila houses three distinct concepts: the exclusive 10-seat Mila Omakase, one of Miami’s most luxurious sushi counters; Mila Lounge, a sought-after nightlife venue redefining the city’s after-dinner scene; and Mila MM, a members-only destination that has expanded to four locations across RDG’s portfolio. Galy’s culinary empire continues to grow, with the February opening of Claudie, a French-Mediterranean restaurant in Brickell, helmed by chef Michaël Michaelidis. Last month, RDG also unveiled a second outpost of AVA MediterrAegean in Coconut Grove, following the success of the first location in Winter Park. 

What inspired Galy this year: “Seeing Miami emerge as a true global city. The energy, creativity and ambition shaping Miami right now are extraordinary. It has become one of the world’s most influential lifestyle destinations.”

What Galy sees as the biggest shift in consumer behavior: “Guests are craving experiences over status; they want to feel a sense of belonging, wellness and purpose. We see a growing shift toward daytime celebrations, lighter drinking and more health-conscious choices while dining out—without compromising on taste expectations.”

36. Sam Fox

• Author & Edit Hospitality | Founder
• Fox Restaurant Concepts | Founder

Sam Fox continues to make waves in the culinary and entertainment world with the announcement of a second location of The Twelve Thirty Club, a collaboration with Justin Timberlake. Set to open in Austin, Texas, in 2027, the $30 million project will transform a historic three-story limestone building, once a U.S. Post Office, into a nearly 35,000-square-foot dining and entertainment destination designed by the renowned AvroKO studio. This expansion follows the resounding success of the original The Twelve Thirty Club in Nashville, which has become a must-visit spot for locals and tourists alike. Closer to home, Fox (an Arizona-based hospitality mogul whose foray into hotels with the top-tier Global Ambassador in Phoenix has been spectacular) has partnered with the Arizona Cardinals to elevate the premium seating experience at State Farm Stadium with the launch of Casa Roja at The Fifty. Developed, designed and curated by Fox, Casa Roja is an exclusive club featuring 500 seats clustered around the stadium’s East-side 50-yard line with membership priced from $15,000 to $17,000.

What Fox wants in 2026: “Honestly? More profit. This is a tough industry to be financially successful in, and I want to see the restaurant and hospitality industry thrive. That means investing in our people, our places and creating experiences that remain with our guests long after they leave. If someone walks away feeling like they had an experience they’re excited to share, we’ve done our job.”

What inspired him this year: “London. The food and hotel scene there is on another level. Maison Estelle really stood out, a reminder of how much design, energy and atmosphere really shape creating an unforgettable experience.”

37. Yavuz Pehlivanlar

• Hakkasan Group | CEO

In October, Yavuz Pehlivanlar was appointed CEO of Mohari Hospitality’s newly established Hakkasan Group, which Pehlivanlar tells Observer is “a privilege and a responsibility.” Pehlivanlar oversees the Hakkasan, Yauatcha, Ling Ling and Sake No Hana brands—which include several restaurants opened by Tao Hospitality Group, which Mohari previously acquired. Pehlivanlar previously served as chief operating officer of Caprice Holdings Ltd., helming a portfolio that included Balthazar, Sexy Fish and Scott’s Mayfair. His experience spans several other executive roles at 50 Eggs Hospitality Group, Zuma and Mina Group.

What Pehlivanlar wants in 2026: “A return to human hospitality. As leaders, we can’t rely on dashboards alone—we need to invest in culture, creativity and the teams who bring personality into a room. I want to see experiences that feel personal, memorable and full of character.”

If he had to eat the same meal for 30 days straight: “Le Bernardin. The lobster roll from the lounge menu, and a glass of Chassagne.”

38. Bee Emmott

• Artfarm | CEO

Bee Emmott assumed the role of CEO at Artfarm hospitality group on January 1, succeeding Ewan Venters. Emmott, who joined Artfarm in 2018 as chief of staff and later transitioned to the creative director position, has been instrumental in overseeing the development of the group’s expanding portfolio alongside founders Iwan and Manuela Wirth. Artfarm’s recent ventures include the opening of Chesa Marchetta, a historic 16th-century guesthouse turned 13-room hotel in Sils Maria, Switzerland, and the second Manuela restaurant in Soho, New York, which boasts a seasonal American menu and an impressive collection of artworks by Hauser & Wirth artists. The group also launched a second outpost of Fish Shop in Washington, D.C., following the success of the first location in Ballater, Scotland, which received a Bib Gourmand award and a visit from King Charles III. Emmott’s appointment comes as Artfarm prepares for international growth and the opening of the first Groucho private members’ club outside of London in Yorkshire in 2026.

Emmott’s year in three words: “NY, D.C., Switzerland.”

If she could time-travel for one epic night out, she’d visit: “Braemar, in Scotland, in the early 1940s, when Francis Farquharson moved there following her marriage to the Laird of Invercauld. A Vogue contributor and ex-editor of Harper’s Bazaar, Francis was a colorful and creative force in the fashion world. Having spent last weekend in Braemar at our hotel, The Fife Arms, attending our Festival of Fashion, I learnt about Elsa Schiaparelli’s deeply personal relationship with Francis. Cocktails with the two of them, I’m sure, would be a blast!”

39. Pavan Pardasani

• JKS Restaurants | Global CEO

Pavan Pardasani, a seasoned hospitality executive with an impressive background working for Tao, Hakkasan and Catch, was appointed as global CEO of London’s esteemed JKS Restaurants in September. In his new role, Pardasani oversees the group’s Indian-food portfolio, which includes renowned establishments such as Trishna, Gymkhana, Brigadiers and Ambassadors Clubhouse, across various global markets. His leadership commences at a crucial juncture, as JKS Restaurants embarks on its expansion into the United States with two highly anticipated openings: Ambassadors Clubhouse, a restaurant inspired by the culinary traditions of India’s Punjab region, is set to open in New York City this winter, while Gymkhana, the group’s two Michelin-starred London flagship, recently made its debut at Aria Resort & Casino in Las Vegas, marking the first Indian fine dining restaurant on the Strip. 

Pardasani on the biggest shift in consumer behavior: “I would say discovery. Guests seem to rate recommendations from strangers on social media based on how their content hits over traditional trusted sources. Very few operators can survive at scale without playing the game to some degree.” 

What inspired him this year: “Watching the city of Los Angeles rally around the Pacific Palisades and Altadena after the fires was remarkable. Those communities and the city as a whole are still suffering, but the spirit of Angelenos remains strong. I often see the best in people when tragedy strikes.”

40. Thomas McNaughton & Ryan Pollnow

• Flour + Water Hospitality Group | Co-Founder/CEO/Co-Chef & COO/Co-Chef

Ryan Pollnow and Thomas McNaughton’s Flour + Water Hospitality Group (FWHG) has been steadily expanding its culinary empire in the San Francisco Bay Area. The group is working on the opening of their first Oakland restaurant, which will be the third location of their popular Flour + Water Pizza Shop. This new outpost will join their current portfolio, which includes the flagship Flour + Water restaurant, Penny Roma, Flour + Water Pasta Shop, Flour + Water Pizzeria and a partnership in Trick Dog. Flour + Water, the group’s first restaurant, opened its doors in 2009 and has become a staple in the Mission District. Flour + Water Pasta Shop, which supplies homemade sauces and over 12 shapes of pasta to both Flour + Water and Penny Roma, has been instrumental in the group’s success. FWHG ventured beyond the Mission District with the opening of Flour + Water Pizzeria in North Beach. In August, Pollnow and McNaughton further expanded their offerings by launching a frozen pizza line, adding to their growing selection of restaurant-quality CPG products. All restaurants within the FWHG family are members of Zero Foodprint, an organization that funds grants for farmers transitioning to regenerative practices.

What McNaughton wants in 2026: “I want 2026 to be the year we prove that growth and sustainability can coexist. For Flour + Water Hospitality Group, it means scaling our Pizza Shops with integrity through an all-electric, hub-and-spoke model that raises the bar for consistency, creativity and environmental responsibility. For the industry, I hope we move toward valuing people as deeply as we value product. In practice, this means developing real career pathways with work-life balance, and investing in every individual who makes hospitality possible.”

What inspired Pollnow this year: “While one of my words for this past year is ‘terrifying,’ the moments when I felt humbled by the enormity of what we’re trying to accomplish were countered by the confidence I have in our people. They are why I feel excited about where we are as a group today, and where we’re headed tomorrow. With every challenge (learning how to produce retail frozen pizza, scale a Pizza Shop and operate a commissary), I’ve continuously found my ground in every individual on our team who is growing and learning alongside us.” 

41. Jeffrey Bell

• One Cornelia | Founder

Jeff Bell, the mastermind behind the iconic speakeasy PDT, has been making waves in the culinary and mixology scenes. This year, he spearheaded PDT’s first significant expansion in nearly two decades, introducing a multifaceted space at One Cornelia Street that houses the East Coast debut of L.A.’s beloved Tacos 1986 and Mixteca, an agave bar helmed by his longtime PDT bartender Victor Lopez. Simultaneously, Bell has juggled multiple projects, including overseeing the cocktail program at the highly anticipated Waldorf Astoria revival, crafting a special menu for a collaboration between Kith Treats and Katz’s Delicatessen, bringing PDT to Barclays Center, and making pop-up appearances at Coachella. In January 2026, Bell is set to unveil his subterranean cocktail bar, Kees, at One Cornelia Street, the third and final concept within his West Village space.

The industry trend that excites him the most: “More variety in the cocktail space and the movement toward broader nonalcoholic selections at dedicated bars, not just restaurants.”

His key to success: “The answer always comes back to the customers and the team. Earning and maintaining one’s customers’ loyalty helps, despite the uncertainty of our industry. My team, whether they’re from the original PDT or completely new to the world of One Cornelia, helps me stay the course with humor, hospitality and an almost frenetic drive to deliver fresh and engaging cocktail experiences.” 

42. Benjamin & Max Goldberg

• Strategic Hospitality | Co-Owners

Strategic Hospitality,  the Nashville-based company founded by brothers Benjamin and Max Goldberg in 2006, celebrates its 20th anniversary in 2026. The company’s diverse portfolio includes renowned establishments such as The Patterson House, The Catbird Seat, The Band Box, The Country Club at First Horizon Park, Bastion, Henrietta Red, Locust, Kisser and multiple venues at Nashville International Airport. In August 2023, chef Josh Habiger joined as a partner, and the company opened Friends In Low Places Bar & Honky-Tonk, owned by Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood, in November 2023. Spring 2025 saw the opening of Babychan, a Japanese-influenced all-day bakery and café in Germantown, from chefs Brian Lea and Leina Horii. The Goldberg brothers have been nominated for the James Beard Foundation Outstanding Restaurateur award multiple times, with chef Habiger also being recognized in the 2025 nomination. Bastion, Locust and The Catbird Seat became the first Nashville restaurants to earn Michelin stars in 2026, and The Catbird Seat was bestowed two stars.

The meal Max could eat for 30 days straight: “Katz’s pastrami sandwich with spicy mustard, pickles, and extra crispy fries. Similar to taxes and death, that sandwich is undefeated.”

If Ben could time-travel for one epic night out, he’d visit: “Nashville in 2003—the year I opened my first bar, Bar Twenty3. I’d go right back to that moment. The city was buzzing, we were young and threw ourselves into it, not knowing what we were doing, but in the thick of it with so many incredible people doing really cool things. I’d bring together all the folks we hung out with seven nights a week back then and relive that experience.”

43. David Nayfeld

• Back Home Hospitality | Co-Founder & Executive Chef

David Nayfeld, a Bay Area native and co-owner of Back Home Hospitality, has established himself as a culinary force in San Francisco. With an impressive background working alongside renowned chefs like Joël Robuchon and Daniel Humm, Nayfeld has garnered numerous accolades for his restaurants, including Che Fico, Che Fico Pizzeria, Che Fico Parco Menlo. In June, he opened fast-casual Jewish-inspired dining concept Bubbelah in Menlo Park. In September, he returned to fine dining with the opening of Via Aurelia. Nayfeld has been a vocal advocate for the restaurant industry, co-founding the Independent Restaurant Coalition and securing substantial financial support for vulnerable establishments during the COVID-19 pandemic. This year, Nayfeld published his first cookbook, Dad, What’s for Dinner?, which was named Bon Appétit’s best cookbook of 2025.

What inspired him this year: “Reentering the fine dining pantheon after a decade away. It feels different this time. More personal. I’m not chasing anyone else’s style. I’m just trying to find my own voice in this cuisine. One that reflects who I’ve become as a chef, and as a person.”

If he had 24 hours to experience the industry as another nightlife and dining leader, he’d choose: “Stephen Starr, so I could see how the machine works.”

44. Fidel Caballero & Sofia Ostos

• Corima | Partners

Fidel Caballero and Sofia Ostos, the husband-and-wife team behind Corima, have made a significant impact on New York’s culinary scene with their contemporary Mexican fine dining. Corima, their Lower East Side restaurant that opened last year, quickly earned a Michelin star and retained it in 2025, while also securing a spot on the 2025 North America’s 50 Best Restaurants list, ranking 36th. Caballero, now regarded as the new king of modern Mexican cuisine in New York, boasts an impressive background, having worked at the three-Michelin-starred Martín Berasategui in Spain, as well as serving as sous chef at the one-Michelin-starred Contra and later at the team’s Peoples wine bar. In November, Caballero and Ostos expanded their culinary empire with the opening of Vato in Park Slope. The new establishment, whose name is derived from the Chicano slang term for “homie,” functions as a burrito spot, daytime tortilleria and bakery, while transforming into a neighborhood restaurant with Basque and Northern Mexican influences in the evening. 

What Caballero wants in 2026: “A shift toward true sustainability—not just environmentally but human and financial. We need a future where great ingredients, fair labor and thoughtful cooking can coexist with affordability, so more people can experience food that is made with care.”

What inspired Ostos this year: “The people around me. Our team, who show up every day with heart and discipline. Our collaborators, who pushed creativity forward in ways that felt generous and exciting. Our guests, who trust us with their celebrations, let us tell the stories behind our food. And most of all, my husband Fidel—watching his dedication, curiosity and resilience this year has been one of my biggest sources of inspiration. His passion grounds me and reminds me why we do this.”

45. Ronn Nicolli

• The Meruelo Group | CMO & CXO

In November, Ronn Nicolli, the CMO instrumental in shaping Resorts World Las Vegas over the past four years, announced his transition to a new role as chief marketing officer and chief experience officer for The Meruelo Group. In what he tells Observer is “one of the most exciting and motivating opportunities of my career,” Nicolli will oversee the marketing and guest experience strategies across the group’s diverse portfolio, including the recently renovated Sahara Las Vegas (where Kwame Onwuachi is opening a steakhouse) and the Grand Sierra Resort in Reno, which is currently undergoing significant enhancements, including the addition of a new arena. Nicolli’s expertise will also extend to the group’s radio and TV stations, leveraging these media assets to engage both the Latin community and the broader regional audience. Nicolli will leverage his experience working with other casinos, including his tenure with Wynn, the Fertitta organization, and most recently, the Lim family at Resorts World Las Vegas, to build upon the success of The Meruelo Group—run by a family with whom he has been friends for nearly 20 years.

Nicolli on the biggest challenge facing the industry today: “Disposable income looks different now, and people are more selective about what they’ll spend money on. The value proposition must be clear. As hospitality leaders, we have to go back to the roots of making people feel good and delivering authentic, meaningful experiences. We’re also competing with global travel more than ever. European summers, for example, were a major competitor to Las Vegas this year. We need to re-ignite excitement for this city—still, in my mind, the greatest city in the world—by showcasing new adventures, new moments and new ways to connect. But above all, our engagement must be authentic. Reacting only when negative feedback forces us to isn’t leadership. We need to rebuild the connective tissue with our guests and provide value that feels genuine, consistent and intentional.”

What inspired Nicolli this year: “Change. The need for it, the willingness to embrace it and the excitement that comes with new beginnings. The ability to create, evolve and step into what’s next has been a major source of inspiration for me.”

46. Nur Khan

• Maison Nur | Owner

Nur Khan, a trailblazer in New York City’s nightlife scene, has been setting the standard for social destinations that embody the essence of the city’s after-hours culture since 1995, when he opened Wax, the city’s first “ultra-VIP” lounge. Khan’s portfolio includes Sway (1996), a Spring Street speakeasy adorned with Moroccan decor; Hiro Ballroom (2003); Rose Bar (2006) at the Gramercy Park Hotel; Kenmare (2009), a restaurant and lounge concept; Don Hill’s, a renovated rock and roll hotspot; Electric Room (2011) at the Dream Downtown; and Tao Downtown Lounge (2013), where he served as creative director. In 2019, Khan partnered with John McDonald to open Butterfly Soho, a lounge in the Sixty Soho Hotel, featuring artworks contributed by Damien Hirst and Sante D’Orazio. Last year, Khan collaborated with hotelier and Studio 54 co-founder Ian Schrager to open Two Fifteen, a vibrant and intriguing downtown NYC venue inspired by their previous collaboration at Rose Barl. In June, Khan unveiled Maison Nur, located at 217 Bowery on the Lower East Side. The restaurant features the culinary expertise of executive chef Richard Farnabe, a Paris native who has worked in acclaimed New York kitchens such as Daniel, Jean-Georges, Picholine and Petrossian before cooking at Zero Bond. Given this is Khan, there’s also the posh Studio nightclub underneath Maison Nur.

Khan on the greatest challenges facing the industry today: “The rising costs of ingredients, labor and rent. It would be great if the government could help with rent relief, provide more tax deductions, reduce regulations and offer incentives for food waste minimization. Moreover, it would be helpful if the local government could invest more in promoting NYC as the world-class dining and drinks destination that it truly is to attract more tourists, both domestic and international.”

If he could switch places with another industry leader for 24 hours: “I march to the beat of my own drum, so I have no desire to switch places with anyone. I like my own shoes, thank you very much! Maison Nur is completely my own vision, and I execute it without any compromises because I have no partners in the restaurant.”

47. Giancarlo Pagani

• Pagani Projects | Founder
• Mother Wolf Group | Managing Partner

Giancarlo Pagani, the operator behind the Mother Wolf Group, is making significant impact on the Los Angeles culinary scene with an impressive lineup of ventures. The busy operator is helming the highly anticipated 2026 launch of Mott 32, a sprawling Chinese dining establishment situated above Evan Funke and Pagani’s acclaimed Mother Wolf restaurant in Hollywood. This year, Pagani opened Miznon, a pita spot by Tel Aviv chef Eyal Shani, at Grand Central Market, and Bar Avoja, a Roman-inspired cocktail lounge created with Funke, whom Pagani told Observer is “a true pasta Jedi.” 

What inspired him this year: “I was inspired this year by the resilience of the Los Angeles hospitality community. In the aftermath of the January fires, I watched chefs, operators, business owners and neighbors come together with a level of determination and collaboration that reminded me why this city is so special. Teams rebuilt overnight, supported one another’s staff, shared resources and found creative ways to keep serving their communities. Seeing an entire industry unite in the face of devastation and still find ways to create connection, comfort and joy was the most inspiring part of the year.”

What he wants in 2026: “I want to see a more intentional, values-driven evolution of hospitality—one where creativity and operational discipline coexist. For my own business, that means continuing to build chef-driven, culturally resonant restaurants that feel essential to their cities. For the industry, I hope that we collectively invest in leadership development, sustainable growth models and environments where teams can build real careers, not just jobs. When operators thrive, the entire ecosystem, from chefs to purveyors to communities, rises with them.”

48. Eddy Buckingham

• Tuxedo Hospitality | Co-Founder & Operating Partner

Originally hailing from Melbourne, Australia, Eddy Buckingham’s career has taken him from the lively atmosphere of Australian pubs to the exclusive role of personal mixologist for Justin Timberlake. In 2016, he launched Chinese Tuxedo, which rapidly garnered a loyal following, attracting the likes of the Kardashians and Drake. Buckingham’s portfolio continued to grow with the introduction of The Tyger in 2020, followed by the recent openings of Soso’s, a nostalgic Soho tavern, and Old Mates, an Australian-inspired pub that launched in February near South Street Seaport backed by a star-studded lineup of Australian owners, including Hugh Jackman, comedic duo Hamish and Andy, NBA player Patty Mills, surfer Mick Fanning and Bluestone Lane founders Nick and Andy Stone. Buckingham’s latest venture, Opera House, which debuted in October, is a subterranean bar situated beneath Chinese Tuxedo, occupying the former Peachy’s space at 5 Doyers Street and paying tribute to the location’s history as New York’s pioneering Chinese theater.

On the biggest challenge facing the industry today: “The existential threat to the hospitality industry is the same it’s been for over a decade, and that is the smartphone. Meal times and nightlife are at their heart about bringing people together and celebrating our shared experiences. From the dive bar to haute dining, human connection is the most important part of the mission, and it is more important now than ever. The best solution is to be intentionally analog in your dining choices. Plan a group dinner: pick a venue on the basis of a friend’s personal recommendation, order based on the server’s advice rather than TikTok, go dancing afterwards and leave your phone on Do Not Disturb throughout. Take a disposable camera if you must; the photos will be much more special when you get tactile, hard copies back from the developers in a week’s time.”

What he hopes for in 2026: “To solidify and deepen the roots of our venues—both old and new. After opening three new venues in 12 months (SoSo’s Dining Room, Old Mates and Opera House respectively) in 2026, Chinese Tuxedo will be celebrating its 10th anniversary. Opening Old Mates was my most personal project to date, and developing Opera House felt like the fitting and final culmination of Chinese Tuxedo’s journey on Doyers Street. In the short term, the focus and intention will be on ensuring these new venues have the same character, quality of execution and soul necessary to ensure they enjoy success for the next decade and beyond.”

49. Joel Montaniel

• SevenRooms | Co-Founder & CEO

In June, Joel Montaniel’s SevenRooms, a trailblazing restaurant booking and customer relationship management (CRM) platform, was acquired by DoorDash in a $1.2 billion all-cash transaction. Montaniel co-founded the company in 2011 with Allison Page and Kinesh Patel, and quickly established a commanding presence in the hospitality industry, catering to over 13,000 diverse venues worldwide, including prominent brands such as Marriott International, MGM Resorts International, Wolfgang Puck, Michael Mina and Union Square Hospitality Group. The acquisition serves as a resounding testament to SevenRooms’ accomplishments and potential, while also paving the way for the company’s continued expansion and global reach. 

Montaniel on the beauty of the industry: “Hospitality should be a sanctuary. Restaurants are a sanctuary and a place that can remind us all that we are all human. I really love that concept.”

Montaniel’s inspiration behind SevenRooms: “We talked to all these operators, and we asked them, ‘How do you decide who to give the reservation to? How do people get in touch with you?’ The systems they were using had no customer data in them. So a restaurant is thinking about where to open up their next location by understanding the customer demographic, how much they spend, how many turns you can get in. Looking at the existing data is really helpful to them as they think about, ‘Should I open up in Miami or L.A.? Or should I go to Dubai or London?’ Most restaurateurs in the past would get there through gut feel. Now, they’re able to get there a lot faster because they can really look at the data.”

50. Scarr Pimentel

• Scarr’s Pizza | Founder & Owner

Scarr Pimentel has been making waves in the pizza world since opening his Lower East Side shop, Scarr’s Pizza, in 2016. This year marked a significant milestone for Pimentel with the release of his first cookbook, The Scarr’s Pizza Cookbook. In March, Time Out named Scarr’s Pizza the second-best in the world, trailing only Naples’ Pizzeria da Attilio, a third-generation establishment that has been serving slices since 1938. In August, Scarr’s Pizza expanded its reach by opening an outpost in the new food hall at The Venetian on the Las Vegas Strip. The brand’s popularity has also led to international recognition, with Scarr’s hosting a pop-up in Sydney this fall. Pimentel’s New York pizza haven has evolved into a go-to hangout for watch dealers and collectors, as well as celebrities like Tyler, the Creator and the late DJ Clark Kent (who has a slice named after him at the pizzeria). The latter’s camaraderie with Pimentel sparked a 2019 Nike Air Force 1 Low collaboration, which reemerged this year with a sleek black iteration, unveiled by Pimentel at Complex’s Family Style Food Festival. In May, the shop joined forces with Glass Cypress to introduce a four-piece capsule epitomizing the quintessential chef’s attire.

If you’re shopping for a woman who is a naturalist at heart, who blossoms when surrounded by flowers, here is your list of botanically inspired gifts that will open her heart like heliotropics open to the sun. From luxurious home accents that bring the outside in to timeless, fine jewelry symbolic of all the qualities her beautiful, blooming brain contains, this guide offers a range of ideas to suit various budgets. Whether you’re seeking an extravagant gesture or a small yet perfectly formed token of affection, these picks will delight any garden lover.

Mestiza Augustine Clutch

Mestiza’s niche is in timeless designs that are elaborate enough to be interesting but never get shouty in the process. The brand believes in exceptional craftsmanship and investing in pieces you’ll wear for a lifetime before officially turning them into heirlooms. Everything from Mestiza is meant to be lived in, and this clutch is no different. The opulent gold-plated blooms on rich, tortoiseshell-acrylic will elevate everything from black-tie ensembles to vintage-inspired street style. The removable chain strap offers even more versatility.

$298 | Shop Now

The Quiet Botanist Deluxe Candle Gift Set

The Quiet Botanist spares exactly zero details in this enchanting assortment of its six best-selling candles, which are wholly aromatic without seeping into the walls (if you are lucky enough not to know what that means, imagine a perfume so thick that, within hours of welcoming it into your home, you double-bagged the spritz like a rude dinner guest and threw it into an alley dumpster without looking back). That said. It is hard to imagine anyone finding offense in any of these fragrant treasures, which is why it feels more than safe to include them in a gift guide. Each candle arrives in an artful box adorned with botanical sketches that look nearly scientific in the best possible way. Even the matchbooks are beautifully illustrated; they are so perfect, you might look away when striking out of respect for setting such luxuries afire.

$400 | Shop Now

Gilded Bloom Decorative Table Sculpture

It is hard to tell whether the blooming shrub that inspired this sculpture lived on land or in water, perched beneath the shade of a forest blanketed in moss or waving gently at passing schools of fish. It doesn’t matter. Now, it lives in your dining room or on the mantle above the fireplace—somewhere it catches light.

$354 | Shop Now

Michael Petry: ‘Nature Morte’

A benefit of working for a company whose editors receive an absurd number of free books is that there are always an absurd number of books free for the taking. I took this book years ago, in what I estimate must have been 2016, the year it was published, when the editors of this book presumably wanted the editors of Observer to review/promote it. Nearly a decade later, I gladly fulfill that duty. Michael Petry’s Nature Morte is one of the most fascinating books I have ever seen. As it turns out, others share the sentiment. It isn’t easy to obtain a copy of Nature Morte in 2025, but if you have the opportunity, don’t pass it up (unless that opportunity involves paying $900 for a used version from the world’s largest retailer—because I’m not sure it’s worth that). At the time of this writing, there was at least one copy for a reasonable price at the link below.

$65 | Shop Now

La DoubleJ Navy Jacquard Babeball Cap

Rationalizing a $400 baseball cap may seem an impossible feat, but La DoubleJ’s exquisite creation makes a compelling case. This hat is a symphony of contrasts—a gold floral motif exercises restraint as it dances across a sporty navy jacquard, while black trim lends equilibrium to the playful whimsy. It’s a statement accessory that merges worlds, a crowning glory for the intrepid explorer who collects stories like prized seashells. Of course, the $400 price tag remains a hurdle, but such extravagance is easier to justify when presented as a gift.

$390 | Shop NOw

Olivar Cúrate Olive Tree

Europe is drowning in tourists. Do something good for the Earth by participating in the revival of Spain’s rich olive oil legacy. Adopting one of the 100,000 centenary olive trees in Oliete’s grove means becoming a guardian of a living piece of history, ensuring the continuation of time-honored traditions and sustainable land practices. The program regenerates the cultural heritage of abandoned rural areas, yielding multiple tangible benefits: contributing to the restoration of Spain’s exceptional olive oil industry, creating employment opportunities for residents of Oliete, and rehabilitating rural infrastructure. The $85 annual adoption pledge includes two bottles of freshly harvested olive oil from the grove’s recovered trees, along with a future promise of an invitation to visit the region, including lodging in orchard-adjacent accommodations.

$85 | Shop Now

Hunter Bell Cornflower Toile Barn Jacket

Equally suited for countryside rambles or urban adventures, Hunter Bell’s Cornflower Toile Barn Jacket is a versatile piece that layers charm into any ensemble. Its intricate floral print, in shades of cornflower blue and white, is expertly toned down by a vertical pinstripe, a relaxed silhouette, a corduroy collar and toggle closure. Overall, the piece evokes nostalgia; it’s easy to imagine such a jacket on a Hollywood hippy starlette. It is the star of the show, without veering precious.

$690 | Shop Now

Paloma Picasso Olive Leaf Earrings

Is there a version of ‘trifecta’ for the successful conversion of more than three elements? You cannot go wrong with Tiffany. You cannot go wrong with 18k gold. You cannot go wrong with Paloma Picasso. You cannot go wrong with emblems of peace, hope, victory, wisdom, prosperity and endurance (the olive is resilient!). You cannot go wrong with pearls, symbols of wisdom, wealth, enduring beauty and the journey to enlightenment. You can go wrong with earrings (in which case, if you’re even the slightest bit uncertain, there’s a pendant).

$1,275 | Shop Now

Ginori 1735 Oriente Italiano Trinket Box

You have to be careful with trinket boxes. It is easy to have too many. Keep just a few, in colors that peek cheerily when nestled on a shelf between photo frames or sit boldly in the center of a side table or bedroom dresser. Inherit and pass down. Source from antique shops, estate sales or Ginori 1735. In intricate porcelain piped in gold.

$390 | Shop Now