A Guide to Harry Styles's London
As a longtime disciple in the House of Harry, I know the 31-year-old somehow manages to be everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. One day Harry Styles is running a marathon in Tokyo, the next he's dining al fresco in Rome. But despite his globe-trotting ways, one thing will never change: his love affair with London. Of course, he's not a native Londoner (he was born in Worcestershire, and grew up in Cheshire), but having lived in the capital on and off since his One Direction breakout 15 years ago, it's safe to say he's pretty well acquainted. Here's how Harry Styles does London.
London Fashion Week
Once upon a time, Harry Styles was an LFW mainstay. Burberry, House of Holland, Fashion East—in 2014, there was nary a front row on which he did not feature. After a brief (10 year!) hiatus, Styles recently returned to the FROW for a very special occasion: S.S. Daley's spring 2025 show, the brand's first foray into womenswear. As a minority stakeholder in the craft-driven company, Styles showed his support by taking up his spot on the front row next to Vogue's Anna Wintour. And of course, he wore SS Daley for the occasion.
Lime biking
No car? No problem. Styles likes to use a Lime to get from A to B—there have been a flurry of sightings of Harry on two wheels across the city over the past couple of years. He's even inspired a few imitators, from hoaxes on TikTok to the actual Timothée Chalamet arriving to his own red-carpet premiere by bike.
Matcha runs in Marylebone
Who can resist a sunny spring walk through London with an iced matcha in hand? Not Harry—especially if it's from How Matcha! on Blandford Street. After being spotted there for a morning fix—wired headphones and The Row fit in tow—he inspired many in the Vogue office to a) get a matcha, and b) dust off their favorite brown loafers. Other spots he loves? Jolene in Stoke Newington, Café Leon Dore in Soho, and Farm Shop in Mayfair, where he was recently snapped catching up with pal James Cordon.
High-low cultural excursions
Artists know inspiration can strike at any moment, be it at the ballet or a football match. Styles frequents both: last year he took in a production of Tchaikovsky's classic Swan Lake at the Royal Opera House just weeks after watching Luton Town play Manchester United at Kenilworth Road. By the looks of things, he had a blast at both.
House by the Heath
Hampstead Heath is beloved by the rich and famous (Ariana Grande literally released a song about how much she loved her own time living there while filming Wicked), so Styles's affinity for the NW3 postcode should come as no surprise. He reportedly owns three houses in the area, and is often spotted out and about and attempting to keep a low profile. Maximize your visit to the Heath with a dip in the pond, a browse of Daunt Books, and a coffee at The Nook.
Festival season
Our north-west Londoner Harry… in east London? Apparently so. Styles spent the first weekend of June in Victoria Park for Jamie xx's inaugural Lido festival, watching along from the VIP section with his longtime collaborators Kid Harpoon, Yaffra and Patience Harding. It was cold and rainy but it didn't stop him from having a good time with his pals. I couldn't help but wonder: might he have an itch for Glastonbury now, too?
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CNN
an hour ago
- CNN
British pubs have their own set of rules. Here's what you need to know
In 1943, as American troops were dispersed around British air bases to join the Allied war effort, a short informative film, 'How to Behave in Britain', was produced. One section was dedicated to the 'dos' and 'don'ts' of a British pub, and used a roistering soldier — who tosses cash at the barmaid, hoots at a Scotsman in a kilt and brags how he and his large family enjoy steak for breakfast — to demonstrate exactly what not to do. Our young braggart ends up being disappeared in a puff of smoke, and rightly so. Over 80 years on, the British pub has changed a lot, but it still retains a number of unusual quirks for newcomers. It pays to come to the UK armed with pub sense, and so in that spirit, here is a 21st-century guide to enjoying the great British boozer. There are as many genres of pub as there are beer, and if you tried to drink your way through them all in one day, you'd have to be poured into a cab at the end of it. Here are the main categories: Wet pub: Simply put, a pub which only serves drinks, not food. Not to be confused with the White Swan in Twickenham, London, whose riverside beer garden regularly floods, leaving drinkers stranded. Historic tavern or inn: Roaring wood fires. Flagstone floors. Low-beamed ceilings. Horse brasses on the walls. A resident ghost. These pubs, some dating back many hundreds of years, are steeped in the stories of those who've drank here before, though many these days also have Wi-Fi — the best of both worlds. Gin palace: Described in an 1835 essay by Charles Dickens as 'the gay building with the fantastically ornamented parapet, the illuminated clock, the plate-glass windows surrounded by stucco rosettes, and its profusion of gas-lights in richly-gilt burners…,' many of these showy 19th century drinking emporiums are still in business today — and they serve much more than just gin. Craft beer pub: Emerging over the past couple of decades, the focus in these less orthodox establishments is on quality beer, often more varied, alcoholic and expensive than in other pubs. Brew pub/brewery tap: A concept familiar with Americans, this is a chance to sip straight from the source, often in sight of the shimmering steel equipment that has magicked up the liquid now making you feel fuzzy. Gastro pub: The Eagle in Farringdon, London was Britain's first gastropub, opening in 1991 for those 'who wanted a restaurant but couldn't afford it.' These food-forward pubs subsequently boomed in the 1990s and 2000s, and remain popular today. Sports pub: Similar in some ways to an American sports bar, British sports pubs rarely screen the NFL, but always show Premier League football. Most screens are not behind the bar, but in some awkward corner of the pub next to the toilets. Flat-roofed pub: Dodgy beer, an edgy clientele and accompanying weapon dogs are all synonymous with flat-roofed pubs — 'forbidding cubes of wood and brick that squat in the shadow of tower blocks,' as the UK's Guardian newspaper once put it. It can also be difficult to see what's going on from the outside, which some regard as tantamount to climbing into the back of a strange, unmarked van. That said, not all flat-roofed pubs are made equally, and a handful, like The Laurieston Bar in Glasgow, have become legendary. Brewery/chain pub: Not to be confused with a brewpub, these pubs operate under the ownership of a brewery or chain (including major players like Greene King, Young's, and Craft Union). Though some of these establishments are pleasant enough, they can lack beer choice. I have seen four identical beer pumps lined up next to one another, all pouring the same pedestrian ale. Freehouse: The landlords/ladies here aren't tied to a brewery contract, and can therefore serve whatever they like. There's usually a good beer selection because of it. Micropub: The micropub trend — that is, pint-sized independent pubs with excellent beer and spartan interiors — started with The Butcher's Arms in Herne, Kent in 2005, and has since swept the country, particularly southeast England. They may tell you off for taking a phone call, but they will also give you free cheese on a Sunday. Wetherspoon: A genre of pub unto itself. The pub sign — found swinging from the front of most establishments — dates to a time when few drinkers were literate, and would instead be drawn towards a colorful illustration, promising liquid treasures inside. Most today bear an image, along with the name. Common branding includes The Red Lion, The Royal Oak and The King's Arms, but more peculiar names have real cachet — think The Bucket of Blood, The Pyrotechnists Arms, Dirty Dick's, The Frog and Rhubarb, and I Am The Only Running Footman. Also look out for scores of Moon Under Waters (see Wetherpoon, above). If you're ordering drinks, and drinks alone, go up to the bar. Though handheld menus do exist, they're not used all that much; a board behind the bar will advise you which beers are pouring, and you can also squint at the labels on the hand pumps (more of which later). If it's a beer you're unfamiliar with, a good bar person will offer you a free taster. Though Britain was built on queuing, the pub is one setting where standing in line is not how it's done. Getting served — especially at a busy bar — involves gradually easing yourself towards the front. Once you're within touching distance of the bar, you must win the attention of whoever's on the other side of it, being neither too meek (a gentle smile and nod works well) or too bold (wave a credit card in the air, and you'll be waiting all night). It's the perfect balancing act, and one of the Brits' best-loved pastimes. In friendlier pubs, customers will kindly point out who's been waiting the longest. However, since Covid (when table service in pubs was mandatory), certain younger drinkers have started forming orderly queues. 'This attempt at politeness is actually causing chaos at bars across the country,' fretted The Independent in 2024. If you're in a group of friends, the traditional way to buy drinks is in a 'round' — namely taking it in turns to buy everyone else's drinks. Get the first round in, and you can relax and enjoy the rest of the session. That is, unless the round circles back to you, just when everyone is hitting the expensive whiskey. That's a chance you'll have to take. Cards are accepted in pretty much all pubs. Most pubs still take cash, too. I know of one small pub in the Surrey countryside which accepts Bitcoin. 'If you like beer, you'd better like it warm,' informs 'How to Behave in Britain'. But the 'warm beer' slur is a misnomer. The average pub now serves chilled lagers, pale ales and stouts (often Guinness, which has an entire pouring ritual of its own). As for 'real ales' — that is, traditional cask British ale taking the form of various bitters, pales, IPAs, stouts and milds — this should be served at cellar temperature. If your ale is genuinely warm, either there's something wrong with it, or you're sitting too close to the fire. Just like the pubs themselves, these beers revel in ridiculous names: Bishop's Finger, Release the Quacken, Old Peculiar, Pigswill. Beer in Britain — whether an icy Danish lager or a robust porter from Durham — is traditionally served in a pint glass. Unlike in America, all pints in the UK are the same measurement of liquid: an imperial pint (20 fluid ounces). This measurement is taken very seriously, with CAMRA (Campaign For Real Ale) even lobbying the British Government to enshrine in law beer drinkers' right to receive a full pint, foam excluded. Most pint glasses are straight-sided but traditional beer drinkers sometimes request their beer to be served a 'jug' (a confusing term as it's not a jug, but a handled glass mug with miniature windows). You'll only encounter the infamous 'yard of ale' in exceptional circumstances, but it is not entirely mythical. Conversely if you're taking it slow, it's not uncommon to order beer in a half pint. The great Rick Steves once wrote in a guide book that 'it's almost feminine for a man to order just a half,' but that was a while ago now. (Steves also said he orders quiche with his beer, and I have literally never seen a slice of quiche served in a pub.) Craft beer establishments will often also serve in two-third and one-third pint measures, a relatively new concept that has some die-hard pint swiggers muttering into their bitter. If you're a real local, you may have your own special mug hanging behind the bar, possibly crafted from pewter. If so, you're probably also in line to have a bronze plaque installed on your favorite chair/table after you go to that Great Pub in the Sky. You may also be the pub bore, more of which imminently. Gin and tonic: A summery classic, born of colonial settlers lauding it up in India, who drank the tonic for the quinine in order to stave off malaria. Rum and Coke: The sugary elixir once favoured by The Beatles. House wine: For the thriftiest wine option, order the 'house red,' 'house white' or 'house rosé,' and pray that it's tolerable. Cider/perry: Always alcoholic, this fermented apple/pear juice has been quaffed in industrial quantities by farmers and laborers for centuries, and is a popular summer drink among Brits. If your host starts pouring it from a cardboard box, don't panic: It will taste far better than the sparkling cider coming from the taps. Lime and soda/blackcurrant and soda: A traditional non-alcoholic option. Some pubs will only charge you around 50p for a glass; other, less scrupulous, ones will make you pay nigh-on the price of a beer. If in doubt, enquire first. Tipping: With table service reserved for food, and bar tabs a rarity, tipping isn't common in British pubs. If you've especially enjoyed the hospitality, you can always say 'Have one for yourself' to the bar person, to which they'll add on the price of another drink to the round. Sharing a table: While some drinkers like to keep themselves to themselves, it's normal to share larger tables with whoever else is sitting there. At friendlier pubs — especially micropubs — you may well get talking to your new neighbor. The topic of conversation will involve the weather, sports and — after a couple of drinks — politics. However, if you're foreign to these parts, you've already got your icebreaker. The pub bore: Like every American bar, each British pub has its own barfly, or 'pub bore,' who will lecture you ad nauseum about everything they know to be true, while taking little interest in your own attempts at contributing to the conversation. Avoid being sucked in where possible, and never get into a round. Splitting the bag: If enjoying snacks, it's customary to split open the bag, and share the contents with your table. Speaking of which… Salty crisps and nuts have kept many a drinking session going far longer than it should have. Crisps, i.e. chips, are a staple, with Britain producing a new flavor every few minutes. Still, the all-time crisp classics are considered to be: ready salted, salt & vinegar and cheese & onion. You can read more about the history of crisps here. Pork scratchings — crunchy, salt-cured chunks of pork fat — are found in most pubs. You will either fall in love with them, or spend the rest of your life apologizing to pigs whenever you see them. Either way, be advised that they can shatter your teeth (pork scratchings that is, not pigs). One level up is the pork pie (a lump of cold pork meat wrapped in gelatin and pastry, and served with eye-watering English mustard), and the Scotch egg, which reached its culinary zenith in 2016 when Anthony Bourdain shared one of these mincemeat-encased delicacies with Nigella Lawson. All sorts of 'pub grub' is available these days, classics including steak & ale pie, scampi, lasagne, and hunter's chicken. (Fish and chips is NEVER as good in a pub as it is from a fish and chip shop.) The holy grail of pub food is the Sunday roast, or roast dinner, served specifically on that one day of that week, and consisting of roasted meats, roast potatoes, Yorkshire puddings, stuffing and a medley of veg. While many pub Sunday roasts are sub-par, when you find a decent one, everything is well with the world. 'Pub' is shorthand for 'public house,' and the best establishments feel like an extension of your own front room. The number one pastime in a pub is catching up with friends; which usually involves moaning about work/the weather/the friends who didn't come to the pub. Watching sports (football, rugby, cricket, snooker, darts) is a major draw too. Other pub entertainment includes: Reading the paper: Many pubs used to lay on a stack of papers for customers to get stuck into, although many pub goers now read the 'paper' on their phone. Pub quiz: A stalwart of the midweek pub experience, the pub quiz is an opportunity for you and accomplices to show off your (lack of) general knowledge, with the chance to win a £50 bar tab. As with pub/beer names, the most ludicrous pub quiz team name is also considered to be the best — even if you come last in the quiz, you'll be the heroes of the evening. Darts: The modern game of throwing small arrows into a circular board was formalised in a pub in west London in 1926. It's currently enjoying a renaissance, thanks to darts superstars like Luke Littler and Fallon Sherrock. Pool: Just as in the States, shooting pool is a popular bar in Britain. It's unusual to see a snooker table in a pub, and if you see a billiards table, you may have walked into a stately home by mistake. The antiquated game of bar billiards, on the other hand, can still be found in a select few pubs, although — *whisper it* — the game has Russian origins. Board games: Chess, Cluedo and Monopoly are among the favorites to be mulled over during a rainy Sunday afternoon. Jukebox: Channeling the spirit of 1950s American diners, some older British pubs pride themselves on their jukebox — an opportunity to foist your musical choice on everyone within listening distance. Many jukeboxes now are digital, though occasionally you'll find the real McCoy. Though British bars and restaurants rarely excel at continental style al fresco drinking and dining, a number of pubs are blessed with a pub garden. These are often hidden around the back; sometimes pubs will proclaim in bold lettering from the front: 'SECRET GARDEN.' British weather, naturally, does everything in its power to diminish the magic of the pub garden, although this doesn't stop the average Brit sitting outside and shivering into their pint, because even though it's blowing a moderate gale, it's July, and they know their rights. Up until 1988, pubs were required to close between 3.30 p.m. and 5 p.m., meaning there were one and a half hours in the afternoon where locals might be seen drifting around the village in a zombie-like state, occasionally pawing at the pub windows. This is rarely the case now. Though individual pub opening times vary, they tend to be from around midday to 11 p.m. A small bell is clanged (sometimes with almost too much fervour, by an exhausted publican), to warn you when to get your last drink in. There is then a mad rush to get in a valedictory pint, and drink it before the bell tolls a second time. This signals it's time to leave, or as the famous soap opera landlady Peggy Mitchell would say, 'get outta my pub'. On 'non school nights' (that is, Fridays and Saturdays), it's not unusual to give into primal instincts, and go in search of meat. If it's earlier in the night, a curry is often voted for. If last orders have been rung at the pub and the curry houses are shut, it's commonplace to order a takeout doner kebab: lengths of greasy lamb meat anointed with garlic and spicy chili sauce, which will make you regret everything the next morning all that much more. Will Noble is the editor of Londonist, which has its own London pub database.
Yahoo
2 hours ago
- Yahoo
Addison Rae changes her name and reflects on life in Lousiana
SHREVEPORT, La. (KTAL/KMSS) – Addison Rae is picking up a whisk and making major reveals on life in Louisiana. The 'Diet Pepsi' singer and TikTok star joined longtime friend Quen Blackwell to cook alligator bites in the latest episode of Feeding Starving Celebrities on YouTube. Sharing southern roots, the pair discussed life before moving to California, Addison Rae sharing that moving to Los Angeles gave her a new perspective on life. Expressing that before the move, she felt as if she did not have much purpose, using her free time to pretend to be a member of the band One Direction. 'I would try to find the usernames of the [One Direction] members like that, and then I would follow people so they would think it was them. I was so bored,' But for Quen, the southern charm was never far, sharing that every time she visited Addison's house, she felt as if she were back in the south. 'I miss coming over to your house when your whole family was there, all the food was so good. It felt like Addison had a little Southern home in the middle of LA craziness, it was everything.' Reflecting on those memories, Addison shared how she has evolved in her journey and revealed a major change for her future 'I think I've grown past just being called Addison Rae. Naming the album 'Addison' was a way to tie everything together.' Addison says that after the album, she will return to being just Addison. 'It's going back to the roots, really.' Quen adored the idea, gushing, 'It's like going back to the truth, what you were called as a kid. You've always been Addison.' The one-hour show wrapped up with the two taste testing their homemade alligator bites and air-fried shrimp, garnering over 1.5 million views on YouTube. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
New York Times
2 hours ago
- New York Times
They're Gentle. They're Seasonal. They're Soft Boy Cooks.
I first noticed them when I came across the British chef Julius Roberts's videos on Instagram, where he showcases his idyllic farm life and seemingly effortless, seasonal cooking (which I wrote about last year). Then I kept seeing them: youngish men whose cooking on TikTok and Instagram felt gentle, understated and sincere, even though it sometimes veered toward the cheffy. On social media, these sensitive men with palpable charisma are a little heartthrob, a little boy-next-door and entirely devoted to food. I've come to call them 'soft boy cooks,' everything the cultural bent toward protein-maxxing and large hunks of beef is not. They are not 'purposefully slamming ingredients down on the counter, haphazardly throwing things into pots,' as the chef (and my friend and colleague) Ham El-Waylly described it. Instead, they nurture produce rather than contort it into foams. The soft boy cook observes the arrival of ramps and tomatoes like holidays. Dessert is fruit. This straightforward sensitivity is the antithesis to a more hypermasculine cooking that snatches your attention online with excessive portions, aggressive editing and thunderous noise. A more tender approach requires not just a glance, but your sustained focus. A soft boy cook makes you lean in. In his senior year at Columbia University, Jonah Reider made people lean in when he started a supper club out of his dorm room that landed him on late-night television and got him written up in seemingly every media outlet, including this one. His delicate cooking and thoughtful, market-driven dishes also put him on my soft boy cook radar. Rather than pursue a career as a restaurant chef, Mr. Reider, now 31, said he'd peek at dishes through dining room windows and then interpret them in his own kitchen. When his father took him to the chef Gabrielle Hamilton's former restaurant Prune, in New York, 'it was life-changing,' he said. The food, he added, was delicious — 'simple but not' — a sort-of ease conveyed only with years of experience. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
