Now that we have a property expert (Tess O’Brien) on the books, it made sense for this issue of COMMPRESS to turn its focus to the housing market.

If there’s one thing Tess brings to the table, it’s a clear-eyed view of how off-course the conversation around property has become. For too long, the narrative has been fuelled by aspiration: prestige listings, lifestyle fantasy, investment returns. Meanwhile, we’re in a full-blown housing emergency.

The New York Knicks are out. After their best run since 1977, the dream is over for another year (RIP Coach Thibs). But somehow – despite an NBA Playoffs series so full of drama that it watches more like a series of The Real Housewives – the most compelling story to emerge from their playoff journey had nothing to do with basketball: a skinny French-American actor became the unofficial mayor of Madison Square Garden.

Your favourite conference-special-edition newsletter is back, sort of.

Last year we took you on a rosé-fuelled Riviera journey in Cannes. This year we’ve swapped out that pink-coloured vino for mojito-flavoured tropical chaos at the Cairns Crocodiles last week.

Crocodiles was an absolutely unbelievable event, well-produced and even more well-attended, but where is the Australian industry at when it comes to sparking smarter conversations? Well, let’s say we have a bit of an authenticity problem… it’s just not the one you think.

Something remarkable is happening in cinemas across the globe. Young audiences, armed with snacks and meme knowledge, are turning Minecraft movie screenings into interactive social events dubbed “chicken jockey” screenings – and cinema chains are absolutely losing their minds.

The phenomenon has spread like wildfire from America to Europe to Asia to Australia: groups of primarily young boys transforming cinemas into participatory playgrounds, shouting references, throwing popcorn, and turning what should be a routine kids’ film into an unplanned Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Somehow, against all odds and good taste, Coachella matters again.

It’s easy to dismiss Coachella as an overpriced brand orgy where rich kids take photos in fringe vests while ignoring bands. But something was notably different this year. Despite many writing the festival off as shorthand for everything wrong with cultural appropriation, trend jacking, vapid celeb watching and humanity in general, the festival has performed the marketing comeback of the decade (for the real, ultimate, comeback of the decade, see our Creed issue).

What do Caspar David Friedrich, plates on walls and Substacks about running have in common? They’re all signs of a major cultural shift: the Romantic Revival.

The Met’s recent Caspar David Friedrich: The Soul of Nature exhibition has been a blockbuster, a tribute to the 19th-century painter whose landscapes made nature a mirror of the soul​. Friedrich’s work championed individual perception and feeling over cold rationalism, ideals that a The Guardian cultural critic notes are “still vital today”​. Friedrich’s apparent revival has led commentators to herald a “new romanticism” – a nascent rebellion against Big Tech’s cold empiricism in favour of subjectivity, individuality, emotion, mysticism and awe in the face of nature.

Let’s be real: this is a comms scandal everyone’s already heard about. It’s the talk of the town. Literally. Two finance bros walking behind us in Martin Place yesterday were really chopping it up.

We’re not publishing this emergency issue to tell you what happened, as you know the beats. A Signal group chat. A misplaced invite. The Atlantic’s Jeffrey Goldberg, suddenly looped into military chatter. He sat quietly. Took notes. Watched it play out. And when the story was inevitably downplayed by all involved? He published the whole thing.

If there’s a PR team deserving an award, it’s the one behind The White Lotus resorts. Despite a suspiciously high body count across their properties, guests keep flocking in. That’s some old-school spin doctoring.

Beyond its fictional woes, The White Lotus has another issue: there’s a moment in every great magic trick when the illusion stops working, when the audience sees the wires. It’s not always because the trick changed. Sometimes, it’s because we’ve seen it too many times.

Welcome to SKMG’s 2024 Advent Calendar

Because you’ve already bought the Cadbury one. Introducing the SKMG Advent Calendar:

25 days, 25 of our favourite articles from 2024.

No frills, no spoilers, and minimal work chat. Just a series of great reads behind mysterious, clickbaity, unnecessarily obscure titles to keep your curiosity piqued and good chats rolling through the merry season.

Society has proven time and again that some of the smartest, most impactful exchanges have taken place in quiet rooms, between people whose names may never make the headlines.

But here’s the rub: whether the conversation is quiet or nothing short of theatrical, it’s got to drive action. Otherwise, it’s just noise.

Welcome to the inaugural COMMPRESS Apology Awards. When it comes to apologies, not all are created equally. A good apology can be a balm to the soul, mending broken relationships and soothing egos, while a bad one can make everything a million times worse. So, what exactly makes a good apology?

In the early 2000s, a character like Ryan Atwood from The OC — that quiet, brooding bad boy — conveyed everything with just a look. Fast forward to today and we’ve got 3,790 little icons that can do the same, each one standing in for a thousand different glances, thoughts or feelings. Emojis have become the shorthand of our emotions, a quick substitute for when words feel like too much.

Kendrick’s playing the Superbowl and Drake gets, well, this New Yorker article opening with a less-than-subtle question:

Has there ever been as clear a loser as Drake?

When should you jump on board to popular messaging? First it was BRAT, now it’s Demure: the Zeitgeist seems to be pushing more and more towards a monoculture that resembles meme culture. That is, one in-joke to rule them all. Why?

It could be the worst scandal in US history. Yesterday marked 10 years to the day that then US President Barack Obama’s controversial tan suit took the stage. Global headlines, a Wikipedia page, a thousand tweets later and we see Kamala Harris make a surprise appearance at the Democratic National Convention in – you guessed it – a tan suit.

The 2024 Paris Olympics served up a sincerely odd blend of elite athleticism and sheer spectacle, with antics that will be remembered just as fondly as the feats of strength and speed. It was brash, bold, occasionally bizarre, often beautiful and somehow the most French thing the world’s ever seen even when they weren’t trying.

Like a decadent croquembouche that arrives just as you’ve begun to digest your bouillabaisse, the third and final instalment of A Cannesdid Conversation is here. 

From co-founders to co-video-hosts, your favourite gasbaggers are back for part two of A Cannesdid Conversation. They’ve ditched the astro turf, topped their wine up and headed inside to dish even more on Cannes Lions 2024, what’s on the menu?

Presenting A Cannesdid Conversation, a long-form, three-part video series unpacking, unpicking and unravelling what Andrew and Neil experienced each day of Cannes Lions 2024.

Day 4. We’re getting to the good stuff now. Today saw hangovers as big as the croissant-stuffed seagulls getting around the promenade, all reportedly victims of last night’s Spotify party, which could be heard from Antibes.