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On March 29, Taix as we know it closes forever. The iconic French restaurant originally opened downtown in 1927 and relocated to its current chalet on Sunset Boulevard in 1962. It’s a grim reminder of L.A.’s insatiable appetite to destroy its own heritage and especially devastating to a certain milieu of writers and artists, myself very much included. Since it announced its closure, I’ve been visiting as often as I can to say farewell, not only to the charmingly shabby faux-1920s interiors, but to the many lives I’ve lived at its tables. First as a young guitarist when a bandmate worked the bar’s soundboard, next with the Chinatown artist scene, then with Semiotext(e)’s avant-garde lit circle, later through firecracker romances and heartbreaks during the art party Social Club, recently floating through the louche carnival of Gay Guy Night and now with the circus of beatniks from my reading series Casual Encountersz.

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It’s difficult to explain why this cavernous and windowless restaurant means so much, so I’ve tried to list everything I love about Taix.

I love that they don’t play music. I love the 1960s bathrooms. I love the bottomless tureens of soup. I love the complimentary crudité from the pre-pandemic era. I love the cold pats of butter. I love that you can always get a table, no matter how many people roll in. I love the free refills on Diet Cokes. I love the 80-year-old couples on dates. I love how the dim lighting makes everyone seem chic. I love the frayed carpeting. I love the fake votive candles. I love the icy martinis. I love the corner booth beside the fireplace. I love the smoked mirrors and tin-plate ceilings in the elegant back dining rooms. I love the small fortune I’ve spent there picking up the check for many strippers, poets and bohemians. I love its rundown glamour, which miraculously evokes Old Hollywood, Belle Époque and trashy Americana all at once. I unironically love the food, which isn’t spectacular, but is very comforting. I love how a waitress once ran off with a friend of mine and slept on my couch for a week. I love how my wife generally hates eating at restaurants but loves eating at Taix. I love how every L.A. artist I know has their own singular version of this list.

The only thing I don’t love about Taix is that its owners are tearing it down to erect soulless condos. I know the city needs housing, but not like this. I hope we’ll all find a new place to call home again soon.

Taix shaped me as a writer and artist, along with so many others, which is why before the new owners demolish this cultural institution, I asked other creatives what the Echo Park landmark means to them.

Chris Kraus.

(Ariana Drehsler / For The Times)

Chris Kraus, writer, artist and co-editor of the independent press Semiotext(e): When I moved to L.A. in 1995, Taix was the go-to place, with its deep banquettes, cuisine bonne-femme and its nightly prix-fixe specials. Mostly it was police officers and their wives who went there. Sylvère Lotringer and I went often, for him it was a little reprieve from the non-Frenchness of L.A. He could order in French and exchange pleasantries with an elderly French waiter who seemed to live there. Years later, when Sylvère moved to Ensenada and was less active with Semiotext(e), Taix was the site of our “Annual General Meetings” — Hedi El Kholti, Sylvère and I would have dinner together and Hedi would catch Sylvère up on all the forthcoming publications and projects. Taix was a place to run into people unexpectedly. About a decade ago, when the bar was refreshed, it changed again and I kind of lost track of it.

Rachel Kushner, novelist: I dined at Taix probably once per week for 23 years. It hurts so much that it is closing. I simply stopped going, so that I could begin to grieve, and also to avoid every last random tourist standing by the host station, on their phone, and the glum possibility of being seated in the second dining room, a.k.a “the Morgue” as my friend Benjamin Weissman put it. I want to protect my memories of the special occasions I enjoyed in this perennial special occasion establishment … I want to remember Bernard, a cheerful Basque from Biarritz who worked there 60 years, got progressively trashed over the course of his shift, went to Bakersfield on Sundays to party with his sheep-herding countrymen, came back Wednesdays sunburned and happy. The old valets who were let go during the pandemic. I used to give them a Christmas bonus every year, as a thanks for letting me park my classic out front. Look, I was born in Taix. I mean, in a way. I nursed my newborn in Taix. He grew up there. People who criticize the food are losers, and will never understand. The steak frites are great. The panna cotta, discontinued after the pandemic, was my favorite. The Louis Martini Cabernet was reliable. (Bernard told me the wine cellar downstairs took up the entire footprint of the main restaurant. Don’t know if that’s true.) Meanwhile, I can’t put my arm around a memory. All the smart girls know why. It doesn’t mean I didn’t try.

Cord Jefferson, writer and director: When I started going to Taix, in 2004, you could still gamble at the bar. They sold keno slips and lottery tickets, and whenever Powerball got over $100 million, I’d buy a ticket with my pint. Where else can you do all that while simultaneously watching a game and eating a tourte de volaille? Taix was where I watched the heroic Zinedine Zidane headbutt the gutless Marco Materazzi in the saddest World Cup final ever. When France lost that afternoon, my favorite server, Phillipe, cried. Phillipe’s teeth were often as wine-stained as his customers’. He’d bum me cigarettes in the parking lot and speak abusively about the ways the neighborhood was changing. I’m happy Phillipe is not around to see the digital renderings of what they plan to erect once they demolish the Taix chateau: another condo building with all the charm of a college dorm. It’s a damn shame what’s happening to Taix. I wish I had more money so I could buy it and keep it around, but I never won the Powerball.

John Tottenham, novelist and poet: It’s a shame that Taix is closing, not only because other plans will now have to be made for my funeral reception, but because it was the last civilized watering hole in the neighborhood. There isn’t anywhere else that one can walk into and immediately satisfy the social instinct among a convivial and refreshingly diverse clientele in what is becoming an increasingly homogenized locality. It has been the nexus of my social life for over 20 years, and is simply irreplaceable.

Jade Chang.

(Ariana Drehsler / For The Times)

Jade Chang, novelist: I’d only known Taix as a raucous bardo of a French restaurant, then there was a memorial service for Alex Maslansky, my beloved friend Max’s brother, owner of Echo Park’s best bookstore, Stories. Alex was a beautiful and beleaguered soul, born worried, born romantic, difficult and hopeful and apparently a shockingly good poker player. The room was packed with music people and book people, sober friends and poker friends, packed with the gorgeous girls who’d always loved him, our collective sorrow potent and sweet enough to pull the walls in around us tight as we said goodbye and goodbye.

Alexis Okeowo, New Yorker staff writer: I was a late discoverer of Taix, stumbling upon it when I moved to a bungalow just above Sunset during the pandemic from New York. I seemed to only see writer friends there. I met up with a journalist for drinks and then ran into a new writer friend at the bar. I later had a big, spontaneous dinner with TV writer friends and then a birthday celebration in the dining rooms that ended in two friends escorting me home, sick and happy off a mostly-martini meal and the selfies I took in the bathroom with the iconic pink and gold wallpaper. Every time, there was talk about ideas and gossip and so, so much laughter.

Alberto Cuadros, writer/curator and co-founder of the Social Club: About 10 years ago, Max Martin and I started Social Club as a weekly social salon at Taix. We thought of it as a kind of Beuysian social sculpture, it was a weekly ritual, and over time it became something of an institution in the L.A. art world. Everyone knew where to go in L.A. on a Wednesday if they wanted to meet interesting people or find friends. I even met my wife there who was visiting from Montreal.

Siena Foster-Soltis, playwright: Taix felt like one of the few remnants of the L.A. I grew up in and love so dearly.

Ruby Zuckerman.

(Ariana Drehsler/For The Times)

Ruby Zuckerman, writer and co-founder of the reading series This Friday: Taix is the only restaurant in L.A. that doesn’t lose its mind if new friends drop in halfway through dinner or if you stay at your table for hours after you stopped ordering. That kind of flexibility leads to spontaneous nights where what started off as an intimate hang expands into an all-out party. As a writer, that flexibility has allowed me to meet editors, collaborators and readers, drawn together by pure fun rather than networking. One of my favorite nights involved getting in a physical altercation with novelist John Tottenham after he stole my phone to send prank texts to my boyfriend. I’ll miss taking selfies in the bathroom.

Blaine O’Neill, DJ and events organizer: I always say Taix is the “People’s Country Club.” It is exceptional because of the staff who understand the importance of hospitality, and the scale of the space is humane. You’re able to evade feeling pinched by the noose of transactional cosmopolitanism.

Tif Sigfrids, gallerist and publisher Umm…: Taix was a cultural nexus. A space with broad range. It went from being the dark bar I read books and day-drank at in my 20s to the place where I rented a private room to host my son’s first birthday party. It’s where I watched Barack Obama get elected twice, the Lakers win back-to-back championships, and where I indulged in countless night caps and an unreasonable amount of all-you-can-eat split pea soup. You never knew what kind of hot jock, wasted poet or other type of intrigue you might run into there. You can’t make a place like Taix up. It’s a place that just miraculously happens.

Kate Wolf, writer and editor: Though I have been going to Taix for nearly 20 years, embarrassingly, it was only in the last year that I realized the building wasn’t from the 1920s. Those smoke-stained mirrors, that tin ceiling, the drapery and light fixtures are in fact set-dressed — ersatz! Which of course only makes me love the place more. Taix’s history, and its spot in the city’s cultural firmament, cannot be denied. But what really makes it so special are the people who work there and the clientele, not its past. This point is perhaps my only hope in losing what is my favorite restaurant in Los Angeles. That by some divine grace, we will all find each other again in another spot, designed to a different decade than the horror-filled present, and fill it with the same warmth, the same bottomless soup bowl, the same cheer.

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Hedi El Kholti, the co-editor of Semiotext(e).   (Ariana Drehsler/For The Times)

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Writers Lily Lady and Siena Soltis-Foster.  (Ariana Drehsler/For The Times)

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Poet Meat Stevens (Steven Lesser).   (Ariana Drehsler/For The Times)

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Sammy Loren, writer and curator of Casual Encountersz.  (Ariana Drehsler/For The Times)

Hedi El Kholti, artist and co-editor Semiotext(e): Taix is where we would end up after every reading since 2004 when I started working at Semiotext(e). I have memories of being there with Kevin Killian, Dodie Bellamy, Gary Indiana, Michael Silverblatt, Colm Tóibín, Rachel Kushner and Constance Debré among others … Taix has that particular anachronistic vibe that made L.A. so charming when I moved here in 1992, one of these places that time forgot. It was odd when it became really hip in the last 10 years. It made me think of what Warhol wrote about Schrafft’s restaurant when it had been redesigned to keep up with the fashion of the moment and had consequently lost its appeal. “If they could have kept their same look and style, and held on through the lean years when they weren’t in style, today they’d be the best thing around.”

Loren is the founding editor of the art and literary conceptual “tabloid” On the Rag and curator of the reading series Casual Encountersz.

They’re so darn cute together, these two. Neal Allen, father of four, newspaper reporter turned corporate executive turned spiritual coach turned author of two spiritual guidebooks, stands a full head of hair taller than his dread-headed wife, who calls him her “current husband.” He calls her his “remarkable and beautiful partner” and himself “Mr. Anne Lamott.”

And no wonder. Author Anne Lamott has published 21 books, with worldwide sales in the millions. “Bird by Bird,” her 1994 writing handbook, which has sold more than 1 million copies and continues to sell approximately 40,000 copies each year, became a meme before there were memes. Thirty-two years later, the titular phrase has made appearances everywhere from “Ted Lasso” (Coach Beard: “I hate losing.” Coach Lasso: “Bird by bird, Coach.”) to a Gloria Steinem interview in Cosmopolitan (“Every writer, truth-seeker, parent, and activist I know is in love with one or more books by Anne Lamott”).

Ask a famous writer how they do what they do, and “Bird by Bird” will likely get honorable mention. Harlan Coben, whose 35 novels have sold roughly 90 million copies, calls “Bird by Bird” his “favorite writing manual.” “I use it like a coach’s halftime speech to get me fired up to write.”

In a 2007 interview, “Eat Pray Love” author Elizabeth Gilbert called herself Lamott’s “literary offspring.” Paula McLain, who wrote the 2011 blockbuster “The Paris Wife,” told me: “I return to ‘Bird by Bird’ again and again because Anne Lamott tells the truth about how hard this work is — and then somehow makes you laugh about it.”

I reached out to best-selling memoirist and novelist Dani Shapiro to ask if she had her own experience with the book. “A writer is always a beginner,” she said. “And there is no better companion than ‘Bird by Bird.’”

Lamott and Allen partnered to write “Good Writing.”

(Christie Hemm Klok / For The Times)

Lamott, 71, and Allen, 69, met in 2016 on the 50-plus dating site OurTime.com. Nine months later, they bought a woodsy Marin County home with room for Lamott’s son and grandson. Sam, when he was 1 year old, was the subject of his mom’s first bestseller, the 1993 memoir “Operating Instructions.” His son Jax was the subject, at age 1, of his grandmother’s 2012 memoir, “Some Assembly Required.”

“We were watching U.S. Open tennis one night and Neal said, ‘Can I ask you something?’” Lamott told me via email. “I barely looked away from the TV, and he asked me to marry him. I said, ‘Yes, if we can get a cat.’”

After a decade of marriage, Lamott and Allen have undertaken a professional collaboration whose outcome, like their union, is greater than the sum of its parts. “Good Writing: 36 Ways to Improve Your Sentences” is as sharply specific as “Bird by Bird” is wanderingly wonderful: as winning a companion piece as two winning companions could create. The table of contents is itself a mini-manual of writerly tips: “Use Strong Verbs.” “Sound Natural.” “Keep it Active.” “Stick with Said.” “Don’t Show Off.”

Lamott and Allen.

(Christie Hemm Klok / For The Times)

I spoke to the late-life lovebirds about their process of marital manuscript-making: the good, the not so good and the blackmailing.

Meredith Maran: How did writing “Bird by Bird” compare to co-authoring “Good Writing”?

Anne Lamott: “Bird by Bird” was literally everything I knew about writing, everything I had been teaching my students for years. It was definitely my book. “Good Writing” was definitely Neal’s book. I just foisted my attention on him and threatened to undermine the marriage if he did not let me contribute.

MM: Neal, what on earth convinced you that you could add something to one of the world’s most popular writing books —written by your wife, no less?

Neal Allen: Oh, I’m not adding anything to “Bird by Bird,” which is a complete classic. It’s everything you need to know about becoming a writer. “Good Writing” is about what comes next: a second draft. And while it’s not fair to call “Bird by Bird” a craft book — it’s much more — it’s fine to define “Good Writing” that way.

“Helping each other with our work is one of the richest aspects of our life as a married couple,” Lamott said.

(Christie Hemm Klok / For The Times)

MM: In producing this joint project, how did you two negotiate the differences between your writing styles and personalities?

AL: We didn’t need to negotiate. Neal somehow manages to be both elegant and welcoming, whereas I think I am more like the class den mother, with a plate of cupcakes, exhorting people not to give up, trying to convince them that they can only share their truth in their own voice, that their voice is plenty good, and that when they get stuck, as we all do, I know some tricks that will help them get back to work.

NA: I once asked AI to describe the difference between my writing and Annie’s. AI answered that I explain things to readers; Annie helps readers reach catharsis. I think that’s absolutely right.

MM: How did you come up with the book’s fab format, whereby each of you writes your own introduction, and then each chapter starts with Neal’s thoughts about one of the 36 rules and ends with Annie’s?

NA: Annie first asked if she could annotate what I had written. That scared the bejesus out of me. When she started writing her own essays in her own voice, I was quite relieved. One of the format’s surprising strengths is that Annie always gets the last word. I explain the rule; then she helps the reader find their way and resolve their issues with the rule. There’s a downside: I don’t get to respond when she tells the reader to ignore me.

“I’m not adding anything to ‘Bird by Bird,’” Allen said. “It’s everything you need to know about becoming a writer. ‘Good Writing’ is about what comes next: a second draft.”

(Christie Hemm Klok / For The Times)

MM: In your intro, Anne, you recall Neal telling you he was working on a writing book. “Well. Hmmmph,” you replied. “I had written a book on writing once …” How did professional jealousy, competitiveness, possessiveness, or, on the brighter side, tenderness, collaborative spirit and generosity play out as you wrote a writing book together?

AL: We have no competitiveness or jealousy when it comes to each other’s writing. We just want the other person to write the most beautiful work they can. We are each other’s first reader, and editor, and while of course I feel attacked if Neal suggests even the tiniest change to my deathless prose, I have come to understand that his suggested cuts and additions save me from myself. Helping each other with our work is one of the richest aspects of our life as a married couple.

NA: There’s no way around “Bird by Bird,” and I just have to deal with that. My worry was whether Annie really wanted to be associated with my little book. I’m envious of Annie’s brilliance, of course, but we speak the same writing language and we love it equally.

MM: What are each of you proudest of, “Good Writing”-wise?

AL: We just recorded the audio version, and I was surprised by how much practical help the book offers. Also, I love the tone, which is so conversational and sometimes, I hope, pretty funny.

NA: I had the opposite reaction to recording the audio version. I saw all the opportunities for readers to mock me. In the 18 months between writing a final draft and the book showing up in stores, we’ve both flipped from believing it reflects well on us to thinking it’s a disaster. Luckily, both of us haven’t ever thought it sucks at the same time.

MM: That is fortunate. Also, Neal, I’m not sure you answered my question.

NA: What am I proudest of? That the book exists. I carried around these rules for improving sentences for years. I think a lot of writers do a book because they notice it’s not out there, and why isn’t it? And then they shrug, ‘Well, I guess it’s up to me.’ That’s how I came into all three of my books.

AL: May I just add that I’m proud to introduce my seriously charming and breathtakingly wise husband to a wider audience.

It has been nearly three years since Hollywood writers went on a historic strike that lasted 148 days and ushered in an extraordinary period of labor unrest that virtually shut down the film and TV business.

Now, writers are poised to commence another round of bargaining with the major studios on a new three-year film and TV contract. Few observers think the union is girding for another showdown, especially at a time when many of its members are struggling to find work amid media consolidation and belt-tightening.

But in advance of negotiations that begin on Monday , union leaders are eager to dispel any perception that they might have scaled back their demands.

“Our members have shown many times that they’re willing to fight for what we need as a collective group,” WGA West President Michele Mulroney said in an interview. “And there’s no exception here.”

With its current contract expiring on May 1, the WGA hopes to improve its members’ healthcare plans, increase streaming residuals and expand AI protections.

Michele Mulroney speaks as the Screen Actors Guild (SAG-AFTRA) and Writers Guild of America (WGA) join GLAAD in releasing the 11TH Annual GLAAD Studio Responsibility Index at The Village at Ed Gould Plaza Los Angeles LGBT Center in Los Angeles, California, on September 14, 2023.

(Michael Tran/AFP via Getty Images)

Ellen Stutzman, the union’s executive director, said despite popular belief, the studios have weathered the transition from cable television to streaming “very well,” citing their efforts to maximize revenue with streaming bundling, rising subscription fees and advertising revenue.

“Writers are watching as Netflix and Paramount are fighting it out to acquire Warner Bros… Paramount is spending $81 billion,” said Stutzman. “There’s money for a fair deal for writers.”

The union leaders agree that this year’s negotiations are all focused on the sustainability of a writer’s career.

A spokesperson from the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers, which represents the major studios in negotiations, said in a statement that they look forward “to engaging in a constructive and collaborative bargaining process with the WGA. Through continued good-faith dialogue, we are confident we can reach balanced solutions that support talented writers while sustaining the long-term success and stability of our industry and its workforce.”

A top priority for the WGA is to increase the caps that companies contribute to the union’s healthcare plan. Union officials say the current cap has remain unchanged for two decades as healthcare contributions have steadily declined due to fewer writers working.

AI is also top of mind for the WGA.

In 2023, the guild secured various AI protections by establishing that AI isn’t a writer and nothing it produces is considered literary material.

But as major studios start to make deals with AI companies, like Disney’s $1 billion investment into OpenAI’s Sora platform, many writers are concerned about how their work could be used.

“AI is using [studios’] IP, which is stuff that we wrote to license these models,” said John August, the co-host of the “Scriptnotes” podcast and WGA’s negotiating committee co-chair. “With the Sora deal, it seems clear that the companies intend to monetize this IP for use with AI.”

August says the union will be skeptical toward arguments that it’s still too early to seek more safeguards around such a nascent industry, citing the union’s past history with the rise of DVDs and the internet and how profoundly those technologies changed the compensation for writers.

“If you’re taking the work that we created to generate AI outputs, we are owed money. They’re using our work to do something down the road,” added August.

WGA’s negotiating committee also is looking to boost streaming residuals, expand the minimum number of people allowed in a writers’ room and add protections for scribes working on pilots.

“We very much hope that lessons were learned in 2023 and that the AMPTP will come to the table ready to take our proposal seriously and to make a fair deal, and to do that quickly,” Mulroney said. “It provides stability for the companies and for our membership. It’s better for everybody.”

WGA is entering contract negotiations nearly a month after the actors’ union, SAG-AFTRA, began its bargaining sessions. Last week,
the AMPTP said it was extending negotiations another seven days.

Whether it’s a long-haul flight or a weekend city break, there’s one item I always ensure I pack, and it’s an absolute game-changer for feeling refreshed, and it costs just £3

Before jetting off abroad, there are a few essentials I always make sure I pack, and there’s one particular item I can’t go without. While I thought it was pretty common, it turns out not everyone does, and I guarantee it’s a game-changer for feeling fresh after a flight.

Packing my hand luggage ahead of a flight, or any trip for that matter, has become something of a ritual. I’ll lay everything out on my bed, deciding between what is essential and what I can go without (in a bid to save space), tick everything off my mental checklist, and then stuff it neatly into my bag.

My noise-cancelling headphones are often top of the list, followed by my eye mask, my reusable water bottle, hydration tablets and a handful of skincare products, so I can feel somewhat restored, particularly after a long flight. Yet, nestled among my bag and packed alongside everything else is my toothbrush and toothpaste.

After every flight, without fail, I will brush my teeth. Whether that’s on the aeroplane or in the airport bathroom, it’s a lifesaver for feeling refreshed after a flight. And if I ever forget it, I’m a little out of sorts.

Aside from a simple skincare routine to level out the dryness, I guarantee that brushing your teeth before landing will leave you feeling like a new person. And if you’re concerned about using tap water on an aeroplane to brush your teeth, simply go to the bathroom and use bottled water.

I know it’s not glamorous, and I know there are other ways to leave feeling refreshed, but this small everyday item can really do wonders. Plus, there’s nothing worse than walking around worried that you have bad breath, and sometimes chewing gum just doesn’t quite cut it, especially after a long flight, and those G&Ts or red wines.

What’s more, it will barely take up any space in your hand luggage, as nifty travel toothbrushes are available on Amazon. Instead of packing my electric toothbrush, which is a bit unnecessary for a flight, I take a portable bamboo toothbrush that folds into a cylinder case, reducing it to half its size.

Not only does it ensure the toothbrush remains clean, but it also attaches the toothbrush head to the case, creating a standard-sized toothbrush. Plus, it’s good for the environment as it’s made from bamboo rather than plastic.

A pack of two portable bamboo toothbrushes is available from Amazon for £5.99, or just over £3 each. The travel toothbrushes are also handy for any trip, whether that’s a festival, a weekend away, or just having a spare in your bag whenever you want to clean your gnashers. (Boots also offers Bamboo toothbrushes from £3 ).

To accompany my travel toothbrush, I always pack a mini tube of toothpaste to save extra space. I often grab these from my local dentist, but they’re available at various shops, so it really couldn’t be easier to stay refreshed after your flight.

Do you have a travel story to share? Email webtravel@reachplc.com

As a travel journalist, I am away a lot, and there’s one £9 bag makes me feel like one of those super-organised people that can pack light

Despite travelling a lot for work, and fun, I’ve never mastered the art of packing light. I do not have a chic capsule wardrobe for city breaks, and I like to test those budget airline baggage capacities to their fullest.

As a perimenopausal woman, my carefree days of chucking a couple of lipsticks and a few makeup remover pads in a bag are also way behind me. When I go away for the night I need my skincare products, magnesium and collagen supplements, and industrial amounts of makeup, which arguably, are not making a huge amount of difference. A teeny tiny makeup bag is not going to do the job.

Last year, I stumbled across a toiletries bag on Amazon that has since become my favourite thing to take on trips, and at just £8.99 it’s something I’ve recommended to anyone I speak to who’s heading abroad. The Chakipee Travel Hanging Toiletry Bag looks just like an ordinary makeup bag on the outside. I bought the medium size, which measures 26x17x9cm, and when it arrived, I was sceptical about how much it would fit.

I don’t know what sorcery the manufacturers have used, but I can fit a surprising amount into this bag. I’ve managed to squeeze full size shampoo bottles into the big pockets, plus it has some smaller compartments for things like my toothbrush, contact lenses, and small stuff I don’t want to lose.

But perhaps the handiest feature is that it unfolds and can be hung up on a hook. While I’d love to pretend that my job always involves luxury travel to hotels with huge marble bathrooms, the truth is, I often stay in budget hotels where the bathroom is roughly the size of a postage stamp. If you are staying somewhere with zero bathroom counter space, just hang the bag from a spot such as a shower rail and you can easily access your products.

I’ve managed to fit a week’s worth of supplements and skincare products into the bag for longer trips, and as the ultimate test, once managed to do an everything shower in the tiny ensuite of a ferry cabin by hanging this bag on the door.

The only time the bag doesn’t come with me is if I’m travelling with hand luggage only, as annoyingly, the 100ml liquid rules are still in place at many airports. In general, the product reviews for the organiser are positive, with lots of people praising it for having plenty of pockets and compartments. A couple of reviews have complained about broken zips., but so far, I haven’t had that issue and have found it to be good quality.

If you’re looking for a bag solely for makeup then the Charlotte Tilbury Pillow Talk Makeup Bag also comes with some glowing recommendations. It also has a Tardis-like interior that can fit in full sized products, yet is compact when zipped up. One review says it offers: “Lots more room than I was expecting, can fit all my products in and love that I can organise things in the separate sections.”

If you’re travelling with hand luggage only, then Charlotte Tilbury also has lots of travel size skincare and makeup products that will ensure you don’t break the 100ml rules. Its Beauty Check-in Kit is currently on sale for £72 and includes a mini lip kit, powder, and setting spray that are just the right size for a week away.

Have a story you want to share? Email us at webtravel@reachplc.com

As Hollywood writers continue contract negotiations with major studios, one topic remains front and center: the role of artificial intelligence.

On Friday, the Writers Guild of America released a list of contract demands, which 97% of the union membership supports. Though some details have yet to be revealed, many of the union’s asks involve expanding protections over the use and abuse of AI, in addition to improved health coverage and higher residuals.

AI and streaming residuals were central issues in strikes by actors and writers in 2023.

WGA’s current contract, which expires May 1, established that AI isn’t a writer and nothing it produces is considered literary material. It prohibits companies from giving writers AI-generated scripts for a rewrite fee or requiring writers to use AI software, and a company must disclose whether any written materials were developed using AI.

The union says its current demand is to simply “expand” these protections. Other priorities include increasing contributions to the WGA benefit plans, raising minimums for “page one” rewrites and boosting streaming residuals.

The Screen Actors Guild-American Federation of Television and Radio Artists has identified similar issues as it negotiates a new contract for actors. Last week, SAG-AFTRA and the bargaining group for the major studios disclosed that they are extending their negotiations for seven days. The discussions began Feb. 9.

The union, whose contract expires June 30, is expected to propose what has been called the Tilly tax, a fee that studios would have to pay to the union in exchange for using an AI actor. This demand is in response to the first AI actor, Tilly Norwood, being introduced to Hollywood. Though the bot has yet to star in a major project, the fear of AI-generated characters taking jobs is real for many actors. The bot’s creator, Xicoia, also recently announced the expansion of its AI actor universe, called the “Tillyverse.”

WGA’s negotiations are set to start Monday and will be led by Ellen Stutzman. The studios will be represented by the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers’ new president, Gregory Hessinger.

The negotiations are happening as WGA West’s own staff members have been on strike, forcing the guild to call off its L.A.-based award show. The staff union, with more than 100 employees, are similarly demanding higher pay and protections against AI.

The blood of the dragon is headed to the big screen.

A “Game of Thrones” movie is in development at Warner Bros. written by “House of Cards” showrunner Beau Willimon, The Times has confirmed. According to Page Six, which first reported Willimon’s involvement, the “Andor” alum has already submitted a first draft.

While details of the plot have yet to be confirmed, the film will reportedly center Aegon the Conqueror, who was the first Targaryen monarch to sit atop the Iron Throne in the world of George R.R. Martin’s “A Song of Ice and Fire” series. According to the Hollywood Reporter, HBO is also developing the story of Aegon’s conquest of Westeros as a potential drama series.

King Aegon I is the Targaryen who started it all. Around 300 years before the events of “Game of Thrones,” the dragonlord led a campaign, with his sister-wives Visenya and Rhaenys, to conquer six of the seven kingdoms of Westeros. He was the first ruler of the unified realm and launched the Targaryen dynasty.

His descendants revere Aegon the Conqueror so highly that he has numerous prominent namesakes. King Aegon II, whose controversial coronation is what sparked the Targaryen civil war known as the Dance of Dragons, is a key character in the “Game of Thrones” prequel series “House of the Dragon” (portrayed by Tom Glynn-Carney). In “A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms,” adapted from Martin’s “Tales of Dunk and Egg” novellas, young Egg (Dexter Sol Ansell) is revealed to be the missing prince Aegon Targaryen. Even “Game of Thrones” eventually revealed that the show’s beloved Jon Snow (Kit Harrington) was a Targaryen named Aegon.

Other previously reported “Game of Thrones” spinoffs in the works include an animated project about “House of the Dragons” character Corlys Velaryon, also known as the Sea Snake.

The third season of “House of the Dragon” will premiere in June.