Edward Enninful confirmed that the March 2024 issue will be his last as British Vogue’s editor‑in‑chief . He will stay at Condé Nast as a global creative adviser . This piece reviews his impact on diversity, his influence on global style narratives, and what his new post could mean for fashion’s future.

When Edward Enninful became the editor‑in‑chief of British Vogue in 2017, he promised to broaden the magazine’s lens beyond its traditionally narrow focus. Over six years he delivered on that pledge, putting women of colour, activists, disabled models and plus‑sized bodies on covers that once celebrated a singular ideal of beauty. In July 2023 he announced plans to step down; last winter he confirmed that the March 2024 issue would be his final as editor . Rather than leaving Condé Nast, he will take on a newly created role as Vogue’s global creative and cultural adviser .
Enninful transformed British Vogue from an establishment title into a platform for diverse voices. He featured a hijab‑wearing model on the cover, devoted an issue to disabled talent and curated guest editors ranging from educators to politicians. The commercial success of these issues proved that inclusive representation can be profitable. In this sense, his tenure changed both perceptions and business models across publishing.
As global creative adviser, Enninful is charged with shaping Vogue’s worldwide vision while retaining an advisory position at British Vogue . The role is intentionally broad; he will scout emerging photographers, help design events and consult on brand extensions. By moving from day‑to‑day production to strategic guidance, he gains freedom to work across multiple titles and experiment with new formats. It also signals Condé Nast’s recognition that fashion magazines must operate as global brands rather than national franchises.

Fashion is both an art form and a cultural bellwether. Editors wield power over which designers, models and movements receive mainstream exposure. Enninful’s ascent in 2017 was a milestone for Black leadership in an industry that remains overwhelmingly white. His new post means that this perspective will influence global decision‑making—not just British pages. Moreover, his willingness to step aside hints at a shifting landscape in which legacy publications embrace collaborative leadership and decentralised creative control.
Vogue’s next UK editor has not been announced, but industry insiders hope that Enninful’s emphasis on diversity will continue. Meanwhile, his global remit could foster cross‑edition collaborations, amplify regional trends and support young creatives from under‑represented backgrounds. As fashion grapples with sustainability, inclusivity and digital experimentation, having a visionary who has championed social justice at the helm may accelerate change.

Kelly Dowd, MBA, MA, is an author, systems architect, and Editor-in-Chief of WTM MEDIA. Dowd examines the intersections of people, power, politics, and design—bringing clarity to the forces that shape democracy, influence culture, and determine the future of global society. Their work blends rigorous analysis with cultural insight, inviting readers to think critically about the world and its unfolding narratives.

The modern city has spent more than a century attempting to make water disappear. Rain falls onto roofs, roads and pavements. Gutters collect it. Drains capture it. Pipes bury it. Pumps move it. Rivers are channelled. Wetlands are filled. Coastlines are defended. The engineering objective has largely been straightforward: separate water from urban life as efficiently as possible. That model is reaching its limits. Around 600 million urban residents already live with significant annual flood hazard, according to the World Bank. Globally, 1.81 billion people live in flood-prone areas, while annual urban flood losses could approach $50 billion by 2050. Rapid urbanisation, ageing drainage infrastructure, land subsidence and changing rainfall patterns are interacting with the basic physical reality that cities have covered enormous portions of naturally absorbent ground with concrete and asphalt. Yet the consequential story is not simply that cities need bigger drains. A different philosophy of urban resilience is emerging: parks designed to flood temporarily; streets shaped to carry cloudbursts; wetlands restored as infrastructure; plazas capable of storing stormwater; permeable landscapes that absorb rainfall; buildings elevated or adapted to tolerate inundation; sensors that reveal water movement in real time; and neighbourhoods organised around the understanding that some water cannot — and perhaps should not — be engineered away. The World Bank increasingly describes effective urban flood management as an integration of grey infrastructure, green infrastructure, nature-based systems, planning, warning systems and institutional reform, rather than reliance on any single engineering intervention. The conceptual reversal is enormous. For generations, successful urbanisation meant controlling nature sufficiently to construct the city. The next generation of urbanism may require something more intelligent: designing the city so nature can still function inside it.

For much of the post-financial-crisis era, wealthy economies became accustomed to an extraordinary condition: money was cheap. Governments could borrow heavily, companies could finance expansion at modest rates, asset prices could rise on abundant liquidity, and households learned to treat low-cost mortgages as something approaching economic normality. That world is disappearing fast. Across major economies, long-term government borrowing costs have climbed towards levels not seen for years or decades. On 17 August, the US 30-year Treasury yield reached roughly 5.31 per cent, its highest level since 2007. Japan’s 10-year government bond yield subsequently approached 2.95 per cent, a three-decade high, while German borrowing costs have risen to 15-year highs. The OECD describes the present combination of elevated financing requirements and elevated yields as exceptional compared with the previous two decades. Behind those numbers is a larger structural contest. Governments need capital for debt refinancing, defence, infrastructure, pensions, healthcare and climate resilience. Technology companies require extraordinary sums for artificial-intelligence infrastructure. Energy systems require grids, generation and storage. Businesses require investment. Families require mortgages and credit. These demands do not occupy separate universes. They ultimately encounter the same fundamental economic resource: capital. And when many powerful institutions want more of it simultaneously, the price of money stops being an obscure financial-market variable. It becomes a question of who gets financed, at what price, and at whose expense.

For more than a century, the word vaccine has largely meant prevention: teach the immune system to recognise a threat before disease takes hold. Cancer is forcing medicine to reconsider that architecture. A new generation of experimental therapies is attempting something considerably more individual: sequence a patient’s tumour, identify mutations particular to that cancer, manufacture instructions corresponding to selected tumour-specific targets, and teach the patient’s immune system to recognise what belongs to the cancer growing inside that particular body. On 19 August, Moderna and Merck announced that their Phase III trial of the investigational personalised mRNA therapy intismeran autogene, used with Merck’s checkpoint inhibitor Keytruda after surgery for high-risk melanoma, achieved statistically significant and clinically meaningful improvements in recurrence-free survival and distant-metastasis-free survival compared with Keytruda alone. The global trial enrolled 1,137 patients with resected stage IIB–IV melanoma. No new safety concerns were identified in the announcement. Full detailed Phase III results remain pending. The result matters because this is not simply another medicine administered to everyone carrying the same diagnosis. Intismeran is designed individually. Tumour and normal tissue are sequenced; mutations are analysed computationally; selected neoantigens — abnormal molecular features produced by the tumour — become the targets encoded into an mRNA therapy manufactured for that patient. Earlier Phase IIb evidence provides important context rather than a substitute for the unreleased Phase III detail. At five-year median follow-up, Moderna and Merck reported that intismeran plus Keytruda reduced the risk of recurrence or death by 49 per cent and distant metastasis or death by 59 per cent compared with Keytruda alone in that smaller study. The larger significance therefore extends beyond melanoma. Medicine has spent generations classifying disease so that patients with sufficiently similar conditions can receive sufficiently similar treatments. Personalised cancer vaccines suggest a different possibility: the diagnosis may identify the disease, while the tumour itself helps design the medicine. If that model succeeds across cancers, one of medicine’s great industrial achievements — standardisation — will begin coexisting with its apparent opposite: manufacturing treatment for one.