Jordan’s Princess Rajwa dons British label at King Abdullah’s silver jubilee flag raising ceremony

Princess Rajwa Al-Hussein, who is from Saudi Arabia, donned a black flared maxi dress from British luxury label ME+EM. (Supplied)
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Updated 08 February 2024
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Jordan’s Princess Rajwa dons British label at King Abdullah’s silver jubilee flag raising ceremony

DUBAI: The Jordanian royal family made a stylish statement on Wednesday as they attended King Abdullah’s silver jubilee flag raising ceremony held at the Raghadan Palace. 

Princess Rajwa Al-Hussein, who is from Saudi Arabia, donned a black flared maxi dress from British luxury label ME+EM that was cinched at the waist. Completing her look, she added a green-blue “Gabrielle” clutch by renowned Parisian trunk maker Moynat.

Meanwhile, Queen Rania looked elegant in a Dior double sided cashmere felt coat adorned with a crisscross collar, paired with the Louis Vuitton “Chain It” purse.

She completed her ensemble with vintage grey and silver sunglasses named “Luisella,” a collaboration between the US luxury eyewear brand Oliver Peoples and the Italian luxury fashion label Brunello Cucinelli.

The queen’s daughters, Princess Iman and Princess Salma, were also in attendance. 

Princess Salma wore a Louis Vuitton coat from the brand’s Fall/Winter 2001 ready-to-wear collection, while Iman wore a Maison Alaia fringe-trimmed single breasted wool coat.  

The flag-raising ceremony marked the 25th anniversary of the king’s assumption of constitutional powers in the Royal Hashemite Court of Jordan on Feb. 7, kicking off the national celebrations for his silver jubilee accession to the throne on June 9.


Decoding villains at an Emirates LitFest panel in Dubai

Updated 25 January 2026
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Decoding villains at an Emirates LitFest panel in Dubai

DUBAI: At this year’s Emirates Airline Festival of Literature in Dubai, a panel on Saturday titled “The Monster Next Door,” moderated by Shane McGinley, posed a question for the ages: Are villains born or made?

Novelists Annabel Kantaria, Louise Candlish and Ruth Ware, joined by a packed audience, dissected the craft of creating morally ambiguous characters alongside the social science that informs them. “A pure villain,” said Ware, “is chilling to construct … The remorselessness unsettles you — How do you build someone who cannot imagine another’s pain?”

Candlish described character-building as a gradual process of “layering over several edits” until a figure feels human. “You have to build the flesh on the bone or they will remain caricatures,” she added.

The debate moved quickly to the nature-versus-nurture debate. “Do you believe that people are born evil?” asked McGinley, prompting both laughter and loud sighs.

Candlish confessed a failed attempt to write a Tom Ripley–style antihero: “I spent the whole time coming up with reasons why my characters do this … It wasn’t really their fault,” she said, explaining that even when she tried to excise conscience, her character kept expressing “moral scruples” and second thoughts.

“You inevitably fold parts of yourself into your creations,” said Ware. “The spark that makes it come alive is often the little bit of you in there.”

Panelists likened character creation to Frankenstein work. “You take the irritating habit of that co‑worker, the weird couple you saw in a restaurant, bits of friends and enemies, and stitch them together,” said Ware.

But real-world perspective reframed the literary exercise in stark terms. Kantaria recounted teaching a prison writing class and quoting the facility director, who told her, “It’s not full of monsters. It’s normal people who made a bad decision.” She recalled being struck that many inmates were “one silly decision” away from the crimes that put them behind bars. “Any one of us could be one decision away from jail time,” she said.

The panelists also turned to scientific findings through the discussion. Ware cited infant studies showing babies prefer helpers to hinderers in puppet shows, suggesting “we are born with a natural propensity to be attracted to good.”

Candlish referenced twin studies and research on narrative: People who can form a coherent story about trauma often “have much better outcomes,” she explained.

“Both things will end up being super, super neat,” she said of genes and upbringing, before turning to the redemptive power of storytelling: “When we can make sense of what happened to us, we cope better.”

As the session closed, McGinley steered the panel away from tidy answers. Villainy, the authors agreed, is rarely the product of an immutable core; more often, it is assembled from ordinary impulses, missteps and circumstances. For writers like Kantaria, Candlish and Ware, the task is not to excuse cruelty but “to understand the fragile architecture that holds it together,” and to ask readers to inhabit uncomfortable but necessary perspectives.