Welcome to KISS KISS. We are a London-based magazine exploring romance in all its complexity, not the fairy tale, but the messy, lived experience. KISS KISS traces the many ways intimacy shapes our lives, challenging how we think about romance, identity, and connection. Stylish, intelligent, and unafraid to look at love with open eyes. KISS KISS moves through four movements: The Rush, The Routine, The Reckoning, and The Repair. From first-date nerves and situationships to secure intimacy, toxic patterns, and heartbreak, we trace the ways love shapes our lives today. Inside, you will find personal stories, cultural observations, and reflections on identity and desire. We explore the thrill of attraction in Scent or a Scam? The Truth About “Pheromone Perfume” (p.12), the comfort of routine in Garlic Bread is Better Than Sex (p.32), the challenges of obsession in Are We Dating… or Just Replaying? (p.40), and the subtle art of reinvention in How Dementia Changes Love (p.60). Fashion, culture, emotion, and love intersect here, reflecting how a generation fluent in the modern digital world experiences romance. This magazine doesn’t romanticise love. It documents it unapologetically, honestly, and with style. Because even in a world of fleeting moments, love is still urgent, still compelling, and still worth noticing. Kiss Kiss invites you on this journey. We hope you enjoy this first issue as much as we do.
The moment we chose to say goodbye, we loved each other most
Adam is a screenwriter living in a high-rise in London. The building is almost empty, and so is his life. One night, his neighbour Harry shows up at his door, drunk, and cracks open what looks like Adam's quiet routine. They don't really connect that first time, but fate has a way of looping back. Again and again, it pushes them into each other's path. And almost without meaning to, they slip into something intimate. And then the world starts to tilt. More and more things happen that simply don't make sense, as if from the very beginning, something about all of this was fundamentally wrong. The film is built on a chain of twists, each one locking neatly into the next. By the end, you'll understand – suddenly, painfully – and you might find yourself crying before you even realise it.
The most painful kind of separation in the world
In Portrait of a Lady on Fire, love arrives with a countdown already ticking. On an isolated island in the 18th century, the painter Marianne is commissioned to create a wedding portrait of Héloïse. Héloïse refuses to sit. She knows the day the portrait is finished is the day her freedom ends. Marianne is made to pose as her walking companion, spending ordinary days beside her while quietly studying Héloïse – her profile, the way she holds her hands, the set of her mouth – so she can paint the portrait later from memory. At this moment, looking stops being observation and becomes recognition. They begin to watch each other, understand each other, and hold each other close on the windswept island, as if warmth could be made from nothing but a shared gaze. They know the world will not bless them. The engagement will not be undone. The island is not a refuge. And yet this love is still worth beginning.
What if the person you love is only your hallucination?
A Touch of Green is adapted from the short story of may not be love fading but being torn apart by life the same name in Pai Hsien yung's Taipei People. Set
KISS KISS MAGAZINE
A Touch of Green in the turbulent years from the aftermath of World War II through the Chinese Civil War and the period surrounding the retreat to Taiwan, it follows the love between Zhu Qing, a university student, and Guo Zhen, an air force officer, under the shadow of war. But in that era, love is never just a private matter. Flights, orders, transfers, departures, an invisible hand turns "see you tomorrow” into an unimaginable luxury. As you watch, you may not even be sure why you're crying: for the brief, blazing intensity of love, or for the heavier weight of systems, history, and wartime trauma. One of the series "When men's war ends, women's war begins.” It captures the show's core idea that the aftermath is often shouldered by those who are left behind.