FlexSlice is a workspace marketplace shaped like a small magazine. It is built, one room at a time, by people who would rather work from somebody else's spare parlor than another beige floor.
Most working-from-anywhere companies are real-estate businesses dressed up as software. They lease a floor of a building. They put plants on it. They charge you a membership. The floor is somewhere. The membership is everywhere. The result is that working from anywhere ends up feeling, after the first month, like working from nowhere in particular.
FlexSlice is the opposite shape. We do not own a single square meter of real estate. We do not run any spaces ourselves. What we do, instead, is find people who already have a useful room — a painter's studio, a translator's parlor, a tailor's spare floor — and help them open it to other people on their own terms.
Every space on FlexSlice is privately owned, privately run, and personally introduced to the world by one of our editors. We have written about it, photographed it, sat in it for at least a half-day. The result is a smaller catalog than our competitors' — 384 rooms, in 8 cities, at the time of writing — and a slower one, but one we can stand behind, room by room.
FlexSlice is, in the end, a small editorial operation. We treat every space and every essay the way a magazine treats a story. Here is the long form of what that means.
An editor has been to every space we list, photographed it ourselves, and spent at least four hours in it. We do not list rooms we have not sat in.
We meet every host — on a video call at minimum, in person where possible. We ask the same eleven questions. We publish their answers, in full, in the "host's letter" section of every space page.
We do not use host-supplied photography. Our editors carry a single 35mm lens between them. The room you see is the room you'll arrive at, on the day we visited, at the hour we recorded.
We do not let hosts pay for higher placement, featured slots, or editorial inclusion. We do not let cities, tourism boards, or partners pay for guide inclusion. Both have asked. We have said no.
Hosts pay nothing to list. We charge a flat 8% on bookings. This is half the rate of our nearest competitor and roughly a third of the largest. We publish our P&L on this page each January.
A FlexSlice host has the absolute right to decline a guest, with or without reason. We do not punish them for it. They are letting strangers into their homes; we'd rather they were comfortable.
If a city's rental market is in crisis, or if our presence there would displace residents, we will not add it. We have, twice, removed a city after publishing a guide. We will do so again.
In 2023, Inês Pereira — then a freelance writer in Lisbon — began keeping a list of the rooms she had borrowed to work from in the previous decade. Forty-three of them. Then forty-four. Then forty-seven. She kept the list in a Moleskine, in pencil, in case the rules changed.
She wrote about three of them for a small online magazine in early 2024, almost as a kindness to the hosts. The piece traveled. Within a fortnight she had two hundred and eleven emails, most of them from other freelancers asking whether the rooms could be booked.
The answer, in 2024, was no. The hosts had no booking systems. The rooms had no published rates. The whole arrangement existed in the shape of a small, kind, deeply informal economy of people-who-know-someone. Inês and her co-founder, Tomás Albuquerque, spent the next year quietly building infrastructure for it. We opened to the public in spring 2025, with twenty- eight rooms. We are now, eighteen months later, at 384. We expect to remain small.
FlexSlice is small on purpose. Twelve full-time, four part-time, two engineers. We do not plan to scale past thirty. Every editor below has lived in the city they cover for at least three years; most of them, longer.
Writes the Lisbon guide and most essays. Lives in Graça. Author of On Working from Other People's Rooms.
Builds the software, settles the books, reads contracts so the rest of us don't have to. Lives in Marvila.
Carries one 35mm lens between three continents. Photographs every new room. Currently in Mexico City.
Wrote the Mexico City guide. Writing the Marseille guide. Has lived in Roma Norte since 2017.
Translator, host, occasional interview subject. Wrote the Athens guide; rents her own apartment as Room № 23.
Wrote the Lagos guide. Reports on remote work, third places, infrastructure. Lives in Ikoyi, mostly.
Bangkok guide; Hanoi forthcoming. Reports on tailoring, food, working in heat. Lives in Ari.
Glasgow guide; Tallinn forthcoming. Author of In Praise of the Hard Chair. Lives in Govanhill.
Istanbul guide. Reports on cross-Bosphorus working culture. Translates between three languages, daily.
Wrote The Slow Death of the Third Place and the Naples guide. Files from wherever a desk is open.
Co-wrote the Mexico City guide; writing the Oaxaca guide. Architect by training; host by inclination.
Onboards every new host personally. Has — by her own count — sat in every single room we list. Twice.
We started writing the Sunday Dispatch in January 2024, two months before the marketplace opened. It is the front of the magazine: one carefully written portrait of a single room, in a single city, in a single Sunday morning. About 800 words. No advertising. No nudging. No "this week's deals." Around 8,400 people read it each week.
The archive — all 124 dispatches — is open and searchable. You can read it without subscribing, but most people who try one subscribe by the third.
We answer everyone, though sometimes not as quickly as we'd like. Below are the addresses we read most carefully. If you write to the wrong one, we will forward it.
| Editors | editors@flexslice.com |
| Bookings & support | help@flexslice.com |
| For hosts | hosts@flexslice.com · or apply here |
| Press | press@flexslice.com · Sofia handles all. |
| Letters to the editor | letters@flexslice.com — we publish a few. |
| Postal address | Travessa do Cabral, 4 · 1200-072 Lisboa · Portugal |