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In the Wake of the Bounty

Thursday, March 11th, 2010

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Sales of superyachts have soared in recent months as the super rich regain faith in the burgeoning economy. A good 300 million Euros’ worth of 70m long boat have been sending flutes of rainbow-coloured Riviera sparkle in its wake since 2010 began. And once those millions are spent, a few more are shelled out on swift little copters for the ride into Cannes, or, for those truly in vogue, the new retro-styled C boat – the most popular tender this side of Monaco’s autumn boat show.

Now this is the sort of motor yacht Errol Flynn would have swaggered onto, hair slicked back and a Mediterranean sparkle in his eye: high performance with silver-screen looks, it’s both way ahead and way before it’s time, evoking 60s Italian Riva boat flair whilst the mirror-black prow hides some complicated hydrodynamics and slick engineering – two 236hp diesel engines and two 230 Alamarin water jets finding 45 knots on a silky sea. Power and beauty seldom come together; the C boat insisted on the less-is-more dialectic, and found it. Yacht enthusiast and C-boat designer Jason Carrington drew inspiration from the much-loved aesthetic of a 20’s J-Class yacht (the teak deck and deeply cut bow are straight out of a Fitzgerald novella). The classic tapered lines are forged from light-weight carbon materials and there are some seriously rakish exhausts out back, shedding swirls of blue as it surges forward with just a tap on the throttle. But you want to entertain as well? The interior has enough of that considered elegance without cramping on the more important lagoon-lapping nonchalance.

Buy one and you’re instantly eligible to enter the famed Panerai Classic Yachts challenge – the C boat is afforded the status of a ‘Spirit of Tradition’ yacht. So go get your hair wet and have some fun – if you can be bothered to show off. But really, it’s all about getting to that Venetian lagoon at sunset, reciting Byron or Keats as you kill the motor, and just standing there, a martini in one hand, another appreciative aesthete in the other, and gazing at the stars like some surrealist work of art.

For more information, please see www.c-boat.co.uk or www.burgerboat.com


Vaudeville in Covent Garden

Friday, February 26th, 2010

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The first and, to date, last circus I ever went to was a rather tedious affair. There were no swinging acrobats, the clowns were bored, the animals didn’t move, the unicyclist seemed to be learning as he went and the ringmaster seemed drunk. There were no hoops or swings or tumbling acrobats, no fire breathing girls or human cannonballs or circus strongmen. As I stood outside the secret entrance of London’s new supper, burlesque and cabaret venue in Covent Garden, my mind went back to that absurd place of childhood and stayed there as I stepped into a dark entrance hall of shimmering mirrors, stayed there as I stepped out into a surreal dining space with fur painted walls, round tables decorated with silver emu feet and a long table/stage with imposing royal blue chairs – all designed by Habitat’s very own Tom Dixon – and then strangely disappeared as I took my seat and ordered a glass of Perrier Jouet Grand Brut.

As I sat there, my mind relaxed, the lights dimmed, a Spanish guitar reverberated across the dining area and up into the lounge and bar as hundreds of disco balls blazed green and blue and pink. First course concluded at the long ‘Party’ table (the kitchen enclave disappears at this point), a girl with extraordinary talent in her limbs resuscitated the life-force of many work-weary folk nearby by contorting herself into a transparent shoe-box and blowing fire as she snaked across the stage. Main course almost through (Churassco steak coupled with pulled pork on potato latkes, beautifully arranged by chef Nik Biok, famous for his pan-American cuisine), two svelte beauties with luminous orange lips and burlesque-style ballet moves had the good ol’ boys spilling their Cosmopolitans and Hibiscus Margaritas (their house twist on this legendary cocktail is among my favourites), even as I choked on a delicious side-order of smoked stuffed chicken wings.

On my way back from the bathroom (industrial style that encourages a good gossip and high turnover of phone numbers), a DJ had leapt into the booth behind me and was cranking up a sexy mix of Riviera chic that would get louder as the early hours approached. Whimsical, brash and profoundly memorable, Circus is a rogue performer on the London stage, with a Nicholson-esque smirk on its face and all the confidence to win a standing ovation every time. Since then, if you say ‘circus’, those childhood clowns don’t leap so quickly to mind.

Circus is located at 27-29 Endell Street, Covent Garden,WC2


Marque of the Beast

Monday, February 22nd, 2010

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Dominoes, Marilyn Manson lookalikes, toy ships, eagles and sadistic clowns all feature in Jay Z’s music video ‘Onto The Next One’, along with a strangely alluring car slashed through with his own three-stripe logo – the new Jaguar 2011 XJ. It’s art, and lucrative art at that, with the cinematic close-up lingering long across the booty as the beat starts to swagger.

Yes it’s innovative, but not in the way the Jaguar faithful might expect. Old boys around the country are going to get a jolt when they see this animal on the highways, as much for the uncanny aesthetic as the bhp’s spinning wide off its low, silken torso. Blacking out the d-pillar creates the illusion of a floating roof, one that curves long like the Aston Rapide before coming down to earth like the Jaguar XF – vertical tail lamps and a wider wheelbase giving it a bolder, more sophisticated edge.

If its artistic merits take a while to get used to, the luxury inside and out is pretty quick on the uptake. The interior is all in the British-style, with laser-inlaid wood, leather headliners and high-performance seats that seem to ride on air. The lightweight aluminium, aero-optimised chassis, informed suspension and 350 horsepower 5l engine (standard) harmonise so closely with the terrain and weather conditions that you seem to be driving one of those quick-thrill arcade machines, everything drifting by without quarrel until you realize you’ve arrived and stamp the floor (rigged with lambs wool) spoiling for more.

Visit www.jaguar.com for more information.


Tutte Fruite

Monday, February 8th, 2010

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Jonathan Miller’s modern day adaptation of Mozart’s brilliant opera Cosi Fan Tutte is back at Covent Garden for its sixth revival, and this time its not just the iPhones, rock n roll costumes or 21st century stage embellishments that make this tale of tangled love, rivalry and deception so up to date. Making her house debut, 15-year regular of the Vienna state opera Julia Jones reminds us what Mozart meant by it all in the first place – slick, sharp ensembles that go way beyond the emotional tenor of each aria, and a profound understanding of how texture and tempo can be used to change mood and meaning instantaneously.

And what of all the acting on display? Like all good antagonists, we can’t help liking William Shimmel’s superbly cast Don Alfonso. Always relaxed on stage (he sits cross-legged, wiping his hands nonchalantly on a napkin for the best part of the first act), his is the Bulgakovian Lucifer – proud, egotistical and infinitely sad, with a personal vendetta against those elusive, feminine creatures he just can’t live without. His melodic vibrato soars sublimely throughout and is the perfect counterpoint to his own masterly posturing from the sidelines. Comic he truly is, and from this vantage point he sets out to prove that ‘all woman are like that’, Charles Castronovo’s ringing Ferrando and Troy Cook’s rather pace-halting Gugliemo no-more than sitting-ducks for his social experiment.

Not so easy. Nino Surguladze’s adorably fickle Dorabella softens pretty quickly though Sally Matthew’s staid Fiordiligi takes a little more time to crack, her lower-register tones full of a perplexed despair as she falls for Ferrando in disguise. Her multi-layered delivery of ‘Come Scoglio’ wins the standing ovation, but the most flavoursome, piquant moment of all is Shimmel’s shame and disgust at the denouement of this most immoral of moral fairytales.

Cosi Fan Tutte is on until 17th February at the Royal Opera House. For more information, see www.roh.org.uk


Gypsy Kings

Tuesday, February 2nd, 2010

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In recent years, many affluent folk have traded the glamour of city life for their own version of Never-Never Land. With just their wanderlust instinct for a compass, they are part of a new counter culture that prefers ocean foam to the platitude of a manor lake and wild scrub to svelte lawns. Such Byronic indifference is often sniggered at when you’ve got a honey-pot in Zurich to fall back on. But New York Times and Vogue editor/author Julia Chaplin finds it all rather inspiring.

These wondering outlaws follow in the footsteps of the Romantics and Beatniks before them, riding the Chaplin-coined phrase ‘Gypstream’ as they put a new twist on the jet set lifestyle. Theirs isn’t the 5 * spa in Dubai, the villa and pool in Ibiza, the usual New York fanfare but the star-infused finca on an isolated patch of wood with no name, that art-nouveau paradise on Bali’s forgotten shore, that rundown mansion on a dirtrack in Goa (where you trade cocoa for gritty tobacco). Chaplin calls it the ‘Gypset Style’, an aesthetic she illustrates in a pioneering volume of the same name, a hardback glossy that is all sun-kissed model-fresh nomads in rainbow tunics, smiling mariachis, bona-fide dancing gypsies, and more redolently, Paul Getty on a starlit terrace in Marrakech.

Jade Jagger would rather squat on a yacht than buy one, the Mignot sisters don’t wear designer clothes and Alice Temperley drinks aguardiente, definitely not Cristal. If you want to go ‘Gypset’ then you have to have standards. G5’s bad, Cessna’s good. They don’t do ‘tacky’, don’t mind falling asleep with salty hair and if you like Neil Young’s After The Gold Rush……but what am I saying? After all, if you are a true Gypset, you make your own rules. And as for new-age glamour….well, that’s something you discover for yourself.

Buy Julia Chaplin’s Gypset Style online at www.assouline.com


Buddha’s Halo

Thursday, January 28th, 2010

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Knai Bang Chat’ is Cambodian for ‘rainbow encircling the sun’ and a Buddhist metaphor that denotes the halo around Buddha’s head. Such a moniker befits this modernist paradise, as much for its optical imagery as the artistic ‘enlightenment’ on display. Just to look at it you understand why so many other private residences have appeared close by. Kep – beach town and once summer playground of the French elite – is back in business.

On looking at it, you wonder who was responsible for such profound yet studied strangeness. The protégé, business partner and son of legendary antiques dealer Alex Vervoordt is partly to blame, along with the ingenuity of architect Francoise Lavielle. Boris Vervoordt grew up in his father’s antique-strewn castle, developing a ‘third eye’ for objects of value and a talent for synthesising old and new artistic forms with strident architectural set-pieces – a unique ‘something’ that the travel press are quick to cite as this lifestyle resort’s greatest asset.

The three houses that make up the Vervoordt compound is an amalgamation of everything Vervoordt loves most – his own definition of luxury if you like – with influences from Andrea Palladio and Luis Barragan among others. Inside you will find a playful orchestra of 12th-century artefacts and contemporary architecture, as beautiful a juxtaposition of classical mood and new-age panache as I have come across. Large villa terraces opening onto vanilla sunsets, fresh fish dining on an azure-swept private jetty and the most charming khmer service makes this the quintessential Bond hide-out. If luxury were a mixture, Vervoordt would call it the ‘perfect combination of happiness and freedom’. Knai Bang Chatt, similarly illustrated, mingles Vervoordt’s modernist conceptions of luxury with a good bit of sun and sea.

For more information, go to www.knaibangchatt.com