With a clothing boutique in London’s chic and always quirky Notting Hill, and a dad with moves like… well, you get the picture, Jade Jagger has her finger on the pulse. Add to that the fact that she’s the designer on the Baglioni Marrakech Hotel (2013), and the future is bright for the talented creator.
2. The Armani Hotel, Milan
Armani and Milano go together like fric and frac (or fric and fashion). The Northern Italian city was the perfect location for a hotel by the legendary fashion house, the much-buzzed Armani Hotel. The look is masculine and subdued. The furnishings are from Armani Casa’s home collection. And, according to a New York Times scribe, even the Q-Tips are chic–black and a whopping six inches long (but don’t get any inappropriate thoughts).
3. Missoni Hotel, Antalya, Turkey
The flamboyant stripey look is unmistakable: Missoni. Imagine an entire hotel decked out in that style. Antalya, Turkey (a.k.a. The Turkish Riviera) will get a taste of Italian chic in 2013 when it becomes home to the Hotel Missoni Belek Antalya. But forget all that fashion house fluff, what I’m most excited about is the 18-hole golf course designed by Swedish golf champ Annika Sörenstam.
4. Bulgari Hotel, London
Founded in 1884, Bulgari has been a mainstay in the high-end jewelry, watch and accessory sphere for well over a century. Now, the Italian company is ready for its close-up, 2012 Olympics style. Just in time for the festivities, the hotel will open its doors in a London West End fashion hub: Knightsbridge.
5. Martin Margiela/Maison des Champs Elysées
I’ve saved the best–or at least my favourite–for last: Belgian designer Martin Margiela’s epic and jaw-dropping Maison des Champs Elysées in the City of Light. The structure dates back to 1864 when it was the home of Princess d’Essing, Duchess of Rivoli. It marries the best of classical style with sparklingly spartan Post Modern splendour. A ‘oui,’ in my book.
I’m headed to Marrakech next week. A good friend of mine lived there for many years and offered up the immediate advice: “Watch your purse!”
So, I’ve been on the eternal quest for a small ‘safety proof’ bag that doesn’t make me look like: a/ A Mid-Western soccer mom, b/ Bear Grylls’ girl or c/ A door-to-door caviar delivery service.
My first stop was London’s Portobello Rd. and the world-famous market where I found many tarnished, tattered buckle bags that were a tad bit overpriced for their condition. I learned something new as well (as a half-Brit). I had no idea those brown buckle bags were synonymous with Portobello.
I discovered this after a visit to Aspinal of London, a shop that carries wallets, business card holders, traditional diaries, luggage and so on. They’re a great bet for the ‘more-dash-than-cash’ crowd as they have some integrity but are not top shelf in terms of pricing.
Below, behold their ‘Portobello saddle bag.’
Not really my thing but I liked seeing this after the saddle bag extravaganza on Portobello Rd. If you haven’t guessed yet, I’m a big fan of brown and caramel. So I really fancied their men’s executive laptop and business case (below).
In so many cases (no pun intended), the men’s travel or bag/accessory gear at these retailers far surpasses the heavy-handed and overly fashion-forward looks of the women’s gear–in my humble opinion.
Another men’s bag that goes beyond metrosexual allure (I personally think it could look just as fashionable on a woman’s physique) is the Burberry medium grainy leather crossbody bag. It’s the perfect alternative to a Portobello-bought Portobello buckle bag. And it looks like it should keep sticky fingers at bay with its buckle (assuming it’s a real buckle and not a faux front for a magnetised clasp).
Moving ahead and into the funkier, less traditional realm, Paul Smith does some great canvas ‘artwork’ bags that you’ve probably seen bobbing around town–whether you’re in LA, New York, London, Hong Kong or Tokyo. I like the men’s Mini interior holdall pictured below.
I hadn’t spotted his little homage to my hometown of Los Angeles before but think it’s pretty cool as well–a-la David Hockney.
And finally, something about as practical as white carpet in a wine tasting room–but I had to add it in for its sheer fabulousness–the Bottega Veneta Canova Marcopolo Trolley. If you can keep it white and pristine it means you’re flying in the right class of service–constantly.
Iron Chef America Victor Chef Edward Lee Serves Up Korean-Brooklyn Inspired Southern Cuisine
By Shana Ting Lipton
When I first met Edward Lee in Manhattan he was a literary agent. A few years later, he opened up a creative Korean restaurant in Little Italy called Clay. The Korean American chef and former lit major has come a long way since then–literally and figuratively. He moved to to Lousville, Kentucky and took over the helm of 610 Magnolia, reinventing it as a top culinary destination for new Southern American cooking.
His melding of his take on Southern cuisine with everything from Korean to Indian cuisine has garnered him praise from Gourmet magazine and the New York Times. It also fostered honors including a win on the Food Netork’s Iron Chef America, and a formidable reputation as a chef and tastemaker.
Refreshingly, Lee is a sort of intellectual and literate Renaissance-chef, who draws his inspiration from all manner of cultural influences–from traditional French cuisine to the writing of William Faulkner.
Edward Lee’s Chic Trek Interview
CT: Where is the most exciting and innovative cuisine coming out of these days on a global scale?
EL: The most innovative chefs are still coming out of Spain but there are pockets of incredible things happening all over, like Scandinavia, London, Korea, etc. It used to be all about France but culinary dominance has decentralized and anywhere you have a hungry young chef willing to scour the internet in search of inspiration, you have the potential for a great innovator.
CT: What are your favorite herbs and/or spices?
EL: I’m really into Indian Spices right now, ajwain, fresh curry leaves, masala blends,chapti, etc. There is so much potential in them that we in the western world have not even scratched the surface of these incredible spice blends.
CT: What have the effects of TV cooking competitions been on the culinary scene today?
EL: Cooking competitions are like game shows, they are entertaining and filled with tension but ultimately I don’t know if they change the landscape of cuisine much. I do think they give a national platform for young chefs in out of the way cities (like Louisville) to shine and for that, it is valuable part of the nurturing of young chefs.
CT: What is the most unusual (cultural) hybrid in terms of dishes that you have cooked in your restaurant?
EL: I like to do a lot of convergence of Asian and Southern cuisine. I think they actually have a lot in common. Our most popular example of this is our Southern BBQ sauce made with an Asian profile of black garlic and black bean. It still seems familiar as a BBQ sauce but the Asian flavors are surprising and really makes people take notice.
CT: Being a Korean Brooklyn native, did you grow up more influenced by Korean food or Brooklyn style cooking?
EL: Korean food was important to me as a template to learn about salty, spicy, sweet and sour. It definitely molded my approach to food philosophically but the street food of Brooklyn was certainly what I fell in love with first. Whether it was a hot dog stand or an ice cream truck, those were the first instances when I got real excited about food. I still try to think back to those moments when I am feeling a but overwhelmed by the seriousness of it all.
CT: You went traveling around in a search of a restaurant back in 2002…which cities did you visit? Why did you decide on Louisville?
EL: I’d never visited Louisville before and knew next to nothing about it. I visited 610 Magnolia because a friend of a friend told me about it. I wasn’t looking to move there and buy the restaurant at the time but sometimes things just happen for a reason. I’d been to other places like Virginia, Michigan, North Carolina but nothing hit me like KY did so I made the leap.
CT: What was the scene like in Louisville when you first arrived to helm your restaurant? How has that changed?
EL: It was a little stuck in the old definitions of what Southern food ought to be. I like to say that sometimes it takes an outsider to look at the landscape and see it in a new fresh light. I was “allowed” to take liberties with southern ingredients precisely because I was not from the South and that was actually an advantage. I don’t claim to have a Southern restaurant by any stretch of the imagination but I do use the influences of the South that are all around me to inform my cuisine.
CT: How would you characterize your breed of New American cuisine?
EL: I try not to label my cuisine but it is an individualistic approach to American cuisine insofar as the definition of America to me has been informed by my immigrant Korean experience, my childhood in NYC and my current surroundings in the South. All three of these very different perspectives find a way onto every menu I write. So I don’t put a label on it, I just try to interpret it in an accessible way for my clients. And for the most part they get it. It isn’t Korean or New York of Louisville… it is just American to me, just my America.
CT: Sum up if you would, your farm-to-table philosophy.
A menu is a promise, a narrative. It’s the story of me and a large part of who I am is a proponent of the good work that farmers do. I speak through them and I make sure that what I give to my clients, what I promise them, is to serve them the best ingredients I can find. Naturally that leads me to the farmers that I know and trust and love. I don’t just use ingredients from any farm. I know these people, I trust them, they would no sooner lie to me as lie to their own children. These are the kinds of people you want raising animals and vegetables for you.
CT: You are ‘largely self-taught.’ Does that mean you never actually went to culinary school?
EL: I went to cooking school for one day, looked around and looked at my curriculum and knew I was in the wrong place. I slipped out to the bathroom, left the building and never looked back. I learned from hardened NY chefs, brutal but good lessons. I traveled through Europe for about six months. That was more of an education than two years in any culinary school could have given me.
CT: Is French cooking still the standard culinary yardstick?
EL: It may be losing its grip, but yes I still think the techniques and culture of French food is still the culinary yardstick. It may not be everyone’s and I don’t think you need to have a working knowledge of French cuisine to be a success (the way you did a generation ago) but show me an accomplished chef and I’ll almost always show you someone proficient in the ways of French cuisine and more often than not, someone who has trained under a rigid french chef.
CT: If, as you’ve said, food is like literature, explain the trajectory of your culinary career through the literary analogy.
EL: I’ve always loved Faulkner, the way he was able to take a confusing and misunderstood Southern culture and created mystical stories about the small landscape that he knew but elevated these stories into universal themes that resonated with people from all over the world. If I could do an ounce of what he did with words with my food, I will die a happy man.
Designer India Mahdavi once told Index magazine that she counts among her heroes James Bond, adding, “He’s sexy, and it always puts me in a good mood when I see him.”
The timeless Ian Fleming character would certainly appreciate Mahdavi’s latest project: the refurbishing of the grand old Monte-Carlo Beach Relais & Chateaux which struts its stuff, so to speak in the coming month.
Originally opened in the ’30s, it has been restored to its former glory with some contemporary even futuristic touches (although what is futuristic these days–the future is five minutes from now). In any case, the old upscale hospice has apparently still retained its signature Mediterranean style.
Some of its more interesting elements are the award-winning Deco-futuristic fixtures created by Roman company .PSLAB.
However, beyond design, hedonists (present company included) will surely gravitate towards the hotel’s spa, Thermes Marins Monte-Carlo where Moroccan treatments await along with every woman’s best friend: facials and body treatments courtesy of crème-de-la-crème skincare artistes La Prairie.
Hotel Experience: When the places you stay at are pivotal to your travel experience–be it by virtue of a uniquely artistic design, a special location, in-house events or unusual services that offer extra insight into the city or town you’re visiting
Photos Courtesy of Southern Ocean Lodge
Eco-Luxury Dreams Fulfilled at The Southern Ocean Lodge, Kangaroo Island, South Australia
By Shana Ting Lipton
[Originally published on About.com/New York Times Company]
If a consortium of international power elites were to meet to discuss world domination, it would be at a long table in the pristine and sleek restaurant at the Southern Ocean Lodge (SOL). Here, before a breathtaking view of the craggy beach, the Southern Ocean seems to go on forever–or at least 3000 miles until it hits land in Antarctica.
That’s the sort of lofty notion that fuels unrestrained ambition, while paradoxically inducing a sense of peace. In laymen’s terms–in fact, even for a fairly seasoned traveler–this exclusive South Australian retreat feels like the sweeping, remote, near-mythical setting of a James Bond film.
Its positioning, on the largely eco-conserved Kangaroo Island (K.I.), is ideal. Take a flight from Adelaide and you’re at Kingscote airport in less than 20 minutes. A drive and ferry takes a few hours. In a couple of hours one can traverse the island East to West (the Lodge is situated on its southern tip).
The SOL’s design–by local architect Max Pritchard–is such that it blends unobtrusively with the natural landscape. Lodgings sit atop limestone cliffs and all have great views. Each room is named after a K.I. shipwreck (as it’s known as the ‘shipwreck island’). God is in the details here–from heated floors and local amenities like sea salts to tasty treats like the Aussie sweet ‘lamingtons’ displayed on a net-covered dish on arrival.
Life–if you would consider four days (the average stay) at the Lodge ‘life’–is Utopian enough that it’s difficult to imagine leaving the premises. However, for visitors with perpetual wanderlust, the SOL offers activities on or near its 200 acre confines. You can, for instance, partake of canapes and cocktails on the jacuzzi-side balcony and then get whisked away on a nocturnal kangaroo spotting excursion.
Celebrity chef Tom Colicchio had mentioned that eating at their restaurant was one of his all time top dining experiences. I myself sampled two particularly memorable dishes: a mouth-watering Moroccan spiced quail with char grilled vegetables and spiced K.I. sheep’s milk yogurt, and the best affogato I’ve ever had (topped with native Island Sting honey liqueur). The eatery’s visual tone is set by South Australian artist Janine Mackintosh’s pieces constructed from dry leaves.
My stay was sponsored by the South Australian Tourism Commission, but I can imagine the cost of a stay for ‘civilians’ would seem jaw-dropping (starting at $1100 per person per night) until you see the place, and consider that meals, guided tours, snacks and amenities are included. The feeling that all–with the exception of on-site spa treatments–is paid for from the start lends itself to a serene stay. The exception, of course, are those heated ‘world take-over’ meetings with your global elite cohorts. It’s hard not to think in such over-zealous terms when a stay in this special spot makes you feel like the world is already yours.
Hotel Experience: When the places you stay at are pivotal to your travel experience–be it by virtue of a uniquely artistic design, a special location, in-house events or unusual services that offer extra insight into the city or town you’re visiting
Hotel Photos: Base2Stay
A Lower-Cost Gem in Posh South Kensington
By Shana Ting Lipton
Don’t let the space-age name fool you. Base2stay is not some sci-fi pod dwelling geared towards contemporary Blade Runners. What it is is a tasteful, chic and central so-called budget hotel for London visitors not keen on battling crowds and notoriously high Central London accommodation costs.
I might put it in my ‘more caché than cash’ category, however, it’s not a dirt cheap budget hotel by any stretch of the imagination either.
If you like your hotels non-hotely, this place is for you. In other words, if you like to experience the sensation of what it might be like to actually live in Kensington (who wouldn’t?), base2stay will appeal.
Instead of returning from a day of city-touring to a busy hotel lobby with an adjacent mega-priced touristy restaurant, you return to a pretty little townhouse in a quiet mostly residential area. You get buzzed in, and when you enter, the small reception area is tucked away to the left. Straight ahead, a flight of stairs beckons.
My double-twin room was nicely sized. It had rather high ceilings and a spectacular view. One of the windows looked out onto a small, charming building across the street; the other onto a private garden (which most romantically inclined Americans would associate with the film Notting Hill).
The decor is clean, contemporary and bright–nothing too artsy and outrageous, but there are definite chic undertones.
Technically considered an ‘aparthotel,’ base2stay boasts a compact, hidden kitchenette in each room which includes a sink, refrigerator, microwave and shelves filled with dishes–which is perfect since, as mentioned earlier, there is no restaurant on-site. They do make up for the latter by offering 10-30% discounts at local neighborhood eateries though.
There is a wireless keyboard by the TV screen in each room and free Internet usage (there is a small charge for unlimited downloads via broadband). Most people will probably find the free wi-fi the most practical. The latter is a bit slow at times; then again whose wi-fi isn’t?
And if you’re eco-conscious, you’ll be pleased to hear that this is also a certified green hotel.
The location is damn near unbeatable. As I mentioned, you’re smack dab in the middle of a very pretty (especially when the flowers are in bloom in Spring and Summer) largely residential block in Kensington. The Earl’s Court and Gloucester Road tube stations are roughly equidistant from the hotel. And it’s about a seven minute walk from some great Spanish tapas spots on Old Brompton Road.
In summary, base2stay delivers on the promise implied by its name. I enjoyed daily walks around the lush gardens of lovely Kensington, only to return to a charming and oh-so-civilized home base.
My first friends were guys I was
temporarily dating, DJs and even
a bisexual male porn star from
Germany who divulged to me that
he would go to Belgium often to
get testosterone and viagra.
I had been waiting to move abroad since I was seven and I took the first step–desiging an architectural plan for a playhouse on the hillside of my parents’ house.
Later, at the end of high school, I got accepted to the University of St. Andrews in Edinburgh, Scotland (where Prince Wills went) but opted against royal ghosts, freezing weather and great golf, in favor of New York City’s unbeatable nightlife and art scene. But, years later, when Manhattan finally wore me down, my old wanderlust and dreams of foreign living returned.
If you ask anyone who’s ever moved abroad how it all manifested, most will tell you it was a happy accident. Sure, they had always had the dream of moving overseasin the back of their minds, but the reality manifested in an unexpected way (in the same way that people describe meeting their true love).
These days, it’s de rigueur for most single or divorced women to at least consider moving abroad, or at worst to watch films like Eat, Pray, Love and Under the Tuscan Sun and live vicariously through them.
The ‘great journey’ has always been in the male biosphere. For some guys, that means a year in the peace corps; for others, less noble and more seedy pursuits in the bars and massage parlours of South East Asia. My rationale for moving to Amsterdam was equal parts naughty and nice.
One Christmas, my parents and then-best friend ventured off to England and Paris. On a whim, my friend and I took a side trip–via train–to Amsterdam. We were there in the frozen dead of winter all of a handful of days when I decided I wanted to move there.
Beyond the obvious fun and frolicking that went on there (quite tame compared to what I had seen in my years in NYC), it was architecturally, one of the most beautiful cities I’d ever seen. And something–a sense of the familiar–kept tugging at me. It felt like I had been there before. Those open to spiritual matters will understand when I say that I believe I had a lot of karma there.
A year later, I found myself in the uncomely ‘burbs of Amsterdam on the uncomfortable couch of a bloke I had known only as a webpal. Basically I knew no one there–with the exception of him and another dance music world webpal, and I didn’t even really know them at all.
Those first six months in Amsterdam were the toughest. And it often goes that that is precisely when most people decide to pack up and leave. Another friend of mine had moved to Rome, and while she made friends faster in the open Mediterranean social tradition, she quickly became irritated with the daily ins and outs and customs.
I remember waiting in line at a supermarket in the center of Amsterdam, behind a shady looking guy. He appeared to be cutting in front of me in line so I shot him the requisite look. He then told me in Dutch (though he was from the Dutch colony of Surinam, I gathered) that he wasn’t in the least bit interested in me and that I was ugly.
I told him I didn’t think he was interested in me. I explained that he appeared to be pushing his cart in front of mine in the line. Recognizing my non-Dutch accent, he broke into “Go home, American, we don’t want you here” adding, “we only want your tourist money.” I didn’t have the nerve to tell him I was actually half Chinese and a European citizen as well.
I went home, cried for about two hours and seriously wondered if I had made one of the biggest mistakes of my life moving to Amsterdam.
I had no friends there either. Well, I had nightlife friends. Because I was working freelance, clubs and bars were the only places I knew of where I might actually meet (or at the very least interact with) other humans.
So my first friends were guys I was temporarily dating, DJs and even a bisexual male porn star from Germany who divulged to me that he would go to Belgium often to get testosterone and viagra. Let’s just say that many parts of Belgium are akin to being the Tijuana of the Low Countries.
Fast-forward four years later (yes, I lasted four whole years), and I had become the editor-in-chief of a magazine about creative locals in Amsterdam. I had many editorial clients. I had friends from Amsterdam and from all over the world. I lived in a beautiful two-story canal house. And I had some pretty swell boyfriends as well. In short, I got a life….in Amsterdam.
Through linked articles on this page, I will share my stories and tips on moving to another country (in which you know no one). These are mostly geared towards single men and women. Not to belittle the experiences of couples–but (based on my own circle of friends), couples always have the safeguard of each other to fall back on when all else fails. Some of my insight will of course be universal.
It’s not easy getting from social pariah to insider…but with some navigation, know-how, diplomacy and patience, it is possible; I am living proof of that.
With Thomas Heatherwick’s new London buses being introduced this year, I’ve been thinking a lot about buses and public transportation in general.
Despite the fact that I’ve lived in ‘public transport’-friendly cities like New York and Amsterdam, on some level my LA-ness will always bring a certain distaste for it to the surface… The slowness, the array of disturbing too-human odors, the proximity to People (with a capital ‘P’) and the lack of control are all concomitant with taking a bus or metro.
But there are precious rare times when magic (not ‘shit’) happens on public transport, like getting ‘the best seat in the house’ in a citywide sense.
For instance, on several occasions, I was en-route home from the office, when I discovered masses of irritated, stranded Londoners spilling out from the nearest Tube station (‘oh no, yet another snag in the Underground works’). So I was forced to hike up to the closest bus stop and wait for that familiar #7.
Seven is indeed a lucky number. That’s the bus that makes its way down Oxford Street, through Oxford Circus, into Marble Arch, Paddington, Westbourne Grove and then Notting Hill. Luckier still is finding the crème de la crème ‘balcony’ seats empty. You know the ones. On level two of the double-decker bus, front row centre.
So, shoes on railing, legs inappropriately scrunched up, head back, mp3 player blasting, I cruised down that nighttime stunner, Oxford Street, watching snapshots of beautiful London woosh by. I took in the Victorian details–mouldings and sculptures–that I would never have perceived from ‘down there.’ During the holidays, I found myself virtually at eye level with the festive lights and decorations hung high away from pedestrian sight lines.
Meanwhile, some ethereal, moody ’90s tune or other like ‘Champagne Supernova’ by Oasis was my spacey, chillout soundtrack. As I jokingly said to one of my mates when she said she was opting to take the bus home, ‘Have fun thinking deeply about your life.’
It doesn’t get any better than this pensive and aesthetic journey… Sometimes it does get worse, when another passenger signals with their looming form, that they’d like to nab the seat next to mine (how dare they–I’m a season ticket holder!) Alas, I’ve mostly been lucky in this respect (long legs–the perfect ‘velvet rope’ so to speak).
Then there’s this moment when you almost forget that you’ve been inconvenienced by the tube closure. As the bus driver takes advantage of a few empty blocks to pick up speed, there’s a fleeting thrill…and a few seconds–just enough time to completely let go.
A World of Interiors Spread of Coppola's Casa Margherita, Room #9
Apologies for the poor excuse for a photo of what looks to be a truly spectacular restored palazzo with walls of repurposed 1920s silk, 1940s furnishings, and custom-designed chandeliers in Southern Italy. It is owned by none other than legendary director Francis Ford Coppola.
The reason for the makeshift snap is that the original shot of Casa Margherita was from March’s The World of Interiors magazine. And although the rag is epic in its design tastes, it doesn’t seem to have gotten with the times vis-a-vis a proper website with previews of the edition.
In any case, I was mesmerised by the article and concomitant photos which depicted a gorgeously restored early 18th century historical structure in Bernalda decorated by none other than Jacques Grange (of YSL Morocco homestead fame) with a little help from Mr. Coppola’s wife and daughter Sofia.
Like all great places of integrity, this started as a labour of love. The director wanted to connect to his family roots (in the vicinity). When he found and purchased the property he became hell-bent on making it a place to which his kids would want to return.
Somewhere along the way, he decided to open it up to the public. So, although, usually one sits there rapt in envious reverie whilst pouring over the pages of such interiors glossies, this time, the reader can in fact partake of the grandeur and old-meets-new chic of Casa Margherita.
However, after word spreads with names like Coppola (Mr. and Ms.) and Grange attached to the buzz, it may be damned near impossible to secure a room.
This is where that dreaming comes in again…Now I’ve got Room #9 on the brain!
Bullfighting isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. In fact, it morally repulses some and was banned in Barcelona not long ago. In earlier days, being a literary buff, I romanticised the spectacle thanks to Ernest Hemingway and his classic Death in the Afternoon. It was traditional, butch, fierce, enigmatic (in its culture and roots).
Fast forward to when I actually got to see a bullfight in the, um, flesh, at Las Ventas bullring in Madrid… and my tune changed. I had pretty much the best seat in the house (my family opted for lesser seats to give me the opportunity to really experience the fight). I wish I hadn’t had such a prime perch. I was so ‘front and centre’ that I saw the bulls eyes and what was previously conceptual became real, intense, sad and brutal.
If you are planning on seeing a bullfight (no judgements here–perhaps it’s a primitive rite of passage that every tourist visiting Madrid should experience once), click on the above image to launch the video spot I was commissioned to produce for About.com. It explains the basics of what you can expect, when to go, and so on.
As old testosterone-influenced Hemingway once said: “There are only three sports: bullfighting, motor racing, and mountaineering; all the rest are merely games.’”
