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Artifact A souvenir from the fi eld
FEATURES
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SUITE DREAMS
A luxury hotel marathon in NYC By Mike Guy 80
INTELLIGENT DESIGN
Central Saint Martins has the best style. By Sarah Horne 86
THREE PERFECT DAYS: AUSTIN The Texas capital is full of quirks. By Mark Healy
At the Ace—one of more than a dozen new New York City hotels—some suites come with a turntable and record collection. It’s a theme hotel, but there’s nothing cheesy about it.
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BEST NEW HOTEL CROSBY STREET HOTEL // Enter the Crosby’s lobby at your peril; you may never want to leave. This is superior lodging in every way. Upstairs, each room is painstakingly crafted, done up in appealing colors and textures that combine an almost regal superiority with an exquisite sense of comfort. Even the details are enchanting—the extra-wide window sills piled with cushions, Samuel Heath cups, heated towel racks and dressmaker’s mannequins in each room, which might come in handy, as hotel owner and designer Kit Kemp suggests, “for pinning on a brooch.” Good thinking!
1. THE SPA AT FOUR
SEASONS RESORT
BORA BORA
BORA BORA, FRENCH POLYNESIA // Part of a chain of tiny islands in the South Pacifi c, Bora Bora brings new meaning to getting away from it all. Honeymooners and the very privileged jet in for the ultimate in luxurious escape and Robinson Crusoe fantasy. Topping it all off is the Kahaia Haven Ritual. Priced at 30,000 French Pacifi c Francs (about $360), the couples treatment incorporates black pearl powder and Tahitian vanilla, said to be the best and most fragrant in the world.
SUITE DREAMS
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IN THE MIDST OF AN ECONOMIC DOWNTURN, NEW YORK CITY’S EVER-BUOYANT TOURISM SECTOR MARCHES ON, WITH 34 NEW HOTELS THIS YEAR AND MORE ON THE WAY. WHICH MEANS IT MIGHT JUST BE THE BEST TIME TO VISIT—IF YOU KNOW WHERE TO STAY. JU
O74 ONCE UPON A TIME, DELUXE HOTELS IN NEW YORK CITY—and much of the world—followed the lead of two lodging lions. There was the Waldorf-Astoria, with its burnished brass, polished marble and presidential pedigree, and then there was The Plaza, that storied Beaux-Arts cornerstone overlooking Central Park, made famous by, among other luminaries, a six-year-old named Eloise. For much of the 20th century, every other luxury hotel in the city aspired to be like these two. Even the regal Pierre (which recently guest-starred in season three of Mad Men), stood in their shadows. But the Plaza closed down in 2005 and reopened under new ownership, with about a third its rooms converted into condominiums. (Interested? They’ve sold for as much as $50 million.) And the Waldorf, well, it’s still got that same burnished-brass-and-polished-marble look—not that there’s anything wrong with that.
COOLEST BELLHOPS
THE JANE // Friendly examples of a long-lost species (seemingly lifted Meanwhile, New York is on a hotel building spree, and where once there were just a handful of elite choices, now there are literally dozens. According to Lodging Econometrics, a company that analyzes hotel trends worldwide, in 2008 and 2009, 59 hotels opened their doors, nearly half of them in the “luxury” category. Which means visitors to the city have more high-end options than ever before, and the competition for bookings is heating up. So in a service to the traveling public, I’ve packed an overnight bag, watered the spider plants in my outer-borough basement apartment and embarked on a luxury hotel marathon, a forced march, if you will, from one swank accommodation to the next. Along with the Crosby Street Hotel, I’ve resolved to check out the Bowery, the Ace, the Jane, the Standard New York, the straight from the set of Barton Fink), these bellhops, below, wear red and gold pillbox hats— complete with chinstrap— and a welcoming smile to match. Thompson LES, the Smyth Tribeca, the Greenwich, the Mark, the MAve, the Vu, the NU and others—all buzzed-about spots and nearly all less than 18 months old. After carefully stocking up on tip money, I enter the sleek Thompson LES. The second-fl oor lobby bar and outdoor lounge have a serious nightclub vibe. slender cocktail waitresses weave silently among the guests, and thumping dance music is set on infi nite repeat. In the room upstairs I fi nd raw concrete ceilings, shiny black fl oors, semigloss black walls—even some of the mirrors are black. Two giant TVs off er a combined 1,500 square inches of high-def viewing pleasure. I munch on the Dean & DeLuca chocolates and pocket a bottlette of Hou Hou Shu sparkling sake for later. Such amenities are one way the new hotels are competing for visitor loyalty. They’re also lowering rates precipitously and off ering free nights and other deals, hoping to entice guests and maintain high occupancy numbers. As I enjoy a hot shower in the LES beneath a showerhead the size of a large pizza, I feel pleasantly enticed.
HIT THE DECK Bowery Hotel’s one-bedroom terrace suite
MOST SERENE SPA AND SWIMMING POOL THE GREENWICH // This may be DeNiro’s hotel, but the placid subterranean pool, below—warmly lit by authentic Japanese lanterns, with a 250-yearold bamboo ceiling overhead—will soften any tough guy. The ginger and coconut scrub in the Shibui Spa seals the deal.
INN STYLE Clockwise from top left: the Lobby Bar at the Bowery, a bedroom at the Greenwich, a room in Brooklyn’s NU Hotel and a cozy corner of the NU’s lobby
SWANKIEST LOBBY THE JANE // In 1912, this space sheltered survivors of the Titanic. Today, with its vast Persian rugs, chandeliers and warm tones, it evokes that Gilded Age splendor, only without the pesky icebergs. At right, the Jane’s ballroom
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MOST PERPLEXING ELEVATORS THE SMYTH TRIBECA // No matter the actual day, one elevator sports a fl oor mat that says “Thursday,” while the other says “Tuesday.” Evidently, the designer wanted it that way. O-kay...
CLASSIEST BAR THE LOBBY BAR, THE BOWERY HOTEL // Friendly bartenders? Check. Crisply made martini? Check. Sandstone fi replace, zinc-topped bar, above, and velvet settees? Check. Can I run a tab?
HIPPEST ART COLLECTION CROSBY STREET HOTEL // Every room has its own sampling of excellent original works, below, but don’t miss the striking steel head by Jaume Plensa in the lobby or the paintings by English photorealist Peter Rocklin. A ROOM WITH A VIEW The King Deluxe Room at the Smyth Tribeca.
I pack my bags and slink west to the Bowery, off ering the bottlette of sparkling sake to one particularly appreciative soul. This street is famous for its seedy underbelly, though you’d never know it today to look at the fashionable bars and well-regarded restaurants lining its blocks. Just above Houston, I encounter two very tall new hotels—the Bowery Hotel and the Cooper Square. Passing through the heavy doors of the Bowery is like stepping into another era, with a wall of old-school wooden cubbyholes behind the reception desk to hold messages and heavy brass keys. The velvet-draped lobby is lined with ornate mirrors and peacock feathers. (The Cooper Square aims for a brighter, more modern feel.) My room at the Bowery, a corner king, is a model of simplicity, with lead-paned fl oor-to-ceiling windows. As I get comfortable on the bed and wrap myself in a cozy wool throw, it occurs to me how much the defi nition of luxury has changed. It’s no longer about gold leaf—hasn’t been for years—nor is it about a “scene.” We want economy of design, intelligence and warmth. The Bowery has all that. Indeed, it’s hard for me to leave in the morning—until I remember that I’m spending tonight at the Greenwich Hotel, a stunning new grandee co-owned by Robert DeNiro.
First, about that shower at the LES. It was amazing, but not the best that I’ll try. For that, I’m torn between those in the Greenwich and the Standard New York. At these hotels, the rainfall showerheads are supplemented by handheld nozzles, which, when utilized simultaneously, help a bather achieve “double wash”—no small thing. Another bathroom ensemble I appreciate is at the Ace Hotel, a swinging new space that is the fourth iteration of a hip Seattle mini-franchise. Here, the “double wash” shower is a prelude to a long, decadent soak in a separate claw-foot tub: the trifecta.
While we’re in the bathroom, a word on toiletries: I’m a simple man when it comes to grooming products, but having sampled my fair share of concoctions blended especially for these hotels, I may be ready to step up my game. The Greenwich’s are made by McBride Beauty, a private-label concern based in Brooklyn, and come in large white tubes. The Crosby off ers bottles of Miller Harris, and the Bowery uses faux-medicinal bottles of C.O. Bigelow Apothecaries. At the Smyth Tribeca, I fi ll my shaving kit with an old standby, Dr. Bronner’s Peppermint soap, and at the Ace, I load up on Rudy’s Barber Shop shampoo and conditioner.
Some of the hotels try hard to reinvent the luxury hotel experience—so hard that they overshoot the mark. At one, I board an elevator and discover two fl ustered, luggage-laden out-of-towners trying desperately to get to their room on the eighth fl oor. “This elevator seems to have a mind of its own,” the man says. “You have to insert your keycard fi rst,” I explain. “Gosh, we’ve been in here for fi fteen minutes!” says his wife.
I can relate. The previous night I fi ddled helplessly to wrestle not only with the elevator but with two separate widescreen TVs that seemed to have minds of their
own. And some of those light fi xtures would take a Ph.D. in particle physics to operate. Of course, this is a prime example of what my father would call a “Cadillac problem.” Sometimes luxury ain’t easy.
And sometimes it doesn’t appear very luxurious at all. When I enter the splendidly strange lobby of the Jane Hotel, a bellhop wearing a pillbox hat and matching red and black uniform greets me. He takes my tiny suitcase and guides me to the reception desk, where today’s weather is written in chalk on a small piece of slate. The rooms at the Jane have been designed to look like the interiors of old ship cabins (some have bunk beds, and some BOARDING PASS In the city that never fl oors have shared bathrooms), and the owners keep the prices low (around $100). It’s a theme hotel, but there’s nothing sleeps, you must arrive energized for all the food, fashion, cheesy about it. It’s a similar story at the Ace, where my “Loft Suite” comes complete with a turntable, record collection, and theater and shopping a Martin acoustic guitar (perfectly tuned). At fi rst I bridle at the Big Apple has to offer. Fly United and the rock & roll theme—if I wanted that, I’d have stayed at the let picking a pizza Hard Rock—but then I start playing “Wish You Were Here” on topping be your biggest concern. the guitar, and pretty soon I’m glad I’m there. Two weeks into my hotel marathon, I’ve collected 32 bespoke click pens, a spectrum of monogrammed colored pencils, reams of fl ashy stationery, enough lavender and sandalwood lotion to stay moisturized through a polar winter, and enough expertise with remote controls to join the Geek Squad. I’ve learned how to get the most value out of room service (order tea, which always comes with a selection of cookies and biscuits), and I’ve become accustomed to being called Mr. Guy. I’ve learned the easiest way to the hardest restaurant reservation is through a concierge, and that bellhops aren’t always charmed by a willingness to carry your own bag. Finally, I learned that keycards are quickly becoming a thing of the past, replaced by an array of fancy gizmos (electrofobs?) you sort of wave at a lock like you’re playing a Theremin.
Eventually, my journey nearly complete, I fi nd myself on that window sill of the Crosby Street Hotel at dawn, sipping rich coff ee from a porcelain cup and trying not to think about slinking back to my lonely basement apartment. The streets far below are silent. Amazingly, there are another 45 hotels opening in New York City in the coming year. I have no idea how the economy will treat them, but I can’t wait to try them out.
Hemispheres executive editor MIKE GUY has enough high-end shower gel to last a lifetime.
MEAT AND GREET The Standard Grill at the new Standard Hotel in New York’s Meatpacking District MOST IMPRESSIVE TOILETRY THE BOWERY // The lilliputian, two-inch metal tube of Marvis Classic Strong Mint toothpaste looks a little like superglue, but its taste is strictly mint. Refreshing! (Why don’t all hotels support dental hygiene?)
BEST BATHROOM THE STANDARD NEW YORK // (below) If you don’t think a view of Jersey can blow your mind, you haven’t seen it from the 16th fl oor of the Standard at sunset, through your toes, while soaking in a bath.
CUSHIEST LINENS THE MARK // Think once you get into the 2,000-thread-count territory, the difference between sheets is indiscernible? Not quite. The otherworldly linens at the newly reopened Mark, by top Italian weaver Quagliotti, will tempt you to ditch those pj’s altogether.
MOST EYE-OPENING MORNING COFFEE THE JANE // Find the right seat in the cozy Cafe Gitane satellite just off the Jane’s lobby, and you can watch the colorful collection of guests check out as the sun rises onto the buildings across the Hudson. The morning Journal just seems superfl uous.
CLEAR CUT
Central Saint Martins students toil over their projects.
ON A NEARLY Arctic January day in London’s Soho, Matthew Harding, a slim 25-year-old Englishman with slicked-back sandy brown hair and fi ne features, sorts through a bin fi lled with fabric samples and rough patches of sheepskin. “I found a great old rug from the seventies,” he says, picking up one weathered square of animal hide. “But for the runway I’m trying to source pieces that are a bit, well, less nasty.”
Around him in the MA Fashion studios at Central Saint Martins College of Art and Design, the storied British institution that has schooled the likes of Jarvis Cocker, Pierce Brosnan and Sir Terence Conran in everything from fi ne art to drama, students in black hoodies and skinny jeans are shuffl ing around their work spaces with stacks of patterns and swathes of fabric. The drab, freezing room three stories above Charing Cross Road is worlds away from the dramatically lit catwalks of London Fashion Week, where the most promising of these students will show their work in a month’s time. Unlike the slick studios of Project Runway or Launch My Line, there is no “accessories wall” here, no L’Oréal Paris makeup studio, no guarantee of overnight stardom. The windows rattle in the wind, paint peels off the walls. In 2011, the school will move out of its ramshackle digs and into a state-of-the-art facility near Kings Cross railroad station. Until then, students shiver, La Bohème–style. The only hint of the stakes they face is a wall one fl oor down, where some of the most prominent alums of CSM’s fashion program have scrawled their names in pencil. John Galliano. Alexander McQueen. Stella McCartney. Phoebe Philo. Zac Posen. No pressure. Harding’s neat, chest-high studio desk is bare but for some sketches for his masters collection, the sum of nearly a year and a half of work. The 10-plus looks he will present in the coming weeks to Professor Louise Wilson, the formidable head of the program, are also the culmination of almost “seven hard-core years” of studies at the college. Today, he jokes, running on about four hours of sleep a night, his fi ngers blistered, “It’s really very unglamorous. You’re up at six-thirty in the morning, cutting garments, doing fi ve people’s jobs at once.” Just half of the students in these rooms will be selected to show at London Fashion Week, hitting the runway on the same day as the prestigious Burberry show, when droves of international press will be in attendance. Across the room, Cornel Bolt, a 29-year-old from Switzerland with a shock of blond hair and heavy-framed glasses, is circumspect about his chances. “I try not to think about it,” says Bolt. “People are really competitive. I mean, nobody’s going to steal my scissors from my desk. It’s not sabotage. But it’s been a really tough process. I was expecting it to be hard. I had no idea just how...” A middle-aged female technician interrupts his sentence, clearly getting impatient. “Cornel, do you have something for me to cut? Or am I just going to sit here all morning waiting for you?” With that, Bolt shrugs apologetically and gets BOARDING PASS With so much to see in back to the task at hand. One fl oor down, Wilson, the British capital, let United get you there rested and refreshed. the source of the students’ skittishness, sits behind a spare desk, her hair pulled back in a plain ponytail. In her offi ce, she scans their sketches and judges their fi nal pieces with characteristic bluntness. Some students liken the process to an evisceration. “I’m not the Simon Cowell of fashion,” she snaps, clearly weary of the comparison. “But we’re not clinking champagne glasses and air-kissing each other here, congratulating ourselves over making another little star. It’s not about coming here and being dusted with fairy dust. I’m an educator. I come in at eight, I work till eight or nine, I’m overweight, I go home, I lie on the bed and I eat Kit Kats.” When some of her MA students fi rst arrive, says Wilson, she faces the uphill battle of tearing down everything they think they know about fashion. She breaks off into one of her riff s. “We’re dealing with a
MAN OF THE CLOTH
Matthew Harding gets a feel for his materials.
group of students who say they’re inspired by fountains and silver chairs, and they carry designer handbags. It transpires that they have very few skills, and they don’t make things to wear. They’re used to seeing their fashion in a picture. I’m used to seeing fashion on a body. So they try to bully me into submission by showing me what they think they’re doing fabulously, and I bully them into the fact that they need to show me clothes on a human.” When asked if her tactics amount to tough love, Wilson grumbles, “It’s not tough love. It’s hard, analytical teaching, one-to-one between my staff and the students. It’s got nothing to do with love, with favorites.” But even Wilson, who goes on to growl a bit more about working for an underfunded institution “where the bloody heating doesn’t work!” softens into something approximating a purr when she pauses to consider the “mystique of the place. Yes. It’s something.” Jane Rapley, CSM’s Head of College, is thoughtful about the pressure that faces students such as Harding and Bolt and idiosyncratic educators such as Wilson. “It’s a horrible pressure, and it’s a lovely pressure. We don’t want people to
A BIT SKETCHY
Cornel Bolt at the proverbial drawing board
imagine, ‘Oh, at CSM they’re all too up their own bottoms, too grand for me.’ We have to sometimes disabuse our students— ‘You might have been a star in your own small pool, but you have to work at it.’ You’ve got students here who have palpable ambition. A lot of them have to learn how to grow up. CSM might get the door off the latch, but I tell students, ‘It’s you that walks through. All the degree will do is maybe open the door, but in the end you are the creative force.’” For Anne Smith, who heads the fashion program at Central Saint Martins, there is the humdrum work of educating, and then there are the moments that make you catch your breath. “I remember Christopher Kane’s graduating show,” Smith says, referring to the talented Scottish designer who now heads up Donatella Versace’s couture collection. “Sitting front row, it was a sort of spine-tingling moment, and I thought, this is new and fresh. There are always strong students, but every two or three years there is someone who makes you gasp, who you know will go all the way.”
MATERIAL WORLD
Behind the seams at Central Saint Martins
Back in the MA studios, there’s a rack of semifi nished clothes beside Harding, off ering just a hint of what his fi nal collection will look like. There are sharply tailored sheepskin pencil skirts and psychedelic structured blouses that look as though they could be worn by a time-traveling Elizabethan courtesan. “I think I’ve come to something that’s a little bit Narnia Snow Queen,” Harding muses. “I like to play with structure. I like it when you look at a piece of clothing and wonder how it works. I create nightmares for myself making these laborious things.” At the end of the day, Harding hopes to establish his own line, but he’s willing to work his way up through the ranks of the fashion industry. “I’d love to work at Givenchy, or Lanvin. But it’s not about being bathed in the golden light and just making it overnight. In the end, you just don’t want to disappoint yourself.”
SARAH HORNE is glad to see that British eccentricity is alive and well.
Three Perfect Days
88 DAY ONE Shopping on SoCo
90 DAY TWO Pedaling along Barton Creek Greenbelt
94 DAY THREE Sampling the best barbecue
AUSTIN
This proudly different Texas capital is home to thriving live music and culinary scenes, a rambunctious university, and a healthy share of fi tness fanatics. In their efforts to “Keep Austin Weird,” locals embrace it all. // BY MARK HEALY
TWINKLE TWINKLE Opposite, Guero’s deck lit up at night; top, Austin’s skyline; above, Magnolia and one of its cheesy, delicious dishes WEIRD. THAT’S HOW AUSTIN SEES ITSELF. It’s part of the local identity, a way for this proud city to distinguish itself from the Lone Star State’s other high-profi le, large-personality towns. You see it on bumper stickers and in boutique storefronts, on University of Texas backpacks and affi xed to the insides of cabs: “Keep Austin Weird.” It’s an eff ective battle cry and an admirable goal. And so far—if the Viking-costumed klezmer band you see dancing in the street is any indication—Austin seems to be doing a pretty good job.
Austin is Texas’ capital and in many ways a direct expression of the state’s rough-and-tumble Ranger spirit. But there are other forces at work in shaping the city’s character. There’s UT, a local tech industry and, perhaps most notably, it’s the self-proclaimed “Live Music Capital of the World,” with more venues per capita than any city in the U.S. It is also home to fi lmmakers and actors (Richard Linklater, Robert Rodriguez, Sandra Bullock and King of the Hill creator Mike Judge, to name a few), along with hordes of chefs who’ve come to join a barbecue and TexMex revolution. Austinites also embrace the skeletal aesthetic spilling over from Mexico’s Day of the Dead celebration, reveling in their city’s haunted hotels, bizarre “moonlight” towers and appreciation for the occult. With all these overlapping quirks, weirdness abounds. May it stay that way.
1DAY ONE Start your day like a local. Have breakfast at Magnolia (1), a casual roadside restaurant, draped in Lone Star–Love Child décor, that spoons out a mean breakfast. Try the Love Migas, a scramble of eggs, peppers, onions, cheese, salsa and shards of tortilla cooked in a garlic and serrano concoction Magnolia calls “love butter.” Scrumptious, and just slightly better than the Frisbee-size whole-wheat blueberry pecan pancake you’ll want to order for dessert. (Already, you’re fi guring out that Austin’s food is so delicious and varied you’ll have to wake up early and stay out late to squeeze in four meals a day.)
Now you’re ready to explore. The scrubbed-clean main strip of trendy South Congress, or SoCo, includes some of Austin’s best shopping, but you won’t fi nd a Pottery Barn or Barnes and Noble. Austin has remained somewhat immune to massive chains, mostly because the local restaurants and shops are
CRAIG STALEY
GENERAL MANAGER, MELLOW JOHNNY’S BIKE STORE // “Austin is the place in Texas where you want to ride a bike. There’s great riding in the Hill Country west of the city and, if you just want to tool around, the river ride is great.”
FOOD TRUCKS // Meal deals on wheels // Austin was among the fi rst cities to enjoy a robust food-truck boom, and you’ll be depriving yourself if you don’t fi nd time to visit any number of Airstreams and recommissioned ice cream trucks parked around town. In a lot across from the prime shopping on South Congress, head to the shiny camper that is The Mighty Cone, an offshoot of the restaurant Hudson’s on the Bend. The camper
serves up soft fl our tortillas in paper ice cream cone holders, fi lled with chunks of chicken, shrimp, and avocado, and topped with a mango-jalapeño slaw. Then walk 50 paces to the Hey Cupcake trailer for a red velvet or 24 Carrot. Still hungry? Cross the river to the mmmpanada truck, located at 2nd Street and Congress, for fl aky empanadas well-stuffed with BBQ chopped beef, asparagus and prosciutto, and spicy black beans. such tough competition. You’ll stroll past emporiums such as Uncommon Objects (2), which houses dozens of top notch vintage vendors, folk art and crafts stores, and Western wear mecca Allen’s Boots (3). Be sure to stop in Lucy in Disguise with Diamonds (4), a vintage costumer that leads you to ponder what kind of city can support an 8,000-square-foot store whose main business is renting and selling Elvis jumpsuits, elf costumes meant for adults and Queen Guinevere gowns. “Austin’s just a town that likes to dress up,” the woman at the counter tells you. “All part of keeping Austin weird. Everyone’s out there doing their part.”
All that eccentricity has worked up your appetite for some Tex-Mex. Just a few doors down is Guero’s (5), Austin’s best-respected purveyor of tacos, enchiladas and all things tortilla. You snag a spot on the patio, ideal for people-watching, and dig into tacos al pastor (marinated pork and pineapple on fresh corn tortillas).
Afterward, go for a stroll through the historic Bouldin Creek neighborhood, peering at the eclectic assortment of Victorian and Mission-style homes lining the streets. You slowly make your way across the river to the comfort of the Four Seasons (6). Take a minute on your balcony to enjoy the view of the Colorado River. Then get going. It’s happy hour downstairs at Trios, where the combination plates—beef carpaccio, truffl ed arugula and manchego, and steak fries in truffl e aioli—are too refi ned to pass up. So are the scorched Padrón peppers. You watch the sun set over Lady Bird Lake before heading out for the evening.
On any given night, there are upward of 100 good bands or solo artists on Austin’s many stages. A fi xture since 1957, the Continental Club (7) just happens to be one of the oldest and best venues. The beer is cheap, and the crowd is feisty, attractive and happily on its feet for the cross-border groove of a local band called Charanga Cakewalk.
Before turning in, grab a cab to a nuevo Mexican restaurant called La Condesa (8) in the Warehouse District. With sleek light fi xtures and cool concrete fl oors, this is a destination for the slick set. If you’re more interested in grabbing a stool at the bar, consider ordering one of more than 80 diff erent tequilas and digging into a soft, crisp and utterly delicious huarache with pork belly and apple topping.
2DAY TWO Austin is a city of night-owl musicians, late-rising students, football fans, barbecue obsessives and—somewhat surprisingly—fi tness fanatics. No matter the weather, the city’s puzzle work of pathways is fi lled with runners, dog walkers and
UP A CREEK Twin Falls on the Barton Creek Greenbelt; top, Sixth Street
AUSTIN POWERS Clockwise from top left, Toy Joy, Uncommon Objects, the dog run at Auditorium Shores park, and Mellow Johnny’s
HERE’S THE BEEF Clockwise from top left, Schwartz’s deli and its legendary smoked meat sandwich, Daniel Roberge in Zephyr Art Gallery, and the view on Rue Notre-Dame
ALL THE WAY WITH LBJ
// Don’t miss Austin’s Texas-size presidential library. // Once you get away from Austin’s kooky side, there’s a lot of history to explore. The Lyndon Baines Johnson Presidential Library and Museum (lbjlib. utexas.edu) is one of the most visited in the country, and the only one that’s free. The most devoted history buffs will need days to peruse all the documents and artifacts
of Johnson’s presidency— between his predecessor’s assassination, the Vietnam War and the Civil Rights Movement, there’s a lot of ground to cover. Also pretty cool are a model of the Oval Offi ce as it looked during his presidency and a life-size, joke-cracking model of Johnson (so maybe there is some of the city’s signature quirk here).
AMERICA’S MOST HAUNTED Above, the Driskill Hotel, and a connoisseur enjoying a treat from Hello Cupcake; opposite, the view from Lady Bird Lake
cyclists, thanks in large part to Lady Bird Johnson, who focused her post–White House years on creating Lady Bird Lake (named for her after her death in 2007) and preserving public access to the Colorado River. Today, trails line both sides of the river, traversing it on new ramp systems. Get in on the action, and minimize the impact of your four-meal-a-day habit.
After a coff ee at stylish Halcyon coffee lounge (1), you head downtown to Mellow Johnny’s (2), the bike store opened two years ago by Craig Staley and local hero Lance Armstrong. This is the hub of Austin’s thriving bike culture: There’s a top-notch training facility, a custom design shop and a gallery’s worth of artwork on the walls.
After Staley fi ts you with a helmet and a hybrid, you pedal across the river onto a riverside trail called Barton Creek Greenbelt. It’s craggy, but the sunshine sparkling on the rushing Colorado and the lush, enveloping woods propel you forward. Soon enough, you forget that you’re barely two miles from Texas’ capitol building.
The trail leads to Barton Springs (3)—Austin’s favorite swimming hole. You soak your toes, bag a few rays of Hill Country sun, then circle back through town to sample the city’s most beloved burger. Hut’s (4), which just celebrated its 70th birthday, still delivers a sloppy throwback patty along with thick, beer-battered onion rings. Top it off with a Lone Star longneck and some in-depth college football repartee with a woman in a cashmere sweater and designer glasses.
Battling burger-induced lethargy, you park the bike and opt for a stroll along the edge of the commercially reclaimed Warehouse District, where rows of former feed stores now showcase Danish light fi xtures and high-end dog treats. There are also dozens of lounges and restaurants that are more sophisticated than those on the unmistakably collegiate Sixth Street Strip a few blocks over. Sit down for an afternoon latte at Jo’s (5) to kick off a laid-back evening.
In a town with so much music, going to a movie theater seems odd. Still, enough locals urge you to go to one of the Alamo Drafthouses (6) that you fi nd yourself grabbing the last seat for a 7 p.m. show, in which comedians ad-lib to old movies and TV clips. The show empties with plenty of evening left. You’re in the mood for a good steak and a cocktail with some bite. Ranch 616 (7) and its Brushfi re (local Tito’s vodka, orange liqueur and a pickled jalapeño) hit the spot. The biscuits, some of the best you’ve eaten, are a perfect accompaniment. CLARA QUESI, DANCER, CONTINENTAL CLUB “I moved to Austin when I was six, and my mom used to bring me to the Soap Creek Saloon. It’s still a great place to hang out.”
BOARDING PASS
Let United get you to the Live Music Capital of the World with fi ve inches of extra legroom. Arrive relaxed and refreshed in this big-city-meetslaid-back college town. WADE TIME Swimmers at Barton Springs, above, and Jo’s
3DAY THREE Based on the abundance of bats living under the Congress Avenue Bridge and the Day of the Dead skeletons displayed everywhere, you’ve gathered that Austin has a healthy appreciation for ghosts, ghouls and spirits. Austinites all claim that the city’s grand old hotel, the Driskill (1), is haunted. Taking up nearly a full downtown block, its beautiful, sprawling lobby is an embodiment of Old Texas. Ignore the creepy lore and have a coff ee by the fi replace.
Then lighten up with a trip to a toy store. Toy Joy (2) is among the best in the country. Located near the University of Texas campus, it’s a temple of kitsch, clutter and thousands of little rubber and plastic fi gures. The 50,000 students a few blocks away certainly help keep the store in business, but it thrives due to the support of those weirdness-loving Austinites.
It is your good fortune that another Austin institution, Ruby’s BBQ (3), is located directly across the street. In this town, grown men and women have lifelong disagreements about which barbecued brisket is the town’s best. Far be it for us to choose sides, but Ruby’s is certainly near the very top of anyone’s list. And while you may not remember the beans or the corn bread years from now, the brisket is so soft, smoky and deeply satisfying that, once back out on the street, you fi nd yourself ready to wade into the great debate and throw down on its behalf.
Take the scenic route back downtown: Circle the Texas Capitol Building (4), an impressive Renaissance Revival building made of local granite that entices you to check out its entryway, which rivals that of the national capitol. Glad that you stopped to look, get back on a bike path along the north side of town to the river. Stop at one of the WPA-era bridges and watch a burly, shirtless man navigate his raft, Huck Finn–style, downriver. An old Union Pacifi c train rattles across the next bridge over, its faded crimson cars lit up by the afternoon sun. Soon enough you realize, yes, you’re hungry again. You’re on vacation, after all.
The upscale and atmospheric Lamberts Downtown Barbecue (5) is housed in a restored brick feed house in the Warehouse District. Lamberts takes its cocktails quite seriously. The Sanchez, which is essentially a vodka martini fi lthy with olive juice over cracked ice and garnished with pickled jalapeños, is a remarkably good companion to simple but succulent smoked barbecued chicken accompanied by the tastiest salsa verde on the planet. With its lively dining room and bands playing upstairs, you’ll recognize Lamberts as a place you could spend four or fi ve quality hours. And so you will. You raise your glass and toast to keeping Austin weird. MARK HEALY, an editor at GQ, is still on the four-meal-a -day plan.
KINKY FRIEDMAN
MUSICIAN/POLITICIAN/ “RENAISSANCE TEXAN” // “One place to check out is Threadgill’s, named after Kenneth Threadgill, who used to have a gas station. That’s the fi rst place that Janis Joplin ever played. He was very kind to her when most people weren’t.”
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E. Dean Keeton St. 7
E. 6th St. Colorado River W. 1st St. 2 E. 5th St. West Ave.Nueces St.San Antonio St.Guadalupe St. Congress St.Colorado St.5
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7 5 1
E. 1st St.
Manor Rd.
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W. 6th St. N. Lamar Blvd.
inset area
Colorado River 4
Trinity St.
Barton Springs Rd. 3 Congress Ave. S.S. 1st St. 2 4 6 1 5
35
290
E. Riverside Dr. E. 12th St.
E. 6th St.
E. Cesar Chavez St.
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THOSE THREE PERFECT DAYS
DAY ONE (1) Magnolia 1920 S Congress Ave.; Tel: 512-445-0000 (2) Uncommon Objects 1512 S Congress Ave.; Tel: 512-442-4000 (3) Allen’s Boots 1522 S Congress Ave.; Tel: 512-447-1413 (4) Lucy in Disguise with Diamonds 1506 S Congress Ave.; Tel: 512-444-2002 (5) Guero’s 1412 S Congress Ave.; Tel: 512-707-8232 (6) Four Seasons 98 San Jacinto Blvd.; Tel: 512-478-4500 (7) Continental Club 1315 S Congress Ave.; Tel: 512-441-0202 (8) La Condesa 400-A West 2nd St.; Tel: 512-499-0300
DAY TWO (1) Halcyon 218 W 4th St. Tel: 512-472-9637 (2) Mellow Johnny’s 400 Nueces St.; Tel: 512-473-0222 (3) Barton Springs 2101 Barton Springs Rd.; Tel: 514-476-9044 (4) Hut’s 807 W 6th St.; Tel: 512-472-0693 (5) Jo’s 242 W 2nd St.; Tel: 514-469-9003 (6) Alamo Drafthouse 320 E 6th St.; Tel: 512-476-1320 (7) Ranch 616 616 Nueces St.; Tel: 512-479-7616
DAY THREE (1) The Driskill Hotel 604 Brazos St.; Tel: 800-252-9367 (2) Toy Joy 2900 Guadalupe St.; Tel: 512-320-0090 (3) Ruby’s BBQ 512 W 29th St.; Tel: 512-477-1651 (4) Texas Capitol Building 112 E 11th St.; Tel: 512-494-1500 (5) Lamberts Downtown Barbecue 401 W 2nd St.; Tel: 512-494-1500
HEMISPHERESMAGAZINE.COM | MARCH 2010 97
Life is Better with Oxygen –
Mainstreaming Personal Hyperbaric Therapy
Two weeks before Super Bowl XLIII Steelers wideout Hines Ward was laid up with a sprained knee. Wild speculation concerning his playability was fanning a media frenzy in reassured fans that “nothing, I repeat, nothing” would keep him out of the Super Bowl. A vigorous rehab program was usually standard practice to address such injuries, but after the Steelers made Super Bowl history, Ward revealed a surprising secret. A vital addition to his healing regiment included quality time undergoing personal hyperbaric therapy. Extensive medical studies on the healing properties of hyperbarics triggered this therapy’s growth. The ability to when Ward was featured in the February 2009 Sports Illustrated magazine climbing out of his Vitaeris chamber in a hotel room. The photo showed how mainstream personal hyperbaric therapy has become. Autism recovery advocate, Jenny McCarthy purchased a chamber to treat her son, Evan, but discovered a wonderful
Ellen Degeneres’ show that she and Jim Carey each have a chamber in their homes so they can maintain good health necessarily have to be a high-performance athlete to enjoy
The strain generated by a high-octane life is wearing on the body, both physically and mentally. On a psychological level, a one-hour personal hyperbaric treatment triggers the brain to release serotonin that generates a feeling of serenity and peace. Physically, as a person ages, basic stress on the body wears out the joints, muscles, vital organs, and even brain
body.
Daniel Rossignol, Medical Doctor and Hyperbaric Specialist equated an hour treatment in a personal hyperbaric chamber to taking 40 Motrin, without the toxic response. “You get increased oxygenation, decreased swelling, and decreased commented. “If a drug did this, a pharmaceutical company would make quite a bit of money.” (1)
become a critical health concern in our modern society,” stated Dr. Kyle Vandyke, Medical Advisor to the International Hyperbarics Association. “Our industrial progress presents itself technological advancements, but we now are left to deal with critical treatment for detoxing the body.” “The late Doctor Ignacio Fojgel, Medical Advisor to the Air Force
Hypoxia impacted neurological functions and caused physical stress to the body. Unfortunately, Dr. Fojgel’s work was not completed because of the 9/11 tragedy that changed airport dynamics. Treating oxygen deprivation in other parts of the body is becoming more common. Hospitals frequently utilize highpressure hyperbaric chambers in emergency situations. However, many clinical studies have produced successful results Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Lyme Disease, Autism, sports injuries, general anti-aging, and more. The development of the lowpressure, personal hyperbaric chamber now makes it practical to bring this technology out of the hospital, allowing healthminded people to treat in the privacy of their own home. What does the future hold for personal hyperbaric therapy? With thousands of personal hyperbaric chambers in use, it is impossible to dismiss this surge as a mere fad. In fact, each year this holistic therapy. With all the demands that we place on our bodies every day, it may be time to move the treadmill over and make room for a personal hyperbaric chamber.
Dr. Kyle Vandyke
