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TRAVEL ISSUE 2011
The exclusive magazine for Lansdown Place Financial Management
CONRADS LEGACY
BLAKES IN A LEAGUE OF ITS OWN
ELEGANCE AND CHARM AT THE HILTON METROPOLE
LOWER MILL ESTATE
BISTRO BRIGHTON
THE COTSWOLDS HIDDEN GEM
HOTEL DU VIN’S LUXURIANT SAVOIR FAIRE
CITY, COAST
& Country THE BEST OF BRITISH CHIC COUNTRYSIDE RETREATS, COASTAL HIDEAWAYS AND CITY BREAKS HOTELS
R E S TA U R A N T S
FLIGHTS
SIGHTS
FOOD & DRINK
FA S H I O N
LUXURY
o l l He
The Exculsive Magazine For
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Britain Britain Britain. Having travelled very little over the last four years it only seemed appropriate that I be crowned travel issue editor. As you will have read over the years, we strive to go that little further for you. Rather than just give a ‘Place in the Sun’ critique of which generic cruise haven is on this year’s travel agent special, we work with some of the best providers of luxury breaks in the business to bring you the best of the best. (Stands down from soapbox). Our second travel supplement this year, and the topic of discussion, staycations.... I appreciate that this term cogitates images of families playing tennis in the back garden or squeezing into static caravans. Fear not, Staycations were invented towards the end of the ‘Naught’ies’. Given that everyone was feeling an increased pinch on the purse, families chose to stay home and visit local attractions. Well, Britain is a small isle and everything is local. So why not spend a summer visiting the coast or the Cotswolds. This issue we travel to Lower Mill Estate in the Cotswolds to roam their 550 acres of pure countryside,
and shirk off to the site spa. It’s not all rambling and kendal mint cake. Nina Durrell visits the Hotel Du Vin Bistro in Brighton to indulge in some luxuriant savoir faire whilst i check in upstairs to see what the hotel has to offer. Rhiannon Smith pulls the long straw and reviews the truly timeless Blakes Hotel in Kensington. In a look back to a time when travel was an experience, I review the company who made hotel service what it is today, the good old days of Conrad’s Hilton Metropole in Brighton. We truly hope you enjoy this issue. Until next time, happy indulging.
Peter J Robinson Laith Al-Kaisy Editor in Chief
laith@getmediamanagement.com
Andrew Hobson Art Director
info@andrewhobsondesign.co.uk
Peter Robinson Director
peter@getmediamanagement.com
Adam Wood Director
adam@getmediamanagement.com
Get Media Management 1st Floor, Prudential Buildings 11-19 Wine Street, Bristol, BS1 2PH T: +44 (0)117 3702 471 www.getmediamanagement.com
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Lansdown Place is a trading style of Lansdown Place Financial Management Ltd which is authorised and regulated by the Financial Services Authority. Our Financial Services Authority Registration Number is 126762. Lansdown Place Magazine is designed by Andrew Hobson Design. All rights reserved. Lansdown Place Magazine is funded solely through the kind support of advertisers. The views expressed in this publication are not necessarily those of the publisher. The publisher cannot accept responsibility for any errors or omissions relating to advertising or editorial. The publisher reserves the right to change or amend any competitions or prizes offered. No part of this publication may be reproduced without prior written consent from the publisher. No responsibility is taken for unsolicited materials or the return of these materials whilst in transit.
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Contents
Contents 8
14
8 Lower Mill Estate One of the countries best kept secrets. 14 Do you Du Vin? The Hotel Du Vin in Brighton invites us into their new Bistro to sample some fine french cuisine. 16 Conrad Hilton is known by my generation as the man that built an empire. We see how the brand develops today and review the hilton Brighton Metropole.
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18 Blakes A super chic hotel,but comfortable and sexy, perfect for a romantic trip, don’t take our word for it, take Gwyneth Paltrow’s. 21 Don’t Dine and Dash Stay a while, the Hotel Du Vin in Brighton has beautifully appointed rooms, and as one of the groups newest is worth taking the time to appreciate and explore.
Our Contributors
Nina Durrell, is our resident restaurant reviewer and samples the finest French cuisine at the Bistro Du Vin on page 14.
Fashion guru Rhiannon Smith pulls the short straw and heads to Blakes in Kensington on page 18.
Peter Robinson takes a brake at Lower Mill Estate and Spa on page 8 and Hilton Metropole on 16.
Lansdown Place is printed on FSC-certified grade paper. Please recycle this magazine when you have finished reading it.
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TRAVEL 2011 7
The Exculsive Magazine For
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Escape
-To the
s d l o w s Cot
The Cotswolds is one of England’s favourite destinations; famous for its limestone villages and its outstanding nature reserves. As a younger man I had driven past the Lower Mill Estate area of the Cotswolds and always been struck by the way the properties were developing on the land so slowly. I didn’t have concerns about the build time however, I was more intrigued by the way this place, this ... reserve, was so carefully being planned and built. . Its construction and development weren’t being rushed it would seem; each detail was being carefully considered or at least that’s what it looked like as I drove past. Thanks to the LME developers opting to provide a selection of properties for Cotswold breaks. By Peter Robinson
8 SEPTEMBER 2011
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Lower Mill Estate
These days, property moguls secure land, planning permission, and bang – an epitaph to the green-belt below some twenty feet of concrete and steel. Lower Mill Estate, though, is the opposite. Oh, I could go into the commercial complexities of building on a five hundred acre nature reserve and ask what it was exactly that led Jeremy Paxton to take four years designing this wonderful place, but luckily you can see for yourself. Lower Mill Estate (LME) is like travelling to a Swiss lakeside retreat, complete with the natural wonders of the British countryside. Imagine, if you will, taking a weekend trip with family and friends to a remote English lakeside location that allows you to truly slip into the serene. They say that we all live lives of quiet desperation and I think that we take holiday time for granted in the modern world. Add to that the fact that it takes at least two days to switch off, plus flights and transfers, and sometimes you can return more stressed and with more stamps on your Starbucks card than when you left. I had not visited the Cotswolds as a holiday destination before, and can’t say I had considered for a break from the city either. The Cotswolds is one of those places that conjures up images of twee country homes, well-appointed lawns and Kath Kidston over gloves. It’s a place where the parish council will argue daily about the work being carried out to provide broadband. Yes, my view of the British countryside is definitely askew. But when I arrived at Lower Mill Estate, having found it effortlessly, I was surprised to find an electric entry gate system, complete with my own buzzer. Somehow I expected a gatekeeper or bridge troll to welcome me into this most luxurious of retreats. I was pleasantly surprised from the outset. It was really rather refreshing to find somewhere so close that could genuinely be considered worthy of a week long break. The journey down was hardly arduous either, as ‘the scenic route’ is the best way to access the Cotswolds. After you enter the estate and briefly pass rows of wellappointed lakeside cottages, you are met with the most beautiful view of the lakes, people canoeing and enjoying lunch alfresco on the shore, and outside the on site shop. Don’t think campsite and corrugated iron; think Austria in spring – but more about that later. As we drove past the lakeside properties, they got larger and more luxurious by the minute. Reid Villa (our destination) was on the edge of the estate and came complete with its own moat – a necessity, I can assure you. I was then faced with a keypad system to
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enter the moated fortress, with my iPad held aloft over my head, providing very little shelter from the rain. I summoned every synapse to remember what the hell I was supposed to do. Something had been mentioned before I left: a key, a code, something. We evidently needed to drive back to the main reception. This was the first entertaining moment for my partner who had already enjoyed an eighteen-point turn at the hand of my direction, lest we find ourselves in the lake itself. Having gone in to enquire how to gain access to my weekend lodging – perhaps it was to be entered via canoe – I walked back to the car to explain that a code need be entered to release a key. My partner laughed enthusiastically having read the instructions ‘carefully’. Feeling red-faced, we returned and made our way into the villa, luggage in hand. What a view. The thing that really stuns you about the developments is the shear attention to detail. You can see the years of planning right before your eyes. Of course they were all designed by award-winning architect Richard Reid. As we were the hosts of the group that weekend, and had arrived first, we worked out who would stay in which rooms and then kindly chose the largest bedroom for ourselves. Our en-suite was most definitely for the brave; its raised wet-room shower was walled on one side by an opaque piece of strengthened glass that overlooked the staircase. We all agreed that
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it was a stunning feature for an already very well designed interior. Not only is it aesthetically pleasing, but clearly built with sustainability in mind. All the landscaping is grown from within the estate, as is the firewood. LME is also striving to produce properties that meet Code 5 in the standardised for sustainable homes. But enough of the eco-warrior within; let us talk about the business of gastronomy. I think it’s safe to say that very few of us would associate a lakeside holiday estate with haute cuisine, but LME has a menu that would easily rival many four-star restaurants. Not wanting to show our true colours or my penchant for fine dining, however, we decided against walling ourselves off from the other guests and ventured out to the very British barbecue being held outside the estate shop: less Waitrose, more farmhouse meets Fortnum and Mason. From duck eggs and Dijon to a selection of frozen gourmet meals, which include slow braised lamb hot pot and baked ratatouille, your dining needs are taken care of. However, maybe you are planning to entertain a large group: do you haul your ingredients to the Cotswolds? Heavens no, the team at LME can arrange for a banquet with your own personnel chef. Foie gras mousse with truffle chutney and brioche, or maybe a warm salad of smoked chorizo and chick pea, with fresh herbs and roasted red onion, or even king scallop and prosciutto millefeuille with baby pea puree and cherry tomato reduction. Suffice to say, when I read the menu before I left it looked delicious, so there was trepidation in regards to the impending barbecue. My mind recalled horror stories of family parties: uncooked sausages, wayward cousins and non-flame-retardant family members who were convinced barbecues need
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“It’s more than capable of catering for Joan Collins on a fortnight break with the cast of dynasty”
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Lower Mill Estate
petrol. This, however, was a far more civilised affair. Caramelised onion pork sausages, with spinach, red onion and feta salad – this was not what I had expected, not to mention the silver service and private chef. So, having devoured everything our New Zealand chef had to offer, we headed back to the house for an early night and Horlicks. Well, Isla Negra merlot, Carr’s crackers and the wrong side of midnight. The next morning we were faced with the prospect of what to do first. LME’s on site Artspa rivals most five star resorts. Would our guests opt for a green coffee wrap, a detox thalasso wrap, or your standard deep tissue? The treatment guide was, as you would expect, longer than the estate’s initial planning permission request. Spa retreats are generally regarded as a pursuit of the female of the species. I think most men will have laid back, grimaced muscularly and had a massage at some point in their lives, be it sport or not. None the less, I did enthusiastically review the list of treatments for men only, and I should point out that the majority of the treatments are for both sexes, although I feel cellulite treatment isn’t really for me. One that did intrigue me, though, was the men’s caviar facial: I looked up at Pandora, the Spa Assistant, “a caviar facial, does that get a lot of interest?” I asked with a wry smile. “A lot more than you would expect “. Preferring my caviar spread liberally on rye crisp bread at The Caviar House and Prunier, I bucked the metro sexual trend and decided to hike to the resort office to discuss how I could obtain a canoe. I should be fair here, however, and point out that the Spa has an outdoor eco-pool, with grey water filtered by lilies, two more twenty-metre heated pools, a steam room, a sauna, a techno-gym, a library and a residents’ lounge. It is more than capable of catering for Joan Collins on a fortnight break with the cast of Dynasty, I’m sure. So, as my friend and I headed for the canoe pick-up point, I tried to recall any semblance of canoeing I had done as a child or teenager. I remembered canoeing in northern Spain, near Tresviso, although having done that with a well-built Welsh prop, who was a family friend, and given that I was sitting in the front and only seven years old, I imagine I was more the cox than Redgrave. Nonetheless, we picked up our canoe and after the brief safety talk (“if she sinks, leave her and get out” – I think that’s Survival 101), we headed for the lake shore. What we encountered was, to be honest, majestic. The lakes are teaming with wildlife,
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Lower Mill Estate
from beavers to herons. If you’re raising your brood in the concrete jungle and would like to retreat somewhere to get back to nature, then the Lower Mill lakes really are breathtaking. Of course we peppered our lake exploration with a fair amount of beaching, dreadnought style, and swimming to what appeared to be uninhabited islands. This is a place where you can get lost in the countryside, safe in the knowledge that your seven-course banquet will be waiting on the lawn when you return, along with fresh rose water scented towels. When we returned, we lumbered the canoe back onto the shoreline and aimed our weary limbs in the direction of the villa. It was one of those freakishly hot British summer days preceded by a week of patchy showers. So, of course, none of us could stand the heat. Luckily there was a private gym and pool across the lane from our villa. I say private – it’s not as if there was an area of the estate open to youths and Staffordshire terriers. The whole of the estate is gated so you can relax, safe in the knowledge that your slumber, or nocturnal manoeuvres, will not be hampered by lookie-loos. When we arrived at the pool it was empty – bliss. Having played the usual fifteen minutes of ecstatic ‘there’s water outside, in our country, and its lukewarm, five lengths, loser gets the drinks from the villa’, games, we all fell into a deep inertia. Whether it was the four hours of furious canoeing or the general pace of the estate, it seemed as though all the worries and stresses of life had lifted in some sort of group exorcism. It personally takes me at least two days to turn off that irate part of my brain that feels it necessary to maintain a constant vigil on the office. The people I was with arguably have far more stressful jobs than I and to see everyone passed out pool-side, in homage to a Vanity Fair shoot like we were back on the French
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Riviera really, was astounding. This Sunday slumber lasted about four hours, at which point we all agreed that we had spent far too long in the sun and deserved another dip in the pool before saying our goodbyes. Once the house was empty and everything was packed away, I sat down on the decking overlooking the lake to take stock of the weekend. Lower Mill Estate is one of those rare places that instils tranquillity as standard. There is no escaping it. I’m sure everyone has their ultimate place of Zen and peace – a Bali Beach or Italian vineyard – but, for me, Lower Mill Estate is that very special place.
To view the diverse range of properties please visit www.lmeluxuryholidays.com or call 01285 869489 (ext 2).
SEPTEMBER13
s u o r u t n e v Ad
e t i t e p Ap
I could hardly call myself a wine connoisseur. The last wine I chose was a bottle of Lambrusco to mix with orange juice, so I approached a meal at the literal ‘Hotel of Wine’ with some trepidation. But considering I’ve lived in Brighton for 30 years, it was about time I tried out one of its most celebrated restaurants. Although I’m a stranger to fine wine, I’m certainly not a French food virgin. Having studied French for most of my school career, I spent many an evening on subsequent trips across the Channel partaking in the authentic foodie experience. I consider the five course wonder menu of traditional peasant food that I had in a rustic Dieppe hotel last year as one of the best meals I’ve ever had. Let me start by saying that the Hotel Du Vin was a different French experience altogether. To begin with, HDV Bistro is as cute as a button and as romantic as restaurants get. Tucked away down one of the many trendy alleyways off Brighton’s seafront , it was much more boutique than peasant, the low lighting, renaissance furnishings and abundant champagne bottle decorations providing the perfect setting for a luxury date or special anniversary. Luckily, the diverse groups of people sat around myself and my fellow singleton meal companion made the experience a lot less depressing than it could have been. From the bourgeois family with daughters dressed in finest Laura Ashley regalia, to the small groups of girlfriends gossiping over a bottle of HDV’s titular beverage, we fit in perfectly. And so, to the wine. Well, I know I like a drop of rosé, and as my friend has never drunk more than two gulps of a glass of wine in her life, we opted for the house Bordeaux Rosé. The waiting staff and
14 SEPTEMBER 2011
sommelier were as friendly, helpful and approachable as you could wish for, making the ordering process nowhere as stressful as I’d anticipated. And how was the wine? Well, it tasted like a £19.50 bottle of wine should taste; a lot better than Lambrusco. The course selection took a lot more consideration, since I know a little bit more about food and there were so many treats on offer. I love foie gras more than life itself, but since I always order it in French restaurants, I thought I’d go for the ever popular scallops instead. Served with chorizo and butterbean puree, in a typically posh, nouvelle cuisine, Matisse-on-a plate style, they were as good as any scallops I’ve had previously. The thing that elevated them further was the tiny pieces of perfectly-cooked chorizo heaven; about as posh and delicious as bacon can get. Of the butterbean puree, I can say it looked nice, but didn’t really add anything to the gorgeous flavours already afforded by the scallops and chorizo.
“Less rustic fun of the fair and more luxuriant savoir faire” Of course, my friend and I had to swap plates for a try of each other’s starter, and as delicious as my scallops were, they still paled in comparison to her foie gras, served in a parfait with chicken liver, accompanied by onion marmalade and brioche. The parfait on its own was rich, smooth and sensationally flavoured, but married with the brioche and onion marmalade it had me wishing I could snatch the whole plate and down it in one gulp before my friend could notice it was gone. The dilemma I had in choosing my main was almost comical. Should I opt for the luxury of rib-eye steak with bearnaise sauce and hand-cut chips, or go classic French with bouillebaisse accompanied by rouille? I yo-yoed back and forth so often, it was lucky our waiting staff were so immaculate with their timing. If they’d come to me any earlier, I might have had an aneurysm trying to choose on
Lower Mill Estate
the spot. Eventually I came to the conclusion that when in Rome, do as the Romans do. Or more fittingly, when in a French restaurant, choose the scariest seafood-based course on the menu. And so, when my bouillebaisse arrived, I certainly got what I expected. More stew than soup, the thick, rich tastes of the sea didn’t disappoint, which is perfectly fitting for a meal taken in a seaside city. The generous stack of seafood that would have left a lesser mortal quaking in fear left me squealing with delight as I anchored open a huge crab claw and ripped the head off a juicy langoustine. What I would say is, a short lesson in how to use the utensil needed for the crab claw wouldn’t have gone amiss, if not for me than for my meal companion who got more than one piece of crab shell flung into her eye.
So, come the end of the meal, in a rosé-tinted haze, would I recommend Hotel Du Vin Brighton? Less rustic fun of the fair and more luxuriant savoir faire, I would certainly urge you to give it a go for a real luxury treat with an authentic ‘posh-French’ flavour in the heart of this stunning seaside metropolis. What I would say is, whether you bring your husband, girlfriend, mum, brother or gaggle workmates, please do get adventurous and order the most outrageously French dishes on the menu. You won’t be disappointed.
To book at table call 01273 718 588 or visit www.hotelduvin.com/hotels/brighton/bistro
I’d heard about rouille and seen it prepared on many a cooking programme before, but had never tried it, so was excited to see what all the fuss was about. And? Well, this gooey, pureed red pepper and garlic treat smeared onto crispy French bread was the star of the dish. Yes, the crab, langoustine and red snapper were lovely, but I could have happily eaten a whole baguette’s worth of the garnish instead. And what of my friend’s dish? Of course we swapped for a mouthful or two, and you can probably guess what she ordered: the rib-eye. I would’ve thought her choice of medium-cooked would have been a little overdone for me, but it was nicely pink and melted in the mouth, the perfectly cooked chips far from lowering the class of the dish. As tasty as the steak was, I was still glad I chose my authentic French cours, if not only for the rouille, then also for the drama of the dish. And finally, with a tear in my eye at the anticipation of the end of such a charming evening, it was onto the dessert. With hardly a glance at the other offerings, it was with relish that I picked the most retro sweet treat on the menu, the Crepes Suzette. Now, I would love to tell you that I savoured every mouthful of the piping hot and perfectly cooked pancakes in intensely citrus-y syrup, but please bear in mind that as my esteemed companion is far from a lover of wine, I had drunk four fifths of the bottle of rosé by then! What I can remember of the dessert is that it tickled my tasted buds in all the right ways.
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SEPTEMBER 2011 15
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d a r n o C a
Hilton
When Conrad Hilton bought his first hotel in 1919 and founded the first Hilton in 1925, I doubt anyone thought they would see the birth of the first coast-tocoast hotel chain. Hilton put emphasis on the business traveller and believed that each property should have its own style, not look like a part of a chain.
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It’s arguable that many airport hotels do look the same but the Hilton Metropole on Brighton’s sea front is anything but a carbon copy. When I arrived, I got that reminiscence of grandeur in the main lobby. Sometimes I wish we could set hotel policy by the shade of attire: pink, lime green, numbers on the back; jog on. The Hilton is obviously not discriminatory in any way, but it carries a name, a brand, that alludes to the type of clientele you can expect. As for the building’s interior, it’s stunning (think gala ball, Windsor estate). But seafront hotels come in for a lot of flack; they’re seen as ageing dinosaurs in the boutique world. You only have to go online to see a string of hotel reviewers claiming their bijous experience – sleeping on a wicker mattress atop a hand-carved, wooden elephant foot in the park – puts hotel giants to shame. When you’re a serial hotel reviewer, I can assume that you begin, at some point, to struggle to find elements to review, and begin to become a little callous when reviewing places: ‘the parking wasn’t free, there was no natural light in our room, the bathroom was substandard’. I think we can all agree that people posting hotel reviews online are card-carrying members of the ‘there for the grace of god’ society. “Sorry, madam, is the bathroom not up to you usual standard? Allow me to fill the basin with Channel whilst handing you sheets of raw silk. Perhaps when you make your booking and opt for that ‘online deal’ you should consider why it’s so cheap. Yes, because it’s a cupboard. Oh, and is parking too expensive here? Well my sincere apologies for inflation, but do you know the price of a 100 metre square car park? We won’t achieve an ROI until 2030.” Luckily I’m not
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an old hack and haven’t reviewed hundreds of hotels; this was the first time I was asked to choose where, though. The Hilton Metropole in Brighton is a building that has stood the test of time; a seafront hotel that offers you an escape from the candy floss, fun pubs and stag and hen dos that frequent the city’s stunning coastline. Conrad Hilton had a vision, that his hotels would expect and exact the highest standards. The Metropole has a heated indoor pool, sauna, gym, à la carte Windsor restaurant, nine exhibition halls, and the most beautiful sea-facing views I have seen from a British hotel in a very long time. The Metropole is an escape. It’s not a chain hotel – well, it is, but it’s not what you expect. It’s a flagship and it puts the customer on a pedestal the way Connie would have wanted them to. As for the food, I sadly only managed breakfast, but if that was anything to go by, the evening delights should be every bit as delicious. The Hilton Metropole comes with all the trappings and grandeur of a flagship; if New York has the Waldorf then Brighton has the Metropole.
Visit www.hilton.co.uk/brightonmet to book your stay.
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Hotel
Heaven
In the heart of residential Kensington bliss is the legendary Blakes Hotel. With only word-ofmouth as a guide, my expectations were high. I got out of a cab to a horrified driver, who was glaring at me for my ignorance; I didn’t realise Gloucester Road tube station was a mere £3.40 journey away. Rhiannon Smith gives us her verdict on Blakes. A charming bell boy greeted me and whisked my bags away into the most mysterious and wonderful lobby I’ve ever seen. The decorations were muted and dark, with low orange lights placed throughout the room, illuminating the intricate wallpaper and art work, and brought some light into the room. The large antique mirrors helped make the room feel more open and added to the atmosphere. After a change in light, the second thing that I noticed was the faint sound of tweeting coming from inside the lobby; once my eyes had adjusted, I could see the enormous ornate bird cage in the corner and two beautiful budgies zooming around inside. The central feature was an enormous and wrought iron staircase leading down into the suave bar and restaurant area, where there are at least three groups of Kensington socialites at any one time.
The reception is grand and welcoming, manned by staff who seem as if they’re straight from the catwalk and magazines. I’m checked in by a gorgeous and friendly blond
“You have to go into Blakes with an open mind – expect anything”
and offered my complimentary drink, which I ask to be brought to my room. I’m helped to my room by the same charming doorman, who takes the stairs while me and my suitcase barely fit into the age-old, seven-by-three-foot, 1940s wooden elevator. I get to my floor and am led through the similarly-decorated hallways as the lobby; dark grey wallpaper broken up by intricate and unusual vintage paintings and ornate light fixtures lighting our way. Carrying on with the vintage vibe, I unlocked my room with a heavy gold key and was transported to what felt like a new world. My room was decorated entirely with black and orange stripes – and I mean entirely. I imagine it wouldn’t to all people’s tastes, but you do have to go into Blakes with an open mind and really expect anything. The sofa, the wallpaper, the cushions, the bedding – everything was black and orange stripe, which was stunning, if not a little dizzying. The bathroom was a homage to 40s glamour; bright, with white walls and golden marble finishes throughout. The heavy wooden shutters on the windows acted as Blake’s version of curtains and added that extra flair to the luxurious bathroom. With the bathrobes provided, and my complimentary drink on its way, I unpacked and made myself at home. From check in to check out, turn down service to efficient bar staff, I was treated by all staff like a true Kensington A-lister. If you’re looking for classic interiors, grand open rooms and hallways with cream and white colour pallet use throughout, then Blakes is definitely not for you. The eclectic vibe carried throughout the hotel leaves you wondering what could be around each corner. Blakes is high on my list of places to see and stay in London, but is certainly not for the faint-hearted! « For more information, visit www.blakeshotels.com or call 020 7370 6701.
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Do you
“a cross between Newport and Cornwall chic”
n i V Du
Hotel Du Vin 2-6 Ship Street, Brighton, Sussex, BN1 1AD Tel: 01273 718 588 www.hotelduvin.com I’m prepared to be brutally honest here: when I was asked to review some very different hotels on the south coast, I had already picked my I’m prepared to be brutally favorites. So much so, that when I arrived at a hotel down the strip, and honest here, when I was found myself in a homage to the early eighties’ Amway collective, I very asked to review some very quickly called my firm favorite and checked out within the hour. Well, I say checked out; I left under the cover of darkness. different hotels on the south My choice is a brand that’s synonymous with style and French influence. coast, I had already picked Hotel Du Vin hotels are elegant and luxurious, yet unpretentious, my favourites. So much so, with a clear taste for the vines. Not to mention excellent cigars. I’m that when I arrived at a not a smoker anymore, but I still appreciate a good cigar with a glass hotel down the strip, and of brandy. I can see you all rolling your eyes, but I don’t care. Life’s found myself in a homage small passions, whether timeless or nouveau, should be savored and appreciated. The Hotel Du Vin does just that: it’s quintessentially Angloto the early 80’s AMWAY French in style – a mode bolt-hole if you will. collective, I very quickly Upon arrival, we were greeted by a four-floor climb to the ‘top deck’. called my firm favourite I was praying for a roomy escape, which is exactly what I got; a cross and checked out within the between Newport and Cornwall chic. A nautical haven, complete with hour. Well I say checked the most beautiful shower I have ever seen. I would say it was sexy, but out, left under the cover of to be honest, I hate the term. But it was: stainless steel and music video darkness. By Peter Robinson worthy. We head out for the night, safe in the knowledge that our return will be met with soft furnishings and timeless style and comfort. The Hotel Du Vin is really one those hotels that’s in a league of its own. It’s been around long enough to establish some foibles – but hasn’t. The service is still second-to-none, and the staff pride themselves on an anything-is-possible policy. It’s that open nature that I adore. You’re never approached with an “it’s not our policy” diatribe. Instead, you’re always welcome to ask to push the boundaries – and by its very nature, the Hotel Du Vin has made it its policy to be groundbreaking. SEPTEMBER 2011 21 Financial Advice: Independent & Impartial
SEPTEMBER 2011 21