The Review - Sir Michael Caine - 2013

Q1 2013

THE

REVIEW STYLE FOR LIFE

POWDER

CHAMONIX UNCUT

SMOKING A REP’S EYE VIEW

HAVE FAITH PALOMA ON TOUR

BRISTOL

SIR GEORGES 410

CITIZEN

CAINE DOORS, SHOOTERS, SCOUNDRELS

BIG ED: DIRTY FOREIGN SCOUNDRELS

THE

REVIEW I’ve seen more launches than NASA, but this is definitely the most personal—the labour of love. The Review, as a title, was bandied about for other projects, but was never really suitable until now. The Review is more than just name: it’s an idea, an essence, a lifestyle—collectively, it’s us. Most people seek the best in life, whether it’s entertainment, transport, accommodation, eating or vacations. But seeking the best doesn’t mean spending extravagant money. Money can buy you anything, but taste and style needn’t cost the world. Whoever said ‘There’s no such thing as a free lunch’ was obviously a moron. Without taking it too literally, some of the best meals I’ve ever eaten were free. And some of the worst I paid painfully for.

As a magazine, The Review’s vision is to be indiscriminate, imbibing culture from high to low, rich to poor, tasteful to tasteless. Whatever the case, we’ll be your indispensible primer— your cultural fluffer—keeping you informed of the latest releases and launches, whilst simultaneously keeping an eye on classic simplicity.

For the first issue, we’ve brought together the best in food, style, travel and toys, including the Porsche 991; London’s most expensive hotel, The Lanesborough; a ski trip to Chamonix; a husky trip around Finnmark; an exposé on the relationship between the government and the tobacco industry; and this month’s best dressed people. With this, expect reviews and news on: arts, restaurants, hotels, bar launches, air and sea transportation, property, and plenty more.

If it’s reviewable, it’s here.

LAITH AL-KAISY, EDITOR

CONTENTS

CONTENTS

INTERVIEWS 11.

70.

76.

CAINE JEAN GEORGES VONGERICHTEN FREDERICK FORSTER

TRAVEL 45.

51.

49.

THE LANESBOROUGH

77.

WILKS

55.

THE GORING

79.

THEMROC

67.

JW STEAKHOUSE

AUTOMOTIVE 85 .

57.

63.

CHAMONIX ARCTIC ENDURO

ON THE SAUCE

PORSCHE CARRERA 2 BRISTOL 410

DINING OUT 71.

APSLEYS

73.

THE DINING ROOM

STYLE 15.

STEP AND REPEAT

19.

RIHANNA’S RANGE

CONTENTS

21.

BLT (BRISTOL’S LOCAL TAILOR)

25.

THE HUMIDOR

39.

HANDBAG SWAG 4.

8.

THE HANGOVER

9.

THE FIXER

UP IN SMOKE

TIME 29.

THANK YOU FOR SMOKING

AOB

MUSIC

LAUNCHES

BREMONT

36.

81.

DU MAURIER

33 .

PALOMA FAITH

VOLTAIRE

NICK CAVE

38 .

TOYS 91.

A380

93.

TRIDENT FOR SALE

83.

RADIO

PROPERTY

89.

2012 REVIEW & 2013 FORECAST

THE REVIEW 2013 8

CONTRIBUTORS

ARNELLE PATERSON

AMY McNICHOL

CHIARA THOMAS

OLIVER SMITH

Paterson’s work has appeared on the Spear’s magazine website and she has created her own newsletter for Hounslow Homes. Her grounding is in fashion, current affairs, food, celebrity, the arts, culture and lifestyle.

McNichol has worked across six of the BBC’s titles. She regularly writes for The London Word on all things food and booze related. A former Bangkok dweller and features writer at Thai glossy, Traversing the Orient, she considers herself an expert on (eating) oriental cuisine.

Thomas is a fashion journalist.

She spends her time between London, Barcelona and Brussels, contributing articles for Cosmopolitan UK and Metropolitan Magazine Barcelona, as well as being style columnist to The 405 Magazine and current subeditor of Stylobal Magazine.

Smith is our very own automotive editor. By day, he is the marketing manager for a restoration company, looking after the UK’s finest pedigree automobiles. By night... well... just don’t give him cigars and a magnum of champagne.

The Hangover doesn’t come close.

DAVID MINNS

PETER J ROBINSON

GEORGE HEALY

DANIEL TRAYLEN

Something of a renaissance man, Minns loves nothing more than dressing for an occasion, and encouraging others to do the same. In his capacity as Senior Style Advisor for A Suit That Fits, he literally dresses the nation.

He also serves as The Review’s Style Editor.

Rebel without a cause. Robinson has spent the past five years working in luxury print and publishing. This we feel may of jaded him slightly. He now heads up The Review’s partner video production agency and so you are more likely to find him on set than at an editorial meeting.

A rambunctious writer, Healy is most at home with his feet up on the Chippendale, posterior firmly placed in his Chesterfield, watching Racing UK, with a Punch smoking gently in hand. The man is also a fountain of knowledge on all things relating to the tweed brigade.

Traylen is a music aficionado with a will to be weird. He has the biggest Doors obsession this side of dancing around Jim Morrison’s grave. Despite his young age, Traylen has already made a significant dent in the industry, with notable work for NME and the fast-growing online magazine, Planet Ivy.

Citizen Caine With his distinct cockney accent and rough-around-the-edges charm, Michael Caine gained stardom in the 1960s as the working-class antithesis to the typical upper-class English hero. The Review met with Caine to discuss his successful—yet seesawed—career.

How did you get into acting?

My father thought acting was for sissies—but he didn’t actively discourage me from doing it. He died soon after I became an actor. But my mother always encouraged me to do whatever I wanted, she was really great.

Growing up, how involved were you with the South London gangsters?

I knew a lot of gangsters in London very well. That’s why, when I made Get Carter, I wanted to make it violent. Actually, it looks like Mary Poppins now, but we made it very violent for the time because I had a bee in my bonnet that British films treated gangsters as though they were stupid or funny. But in the forties and fifties, the gangsters I knew were not stupid. The one thing that struck me about all of them was that never did I meet any one of them who was stupid or remotely funny. They were very, very serious people. And they didn’t beat people up to pulp like in films. They were very expert at what they did. So in Get Carter the reason it looks so violent is that I didn’t smash anybody, it was just a single, violent stab in the heart in exactly the right place, without any emotion. It’s emotionless. The violence is in the eyes. The thing I noticed about criminals is that they smile, and they’re smiling at you, but their eyes stay like ice. What we wanted to show in that film was that these people were neither stupid nor funny, and you should take them very seriously.

You’ve had personal experiences running with gangs. What was the roughest thing that you were involved with? Was it anything close to the sort of stuff depicted in, say, Harry Brown?

It was always just gang fights. In my day, the drug was alcohol and the weapon was a fist, so it was very sort of innocent and primitive. Now you’ve got drugs, guns, and knives, which are so lethal. What a lot of people don’t realise about gangs, in my opinion, is that a gang is not there to attack you. Eighty percent of the people in a gang are there to stop anyone from attacking them. You join a gang for protection, not to go out and hit someone.

You became a star in the 1960s. What was it like hanging out with musicians such as the Beatles?

The Sixties were fantastic. You would be out dancing all night and look around the floor and there would be the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Terence Stamp, Albert Finney—the list goes on and on—we were all unknown and we all became famous.

Terence Stamp was too good-looking, such a hands-down winner. I used to pick up all the leftovers, the girls he didn’t want. I hung out with Peter O’Toole a lot. I was his understudy in a play. It was amazing. Even people you didn’t expect did well. Terry [Stamp] had a brother called Chris, he was just a young Cockney lad, and he didn’t want to be an actor or a painter. And then one day he said, ‘I’m gonna be a rock ‘n’ roll manager,’ and I said, ‘Oh yeah, have you found a group?’ And he said, ‘Yeah, me and my mate found this group called The Who.’ It was typical of that time.

You once did an instructional video on acting. Have any stars copped to watching it?

All the time. Gwyneth Paltrow told me the other day. People watch it out of amusement.

In it you say actors should never blink. Why? If you want to appear strong, never blink. Marlene Dietrich told me that. If you want to appear weak and funny, blink all the time. Hugh Grant never stops blinking.

You missed the Oscar ceremony when you won the Academy Award for Hannah and Her Sisters to make Jaws: The Revenge. Do you have any regrets about that?

Not at all. Hannah & Her Sisters came out in the dumping period of January and February. It did well, it got very good reviews, but there was no Oscar campaign. I’d taken a part that was a week in a movie, which I’d done before several times. They said, ‘We’re making this film about Jaws, will you do seven days on that?’ The Oscars came out of the blue. I was astonished that I was nominated. I went to Universal and said,

“I knew a lot of gangsters in London very well. That’s why, when I made Get Carter, I wanted to make it violent”

INTERVIEW: MICHAEL CAINE

THE REVIEW 2013 12

‘Can you change the schedule?’ and they said ‘No, we can’t, because we’re stuck with the boats and the traps’. So I had to be there and I missed it.

What did you think of the finished film?

I have never seen it, but by all accounts it is terrible. However, I have seen the house that it built—and it is terrific.

Another film that didn’t work out so well was The Swarm.

The extenuating circumstance there was I was a young actor from England in Hollywood, and one of the biggest producers there asked me to play the lead in a movie. And it was going to be a special-effects film; all the bees would be swarming and killing everybody. So I said ‘Yeah, that would be fantastic!’ I didn’t realise that if you make a special-effects film, and the special effects don’t work, you’re in a little bit of trouble.

Could you possibly name names and tell us the worst performance you’ve ever seen on stage?

I don’t remember ever seeing a really dreadful performance. I saw a very drunk one, where I think it was Wilfred Lawson and Trevor Howard who were bombed in a matinee, and it was Shakespeare, and it got very bad with the lines and the dialogue and someone shouted out ‘You’re pissed’, and one of them said ‘If you think I’m pissed, wait till you see the Duke of Norfolk’.

Have you ever wanted out of the industry?

No, it’s the most incredible thing, there’s nothing that I always wanted to do, just being an actor. I was one of the first generations who the first time I ever saw an actor wasn’t in the theatre, it was in the cinema. It was the Lone Ranger. So I wanted to be in films and for me, I thank God every day for my life, I’ve never had a bad moment in a work situation.

I just enjoy it so much and I enjoy the whole process. I enjoy the travelling—it’s the most extraordinary life to lead.

You’ve had over a hundred roles in your career. Is there anything that you haven’t gotten to play that you’re still hoping to?

As I say, I have three scripts that I’m hoping to play, but they’re not…

I don’t sit here saying, ‘I haven’t yet given my King Lear’ or something like that. I’m not that kind of an actor. I am what I started out as. I was a repertory actor, which meant that I did a play every week. I was a different character every week; for a year, I was doing 40 or 50 characters. So when I became a non-movie star and became a movie actor a few years ago, this was my delight. I didn’t get the girl—I got the part.

You don’t work that much anymore. What does a script have to do to make it worth getting out of the house?

It has to test me. I’m forever testing myself. As a person and as an actor, I have no sense of competition. I am a great admirer of other actors, but I never compete with other actors. I always compete with what I did last, and I’m my own most vicious critic. So I’m always trying to do it better.

Let me put it this way: If you’re sitting in a movie and you’re watching me, and you say, ‘Isn’t that Michael Caine a wonderful actor?’ then I’ve failed. If I’m a really wonderful actor, you’ll forget because you’re going ‘What’s going to happen to Harry now?’ That’s a movie actor, and that’s what I try to be. I’m looking for me to disappear, and the acting to disappear, and all you see is a real person.

THE REVIEW 2013 14

The Hair The timeless microphone.

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The frocks, the hairdos, the clevages, the vintage throwbacks, the red carpet has them all. But whose is a hit in front of the brand boards this month.

Words: CHIARA THOMAS

Who? Solange Knowles Where? A Delta Airlines event at The Getty House in Los Angeles The surname Knowles finds itself on the lips of music followers the world over, mostly preceded by the instantly recognisable forename of Beyoncé. To many a fashion connoisseur, however, it is younger sister Solange who has been stealing the fashion camera lenses. Her experimentation and fearlessness has caught the attention of a vast array of industry insiders, tracing the famous afro across various fashion events. Photographed here at the Delta Awards, Knowles showcases an artsy take on a sophisticated suit by DVF, vivaciously touching upon some of this season’s highly prominent trends. Not only is she toying with colour through the eye-catching hint-of-floral prints also flirted with in Kenzo’s S/S 2013 collection, but she is playing with fine fabrics in the silk fall and feel of the tuxedo itself. The simple black stiletto also serves to focus the attention more upon her tuxedo, with the white button-up blouse applying a shock factor to the outfit by enabling the richer floral colours to flourish through contrast. Gone are the days of simple tuxedos—as also noted in S/S designs by Mary Katrantzou and Roberto Cavalli—and, as her signature look, Solange Knowles is here to prove it.

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STEP & REPEAT

The Duds Paint by numbers at the nursery.

SOLANGE KNOWLES

FASHION: BEST DRESSED

The Hair A classic short back and sides.

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Who? Olivia Palermo

OLIVIA PALERMO

Where? The launch of Montblanc’s new watch collection in Geneva, Switzerland.

The Shoes Green Peace limited edition.

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Miss Palermo is frequently seen plastered across the pages of some of the biggest publications in fashion, praised for her acute sense of style, stoic willingness to mix and match, and ultimately, for always maintaining an enviable aura of class and elegance along the way. Infusing winter garments here with S/S 2013 trends—such as the mesh skirt, which echoes the intense mesh input adopted in the collections of fashion houses such as Christian Dior, Chanel and Balmain— Palermo confirms the necessity to include mesh in your wardrobe this season. The rich, autumnal colour tones exposed in Palermo’s belted cardigan romantically blend in with her olive complexion, displaying a stunning glow and an overall majestic quality. The aqua-blue clutch further adds to the ongoing love affair taking place between autumn and spring in this outfit, lending a youthful and playful touch to an otherwise mature look, as well as setting the hearts of fashionistas alight.

THE REVIEW 2013 16

The Top Sideboob anyone? Paps at the ready.

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The Arm I’m a little teapot or perhaps she took this shot for a wedge of cash this big.

Miranda Kerr

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The Bag Full of A-list swag: water, diet pills, bronzer and self worth.

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Who? Miranda Kerr Where? Out and about in Sydney Miranda Kerr is consistently a fashion force to be reckoned with. The epitome of yummy mummy, Kerr represents the modern metropolitan mother like no other—sublimely parading this season’s hottest trends both on and off the catwalk along the way. Pictured here in Sydney, Kerr fully embraces this season’s passion for all things white, toying with fabrics from a patent white handbag to a detailed leather skirt and spritely-sheer blouse, delicately detailed with a season favourite: stripes. This look pitches the perfect spring composite: basic colour juxtaposed with a higher concentration of fabulous fabrics and delightful detailing for a stand-out impression—elements of which can be traced to the S/S 2013 catwalk looks from designers such as Sass & Bide, Simone Rocha and Valentino. The darker nature of Kerr’s stilettos lends the look balance, steering the outfit away from the danger of being too monochrome, and also framing it with the matching dark tone of her sunglasses—all for a picture-perfect effect. Kerr’s flirty twist on this white fashion canvas makes this a perfect look.

82 Premiere Issue • Spring 2012

FASHION: BEST DRESSED

The Hair ‘I model for a living. I don’t give a s**t when I’m not on set.’

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Cara DELEVINGNE

Who? Cara Delevingne Where? Jonathan Saunders dinner party in New York

The Footwear High tops meets wedge. Very ‘Darth Vader in drag’.

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Jonathan Saunders’ dinner party in New York Girl of the moment Cara Delevingne never fails to impress in the style stakes, and this particular look is no exception. Here Delevingne effortlessly merges a laid-back, casual style with high fashion extraordinaire. Although this outfit comes from Jonathan Saunders pre-fall 2013, Delevingne still manages to tick all the style boxes for specific trends spreading like wildfire this season. Neon shades, a hint of the orient, and classic structure design are the way forward—as seen below in S/S 2013 designs from David Koma, Etro and Peter Dundas. The classic structure of Delevingne’s top and matching skirt is given character by the oriental floral pattern, serving to add a cultural edge to a universal (and thus basic) outline design, coupled with subtle make-up and fuss-free locks. In addition, the choice of black biker boots spices up the look with a delicious Delevingne twang, blending youthful flavours with the blander, more conservative Saunders fashion creation. Here, Delevingne allows for her outfit to do the talking, taking Chinese whispers to a whole new level.

ONF ORM 8317 THE REVIEW 2013

R Trendsetting musician Rihanna recently debuted her hugely-anticipated clothing line with high street brand River Island at London’s prestigious Fashion Week. The daring star is known for her risqué fashion and ability to push boundaries, and this is reflected in her range, albeit a little restrained. Spanning casual wardrobe items to chic evening wear, there are a number of pieces which display a direct correlation between Rihanna’s typical attire and her clothing line.

Words: ARNELLE PATERSON

Prime examples are the midriff-baring high-neck t-shirts and knotted vest tops.

Rihanna is renowned for her fabulously toned frame and these particular items from her collection offer an opportunity to accentuate a small waist while sustaining some modesty. With a mixture of bright fluorescent yellows and neutral browns hues, these items cater both to women who like to stand out and those who prefer a more low-key appearance.

Rihanna has stated that she “finds London really inspiring” and she has clearly been inspired by Vivienne Westwood’s punk aesthetic, as well as a hint of grunge, during the creation of her lace-up platform boots. This directly mirrors the androgynous look shown through Paul Smith’s 2013/2014 Autumn/Winter collection.

Although these boots are not something

I would wear, I can definitely see these on lovers of grunge chic.

The Bajan native’s red-carpet favourite of thigh-split maxi dresses is a reoccurring appearance within her line and is the perfect way to blend femininity with mystery, and thus emit sex appeal. This is definitely one of my favourite pieces in the collection as it radiates with glamour.

Teamed with Louboutins, drop earrings, smoky eyes and rouge lips, this is ideal for any caviar and champagne occasion.

Rihanna’s line has received a mixed response. Critics branded the line’s large hoop earrings, bright colours and crop tops as “horrible”. Some even went as far to say “slutty”. Although fashion is regenerative, the prominent essence of 90s nostalgia was a topic of debate amongst

critics, while others claimed it was “high fashion”. Considering Rihanna’s attitude, I am sure she is not the least bit phased, and in her defense, at least consumers can see that she has been a part of the design process.

Rihanna states that her collection is for “all types of women” and it appears that she has thought about this with slightly more conservative items, hemlines of differing lengths, as well as daring, urban pieces.

Ultimately, with its streamline cuts, formfitting style and grunge element, this line is catered for confident fashionistas who like to make a statement, much like the singer herself. The 120-piece collection ensures there is something for everyone, especially if you wish to step out of your comfort zone. The collection hits stores on March 5, 2013.

FASHION: RIHANNA

THE REVIEW 2013 20

.BLT. The formidably styled and fiercely sartorial, Lord of the Trad clan, David Minns. This issue, David talks about his man crush on Sir Michael Caine.

Photography: MANY

STYLE: DM - DB

Michael Caine. Actor. South Londoner. Legend. And sartorial hero of mine.

By the time the second Summer of Love rolled around, I’d been a punk, a breakdancer, a psychobilly, a skater, a BMXer, and a hippy (one of my better looks, given my long curly locks at the time). But as my peers boarded to The Farm’s Groovy Train, I found myself wanting ride to T-Rex’s White Swan, delving deeper and deeper into the psychedelic 60s and, ironically, became more interested in the first Summer of Love!

And so it was, along with my discovery of all things psychedelic and groovy, that I developed a penchant for the films of the day. But most of all, I was fond of Caine’s film classics of that era: The Ipcress File (1965), Funeral in Berlin and Alfie (1966), Billion Dollar Brain (1967), and The Italian Job (1969).

For a time, I struggled to move beyond the 60s era and influence— until I learned that Mike Hodges’ Get Carter was, in fact, made in 1971. For me, the film was Caine’s crowning sartorial moment. In fairness, the only real noticeable difference between the early 60s and early 70s suit cut was that the trousers were a little flared and appear shorter (however, this may be as much to do with swapping the popular 60s Chelsea boot for a shoe that makes them instantly seem shorter).

At the hands of his tailor, Mr Douglas Hayward (whose motto I work by to this day: “Before you can make someone look good, you have to make them feel good”), Caine had the style of the day: three-piece suits, drainpipe trousers, desert boots and beige-coloured raincoats—the latter my chosen look in my formative years, working for Habitat on Tottenham Court Road.

I was fascinated with Caine. The sartorial simplicity of Harry Palmer, the insubordinate, insolent, trickster seconded from the army for top-secret security duties, whose horn-rim spectacles I’ve coveted to this day, to the more flamboyant finery of Jack Carter, whose gargantuan gold and enamel cufflinks I still yearn for.

I even wanted my shoes to make the same sounds as Caine’s, as he walked with intent down dimly-lit hallways in The Ipcress File.

The scores to his films were, and still are, the soundtrack to my sartorial musings: John Barry’s score for The Ipcress File and Roy Budd’s for Get Carter are particular favourites. And Caine’s irreverence, chutzpah and style—both on and off the screen—have always been an inspiration.

These days, my sartorial influences date back to the 1920s, when peaked lapels ruled—and generous ones at that. People say the width of a lapel is a sign of the times, broader being more ostentatious and narrower a reflection of austerity. Naturally, my wardrobe is a reflection of all these styles and cuts, which all have their place.

But from generous to slim-fitting, it is the simple, yet oh-so-smart jib of the 1960s suit that will forever get my sartorial juices flowing. And in the words of our illustrious cover star “If you wear something for long enough, it will come back into fashion”.

THE REVIEW 2013 22

Arm Candy

It is a universally acknowledged truth that a woman’s life is simply incomplete without that special someone on her arm, whether they be tall or small, square or round, dark or coloured, complex or simple, Christopher Kane or Saint Laurent. Yes, a woman’s handbag really is her biggest necessity. And above all, it has to have character. With this in mind, we look at a variety of this season’s best catches. With these must-have suggestions, your spring is sorted.

By Day

Words: CHIARA THOMAS

DIANE VON FURSTENBERG For flirtatious daytime glamour, look no further than this Diane Von Furstenberg Carolina Lip Clutch in lilac. Crafted in sultry snake-textured leather and accented with a high-fashion punch in the form of gold lips, this unique clutch boasts style both inside and out. The piece is lined in dark-brown grosgrain for the ultimate colour pop effect against its lilac exterior. Retailing at £316, this oversized clutch is the perfect investment towards your city-errands outfit this spring, adding sophisticated daytime funk to a great pair of navy denim jeans and a pastel-green blazer.

TORY BURCH If you prefer a more exotic, Mediterranean feel then this Tory Burch Norah Bucket Tote is set to be your new Latin love. Inspired by the colours, spirit and lifestyle of the Mediterranean coast, the intriguing £329 creation celebrates different fabric cuts in the form of woven raffia, pompoms and turquoise fringe—altogether resembling the idyllic colour tones of the Mediterranean Sea. Finished off with delicious double leather top handles, this statement piece would go perfectly with this season’s favourite trends including Ibicencan dresses or a fabulous white blazer.

FASHION: ARM CANDY

ANYA HINDMARCH You may enjoy a little historical insight, in which case this delightful Anya Hindmarch tonal leather Courtney Damask clutch in mustard is a treat. With its design inspired by the luxurious interiors of Georgian architecture, this standout piece infuses classic with modern, conservative with youthful edge and fine detailing with bold colour like no other of its kind.

Boasting an eye-catching leather tassel – which takes eight hours to make by hand and which is comprised of a plethora of contrasting-coloured threads – and a sensational suede interior lining, this clutch’s attention to detail is worthy of its £395 price tag. A delight of the clutch world, this would look perfect with a pair of cropped white trousers and a dark magenta silk shirt.

CHRISTIAN LOUBOUTIN Christian Louboutin’s S/S 2013 collection of uniquestrap bags is sure to catch your eye this season, with this cotton creation in Caraibes cobalt set to whisk you off to the foreign shores of your imagination. In the words of Louboutin, the design gives “Language to the upper body,” helping to emphasise the most sensual part of the female body: her shoulders.

Priced at £1,035, this piece is so much more than a bag, delightfully crafted with two mirror-effect colourways and delighting in a bazin and patent body, this strong statement piece would be breathtaking, coupled with a sleeveless LBD, or a killer pair of cropped cobalt trousers and a simple white flowing tee.

MULBERRY For a more dark, handsome and built option, Mulberry never fails to impress. This Cut-Out Flower Tote in classic navy is a British treasure. Inspired by the rural English spring, this £1,150 gem parades gorgeous flower detailing in the metal flower feet on the base, the flower postman’s lock and the laser-cut flower detailing throughout the body. Fun, feminine and flirtatious, Mulberry sure knows the way to a woman’s heart.

THE REVIEW 2013 26

MATTHEW WILLIAMSON Often, it is the finest of details that make the biggest impact, and Matthew Williamson’s emerald green Swarovski crystalembellished clutch is a great example of this. This bag can whisk you off on an exotic holiday just with one glimpse of its fantastic array of ethnic elements embedded upon the goat suede exterior. For instance, this creation showcases multi-coloured beads and sequins, peacock feathers and extrinsic neon yellow touches. Retailing at £850, this clutch is the ultimate in exclusivity and a timeless treasure to be paired with black leather.

By Night

VALENTINO If you easily succumb to the Italian charm, then Valentino’s Naked Rockstud bag in transparent PVC and pale pink Napa leather will steal your heart. Beautifully adorned in pyramidal macro studs in gold metal with fabulous flirtation taking place between its sheer fabrics, this £1,082 design by artistic directors, Pier Paolo Piccioli and Maria Grazia Chiuri, is as exquisite as the aristocratic culture of Rome from which it takes its inspiration. Being so discreet in colour, this particular piece can be worn easily with most shades on the spectrum— however, by law of contrast, the unique detailing and design of the bag would benefit from a richer colour tone of outfit, such as a burgundy dress.

FASHION: ARM CANDY

LANVIN This season fashion house, Lanvin, have released the Arpège Minaudière clutch in celebration of the 85th anniversary of the brand’s eternal Arpège fragrance. The luscious bottle clutch is made of hand-polished black enamel, topped with a golden clasp and a ravishing serpent handle. Garnering much vintage-inspired nostalgia coupled with an ardent appreciation of the finer things in fashion, this £2,075 majestic delight is the female dream, ideally-paired with bold monochrome fashion pieces.

OSCAR DE LA RENTA Nothing adds an aura of seductive elegance to your evening outfit quite like a spot of rouge – and Oscar de la Renta’s Gardenia envelope clutch is here to do just that. Capable of freshening up any outfit, this £1,050 snakeskin Grafton carries strong hints of de la Renta’s Caribbean heritage and its colourful carnival culture. Business or pleasure? Both. The Gardenia is the ideal addition to the life of a businesswoman, combining high-end style with being perfectly-sized to fit an iPad. Pair the clutch with a navy dress for a striking evening look.

CHARLOTTE OLYMPIA Lending support to the increasingly-popular S/S 2013 oriental-influence trend is Charlotte Olympia’s £895 Pandora Hula, coated in tropical bamboo stalks dyed in midnight black. The original design of the clutch also offers the option to enclose the bamboo handle within its box structure via the easy manipulation of the magnetic fastening, spoiling you with two innovative clutch designs in one. Toying with contrasting fabrics when putting the royal Pandora Hula clutch to an outfit, such as leather or silk, will add a richness of textures to your look.

THE REVIEW 2013 28

Bremont There are some watch brands out there that positively exude effortless cool — and Bremont Words: LEO PARKER Photography: BREMONT

There are some watch brands out there that positively exude effortless cool — and Bremont is one that unquestionably falls into this category. In an industry dominated by watchmakers, typically from Switzerland, boasting over a century of watchmaking heritage, Bremont have certainly bucked this trend; it’s a British watchmaker that formed in 2007. For most, this would be a hindrance to finding an audience, but it

hasn’t held Bremont back at all, and this is testament to the quality of the timepieces that it consistently produces.

Fans of Bremont will already know, but for the uninitiated, Bremont is a watchmaker that is most famed for its aviation style timepieces —something that really sets them apart from the competition. The brand is the brainchild of brothers Nick and Giles English. Their love of aeronauti-

cal mechanisms stems from their father, Dr Euan English, who was a former RAF pilot and who sadly died in a plane crash. But this tragedy served as the catalyst for the creation of the Bremont watch brand, which the brothers created in remembrance of their father.

Needless to say, the success of Bremont has been built on quality tim epieces. Here’s a look at some of the most popular.

TIME: BREMONT BREMONT ALT1-WT WORLD TIMER This exceptional collection of watches is undoubtedly one of the most visually impressive of the series. The Bremont ALT1WT World Timer collection is a newcomer to the company’s offerings, released last summer, with the impressive feature of al-

BREMONT MARTIN BAKER MBII The Bremont Martin Baker MBII collection is a visually stunning series of watches.

They are so called due to the fact that they have been tested to be able to withstand the force exerted during an ejection from a Martin Baker ejection seat – which is why this is a popular choice amongst pilots.

This collection has been made in conjunc-

lowing the wearer to see all 24 time-zones at once, by having an internally-rotating bezel, which can be operated by the crown at the 8 o’clock position.

These wonderfully crafted timepieces have some particularly fine features that clearly exhibit why Bremont has managed to infiltrate the competitive world of watch-

making, despite their relative infancy. The watch pictured was originally designed to be worn by the military personnel of the C-17 Globemaster, which is used by the Air Forces of the UK, Australia, Canada and Qatar.

A sensational timepiece — one that rightly forms a cornerstone of the brand.

tion with Martin Baker Supplies and, it’s fair to say, they’ve collaborated to dramatic effect with some exceptional looking and flawlessly models.

It goes without saying that this collection is incredibly robust, given the conditions in which they are tested. And for fans of rugged, hard-wearing timepieces, this is the ideal watch for many reasons. It has many impressive features which justify the lofty

price-tag such as an anti-magnetic faraday cage, an anti-shock movement mount and a Swiss-made Bremont modified automatic chronometer.

Qatar.

A sensational timepiece — one that rightly forms a cornerstone of the brand.

THE REVIEW 2013 30

LIMITED EDITION BREMONT WATCHES Limited edition luxury watches are, of course, highly sought after amongst aficionados. The Bremont Victory — which is actually crafted from pieces of HMS Victory which was Lord Admiral Nelson’s flagship

vessel during the Battle of Trafalgar — is rather indulgent. It is attention to detail like this which allows Bremont to stand out from the crowd.

These are just some of the collections for which Bremont is most famed, but it also boasts many watches that are equally well-

crafted and stylish. Bremont is now firmly established as one of the world’s leading watchmakers, both in terms of popularity and the quality, and this is made all the more remarkable by the fact that the brand has been in existence for less than a decade.

du Maurier Maxim Watch

‘Please don’t call me Mr de Winter, I’ve a very impressive array of first names; George Fortesque Maximillion, but you needn’t bother with them all at once, my family call me Maxim.’

Words: OLIVER SMITH

If you’re familiar Daphne du Maurier’s story of Rebecca then the character of Max deWinter will doubtlessly be on your list of top ten rouges of all time. The dashing ‘hero’, who murders his ex-wife and still gets the girl. Imagine a handsome trilby-wearing rake with a family residence that would make the Queen blush and breeding to shame Kauto Star.

The leading man in the book oozes all of the charm that you would expect from a 1930s landed millionaire—and you’ll be no doubt pleased to learn that you too can have a slice of it.

Named after Mandalay’s most famous resident, the Maxim embodies 1930s charm with today’s call for a larger dress watch. Upon first inspection, it doesn’t disappoint. From the art deco script to the machine-blue sub dial second hand, it’s every inch the choice of a selfrespecting cad. The face is protected by sapphire crystal, should you knock it whilst climbing out of your Riva on Lake Como (its water resistant to 5ATM, should you actually fall in) and the movement is from the same country as your numbered bank account—Switzerland.

a suede loafer shod playboy.

The brainchild of Daphne du Maurier’s descendant Ned Browning, du Maurier Watches is a home-grown company offering style and heritage in their latest creation; The Maxim.

While the second hand car dealers and lottery winners are flashing their Rolexes at the local social club, this watch wouldn’t look out of place wafting down to the Côte D’azur on the wrist of

They always say that the watch never maketh the man, but this, like any good solid rule, needs an exception. You can buy yours from www.dumaurierwatches. com

Each one comes in its own presentation box with its edition number engraved on it and production is limited to just 300 pieces, so exclusivity is taken care of. The only aspect of this watch that won’t fit with the millionaire lifestyle is the price.

This example will set you back £445.00, which, for what you get, is excellent value. With the first examples already sold, I suggest that you stake your claim soon, before the remaining articles end up with the collectors.

KEEP THE

FAITH

Venue: READING HEXAGON Date: FEB 16 2013 Words: DANIEL TRAYLEN Paloma Faith is not a woman known for doing things by halves. Giant gold palm trees, pianos and suited band members lined the stage at her recent show at Reading’s Hexagon; an exotic, seductive atmosphere cranked up even more when the lady herself arrived in sparkles and fur, an elegant retro-throwback which Faith has become famous for conjuring.

But it’s her voice, that voice, which charges the crowd after a rather sedate support act.

It’s a wonder that she even needs a microphone as she soars through opener Let Your Love Walk In, the band behind her tight and sharply dressed.

This may not be Wembley Stadium, but you wouldn’t think otherwise as the set takes us through Paloma’s best-selling sophomore album, Fall To Grace. The songs from that album may lack the upbeat energy and pop sensibilities of her debut effort, Do You Want the Truth or Something Beautiful?, focusing more on ballads telling of heartache and broken promises, but hits

like 30 Minute Love Affair fill the auditorium with lush vocals and the occasional slow-burning guitar solo that turns them into something glorious and celebratory rather than melancholy. The crowd bathes in the purple light, singing along to every word like nobody is watching. The intersong patter between Paloma and her audience is almost like sitting with a friend for a cup of tea — indeed, this is her drink of choice for the night. She claims that this is the first tour where she hasn’t lost her voice, and whether or not it was saved by that great English placebo or not, everyone seems thankful for it. Her natural humour and stage presence are apparent throughout the show. She falters not once, even when hiking up her dress and darting around the stage in dramatic fashion, all glitter and vogue poses like a musical Bond Girl.

While she does almost seem to get carried away with her anecdotes at times, the music is always there, just when the crowd starts to get itchy.

A four-song segment of hits from her debut have everybody jumping and shrieking (probably the closest one can get to rocking out at a Paloma Faith show), while a showstopping rendition of the old jazz classic Sugar In My Bowl is one of the night’s highlights. Previously performed by the great Nina Simone, Paloma’s version is sexy and raucous — a pop princess she is not. Her decision not to end with an encore, but to simply carry the set on, was refreshing in a day when most artists are simply expected to return to the stage after every performance.

Picking Up Pieces, another single from Fall To Grace, brings the set to a vibrant end, coloured confetti raining down from the rafters, while that voice continues to soar.

When she politely explains that she won’t be able to greet fans outside because she has one more show the following night, the audience accepts graciously. And, just like spending time with that old friend again, the night ends with an Instagram photo and a toast from Paloma and her cup of tea.

THE REVIEW 2013 36

TEAM-DESIGNED, CUSTOM-BUILT, BADASS.

the 51-30 tIDe

nixon.com • 3 hand Swiss Quartz with tide sub dial • Custom 300 meter stainless steel case • Custom solid stainless steel band with double locking clasp

Nathan Fletcher

Words: DANIEL TRAYLEN Greatly anticipated by fans and critics alike, Push The Sky Away, the fifteenth studio album by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds has been a source of both confusion and acclaim from audiences. Some have even gone as far as to call it a lateperiod masterpiece.

A far cry from the priapic garage-rock of 2008’s Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!, Push The Sky Away is like waking up from a particularly intense dream and experiencing a moment of clarity. The songs have a space and an atmosphere like no other album in Cave’s canon.

Cave guides us through each song with some of his more obscure lyrics to date.

Higgs Boson Blues is like a hallucinatory journey through the unconscious mind, complete with pygmies and Hannah Montana, while the title track sums up the album’s mood perfectly when Cave delivers its penultimate lines ‘And some people say that it is just rock and roll/Oh but it gets right down to your soul’.

Push The Sky Away’s second single, Jubilee Street, is both heartbreaking and uplifting. While there are the familiar undertones of nefariousness in what is probably the album’s most structured song in a narrative sense, the hypnotic guitar and Ellis’s lush violin arrangements build into a soaring, moving crescendo with a

delicateness and subtlety that is apparent throughout the whole album.

Cave suggested during a recent Twitter interview that the song is about rebirth, and it seems fitting that it should appear on an album that has brought the Bad Seeds out of the shadows and into something of a carte blanche. Between the disappointing reception that 2003’s Nocturama received, the violent thrashing of Grinderman, and a couple of film scores, the Bad Seeds have re-energised themselves with an album unlike anything they have done before.

Push The Sky is out now on Proper Music Brand Code.

THE REVIEW 2013 38

T

S ‘Michael Jordan plays ball. Charles Manson kills people. I talk.

Everyone has a talent’

THANKYOU FOR SMOKING

THANK YOU FOR

SM KING

‘People, what is going on out there? I look down this table, all I see are white flags. Our numbers are down all across the board. Teen smoking, our bread and butter, is falling like a shit from heaven! We don’t sell Tic Tacs for Christ’s sake. We sell cigarettes. And they’re cool and available and *addictive*.

The job is almost done for us!’ Ever wondered what goes on in the backroom of the worlds Tobacco companies, The Review goes behind the smoke clad curtain for an exclusive look.

Photography: BR Everyone has their prejudices. In my experience, they tend to be on a scale – but I find the scary thing is that the prejudice is only voiced, not on how logical it is, but on its popularity. Some folks are racist, but they would be deterred from voicing their prejudice, not because it’s groundless, but because it not popular.

As we move up the scale and the idea grows in popularity, prejudice becomes more vocal. Let’s take speeding, for example.

People feel free to tear a strip off of people who speed in cars. The reason for this is that the idea has been made popular, because the government have clambered onto the bandwagon citing a raft of manipulated road safety statistics in order to back these people up (nothing to do with boosting revenue from speed traps).

This theory leads me onto one of the most dangerous forms of prejudice: the prejudiced who ‘posses’ the moral high-ground.

At this stage, the former factors do not apply. Be it groundless or unpopular, the person who feels that their preconceived idea is morally right is a force to be reckoned with. Sound’s daunting doesn’t it?

Well, take this moral approach and add to it popularity and, what the opinionated regard to be, a factual grounding—you are then contending with a leviathan. This lumbering beast will openly attack anyone who disagrees with their idea and will show no mercy in trampling them down with all

manner of abuse and misinformed verbosity.

“What on earth would evoke such feelings?” I hear you ask. Well, one very common example is smoking.

In a previous life, I spent a number of years working for one of the world’s largest tobacco companies. Before, during and after that time, my opinions have remained largely unchanged. I have never smoked, which may appear odd, considering I sympathise with the plight of the smoker. I did, however, used to be the only thing detested more vehemently by anti-smokers than a smoker; a tobacco company spokesperson.

If you ever want a real showstopper, upon meeting a group of new people, when asked the dull question “So what do you do?” reply with “I’m a spokesperson for a tobacco company”. I give you my word that you will elicit a very positive or very negative response. Neither of which is ever dull.

As I said, I don’t smoke and I wouldn’t choose to because it’s bad for your health, but what the tobacco companies are doing is offering people a product that they want; promoting freedom of choice. They don’t exploit people because they can’t. The industry is tied up tighter than the UN, and believe me, from the inside out, it is spotless.

I was once in a meeting where a co-worker made a quip about pitching to “kids on the school bus”. HR came for him that af-

ternoon and we never saw him again—no joke. Don’t get me wrong, they’re not a charity and like any major corporation, if they could bend the rules a little, then they may. But the point is they don’t.

The smoker is the subject of vilification here, though, not the company that supplies his or her product. The classic clichéd argument against the smoker is the fact that they cost the NHS millions of pounds a year to treat and patch up by doing something that is avoidable. Now you may not want to hear this, but these patients are termed as collateral damage in the NHS funding structure, simply because—and wait for it—in 2009 the tax revenue generated by the UK tobacco industry would have paid to run the entire NHS and police force six times over in a twelve month period. I can’t quote my sources without naming my previous employers, but you’ll just have to trust me—I was a spokesman for them after all.

That should be enough to earn the humble smoker peace and quiet whilst they enjoy their cigarette. No? Well, if you want more, then allow me to enlighten you further.

Let’s assume that you’re in perfect health and you never have to use the NHS. Also, that you never have any benefit from the police force. Unlikely on both accounts, but for arguments sake, you feel that you haven’t been compensated for having to walk through a little puff of smoke on your THE REVIEW 2013

way into the local pub.

In 2009 a very popular brand of twenty cigarettes would’ve cost you £5.67. Upon sale, this figure would have been divided up into four. 33p would go to the shop where you bought them; 42p would go to the cash and carry that the shopkeeper purchased them from; and 58p would go to the tobacco company. The remaining £4.34 went straight to the government. To put into perspective the revenue created and in turn the amount of tax generated, in ’09 making only 58p per pack, the tobacco company in question made more net profit on that single brand than Coca Cola and Cadburys Dairy Milk combined.

Big business.

Banning tobacco is not high on the government’s to-do list because, as a country, we can’t afford to. Harsh facts don’t sit very well with the pious masses—so instead, the government, being keen to appease the ve-

hement anti-smokers, came up with a plan.

It worked like this: you may have heard of an anti-smoking group called A.S.H. (Action on Smoking & Health). This ‘independent’, ‘public’ group lobby the department of health to action changes on tobacco legislation. The health department then action the changes and the government turn round to the public saying that they have listed to the lobbyists and acted according (pats on the back all round, home in time for tea and medals, etc). However, the truth is this: A.S.H. is a government-funded quango, bankrolled by the health department. It is informed of changes in government policy before they are released to the general public. A.S.H. then ‘pre-empts’ the changes by ‘lobbying’ the health department for changes which they already know will be made.

I don’t want you to think that the government is one cohesive, well-oiled machine,

because it has been known for the quangos funded by the health department to cause a thorn in the side of the treasury, due to unplanned affects on public opinion towards smoking. This, therefore, creates a downturn in tax revenue and considerable ‘excitement’ in the corridors of power.

Like it or not, we need smokers. All I have given you are facts and figures; the cold reality of why we need them economically in society. If that doesn’t float your boat then accept them as people who have made a choice. They know smoking kills.

Even Google knows on auto-complete (amongst other words, such as jacket and pipe) so you don’t need to stuff it down their throats. Next time you see them huddled in the freezing night air outside of your local, don’t scowl at them; give them a smile. Because when you get drunk that night, they would’ve paid for your stomach pump.

THE FIXER

So you’ve avoided the banking crisis, your assets are sat somewhere comfortable in the Caymans or perhaps your one of an 8000 strong royal family and money is no object. But what about time?

Photography: MANY TALENTED SOULS

STYLE: THE FIXER

London is a city like no other. According to Ledbury Research, the increase in London in centa-millionaires is likely to rise by 44% this year. It isn’t all about Brazil and China. The total net-worth of the elite centa-millionaires is around $39.9 trillion. London has always been a safe haven to the rich and powerful, with lax corporate tax law and a million fiscal loopholes. London has never seen so many affluent characters reaching the banks of the Thames.

So, you’re one of the 63,000 people worldwide with $100m or more in assets, wedged into some ungodly diamond-encrusted wallet or gold-plated purse. You’re in central London. You have money to burn, but nowhere to turn. You need a fixer. Historically, a fixer was a gent who worked for a law firm and was able to operate in the interests of its clients, using underhand or illegal methods. But, at the end of the day, if you’re sat in a pool of someone else’s blood, are you really that bothered about whether ‘the fixer’ uses fraudulent methods? No. Today’s fixers are luckily not the rogues of old. Today’s fixers are the men and women that simply ‘make it happen’.

In the words of James Lionel Price, Mr Vaughn’s character from 2004’s Layer Cake: “Details, details. Things to do. Things to get done. Don’t bother me with details, just tell me when they’re done.” And so back to my original point: time. The one commodity that you can’t literally trade in.

Should I have enough zeros on my bank balance, I wouldn’t wish to queue for the latest iPhone or shop around for a new Ferrari. I would just expect to awake to the sound of a 458 Italia outside my window, engine running with the new phone’s bluetooth connected and sat in the holder ready and waiting. I would of course need reservations for dinner at the Hotel Post in Zermatt and accommodation at the Heinz Julen Loft. That sounds like a lot of phone calls and traipsing around.

Even then, would I be able to get half of it? Let’s assume that the 458 is simple enough to acquire. But the phone?

Let’s assume it has just been released and I would like to gloat to all and sundry. The hotel reservation might be okay if they have space. The Loft, however, is most likely to be booked by Robbie Williams for his usual party. Then there are flights. Easy Jet is a thing of the past, but how to find a private flight to Geneva or Zurich at short notice? How do you gain the competitive edge to get all this done, without spending two weeks on the dog and bone chasing? The answer: a fixer. And not just any fixer — the London fixer.

To be brutally honest, the city is littered with conciergestyle companies trying to offer a combination of luxury lifestyle services. Few manage to come close to providing a personal service. Sunseeker has one, for instance, on the assumption that, if you are buying a boat, you will need a slightly gregarious lackey to run around after you.

Many try and knit together a circle of likeminded partners to offer the appearance of a service, but usually fail to find harmony. However, don’t dismay. We, of course,

have a solution for you.

The Envy Group is a Mayfair-based fixer. With plush offices on Berkeley Street, it is evident that business is good. Entrepreneur Alexander Martin is one of the Envy Group of Directors. Discretion is key in this game, so don’t look for his picture over the page; you won’t find it. Alexander explains that the firm works on an introductory-only basis, preferring to utilise the benefit of recommendation from client to client. This ensures that a specific type of client relationship is maintained.

Envy are effectively a luxury management specialist, property investments or acquisitions, VIP and private events, supercars, yachts, jets, luxury goods — you name it, they can do it. They work similarly to a mini satellite family office, looking after important family members whilst they are away from home. We aren’t just talking about a jack-of-all here either. The team knows its stuff — and with clientele like theirs, they have to. Alexander and the team prefer to acquire ‘friends’ rather than clients. They regularly lend their Rolls Royce Phantoms to friends, so it pays to keep a certain clique. The Envy Group even arrange UK investor visa programmes, tailor made to their friends’ requirements.

When money is no object, people assume that the world is your oyster; that anything can be accomplished in the swipe of a Centurion card. But the reality is a little different. With so many wealthy individuals transcending to London, there is in-fighting. There are only so many tables at The Hospital Club and very few signature Aspinal pieces from their private collection to go around.

So, your fixer must be better than the rest. Having located some of the world’s most collectible and elusive cars makes them the London go-to guys. Whilst making sure their friends have access to all the newest and mostwanted supercars before anyone else.

We took the opportunity to put the Envy Group to the test. We gave them a short itinerary for central London and said “You do the rest”.

The Rolls Royce Phantom (who says it’s too big for central?), the suite at 11 Cadogan Gardens and tickets to the launch of London’s newest rooftop bar, Radio, all came in a flash. Needless to say that the team understands the audience. For some, it is a classic car or antique watch, a box at the O2, or to attend a premier. Others want to meet their rock and roll heroes. And for some, it is all about utilising the great team at Envy to give them back some time.

BLACKBOOK: T: 0207 016 8883 W: www.envygroup.co.uk

THE REVIEW 2013 44

CHAMONIX Fortunately, for our chosen carrier — I use the term ‘chosen’ in the loosest possible sense — we are not reviewing their services or their contribution to, what is shaping up to be, an epic trip for our party of boarders and skiers.

Words: DAVID MINNS Photography: TEAM Poor old Easy Jet. Not oft spoken of highly, but in addition to their no-frills air travel, today they are blighted by frozen water tanks, rendering the loos without the ability to flush and passengers without refreshment.

Well, except for alcohol—but at 7am in the morning? However, never let it be said Easy Jet have not made an effort in the uniform stakes: their choice of charcoal-grey to contrast, or rather offset, the orange should be commended. It could so easily have been

black — ergo, much too harsh a contrast to digest that early in the day.

And so off we set, an hour later than scheduled. Not that I’m complaining, as it afforded Bristol’s local tailor his favourite caffeine fix: Starbucks Pike Place (filter) coffee, black. Thank you!

I’ll confess that I’d have rather woken at 03:30 this morning as planned, to have been able to conduct one’s morning ablutions in the sanctuary which is my

bathroom and ponder at my leisure which pocket square would complement my travel attire best — but my alarm was mysteriously reset to 04:46. This meant that BLT had but 14 minutes to be suited — well, tweeded — and booted: L.L. Beans original hunting boots, if you’re wondering, assembled together with snowboard bag at the bottom of Totterdown’s ‘Montmartre’ steps to be picked-up by Robinson and Pang for what is likely to be this year’s only snowboarding

T R AV E L : C H A M O N I X trip.

So, aside the L. L. Beans and the A Suit That Fits tweed jacket, what does BLT’s alpine ensemble consist of? Green marino sweater, contrasting green gingham check shirt, carrot coloured chinos, and last but by no means least, this year’s accessory of choice, my chocolate-coloured beach watch. And while it’s yet to see a beach, the term ‘beach-watch’ is the name affectionately referred to by the bestower of

this chirpy time piece, Gregory Van Praagh (thank you, Mr Van Praagh).

Chamonix, unlike other winter sports destinations, is not just a ski-resort but a town — the town where the winter Olympics were first hosted, no less — meaning that people live there year round. As such, this means that its inhabitants don’t just dress for the piste but dress for every occasion: hiking, climbing, drinking and dining (and there was some epic dining, but more

of that later). In fact, I was lucky enough to stumble upon a wedding in the quaintest little chapel, the roof of which I was unable to resist riding off, the sub zero temperatures doing nothing to hinder the guests’ dressing in their finest wedding finery.

Our first encounter of French (well, English) hospitality was at Geneva Airport, where Chamonix All Year proprietor and all around nice guy Nick collected us for the drive across the border into France. We also

inadvertently acquired James Stentiford (Lib Tech team rider and DC shoe agent) on the plane over, so our carriage was full with boarders and skiers all vying for the upper echelons of the decibel range. But safe and sound, we arrived at our delightful five-bedroom chalet, though not before a superb lunch of steak frite at Bar Monkey, coupled with an afternoon of drinking to get in the spirit.

What about our winter wonderland accommodation: the cabin was picturesque, set in its own plot of snow-covered land, floor

to ceiling pine and an open-log fire. It also came with a plethora of mod-cons: retractable projector screen (to really get in the mood when watching apre-snowboard movies), a bathroom for each room, and two games rooms comprising a pool table, a dartboard, and an X-Box. We could not have asked for a more idyllic base for a week’s riding — well, with the exception of being closer to town.

Lift passes were provided courtesy of Compagnie du Mont-Blanc and this may have been my highlight of the trip: old rolling

stock to take you by train up the mountain.

Sadly, I didn’t make it to the summit, but I did enjoy watching the train track wind up the mountain from the Jacuzzi in the yard — did I mention the Jacuzzi!?

The benefit of having local knowledge in your party is that you learn about the local haunts and the shops that sell covetous skiwear, and underground bars, such as La Cave, which is literally underground.

Then there are the hidden restaurants, accessed through these underground bars, and which serve the best French cuisine:

l’escargots, foie gras, steak and magnums of Cote du Rhone.

With all that taken care of, what does that leave? Apres-ski! Bar none, the most comprehensive apres-ski was provided by new venture The Kitsch-Inn, opened in 2012 by husband and wife team Kate and Paul.

The Kitsch-Inn ticks all boxes: live music, jugs of beer (including my favourite tipple, Aflegem), a 70s-print saucepan, the same

as my mother once owned, filled with retro chocolate bars like Double Deckers and Curly Wurlys, and the piece de resistance, whacky shots served in miniature, edible ice cream cones topped with cream.

The Kitsch-Inn is not only good at apres-ski, it also offers a dining room (a kitsch-one, obviously) where you can enjoy a sit-down meal, throw a birthday party, or even tinker on the ivories. Our very own Jason Shankey

obliged us a number or two, whilst we provided the (out-of-tune) singing!

In what would otherwise be a week of riding and drinking as hard as possible, in order to get it out of our systems for a year, it made a nice change to soak up some culture too. Indeed, we were introduced to so many extracurricular activities by our fantastic hosts at Chamonix All Year, and on the last day, I was left having to choose THE REVIEW 2013 46

between heading up the mountain or go into town and take the old rolling stock up the mountain to one of Chamonix’s many dorms, where mountaineers seek refuge

during an expedition. The one in question used to be a chateau, until it was donated to the people of Chamonix. Obviously this appealed to my renaissance sensibilities,

but alas, it will have to wait another year, because up the mountain I went for one last blast!

FOOD: LANESBOROUGH

A Night of Unreality Reviewing high-end hotels is a curse, a pox of the profession. I don’t know how I will ever stay in a crap hotel again. In fact, if it comes to it, you’ll probably find me hanging from one of the fixtures, or overdosed in the bathtub, with a note reading ‘They only had prosecco’.

Words: LAITH AL-KAISY

I recently stayed at a four-star in Bristol, which really has no business marketing itself as such. The easy assumption to make is that promises were made, money was passed, and trousers were dropped—a bit like the average customer’s stay. It was awful. A couple of weeks later, I find myself at The Lanesborough on Hyde Park Corner—you know, a proper hotel, the same that accommodated Michael Jackson, Madonna, Mariah Carey, Sylvester Stallone, Celine Dion and George Bush, Sr., and where Stanley Kubrick filmed those soft-core scenes for Eyes Wide Shut.

How’s that for juxtaposition.

Walking in, the decor is as you’d expect: traditional English, Regency hard-on. It’s like going through the looking glass and landing on the lap of obsequiousness. I’m sat down for pleasantries, check-in and ego massage, while the concierge dematerialises with my bag and, with a quantum leap, reappears moments later outside the Buckingham Suite, where these lovely people have ensconced me for the night.

The Buckingham Suite is the midway mark at The Lanesborough, costing £4,000 a night. The two superior rooms, The Royal Suite and The Lanesborough Suite, stand at £10,000 and £18,000, respectively. It’s pricey, which is no secret, having been described countless times as London’s most prestigious hotel (surely that accolade still

belongs to The Ritz, but it’s certainly the most expensive).

If you decide to stay here, don’t bother staying in a queen deluxe room (£495); what the hell would be the point? If you’re going to splash out, do it properly, or take your custom to a less pricey hotel and get more for your buck.

My personal butler turns up to say that he’s at my disposable 24-7. He asks if I’d like a tour, something I usually hate, but due to the size and nature of the suite, I agree. There’s no fluff with the butlers at The Lanesborough—all the talk, though small, is meaningfully relayed through a transnational smile. Guests are made to feel important, attended to, and wanting for nothing.

Before he leaves, the butler (whose name escapes me now) tells me that The Buckingham Suite is his favourite room, and I can see why. The long mahogany-panelled entranceway is probably bigger than a standard hotel room, with fancy Regency detail that leads to the 90-square-metre suite, consisting of a separate living and dining room, which can entertain six guests for dinner, or twenty for an orgy.

Little touches, such as the television being hidden behind a mechanical painting, are intelligently planned out. The carreramarbled bathroom features his-and-her vanity units, a spa bath and steam shower.

Alongside a bottle of iced champagne, there are personalised business cards, kaleidoscopic flowers, and a bowl overflowing with fresh fruit. It all reeks of pomp and splendour—and I absolutely love it.

For those wanting to dine, there’s 24-hour room service (obviously), serving gastronomic grub, as well as a set menu from Apsleys, which is the fastest restaurant in London to be awarded a Michelin star, and is run by Heinz Beck on the ground floor. You can read my review elsewhere in print, but the menu is punctuated by such dishes as foie gras, lobster and white truffle, and venison. Apsleys is a quiet triumph that should really be more well-known.

There are only a handful of hotels (most of which are overseas) that I can call flawless. The Lanesborough is definitely one of them. Whatever hype and mythology there is surrounding the establishment is met and exceeded. The price? You get exactly what you pay for: The Lanesborough gluts the appetite for prestige and grandiosity, and fulfils its role as a solicitous yet unobtrusive host. Don’t forget, you’re not paying for square metres, decor, or a private butler; you’re paying for something intangible, a personal experience, idealism. And trust me, the only the downside to staying at The Lanesborough is having to go back to reality.

“The Lanesborough gluts the appetite for prestige and grandiosity, and fulfils its role as a solicitous yet unobtrusive host”

50

ADVENTURE

BEST SERVED COLD

Arctic Enduro is what I call an adventure. And for a proper adventure, you need a couple of things: the money and the moxie. You see, adventure is as much about personal endurance as it is villainous weather and dangerous topography. Though a travel hack, I am not usually one for adventure holidays. I prefer the slow acquaintance of travel, the geographical foreplay, not the collective, head-first, knee-deep, white-knuckle stuff. Or so I thought. Global Enduro invited me to Norway to experience one of its more extreme offerings: the dog-sled, the snowmobile and the cold.

Words: LAITH AL-KAISY Photography: CONSTANTINE ALDRIDGE

T R AV E L : A RT I C Now, we spend most of our lives trying to maintain normothermia; a snug thirtyseven Celsius. Cold is not an option. It is an undesirable and disabling term.

Have you ever heard someone boast of a bitter, minus-ten degree holiday, or drink stone-cold tea, or make cold love? In my parochial mind, the cold doesn’t seem conducive to much, and certainly not adventure. But that’s just me and I’m mostly wrong. Arriving in Finnmark, Norway, the first thing that struck me was the sun; that familiar warm-blooded friend, who I never expected to see. Indeed, looking around, you realise that the most extreme things about a place like this are your own preconceptions. The only extremity here is location: acute north-east.

Finnmark is Norway’s largest county, home to the semi-famous and indigenous Sami people, who eke their time herding reindeer and catching fish, and ultimately live the twenty-four-seven enduro. These are the type of people who have a spirit or god for every flake of snow that falls. It’s a quaint and fitting practice for such a dreamscape, and there’s nothing like hearing about heritage and mythology over the brittle snaps of a campfire. After eating soup and smoked-meat, we slept.

It’s impossible to not be overwhelmed by the vastness of the landscape on which you’re about to embark. Early morning, looking out onto the niveous plains, the furthest focal point is absolute nothingness: no horizon, no meeting of snow and sky, just a seamless Arctic hue. It’s an ethereal and pristine place, seemingly unready for humans, and entirely otherworldly. The folklore of the Sami is like an omniscient aura that watches over you pervasively. The dogs can sense it, too. But then, they’re used to this, with their sixth-sense, steely pupils and ashen-brushed coats. They elicit immediate faith and reassurance, and I’m glad our first few days are spent with them.

Crossing immeasurable tracts of woolly

terra with huskies is an experience every single person on the planet should have.

The only noise in audible range is us – the trespassers. Ice deadens the air; silence beyond silence. The accelerating rush through the unforgiving white wilderness is unreal, and as with any other extreme adventure, there are no margins for error, no dry-runs, no Plan B – this is it. The snow creaks and cracks like wood splitting on a decayed bridge, the temperature falls disproportionately to our increasing speed, and the winds become an acerbic menace trying to ward us off. You can come as prepared as you like, but Nature will never yield. The dogs stop momentarily, but we, the riders, are the breathless ones. One of the huskies seizes a snout-full of snow, while another kicks up a spangled cloud impatiently. Scanning the vistas, I ask if anybody ever gets lost out here. “Mainly researchers and explorers,” came the answer. “But not very often.”

Over the night, the residual adrenaline means you can do nothing but recover and reflect. Unexpectedly, I was beckoned from outside the cabin. In the raven sky, something was happening: spectral lightning bouncing across the ether. Incredibly, it was the northern lights. The chances of seeing the northern lights (or aurora borealis) are skimpy and unpredictable, so this was fortuitous to say the least. With everything on a trip like this, luck is either on your side or it isn’t. The aurora borealis are apocalyptic, deep azure and sapphire, and truly paranormal. The mythologies behind the phenomena vary across the region, but all adhere to one fundamental tenet: do not offend the lights. Hoping our luck had not run out, I watched the fleeting display tacitly and considered the days ahead. A Sami child looked on, bright-eyed, like a rabbit caught in headlights. Every legend she’d ever heard was playing out in the sky.

Snowmobile time, and it was the epical nature of the journey that was troubling

THE REVIEW 2013 52

me most. 1200 kilometres in six days: my Iliad. After surprisingly little fumble and practise, I decided that snowmobiles were the best thing since, well, being pulled by huskies. We set off, a school of ramblers, on a controlled rampage across the frosty expanse, plumes of icy shrapnel trailing our course. The adrenaline only defies for so long before you’re covered in cold.

We traversed the land, almost mimicking the huskies, simulating their agility and wily judgement. Stopping at Lake Inari, another runic wonder, we ice-fished for dinner and lit a campfire. On Lake Inari, you will find Hautuumaasaari—the Graveyard Island. This island, it is told, served as a cemetery for the ancient Sami people.

Another island, Ukonsaari, is home to the infamous Ukko Stone, a bygone site for sacrifices. Exactly the type of thing you

want to hear before retiring to log cabin in the middle of nowhere.

We upped the pace over the next couple of days, before finally reaching the Sami capital of Karasjom. Here, we were guests of Sven Engholm. What a name; what a guy.

Eleven-time winner of the Finnmarkslopet dog race, too. If you can stop here, do so. Sven is a raconteur who will keep you riveted. It’s moments like this that make the arduous daytime trek worth it. Similarly, and certainly one of the highlights, the Sami invited us to stay in a traditional laavu, where we sat around a fire and conversed about their history. Climate change is an obvious concern. The Sami are immediate, voiceless victims of a vulnerable planet.

“The thinning of the ice has made herding dangerous,” Mathis, the elder Sami, tells me. “Climate change is threatening

the Sami as a society.” And with that, the poignancy of the people, the place, indeed the whole trip, becomes apparent.

Without indulging in too much hyperbole, Arctic Enduro is the trip of a lifetime. If you’d asked me beforehand, I would have said it’s not for everyone. But as usual, I’d have been wrong. This is serious behindthe-scenes of Nature stuff, a veritable immersion into otherness. And there is only one trip a year, one perfect time when all the elements, all the Sami gods and spirits, are working in symphony. So, when booking your next holiday, do yourself a favour: forget the South of France and go on an adventure. Because we may like to put a pejorative spin on frigidity—cold hearts, cold stares, cold shoulders—but the fact is, some things really are best served cold. And adventure is definitely one of them.

T R AV E L : G o ORIn NG

The Goring Goring The When you say ‘family run hotel’ in anything other than an RP or cut glass accent, one conjures up images of a portly house-wife serving highly questionable shepherds pie from a guest house in Dursley. Perish the thought my well-healed well to do’s.

Words: PETER ROBINSON Words: PETER ROBINSON Photography: JAMES BILLET

When youdeep say ‘family hotel’ anything In 1910, in therun heart of in royal Lonother than Richard an RP orGoring cut glass accent,what one don, Otto opened conjures up images a portly was to become the of darling of house-wife hotel The serving questionable pie Queen highly Mother.

Now undershepherds the tutelage from a guest houseThe in Dursley.

Perish the of Jeremy Goring, Goring has earned thought well-healed well to do’s. itself themycommercial license to print Deep in the heart royalWarrant.

London is the money—that is, a of Royal “God last and It’s runproximity hotel in the In blessfamily you, built ma’am”. tocity.

Buck1910 otto Richard openedpiece the hoingham Palace isn’tGoring just a shrewd of tel that was to becomeinvestment. the darlingIndeed, of The commercial property Queen Mother. now underasthe of The Goring has served antutelage informal Jeremy hotel has earned additionGoring, to thethe palace’s south wingitself for the license to print money that overcommercial 100 years now.

King George VI took is, a Royal Warrant.

Bless You Ma-am’. lunch here with his‘God queen and daughters It’s the palace isn’t justvictory a shrewd on locality May 8, to1945, to celebrate in piece of commercial property investment, Europe.

The has served as an informal SuchGoring is the hotel’s effortless attentionadto dition palaces South Wing detail to andthediscretion that it was for to over play 100 now.wedding King Geroge VI century took lunch hostyears to the of the in here May 8th 1945 with Queen his 2011.on The Goring’s bloodline mayand as well daughters to celebrate victory in Europe. be blue. Rather than take the Rolls to the Such is the hotels effortlessweattention door that sunny afternoon, decided to detail discretion thatto it was to play host schlepand from Park Lane Belgravia.

As I to the wedding of the Century in 2011. playfully sent tourists in the wrong direcSuffice to say, that The The Goring’s bloodline maya tion, I hoped Goring would be as well be blue. safe haven from the day-tripper trap that Rather thanthe takepalace. the rollsLet’s to the that surrounds bedoor honest, sunny afternoon, we decided that as it was I’m English and have a certain amount of anational nice day,pride: we would shlepfor from Lane standing thePark anthem, to Belgravia.

As i Majesty, playfully shouting sent tourists bowing for Her at in the wrong when direction and chuckled to Twickenham we inevitably hound myself at my childish sense of humour, i secretly hoped that the Goring would be a safe haven from the day tripper trap that surrounds the palace.

Let’s be honest for a moment, I’m English, i have a certain amount of national

pride, standing for the anthem, bowing the Welsh into submission.

However, tourfor herme majesty, shouting atdread.

Twickenham ists fill with deep-seated when we inevitably hound is the Welsh into Providentially, The Goring a black-satinsubmission. with and-gold-giltHowever, sanctum tourists for the fill fewme people ain fairly deep-seated Belgravia who dread. aren’t Providentially sightseeing.

The was a black gold gilt FromGoring the moment the satin doorsand were swept sanctum thethe few people in Belgravia, open for for us by appropriately-dressed, not sightseeing. bowler-hat-wearing commissionaire, it From the that moment the doors swept was clear The Goring hadwere been opopen foratus by the appropriatelyfor dressed erating peak professionalism some bowler hat wearing was time—and had it commissionaire, honed to a fineit art. clear The Goring hadfaux beentraditionaloperating Don’tthat be fooled, this isn’t at peak professionalism timehour, and ism—the afternoon tea,for thesome cocktail had honed it torather a fine art. the use of keys than plastic cards— Don’t fooled, thiskeys! isn’t foe that’s be right, actual Youtraditionalism should have for myonladies and when lords, Ifrom seenthe thecameras surprise my face was the afternoon teadoor-keys to cocktailattached hour andtothea handed proper use of keys rather plastic Thats dainty keyring, as than opposed tocards. an anvil or right, was the on stone actual tablet.keys.

Is it Such irrational to surprise expect the my faceAwhen i was handed dainty key basics? key not attached to a 2x4?

Some ring and door keyscould as oppose an anvil of London’s finest learnto a thing or or When you spend 100 times twostone fromtablet. the Goring. the cost checked of havinginato key cut for a room, is Having the Belgravia Suite, it thatitsirrational expectframes, the basics, a key, with art deco to picture rosewood not attached to fabric a 2x4. walls, Somethere of London’s wardrobes and was litfinest could a thing two from the tle to do butlearn unpack and or thumb through Goring.

The Review at my desk. Once I had Having checked to a how Belgravia acclimatised and inlearnt to useSuite, the with its art deco picture frames, rosewood in-room lighting, I felt perfectly at home. wardrobes andand fabric walls, however, there was have little My partner I did, to doafternoon but unpackengagement, and thumb through The one so decided Review at my desk. once i was acclimatised and had learnt how to use the in-room lighting i felt perfectly at home. The Goring likes to brake its ambient lighting descent into a series of categories, from ‘Bright to oooh’.

We have with one afternoon enthat did we however would break tradition and gagement andleave so decided that we would momentarily The Goring’s hallowed break tradition andconcierge leave The Gorings halls. with As we left, the politely hallowed halls,time all be it momentarily. we asked “What might you return,Assir?” left, thea concierge ‘what time Quite personal politely level of asked interest; a level might return Sir’,atthis was ahotels. personal inrarely you experienced luxury Only terest level from that i had rarely occasionally am aI stranger lost for words.

“Around experienced a luxury“Very residence. only 4pm, I would at imagine”. good, sir, do occasionally am i lostand for we words. enjoy your afternoon look ‘Around forward 4pm i would ‘Very good Sir, do to seeing youimagine?’, this evening”. enjoy yourpoint, afternoon and wegive lookitforward At that I didn’t much to seeing you thisour afternoon’. thought.

Upon return, it made much Imore didn’t at that point give it much thought. sense.

Upon ourback return it made much more sense.

Arriving slightly later than planned, As we had arrived back hour: slightlyanlater than we sadly missed cocktail informal planned, had gentlemen sadly misseddon Thetheir Goring’s occasion we where fincocktail hour. An informal occasion est Savile-Row smokers, ladies theirwhere latest gentleman don and theirsoiree finest Rowe cocktail dresses, onSavile the terrace. smoker ladies the latest cocktailnature dress But suchand is The Goring’s solicitous and have an met unpretentious Soiree on the that we were with a le-faire-vous-même terrace. cosmopolitan cocktail kit in our room, Such is Thewith Goring’s quintessential Passion complete ice, zest, a jug of the prefor thepotion job, we were metcocktail with a glasses. le faire mixed and crystal vous-même cocktail kit in As the hourscosmopolitan passed and the light faded, our room.

Complete ice,terrace, zest, a jug of I found myself on thewith leafy alone the mixed and crystal withpre a glass ofpotion Lagavulin and a cocktail Cohiba glasses.

As And we had missed ‘the hour’ the Behike 56. it got me thinking: staying staff, nay,Goring family at left us at The is The like Goring visiting had extended their own private welcome the the kinsfolk. family—the best china wasto used, silverAs theshined, hours and passed light faded, ware theyand gavethe their absolute ibest found myself on alone to making youthe feelleafy rightterrace, at home. with a glass of Lagavulin and a Cohiba Behike 56. Staying at The Goring was like visiting extended family, all of the best china was used and the silverware shined and they gave their absolute all to the job of making you feel right at home.

“I’m English and have a certain amount of national pride. However, tourists fill me with deep-seated dread”

‘

The Goring was a black satin and gold gilt sanctum for the few people in Belgravia, not sightseeing.

’

THE REVIEW 2013 56 THE REVIEW 2013

CARRERA 2 At 5:30am my street is very much asleep. I jump into my 930 Turbo and off into the darkness, as I rumble towards dawn and a more modern driving experience.

Words: OLIVER SMITH

AUTOMOTIVE: CARRERA 2S

THE REVIEW 2013 57

Sunrise comes and goes, along with the M32, M4, A420 and the M40. At 7:40am, I arrive at Silverstone and park the car, still feeling a little fuzzy from the early start.

The Porsche experience centre at Silverstone is everything that you would expect to from the Stuttgart manufacturer. The cylindrical building is clad in glass, with a showroom downstairs and a long sweeping parabola of stairs taking you up to a restaurant, overlooking the test track.

After a much-needed cup of coffee, we are introduced to our ‘chaperone’ for the day: a gentlemen by the name of Ben McLoughlin, who is as nice a chap as you could wish to meet, not to mention very handy behind the wheel. But more on that later.

Airfields are never the balmiest of places in the world, let alone in February, but I always find that Silverstone takes hypothermic winds to another level. Today the temperature resembles something akin to the dark side of the moon.

The sky is overcast and people are sheltering behind cars and buildings, clutching at their lapels like scared refugees. Thankfully, though, we’re not scared, we’re not refugees and we have the keys to the new 991 Porsche 911.

Upon first seeing it, the car has certainly grown in size—not only does it look bigger all round, but the narrower rear light clusters give the back a menacing look.

The 991 is an entirely new chassis and therefore offers very different proportions and feel to its predecessor the 997 (which shared a chassis with the 996).

The car that I’m driving today is the Carrera 2, which produces 350bhp and will relieve you of just over £75,000.

After a bit of ogling at the new car, Ben asks me if I would like to take it onto the track. Silly question. Being a press car, this vehicle is equipped with Porsche’s PDK

(Porsche Doppelkupplungsgetriebe) gearbox, as the German firm are keen to show it off. Lots has been said in the press about this system and also by drivers who lament what now seems to be the inevitable move by sports car manufacturers towards automated gearboxes. Without getting dragged into the debate about the ‘future of the driver’s car,’ I will say that this gearbox is very good. In auto mode you can cruise around all day long with a silky smooth shift, or you can do what I did and press the button marked ‘sport plus’; this lets the engine rev to the 7600rpm redline before up shifting and opening the exhaust valves to give you a bark that any bone fide supercar would be proud of. It gives the car a very distinctive Jekyll and Hyde manner, and I absolutely love it. The crackle on the overrun may have been engineered in but it sounds no-less satisfying.

The electronic power assisted steering is also a hot topic, due to observations of it lacking feel. I thought that stepping from my 930, which has the quintessential 911 wheel wobble-bump steer (Porsche enthusiasts in roll neck sweaters call it steering feel), I would be bowled over by the contrast. However, it feels right—like a proper car and everything. I, for one, would not miss the Porsche ‘steering feel’ of old.

After a few laps pootling around and talking about the car with Ben, I begin to wind up the pace. This car comes alive at speed and can do things that beggar belief.

Under Bens instruction of “Brake, brake, brake...Go! Now! Flat through here...” the machine begins to goad you on. With tyre temperature building, it just grips and grips until you reach the limit of adhesion when gentle under steer offers a friendly warning.

Then there is the noise: 7600rpm from a flat six mounted behind you is aural ecstasy.

For a moment, you could be Vic Elford on

the sweeping bends of the Targa Florio in a 908. Beautiful.

Pulling back into the paddock, I’m overwhelmed by this car’s capability. With a wry smile, Ben looks across and says “Right then, hop in the passenger’s seat and I’ll show you a few lines”.

Minutes later we’ve lapped two GT3RS and a 4.0 RS. Arriving very quickly into a sweeping right hander, he turns the car in sharply, and when the rear end loses grip, he buries the throttle and we exit the corner in a lurid slide accompanied by clouds of rubber smoke and that glorious engine note. This is repeated several times before we return and it not only serves to highlight what Porsche have achieved with their cars, but also their strive for very high standards in the professionalism and competence of their personnel.

As an aside from the car, if you get the opportunity to spend some time at the Porsche experience centre, then I strongly urge you do. Whether you’re a prospective buyer or just there to fulfil a dream, you’ll be treated with equal care and enthusiasm.

Of course, for every new owner you’ll get your own one-to-one tuition and a private stretch of racetrack to explore your car’s limits. It’ll save you earning magic points on the road. Maybe.

After spending a day with the car on track, I was left feeling a little depressed. Not for any number of ‘profound’ clichéd reasons about diluted brand heritage, or the car being too efficient, but because I don’t have £75,000.00 to spend. What this car offers you is the ability to drive from your house to the shops and back, with all the comforts that you would expect. If you decide that one day you would like to do that same trip, except via the Nurbürgring, then it will also ably oblige.

The next step is to live with this car out on the road. I’ll keep you posted.

THE REVIEW 2013 60

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THE BRISTOL The old money appeal of the Bristol marque is as attractive toady as it has ever been. Oliver Smith lets the burr walnut and smell of leather go to his head.

Photography: GEZ HUGHES

AUTOMOTIVE: BRISTOL 410

L 410

THE REVIEW 2013 64

Picture the scene if you will: it’s 1969 on a grey day in the city. You’re a company director standing in the doorway of your building, waiting for the driver to bring your car around. It’s drizzling slightly and the traffic is shunting back and forth with a loud hiss, as it kicks up water on the road. Bentleys, Jaguars and Rolls Royce come and go after depositing their cargo of pinstriped ruddy-faced businessmen onto the pavement.

As you look to the right, you see you car emerge around the corner, lights on and wipers going, as it pulls burbling up to the pavement side.

In a very slick and practised manoeuvre, you stride across the pavement towards the car, under the safety of the doorman’s umbrella; tip given, keys taken, a nod of thanks and a deft slide sees you seated safely behind the wheel. The door pulls to with a heavy click and you find yourself ensconced in sanctuary. The smell of leather, the almost-art deco dash lighting and the polished wood all offer a sense of reassurance. There is only one place that you will experience this feeling—and that place is at the wheel of a Bristol.

As you can imagine, this car is certainly an evocative machine, as it gets the imagination working in overdrive. One of the joys of the marque is that it’s not particularly well known. Luckily for you, I’m here to give a brief background and welcome you behind the velvet curtain and into the inner sanctum of ‘the knowing’ (no funny handshakes, though, please).

Bristol Cars was founded shortly after the Second World War when HJ Aldington used his connections in the army to ‘borrow’ some plans from the recently bombed BMW factory in Munich. He returned to England with ideas to capitalise

on the expertise of the Bristol Aeroplane Company, which after the end of the war, no longer needed to build the same volume of aircraft.

motor, which guns the engine into life with real force. Once idling, the burble inside of the cabin is more reassuring than obtrusive.

With this, Bristol Cars quickly gained itself a reputation as being technologically advanced and very aerodynamic. Drawing on experience and manufacturing techniques from the aerospace industry, the cars that were produced were very much ahead of their time. Fast forward 65 years to 2011 and Bristol Cars goes into administration.

Numerous specialists have emerged with a view to maintaining the existing cars, the foremost of which is Brabazon Motors, which painstakingly rebuilt the car that I’m driving today.

Pulling away, the light steering feels a little removed, but once up to plodding speed it soon regains its feel. The seat is positioned a few inches above the floor, which works quite nicely to accommodate my six-foot frame, but also to give you an interesting view looking down on other road users.

They appear to go about their hurried everyday business, whilst you waft along in your V8-powered drawing room.

For those of you who like numbers: this car originally left the factory 45 years ago; it has a 5.7 litre Chrysler V8 mated to a three-speed automatic gearbox; it was restored in 2012 and took over 2,500 man hours to complete the process.

The cost? £120,000, including VAT. From the outside, you’re immediately struck by the size of the car. It’s a long machine, but not very wide. Cars of the sixties were built to smaller dimensions, unlike the swollen euro-barges that adorn our carriageways today.

The driver’s door opens with a click and feels nicely weighted in the hand. Seconds later, the heady smell of leather hits you in the face and begins to really evoke a picture of luxury motoring ‘back in the day’. Once in, the large Bakelite steering wheel forces you to sit legs akimbo, which promotes the casual driving air. Gearlever operation is fingertip stuff; with a slight forward lean, the lever moves with ease.

This car is fitted with a high-torque starter

By the time the city traffic falls away and the Cotswolds are beckoning, everything is up to temperature. Passing Tormarton on the left and making headway towards Tetbury on the A46, I can’t resist being frightfully uncouth and planting my foot until the accelerator is buried in the deeppile carpet. A slight hesitation occurs as the gearbox kicks down, but when it does, the effect is enthralling. Goodbye serene stately home; hello NASCAR. It revs keenly round to 5,000rpm and pulls like a train. Very quickly, the speedo is pointing towards community service, so I ease off as a long left-right bend looms through a large dip. On turn-in, the car leans and then composes itself nicely to swoop through the left hander. Direction change is hampered at speed by the tall tyres, but this is the least of my worries, as the lack of bolsters sees me slide across my seat and almost onto the passenger’s side. Laughing like a child, the car (and I) regains composure and off we go. It pays not to forget that this car is not and never was intended to be anything other than a luxury tourer, and it was also made in 1968. Even without taking these factors into account, I am impressed.

THE REVIEW 2013 66

JW Steakhouse My experience of steakhouses and restaurants is akin to the 90s fad that was the Harvester. The British weren’t so big on the US big-beef barrage of the decade. We preferred to cram ourselves into family pubs, surrounded by people binging on free ice cream. Christ, the quality of the steak didn’t even make it worthwhile — road-kill has more palatable flavour.

Words: ALIYAH LASKIT Luckily the team at the JW Steakhouse on Park Lane were willing to rehabilitate me to a world of the prime cut.

I’m no stranger to a good steak; I can pull together a good minute-steak when in need of a beef fix. But the modern steakhouse has always eluded me. It probably does have something to do with a brief stint working in a chain steak pub, which shall remain nameless. I had nothing to do with the microwave operation that was the kitchen or the ‘grill’— I was resigned to making the cocktails and putting restaurant orders together at the bar. (My therapist would later tell me that it was this role that developed my predilection for fine hooch. What does she know—there is nothing wrong with surfing through life on the crest of an alcoholic wave.)

Having checked into The Grosvenor Hotel on Park Lane and slugged my way through rush hour traffic, I was pleased to know that the JW Steakhouse was onsite at the hotel. Considering I was going to try and eat a typical American-size meal, location was key. Without private healthcare and no ambulance at my disposal, I was dedicated

to the idea of my eyes beating my belly, but with the leather low-slung chairs and champagne on arrival, it was definitely going to be a long night.

Arguably the JW Steakhouse is a chain, being imbedded into any number of Marriott hotels. Don’t let that count against them, though: they mean business. With an interior that evokes an old members’ club, there is plenty of open space, which has a preeminent feel to it. Having perused the menu and ordered from our attentive waiter, we relaxed in the leatherclad armchairs and began working out the clientele. Businessman, family on leave, A&R rep—the game was luckily cut short by the arrival of our entrée.

We started with the Maryland crab cakes with old bay tartar, a perfect combination, accompanied by a bottle of Marilyn Merlot. “This wine is every bit as special as its package. It is a must for collectors, but is also a Napa Valley Merlot that stands beautifully on its own.” No surprise, the waiter was right: a punchy wine with bags of attack.

Not wanting to be carried out of the restau-

rant on a stretcher, I decided to avoid the 32oz tomahawk rib and go for the morerefined 8oz New York strip, butterfly cut, served with grilled asparagus and truffled eggs. I, unlike many, like to flit between a well done and medium steak. I’m not the flesh-ripping carnivore I once was, yet I am told that it is an insult to the cow to have a steak well done. One assumes that if it is cooked for this period of time, you will end up with shoe leather. That is where most people are wrong. Cooking a well done steak is still an art. However, I opted for medium, wanting to give the chef every chance of impressing with his cut and cooking.

We weren’t disappointed. The steak was murderously good; tasty-tasty murder.

Steak and eggs is a longstanding American tradition. It is a preferred option for many inmates on death row as a last meal.

Although I doubt they are offered truffles.

Needless to say, the combination of seared meat and creamy truffled eggs with crisp and earthy asparagus was a choice combination.

Having ordered a slightly smaller main, I

FOOD: JW STEAKHOUSE

was expecting to have plenty of gut left for the dessert. I didn’t. It was most definitely forced. The waiter looked at me with a sort of woeful pity: “No dessert? But our cheesecake is famed”. Fine then, bring me my stretchy trousers, a fork, a tent and some crash paddles.

Having anticipated a delicate mini-cheese cake, I was met by a head-sized cake on a dinner plate. I kept looking back at the waiter as he walked away, expecting him

to return with a dessert plate and a knife.

None came.

Luckily my partner was there to offer some sombre words—and eat two spoonfuls somewhat gingerly. She barely even dented it, and after thirty minutes, neither had I. I committed the cardinal restaurant faux pas and asked that it be boxed, so that I might feed the 5000 later. It was so good that we ate it post-breakfast in the hotel room the following morning: a creamy

concoction containing 350g cream cheese, 115g of sugar, 118ml of sour cream at room temperature and 238ml of sour cream for topping.

As I looked up at the ceiling, whilst being wheeled out of the restaurant on my stretcher, I think the death row inmates had it right. With a sour-mash cooling, steak knife in hand, low lighting and a good merlot, I’m pretty much ready for the chair.

THE REVIEW 2013 68

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Jean Georges Vongerichten

Since the hotel opened 60 years ago on a promontory of the same name, Eden Rock has been a magnet for the A-list crowd from Greta Garbo and Howard Hughes to some of today’s most distinguished celebs. 2012 saw the addition of acclaimed chef Jean Georges Vongerichten joins to the hotel.

This is the first collaboration of its kind on St Barths, and Vongerichten is responsible for the hotel’s two renowned restaurants, The Sand Bar and On the Rocks.

What made you decide to join Eden RockSt Barths?

I have always loved St Barths as a vacation destination. When approached to open a restaurant at Eden Rock I was hesitant since it is the place I travel to with my family during the holidays. However, I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to open a restaurant at one of the best resorts with a prime location.

What is the philosophy behind your food?

I have chosen the best dishes from my NYC restaurants and incorporated locally sourced ingredients. We work with local fisherman daily and receive fresh produce from Guadalupe bi-weekly.

In terms of food, is it hard to balance your French influences with those of the Caribbean?

Not at all — I use French techniques and incorporate local flavours.

What are your most popular dishes?

Tomato, avocado and mango salad. Seared gulf shrimp, with local pumpkin ginger purée, basil and brown rice.

Which chefs influenced you, and why?

Louise Outhier, Paul Bocuse and JeanPierre Haeberlin, all of whom I worked alongside of. Each played a huge part in my development as a chef. They taught me the fundamentals of French cuisine and technique. Today, I look to Rene Redzepi from Noma and Ferran Adria from El Bulli

for inspiration.

Is it hard work to maintain your Michelin Star standards?

We train our staff to always supersede Michelin Star standards. We treat every guest as if he or she is a food editor or critic and maintain the finest quality ingredients in house at all times.

What was your favourite meal as a child?

I grew up eating one-pot meals. My favourite being my grandmother’s goose stew served with braised red cabbage and mashed potatoes.

Do you have a favourite restaurant?

My favourite restaurant in St Barths is definitely Maya. I love her shrimp salad and tamarind- spiced pork.

Are there any other projects you are currently working on?

I am currently in the process of opening two restaurants in NYC, as well as a few projects in Sinagpore, Hong Kong and Japan.

THE REVIEW 2013 70

“Of all the branches of men in the forces there is none which shows more devotion and faces grimmer perils than the submariners.”

“Of all the branches of men in the forces there is none which shows Fagoteli

Mushroom Arancini

FOOD: APSLEYS

Apsleys There’s a certain pretension that comes with food critique. When starting out, it’s a picnic. I appreciated every opportunity to travel, eat and write. Odder things entered my mouth than most Dutch prostitutes, although sea cucumber (an echinoderm, not a fruit) could be mistaken for a flaccid businessman. But that’s the deal: digest food, regurgitate words, by any means necessary.

Words: LAITH AL-KAISY But it doesn’t last. Critics get snobbish and bloated with expectation, like foodie traffic wardens, ready to slap tickets on the slightest gastronomic transgression (my personal favourite was being given a wine list on an iPad.) Enjoyment of food is no longer enough; to be a critic is to pull the legs off everything and analyse it from every angle.

Then there’s Michelin: the head warden, the almighty Big Brother of restaurateurs.

To have Michelin stars must feel like living in North Korea, always worried about putting a foot out of place, not knowing who is watching. But do I really need to tell you how full of crap Michelin is? Don’t buy into it, and don’t be shafted with a£200 bill just because a restaurant has stars to its name.

Price is a balance between skill and ingredients. Okay, location too (everyone needs to pay the rent, right?), but certainly don’t pay for stars—they’re a fraud. Michelin is politics. Ask yourself why Tokyo is being showered with Michelin stars right now. Is it because the food is good? Sure, I imagine the food is good, but it’s also because Michelin (yes, it’s the tyre company) is currently trying to break the Japanese market.

The mindset that Michelin creates, both for chefs and customers, isn’t particularly healthy either. I’m no chef—you’d have to be maniac to be—but looking at revered veterans, such as Pierre Koffmann, it’s easy to understand why these men in white coats become so disaffected with the Michelin Guide. Like yearning for unrequited love, chefs will do whatever it takes to get noticed. It becomes personal, and they obsess to the point of breakdown.

Customers are even worse. Michelin restaurants are no longer about going out for a good meal. They’re an expedition, a cultural sightseeing tour. You only have to look on Facebook to see your friends proudly photographed with their arms round a filet mignon. People have swapped

namedropping for restaurant-dropping.

They have excruciating conversations about “this lovely little place that transports us back to Tuscany, darling”. Menus reflect this nonsense too, all riddled with prolixity and needlessness. Everything is ‘lightly kissed with dolphin tears’ or ‘kneaded with a mandrill’s arse’. Dishes are abstract beyond appetite, and menu descriptions read like an inquiry into a blind man’s deli raid.

It’s a two-way street of insecurity and vanity.

And so, to Apsleys, a restaurant that gleefully advertises that it was the quickest in London to be awarded a Michelin star. Apsleys is pretentious, but with good reason: it is attached to The Lanesborough, the most expensive hotel in London. People on the street don’t just pop here for a meal. That isn’t a dig at poor folk either.

Hell, if it wasn’t for the poor, we wouldn’t have punk rock, reality TV and people to test medication on. But this is a place that serves antipasti of imperial caviar at the modest price of £350. It’s overblown, it’s justifiably expensive, and it rocks.

Entering Apsleys is like walking onto the set of a regency costume drama: grandiose chandeliers, lavish carpets, and lots of beiges and creams. It’s missing only the insufferable storyline. The chef here is Heinz Beck. Actually, that’s not strictly true: he’s the chef in absentia, present only in name and menu. I had no idea who Beck was, but Le Pergola, his restaurant in Rome, is considered one of Italy’s best (with or without its three Michelin stars).

Beck’s culinary heritage translates well: the menu is peppered with Mediterranean influence, but subtle enough to remain transnational. I was dining with my brother and we started with steak tartare and tempura prawns. The beef was muscular and earthy, with a robust kick of spice and Tabasco, glutinously bound with the sweet yolk of quail egg. The dish was well-executed and well-portioned, and really, who’s going to

cause a scene when presented with steak tartare? Vegans perhaps—but they don’t count. The prawns were underwhelming, devoid of much flavour and decidedly limp.

So underwhelming, in fact, I don’t even want to talk about them.

During the interim, a waiter brought us some foie gras. I’m glad he did, because it was some of the best I’ve ever tasted: rich, gamey, unctuous, and definitely worth martyring a duck for. Another unordered bonus was the fagottelli alla carbonara, Beck’s signature dish, which is pasta filled with carbonara sauce. This was probably the highlight of the night, or at least the most pleasant surprise—the kind of dish that makes you pull annoyingly enthusiastic faces, as if getting a handjob under the table.

Pigeon with polenta, figs and cauliflower was balletic. Done well, pigeon can taste like the best liver you’ve ever had. It’s a wonderful gastronomic trick. The flesh was dainty, blushing and full of iron—properly memorable. Ribeye steak was a copout; I should have ordered the lobster. The fault wasn’t with the cooking, rather the pedestrian meat. And the side dishes played that awful culinary act of second-fiddle, supporting cast, casualties of war. That said, they were perfectly edible.

Dessert of chocolate soufflé was worth waiting half an hour for (they did warn us). There is never any middle ground with soufflé. It’s good or bad; airy or stodgy; digestible or not. This one excelled.

Apsleys is how you whack £200 on dinner for two. The food was a perfect pleasure, but was it worth it? Yes. This is top-quality fare, served in opulent surroundings.

Technically, dishes like the pigeon were beautifully balanced, and each course fell effortlessly into the next. The question shouldn’t be ‘can we afford to eat here?’ but ‘can we afford not to?’ Just don’t go for the stars.

THE REVIEW 2013 72

The Goring At last! It’s in vogue to be British! Hoorah (in the non marine sense) to all henries, let’s all dress headto-toe in Harris Tweed and celebrate massively, in an incredibly understated miniature fashion, don our best stiff upper lips and swap all Chihuahuas for sizeable hounds immediately. I was reluctantly persuaded to leave the pipe at home and do my very best to behave tonight. Alright, perhaps I’m a little over excited, but I’m off to The Goring.

Words: ELEANOR BURKE Once upon a time, not too long ago, The Goring Hotel was born into the blue-blooded heart of Belgravia, a mere brogue’s throw from Buckingham Palace.

Like all things regally British, the Goring family originate from Germany – but enough about that, let’s move on. We’re in the mood for British, and where better to embark on than The Goring, a national landmark of an institution that has survived two world wars and entertained royals and gentry for over a century.

We arrive, as if by time machine, not hackney cab, in the entrance hall, and are promptly greeted. I am a little taken aback as I recite our reservation. Why am

I speaking like the Dowager Countess of Grantham all of a sudden? Is it the effect of the polished black and white tiles and smell of beeswax on the wooden panelling? I am instantly charmed by this grand house, which I am quite sure has stood perfectly poised and politely still in time.

We pass through to the dining room.

Behold, this is a preened, polished and plumped up pussycat of a restaurant, as are the elite array of international waiting staff.

The menu is simple but well-tailored, like a No.1 Savile Row suit. Dinner is a decision between a handful of mains, starters and so forth; a pleasant break from the

mental arithmetic of many a menu. Sipping champagne, naturally, we choose our courses. We then opt to give ourselves and our palates wholeheartedly to the assumed expertise of the sommelier, who consents to create wine and food partnerships for our enjoyment. Bloody good decision.

How lovely to be looked after and, oh boy, do they get it right. The service is sterling; we are rather tickled by the elegant ladies and gents in their livery, who pull out chairs and top-up our water with impeccable precision, at times verging on hysterical and perhaps a little evasive. It soon becomes apparent that perfection is the only option for the service, which is

FOOD: THE GORING

platinum, not silver. Traditional elegance here is enhanced by alarming efficiency.

And so it begins: to start, I have glazed Scottish lobster omelette, accompanied

by Falanghina Beneventano Terre di Vulcano, Bisceglia, Italy 2011: a little over easy on the lobster for this seafood enthusiast, but perfectly done and cleverly complemented by the wine. Across the table, my date is demonstrating real enthusiasm for the salad of poached pear in red wine

with watercress and blue cheese dressing, which upon closer inspection, I discover to be a real delight of flavours, all accented by the Sancerre Les Cailottes, Pascal Jolivet, France, 2010. The real success of this course is the combinations of wine, expertly chosen to marry the cuisine.

Nail on the head. Naturally, pairing each course with wine might be considered by some a rather boozy affair, but my date’s already a bit wonky on the champagne

and I occasionally drink sometimes a lot— so we shall persevere.

The main affair arrives: roast fillet of sea bass with spinach, artichokes, potatoes and stonecrop for me, and jugged hare for my beau, who is positively beaming at what looks to me like brown mush. But this game is glorious, apparently, and as the first mouthful is dispatched, the expectation is excelled upon and heartedly washed down with Alamos Malbec, Mendoza, Argentina,

2011. It’s all mind-blowing I’m told. The sea bass is good, and I’m coaxed into a state of purring by the sommelier, who has paired it with Cloudy Bay Chardonnay, Marlborough, New Zealand. Of course, he is now truly wining us and dining us.

Like stuffed pheasants, we are now completely immobile, but it’s only polite to have dessert, and what we really fancy is some good old fashioned British cheese.

And if it’s cheese you’re after, they have cheese to please. We select a variety of

cheeses with the help of the delightful cheese-man and finish it (and ourselves) off with Tawny Port Taylor’s 20 Year Old and Jurancon Uroulat, Charles Hours, France, 2010. It’s no wonder the old city chaps got so portly off entertaining back in the good old days if they were this well looked after. We’re well and truly sated and slightly sozzled as we straighten up with espressos before heading out into the night.

The Goring is a service spectacular, angled

toward the more mature, refined chap and chapess. The experience of eating here is as if one has stepped back in time. This is the perfect place for simple, elegant, rich traditional British cuisine, tucked away in a warm welcoming environment that is perfectly suitable for resting limbs and regaining strength in peace and tranquillity after the bustle and relentlessness of the city. This is a place to stop, slow down and let time stand still and relax in the knowledge that you’ll be expertly looked after.

THE REVIEW 2013 74

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Frederick Forster

Frederick Forster joined Prescott & Conran in July 2012 as the head chef responsible for Boundary Restaurant, and Boundary Rooftop Bar & Grill. Earlier in his career, he won the Roux Scholarship, before going on to win the prestigious Craft Guild National Chef of the Year Award in 2011.

What is the philosophy behind Boundary?

Our philosophy is to produce consistently high-quality French based food using only the best and most authentic ingredients available in the UK and from France, creating dishes with simplicity and techniques that are representative of a first-class establishment. Seasonality is key, with the main ingredient of a dish always remaining the focal point.

What are the key factors of running a successful restaurant?

First and foremost, having ambition is key.

You can have a great product, but correct planning, passion and dedication from yourself and within the team is essential to helping you promote this product.

What dishes are you proud of and why?

I love the current scallop dish on the menu, Noix de Saint Jacques: seared scallops with Morteau sausage, simply because it is a

well-executed dish that takes two quality ingredients and treats them with respect, without the need to playing with them too much.

The “petit sale” on the menu is another favourite because I like taking inexpensive cuts of meat and making them into something special.

How would you describe your dishes?

Classic with finesse. I try to focus on technical excellence, without losing sight of the most important thing — which of course is taste.

How do you think food has changed in Britain?

Over the last few years I think we’ve seen a greater interest in food, and particularly a rise in the number of people cooking at home. I think this is a result of the numerous cooking programmes on television.

Food in Britain has also become a lot more accessible to the public, following the rise in the number of markets and stalls that sell great artisan and home-grown products.

Whose kitchen had the most impact on you?

Working with Raymond Blanc in Oxfordshire was the place that had probably the

greatest impact on me. I started there straight after college. It gave me the foundations and the discipline on which to build my career.

How did it feel to win National Chef of the Year?

Winning national chef of the year felt great as I had been in the final twice before, so it was a huge personal achievement when I won. It has changed my professional life too, giving me greater confidence and an increased respect for the trade.

Best meal as a child?

As a child my favourite meals were always the African dishes that my late mother would cook in Sierre Leone, such as okra soup and rice.

Do you have a favourite restaurant?

I honestly don’t have a favourite restaurant, but I do enjoy eating out once in a while and trying new places.

How about any favourite chefs?

Raymond Blanc, the Roux Brothers, and Thomas Keller — to name a few.

Are there any other projects you are currently working on?

For the moment all my focus and energy is on Boundary.

THE REVIEW 2013 76

Wilks If you ask the local folks around Bristol, you will find a host of people and the old rags pontificating about the “way things were”. James Wilkins and Christine Vayssade bought the lease on a property on Chandos Road to set up their dream restaurant. It just so happens that the space was previously owned by another couple who ran a highly successful restaurant there for over 30 years.

But as I never went to its predecessor, I would be able to dine at Wilks, unabated and untainted.

Words: ALIYAH LASKIT I will fast forward to mid-meal. As I saunter toward the amenities, I notice numerous pictures of James with multiple Asian chefs. James’ kitchen career started at the Midsummer Night Restaurant, under the watch of head chef Hans Schweitzer. When James was given a chance to move from porter to the kitchen team, Hans told him, “I will train you to be a chef if you want, but you will be working twice as long for half the wage”. James agreed and soon realised he had found the perfect outlet to channel all his energy and creativity; a way of life.

James went on to train at Michelin-stared restaurants with leading chefs such as Gordon Ramsay (Aubergine), Stefano Cavallini (The Halkin), Chris Galvin (The Orrery) and Jeff Galvin (The Greenhouse). This host of culinary staples must have been a baptism of fire.

Eventually James escaped London and headed to Cannes to work with Richard Neat. James only returned to Blighty to accept the post of sous chef at Aurora under the direction of his friend Warren Geraghty. Despite the amazing post, James’

mind was made up: he wanted to return to France to work in a three-Michelin-star restaurant. So a deal was brokered: James would come back to London and swap the sun for smog, but should the offer of a job with the French arise, he would surrender his post in Blighty and be on the next ferry over. Warren agreed and the awkward couple began.

Having applied to three specific restaurants, James received a response from two with a deflating ‘no’ and one offering him a trial shift at the world-famous Michel Bras restaurant. Upon arriving the head chef Regis turned to James and said “English…I don’t like the English”. I’m told it was a joke, but I’m also reminded of a thought that the marketing director of BRM watches told me: “France is a beautiful land, great climate, beautiful food, if only it weren’t for the French”. I assume that you have to be a Francophile and have mastered the art of self-deprecation to get away with that one. He was and had.

It was in this positing that James would meet his fiancé, Christine Vayssade. This

was a partnership cemented in stone.

Or brie. Christine studied at the Lycee Hotelier de St Chely d’Apcher, a highly respected French hospitality training ground. She moved to London aged 20 to improve her English. This is the moment where I get the drum out and malevolently beat on about the inability of the English to learn another language. We turn up in another country pointing and waving whilst stopping to learn the native tongue for “I don’t speak (insert language)”. Every other country (America are pardoned due to their island mentality) teaches their young.

“It was a bit of a shock for me coming from my small village in France to this amazing city. I fell in love with London, its atmosphere, the mix of people and culture; I couldn’t bring myself to leave”.

Like James, Christine played the hospitality game of snakes and ladders, shrewdly going from higher position to higher position. Christine started at Trader Vic’s at the Hilton on Park Lane under Patrice Gouty. Two years later, Patrice would leave to open Chinawhite. Christine was offered

FOOD: WILKS

the position of floor manager and took it with open arms.

Having spent a number of years looking after the clubs VIP clientele, Christine was poached by rival club funkybuddha on Berkeley square for the post of assistant manager. In 2005 and presumably longing for her mother country, Christine decided to return home where she met James whilst working at Michel Bras.

Fast forward eight years and here we are:

James and Christine launch Wilks. So what is the philosophy behind Wilks? “The idea behind the restaurant is to put together all the knowledge and experience that Christine and I have gathered over the years into one package that offers customers great food and service without the pretentiousness normally associated with restaurants of this type. We offer flexible menu choices and value for money to our customers so they can spend as they like

and always feel that they have had a good value experience�.

You will notice upon arriving that there are fixed display fridges with a selection of home-cooked delights. The restaurant is also licensed, so you can come in and pick up a meal and a bottle of Beaujolais.

What this actually means is I can buy the ready-cooked food and then play it off as my own, with pick up and heating taking only a few hours.

THE REVIEW 2013 78

Lazy Sunday in Berlin The perfect conclusion to the week—and what’s more, a splendid cure for the night before.

Words: AMY McNICHOL Berliners have a reputation. They like their Eurodance and they like to party hard. So, if whilst in Berlin, you take the opportunity to do as the Berliners do on a Saturday evening, you’re going to need a blessed-out haven come Sunday dinner time. Allow me to introduce Themroc, a restaurant with the allure of a well-loved sofa and the comfort of a grandpa’s warm, enveloping hug.

I’d heard about this place whilst planning my trip and was advised to book. On the Sunday afternoon, we stopped by to find the place closed and empty, apart from the bobbing blonde hair of a chef, rocking out to some furious metal that was blaring out from somewhere. The concept is that, each evening, the chef prepares three dishes: a starter (5 euros) a main (15 euros) and a dessert (5 euros) and chalks up this set menu on a shabby chic sign out the front. Guests can pick out as many or as few courses as tickles their fancy, whilst slurping some carefully-matched grog in

the calm of what is essentially someone’s large front room.

I asked what would be on the menu that evening and received an enormous welcoming grin, but the details didn’t seem to be pinned down with five hours before opening time. Chef tenderly patted a hefty cut of sirloin and tossed an apple up into the air. “Hmm, something with these, I guess,” he teases.

The experience is comparable to heading round to a mate’s with a super-cool, totally laid-back hosting style, for dinner. You sip wine and sit comfortably, whilst watching the hosts potter about in the open kitchen, working their culinary magic. There’s no flapping, no raised voices, just lovinglyprepared, beautifully-presented, utterly delicious food.

Under a picture of Prince Charles and various German newspaper clippings that are fixed to the wall with gaffer tape, we tucked in to blushing roast beef on a bed of sweet peppers and crunchy green

beans. The new potatoes were smashed rather than mashed to a puree, and dappled with capers. The skins were kept on in the most part (always be my personal preference). Drizzled over the top was a rich white truffle and butter sauce, adding a touch of decadence to an otherwise fairly simple dish.

For dessert, the chef had conjured up a classic with the apples he was chucking around hours earlier. A crumble. But instead of the traditional ice-cream or custard accompaniment, this beauty was topped with a delicate vanilla sauce, which served to complement the slight tang of the apples. The dish appeared to be finished with shards of Dime bar—and why not? There’s a reason toffee apples make their return every autumn.

From concept to setting, food to service, Themroc is thoroughly charming and ohso-perfect for a relaxing Sunday supper.

Whilst in town, dinner or lunch at this gem is a must.

FOOD: THEMROC

THE REVIEW 2013 80

LAUNCHES God gave us the gift of life; it is up to us to give ourselves the gift of living well.

Located in the square mile, Voltaire is housed in a Grade Two-listed building, styled by renowned interior designer Sue Wheldon. At one time, the vaults at Voltaire housed the vast wealth of the patrons to the bank above. Now, you are more likely to find a rich plume than doubloon in its hallowed walls. The vaults are mini-cavernous escapes adjacent to Voltaire, where you and your private party can retreat into the stone for an evening of private frivolity.

Here guests can enjoy handmade canapés, fine cigars from a variety of manufacturers and London’s most comprehensive selection of Pommery Champagne. The menu will comprise half bottles through to the nine litre Salmanazar and the classic Pommery Brut and vintage Cru. Once housing the treasures of the former bank above, the old stone vaults have now been converted into a unique bar area: The Vaults at Voltaire. These feature private but spacious alcoves, decorated in silks and animal prints, where guests can kick back and relax, attended to by their own private waiter. Unlike anywhere else in the capital, The Vaults at Voltaire are destined to become one of London’s hottest and most exclusive celebrity haunts.

Adjacent to The Vaults is Voltaire’s impressive champagne bar, an equally seductive space inspired by the colours of caviar, champagne and cigars. The bathrooms feature raw silk and sinks filled with Chanel. Okay, the last part is an exaggeration, so let’s just say that it was built and designed with glamour and opulence in mind.

God gave us the gift of life; it is up to us to give ourselves the gift of living well.

Located in the square mile, Voltaire is housed in a Grade Two-listed building, styled by renowned interior designer Sue Wheldon. At one time, the vaults at Voltaire housed the vast wealth of the patrons to the bank above. Now, you are more likely to find a rich plume than doubloon in its hallowed walls. The vaults are mini-cavernous escapes adjacent

to Voltaire, where you and your private party can retreat into the stone for an evening of private frivolity.

Here guests can enjoy handmade canapés, fine cigars from a variety of manufacturers and London’s most comprehensive selection of Pommery Champagne. The menu will comprise half bottles through to the nine litre Salmanazar and the classic Pommery Brut and vintage Cru. Once housing the treasures of the former bank above, the

old stone vaults have now been converted into a unique bar area: The Vaults at Voltaire. These feature private but spacious alcoves, decorated in silks and animal prints, where guests can kick back and relax, attended to by their own private waiter. Unlike anywhere else in the capital, The Vaults at Voltaire are destined to become one of London’s hottest and most exclusive celebrity haunts.

Adjacent to The Vaults is Voltaire’s impressive champagne

bar, an equally seductive space inspired by the colours of caviar, champagne and cigars. The bathrooms feature raw silk and sinks filled with Chanel. Okay, the last part is an exaggeration, so let’s just say that it was built and designed with glamour and opulence in mind.

Bar manager and straight-talking nice guy Joel Lawrence has big plans for the venue and wants to bring cigar smoking back to bar culture. At the moment, one of the few places you can go to smoke your favourite gar inside is FOX’s of St James Street, surrounded by the old boys’ network, senior court judges and looking very similar to a front room. Oh, and no booze; none whatsoever, unless you decide, of course, to smuggle in a hip flask.

If you’re a well-hardened alcoholic that has a tolerance of a Russian sailor, I doubt the average hip flask would contain enough to satisfy your appetite.

Voltaire is arguably the best place to take in a cigar and a glass of fizz. We expect many a private event and a stiffupper-lip, after-work crowd to party till the small hours.

Give it a year and it’s highly likely to see Cara Delevingne falling out of Voltaire arm-in-arm with Rhianna and Rita Ora in tow.

THE REVIEW 2013 82

Radio is the new rooftop bar and terrace atop the newest of the ME hotel’s, owned by Sol Melia on The Strand. Having stepped out of the Rolls Royce Phantom (provided by the team at the Envy Group), we power walked from the car to the hotel’s circular street entrance and into the Norman Foster designed building. Space is top of the menu here, with a cavernous lobby opening up to 157 individually designed rooms, 16 suits and 499sqm of meeting space.

Radio is the new rooftop bar and terrace atop the newest of the ME hotel’s, owned by Sol Melia on The Strand. Having stepped out of the Rolls Royce Phantom (provided by the team at the Envy Group), we power walked from the car to the hotel’s circular street entrance and into the Norman Foster designed building. Space is top of the menu here, with a cavernous lobby opening up to 157 individually designed rooms, 16 suits and 499sqm of meeting space.

But tonight, we aren’t here for the hotel. We aren’t even here for a suite. We are actually here for the launch of Radio, the hotel’s destination bar on the tenth floor. Having ascended in the silent elevator we are greeted by a gaggle (is it gaggle?) of PRs all vying for our eye contact. I stroll over to one with my David Minns, three-piece black suit adorned by the lovely Taya Pang, to get a rundown on the evening’s festivities. “Cocktails this evening are Grey Goose and Ketel One; Flower in the Rain is Grey Goose vodka concocted with rhubarb, lemon, cranberry, and strawberry served in a martini glass and topped with an edible flower. The Thames River Iced Tea, an English twist to the famous Long Island Iced Tea: Grey Goose mixed with Bacardi Oro, Cuervo Gold, Peach Liqueur, and lemon”.

“Stop! That will do it for me,” I said. Having only drunk half a bottle of champagne that day, I wasn’t quite operating at peak condition.

Having meandered around the inside of the glass-fronted triangle with its top tables, striking bar and austere-looking sofa arrangements, it was time to step out onto the balcony.

It really embodied the wow-factor, even with a strong westerly wind. Having not seen a view of this magnitude since the opening of Vista on Trafalgar, we were all quite taken aback. Think Cafe del Mar, with its white muslin curtains and flame bowls. If you were courting a first date or tackling a creative meeting with the big wigs, this is certainly a venue

But tonight, we aren’t here for the hotel. We aren’t even here for a suite. We are actually here for the launch of Radio, the hotel’s destination bar on the tenth floor. Having ascended in the silent elevator we are greeted by a gaggle (is it gaggle?) of PRs all vying for our eye contact. I stroll over to one with my David Minns, three-piece black suit adorned by the lovely Taya Pang, to get a rundown on the evening’s festivities. “Cocktails this evening are Grey Goose and Ketel One; Flower in the Rain is Grey Goose vodka concocted with rhubarb, lemon, cranberry, and strawberry served in a martini glass and topped with an edible flower. The Thames River Iced Tea, an English twist to the famous Long Island Iced Tea: Grey Goose mixed with Bacardi Oro, Cuervo Gold, Peach Liqueur, and lemon”.

“Stop! That will do it for me,” I said. Having only drunk half a bottle of champagne that day, I wasn’t quite operating at peak condition.

Having meandered around the inside of the glass-fronted triangle with its top tables, striking bar and austere-looking sofa arrangements, it was time to step out onto the balcony.

It really embodied the wow-factor, even with a strong westerly wind. Having not seen a view of this magnitude since the opening of Vista on Trafalgar, we were all quite taken aback. Think Cafe del Mar, with its white muslin curtains and flame bowls. If you were courting a first date or tackling a creative meeting with the big wigs, this is certainly a venue

of choice.

Radio served guests a delectable selection of Asian finger foods that accompanied perfectly with the drinks served.

Tuna pops with a red curry dressing and Vietnamese summer rolls with spicy nouc cham; an aromatic serving of truffled goat cheese with baby beets on mini bruschetta; and succulent mini wagyu burgers with Radio’s homemade special sauce. Finally, it’s Korean fried cauliflower, served with chilli dressing and micro coriander.

On the last Thursday of the month, Radio Rooftop Bar hosts Frequency, London’s premium cocktail party. Each Frequency event showcases cocktails, finger foods and great live DJ music from local, national and international music talent. Well worth stepping out for. I advise a well-tailored jacket or cocktail dress, as it won’t be long before the glitterati have taken it over by force.

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DRINK: THE HANGOVER

A Night on the Tiles For ten thousand years, ever since human beings settled down to the cultivation of cereals and vines, alcohol has played a fundamental role in society.

It has served as an object of religious festivals, social lubricant, and afforded many unattractive men and woman the otherwise-unobtainable affection of higher mortals.

Suffice to say, heavy drinking has always been part of the British character. Winston Churchill once told: “A lady came up to me one day and said ‘Sir! You are drunk’, to which I replied ‘I am drunk today, madam, and tomorrow I shall be sober, but you will still be ugly.”

For years alcohol manufacturers have been telling us that their particular brand of alcohol will leave us king-of-the-jungle and irresistible to the opposite sex. The idea is that Jack Daniels is catnip for girls; splash it around your carcass and women will flock to you like plankton shortly before wrestling you for a place in the bed.

The reality, of course, is that you wake up in the morning, slightly jaded and alone, with little more than a souvenir of beer mats and a lighter wallet.

The marketing machine of the alcohol industry tends to have less-subtle imagery than Korean propaganda. And yet, every time we find ourselves in a pub, we order our staple beverage regardless of what the marketing minions have suggested might

make our paltry lives better. So, in the interest of progression, having accepted that whatever will be will be and you will drink whatever you damn well please, here are some dubious suggestions on how to avoid that jaded, light-wallet feeling in the morning.

Stay drunk. Rather than accept that the walls are closing in the following morning, why not pepper the day with a Bloody Mary, or perhaps a gin and tonic.

Drink a pint of water before you pass out on the sofa — if you even made it that far.

Note: if your chosen place of slumber is a public toilet, do not attempt this, despite what your Labrador might say.

Eat before you drink. Alcohol is absorbed slower on a full stomach, so your hangover won’t be as had. Go on, eat a giant burger before you attempt to binge-drink yourself to death — it’s for health reasons.

Eggs contain cysteine, which aids recovery during a hangover. Fruit juice will help to replace lost vitamins if you drink it afterwards, but drinking orange juice

before sleeping helps too. Yes, healthy fruit. Don’t you bloody hate it when the vegans get something right?

In Ireland, it was said that the cure for a hangover is to bury the ailing person up to the neck in moist river sand.

Lucozade and a bacon sandwich. Many people claim Lucozade as their secret weapon in fighting hangovers. Apparently it works best when taken the night before.

A bottle contains twenty-one teaspoons of sugar, however, which I think I’d struggle to sleep on no matter how squiffy.

It sounds counterintuitive, but try to stay away from aspirin, paracetamol and ibuprofen, the effects of which can be magnified when alcohol is in your system.

Aspirin is a blood thinner like alcohol; paracetamol can damage your already overstretched liver; and ibuprofen can irritate the stomach.

If you have any other theories on how to cure the common hangover, then email minesanotherbrandy@thereviewmag. co.uk THE REVIEW 2013 86

T

S

UP IN S It could be seen as the ultimate representation of the saying, “Do as I say not as I do.” In 1961, President John F. Kennedy (JFK) imposed a total trade embargo with Cuba. But before doing so, he made sure that he had taken care of his own desires. While the rest of America was denied their favorite Cuban cigars, JFK made sure he would not be going without.

One night in 1961, shortly after the Bay of Pigs fiasco, John Fitzgerald Kennedy was planning one final, covert action in mainland Cuba. An action, he assumed, that would go slightly more smoothly than the last CIA funded effort.

Two years earlier, in 1959, Cuban revolutionary Fidel Castro came to power and began the process of seizing all foreign property, businesses and land, using the newly created ministry for the recovery of misappropriated assets.

Many of the seized assets were American-

‘MICHAEL JORDAN PLAYS BALL. CHARLES Words: PETER ROBINSON MANSON KILLS PEOPLE. I TALK. EVERYONE HAS A TALENT’

owned.

In response to this, the US administration attempted and failed at numerous covert ground-based guerrilla-tactics, attempting to overthrow the newly created communist party in Cuba.

As Fidel Castro struggled in the wake of an initial round of trade embargoes against Cuba, he turned to his allies in the Soviet Union. Castro made a trade agreement with Russia, whereby Cuba sent sugar to Russia in return for oil, machines and money. This further concerned the American government and Cuba-US relations hit an all time low.

In response to the Cuban alignment with the Soviet Union, John F Kennedy was preparing to enact a second round of punitive trade measures against the island state that would create a total trade embargo, but not before one last

clandestine operation.

Pierre Salinger, the president’s press secretary, was sent out on the mission.

He arrived back with a thousand Cuban cigars by morning. Salinger was familiar with many cigar stores and made a frantic search that same evening. Petit Upmanns is what the president smoked.

And before 08:00 the following morning, Salinger had managed to corral 1,200 of them. JFK smiled, thanked him, lit one up, then opened his desk drawer and pulled out a long piece of paper, which he signed immediately. It was a decree banning all Cuban products from the United States Although those Cuban cigars were not technically illegal, Salinger would in the future procure illegal Cuban cigars for the

THANKYOU FOR SMOKING

THANK YOU FOR

SM KING

SMOKE ‘People, what is going on out there? I look down this table, all I see are white flags. Our numbers are down all across the board. Teen smoking, our bread and butter, is falling like a shit from heaven! We don’t sell Tic Tacs for Christ’s sake. We sell cigarettes. And they’re cool and available and *addictive*.

The job is almost done for us!’ Ever wondered what goes on in the backroom of the worlds Tobacco companies, The Review goes behind the smoke clad curtain for an exclusive look.

Photography: BR

Everyone has their prejudices. In my experience, they tend to be on a scale – but I find the scary thing is that the prejudice is only voiced, not on how logical it is, but on its popularity. Some folks are racist, but they would be deterred from voicing their prejudice, not because it’s groundless, but because it not popular.

As we move up the scale and the idea grows in popularity, prejudice becomes more vocal. Let’s take speeding, for example.

People feel free to tear a strip off of people who speed in cars. The reason for this is that the idea has been made popular, because the government have clambered onto the bandwagon citing a raft of manipulated road safety statistics in order to back these people up (nothing to do with boosting revenue from speed traps).

This theory leads me onto one of the most dangerous forms of prejudice: the prejudiced who ‘posses’ the moral high-ground.

At this stage, the former factors do not apply. Be it groundless or unpopular, the person who feels that their preconceived idea is morally right is a force to be reckoned with. Sound’s daunting doesn’t it?

Well, take this moral approach and add to it popularity and, what the opinionated regard to be, a factual grounding—you are then contending with a leviathan. This lumbering beast will openly attack anyone who disagrees with their idea and will show no mercy in trampling them down with all

manner of abuse and misinformed verbosity.

“What on earth would evoke such feelings?” I hear you ask. Well, one very common example is smoking.

In a previous life, I spent a number of years working for one of the world’s largest tobacco companies. Before, during and after that time, my opinions have remained largely unchanged. I have never smoked, which may appear odd, considering I sympathise with the plight of the smoker. I did, president.

Inonly 1962, Salinger however, used to be the thing detested travelled Moscow tothan meeta more vehemently by to anti-smokers with the Sovietspokesperson. leader Nikita smoker; a tobacco company Khrushchev.

At the end of If you ever want a real showstopper, upon the meeting, meeting a group of new Khrushchev people, when asked the dullpresented question Salinger “So whatwith do you 250“I’m Cuban cigars. Salinger do?” reply with a spokesperson for a knew that taking these tobacco company”.

I give you my word that Cuban cigars backor to very the US you will elicit a very positive negawas illegal.

Heofalso knew that, tive response.

Neither which is ever dull. as he had a smoke specialand presidential As I said, I don’t I wouldn’t there choosediplomatic to because passport, it’s bad for yourwould health, be no at the US are customs. but what theproblems tobacco companies doing Whenpeople Salinger handedthat thethey Cuban is offering a product want; cigars over to JFK, the president promoting freedom of choice.

They don’t was said to be shocked.

Hecan’t. ordered exploit people because they The Salinger to hand them over theUN, industry is tied up tighter than to the of customs. toldout, Salinger andchief believe me, fromHe thealso inside it is to make sure that he got a receipt spotless. forinthem, as he where no longer trusted I was once a meeting a co-worker in regards made a Salinger quip about pitchingtotocigars. “kids on When Salinger asked whatthat JFKafthe school bus”.

HR came for him

ternoon and we never saw him again—no joke. Don’t get me wrong, they’re not a charity and like any major corporation, if they could bend the rules a little, then they may. But the point is they don’t.

The smoker is the subject of vilification here, though, not the company that supplies his or her product. The classic clichéd argument against the smoker is the fact that they cost the NHS millions of pounds a year to treat and patch up by doing something that is avoidable. Now you may not want intended to but do with cigars,are thetermed reply to hear this, thesethe patients wascollateral that he was goingintothe destroy as damage NHS them. funding To which Salinger skeptically replied structure, simply because—and wait for that he2009 knew the going to it—in the taxpresident revenue was generated by destroy the cigars “one by one”.have paid the UK tobacco industry would to run the entire NHS and police force six times over in a twelve month period. I can’t quote my sources without naming my previous employers, but you’ll just have to trust me—I was a spokesman for them after all.

That should be enough to earn the humble smoker peace and quiet whilst they enjoy their cigarette. No? Well, if you want more, then allow me to enlighten you further.

Let’s assume that you’re in perfect health and you never have to use the NHS. Also, that you never have any benefit from the police force. Unlikely on both accounts, but for arguments sake, you feel that you haven’t been compensated for having to walk through a little puff of smoke on your THE REVIEW 2013

Property 2012 Review and 2013 Forecast What happened?

Liam Bailey, Global Head of Knight Frank Residential Research comments “2012 was the third consecutive year of mediocre price growth across the UK, with prices likely to end the year down by around 1 per cent. The UK’s double dip recession, and even a threat of a triple dip, helped to weigh on purchaser sentiment.

As always the average position across the UK has disguised the performance of different submarkets, and none has been more different than the central London market, which saw 9 per cent growth in prices in 2012, which added to recent growth means prices in central London are now 34 per cent higher than three years ago, UK prices are 1 per cent higher over the same period.

“International demand has helped to propel London prices higher and has also influenced the prime outer London markets, covering Wandsworth to Richmond, and Hampstead and Canary Wharf – where prices managed to rise by 5 per cent in 2012 and a respectable 13 per cent over the past three years.

Outside of London, the weakness in the UK’s professional service and financial sector has not been offset by international demand, meaning the prime country house market has seen a slow decline in pricing continue thought 2012, with prices down by 4 per cent in 2012 and down by a similar level over the past three years. While the performance of country houses has been unimpressive, rural estate owners will be cheered by the fact that land values have risen steadily, by 3 per cent this year but by 22 per cent over the past three years.”

What will happen next?

Property prices in prime central London went from strength to strength this year, but 2012 was more turbulent for the wider UK market. What is in store for 2013?

UK house prices will not reach their 2007 peak until 2019: the longest housing market recovery on record, according to Knight Frank’s new forecast.

UK housing transactions to rise 2% in 2013, but to remain well below peak levels for the rest of the decade Tax changes forecast to weigh on prime central London prices, with no price movement expected in 2013.

UK housing market: Gráinne Gilmore, Head of UK Residential Research, says: “Some five years after the start of the financial crisis, the housing sector in the UK still does not bear the hallmarks of a fully functioning market.

Transaction levels have roughly halved since the last market peak in 2007, and are 35% below the 20 year average, as first-time buyers and those further up the housing ladder struggle with tighter mortgage lending rules.

House prices have been flat or modestly declining across the UK since 2010. This stasis is underpinned by unusual economic conditions, rather than a genuine equilibrium in the market.

The fundamentals suggest that a further correction in prices is needed as the relationship between average earnings and average house prices is well above the long-term average. This is illustrated in the chart below (Figure 1), which shows how the house price earnings ratio for first-time buyers has moved. We believe that the new ‘average’ at which this ratio settles in the future may be above the historical average, but there is still a further readjustment required to reach that level. See full release including relevant charts”.

Property statistics for 2012: 53% rise in value of PCL property since market trough in 2009.

45% luxury house price growth—the gap in annual price growth between the best and worst performing global luxury markets was 45 per cent. International property hotspots in 2012 included Miami, London and Vancouver. £239: the capital growth a £1m investment in prime central London residential property made every day in 2012.

1%— the average rise in global house prices in the year to September 2012, positive growth in Asia and Latin America is offset by renewed weakness in Europe.

56% Uplift in prices for being near the sea. Waterfront premiums in action - http://bit.ly/Qxihjp - Knight Frank’s Prime UK Waterfront Property Index confirmed the average premium paid for waterfront property.

‘Left a bit sir, right a bit’

A380 for sale Next time you are in, say, a 747 or an A380, imagine what it would be like to clear out every seats but yours. It was only a matter of time before a wealthy magnate or oligarch took delivery of an A380 with the intention of flying solo. In terms of aviation, it has to be the ultimate statement of wealth and success in the 21st century. Ignoring of course how bloody garish it sounds so be retro-fitting a plane fit for 800 passengers, to fly 8000 miles, for one man — albeit a prince.

Words: PETER ROBINSON Photography: JAMES BILLET Billionaire Prince Alwaleed bin Talal al-saud ordered the A380 just over three years ago and is still waiting to take delivery. Alwaleed bin Talal is a member of the ruling Saudi royal family, so one can assume that his rise to CEO and 95% owner of the Kingdom Holding Company was set from birth. That isn’t to take away from his shrewd investment eye, though. With a 7% stake in News Corp and around $1bn in Citigroup, Alwaleed bin Talal made the right moves at the right time. He took what some would consider to be a modest family wealth and turned it into a billion dollar empire.

Alwaleed bin Talal’s new jet will come complete with a marble finished Turkish bath, a parking space for his Rolls Royce and a prayer room that will automatically turn

towards Mecca. I don’t know if I believe the last point; it sounds like something the Daily Mail would publish to get a rise.

The Flying Palace, as it has been dubbed, has been designed by Design Q: “Not only the most luxurious aircraft in existence, but also reflects the cultural values and status of its owner”. The lift that drops to runway level and unfurls a red carpet, complete with down lights to “give the impression of turning up at the Oscars” is apparently a boastful feature. (I’m sure this kind of stuff dominates American culture, not Middle Eastern? But then I’m no Rhodes Scholar.)

The belly of the A380 has been turned into a relaxation zone, including a Turkish bath lined with marble only 2mm thick to keep the weight down. No one wants a

FLIGHT: A380 FS

repeat of the jet that was finished with gold and marble, but too heavy to fly.

The Flying Palace will boast a main spiral staircase; a lift, which will travel the plane’s three floors and lower onto the tarmac to act as the prince’s private entrance; a concert hall featuring a grand piano, acoustic panelling and seating for an audience of ten (expect Maria and Lenny to pick up cheques); a wellbeing room for guests featuring a giant screen, allowing them to see the terrain as they fly over; a full size boardroom with large Perspex table that doubles as a touchscreen; and five luxury suites with four poster beds.

If you think that’s bit gauche for a world in recession, then be reminded that this is the same prince who is buying a diamond-encrusted Mercedes and Ducati. What the hell for?

But wait, there is light at the end of the tunnel: Bloomberg received an official statement from the prince’s CFO that he has sold the A380, before even taking delivery. What offer could possibly have made the prince sell his new toy, even before sitting in the Turkish bath? The “official” line states the prince wants to invest the money in real growth companies based in Saudi and the Middle East to specifically promote welfare and multiply job opportunities.

One can only assume the truth is well buried in the sand.

Opulent staircase

Right: Princess Ameerah al-Taweel Left: Donald Trumps Evil Twin THE REVIEW 2013 92

“Of all the branches of men in the forces there is none which shows more devotion and faces grimmer perils than the submariners.�

M a ri n e : T ri d e n t

Troublesome Trident So, you’re in the market for a new boat, are you? Like the idea of digging a large hole in the ocean and pouring money in, do you? Then look no further. The office intern here at The Review has spent literally minutes looking for the latest new aquatic toys for your perusal. We think she may have found the mother of all marine crafts on, believe it or not, eBay. That’s right — tuppence magnet eBay was recently the place to buy England’s old trident fleet.

Words: PETER ROBINSON Nuclear submarine fleet. One previous owner. Reason for sale: riddled with construction and design flaws. Some corrosion. Painfully slow. A few holes. Faulty periscopes so you won’t be able to see the surface without making an appointment.

Nuclear monitoring instruments are the wrong type so possible exposure to radiation. Has been known to cause psychological problems in crew members. HMS Astute has a couple of dents because we grounded it off the Isle Of Skye. Hey ho.

Bought it from a guy called Boaks for 9.75bn a few years back, but it’s just not quite what I had in mind. Will settle for a couple of grand o.n.o.

Delivery: collection or alternatively can send second class post.

Eagle-eyed viewer Doug Daniel, currently in the market for a fleet, immediately spotted the item location was listed as London.

This was due to eBay’s assumption that the item resided with its vendor, ‘ministryofdefence’, at Main Building, Whitehall, London SW1A 2HB. Had they asked for the location of the actual item, I’d have said “Currently festering somewhere around HM Naval Base Clyde, Faslane, Helensburgh G84 8HL”. Clearly it’s absurd to think that a nuclear submarine fleet could be stored in Whitehall. That’s what Scotland’s for.

Bidding, beginning at 99p, was robust, but sadly the seven-day auction was cut short by around five days and twelve hours when another eagle-eyed viewer, this time eBay, decided the fleet wasn’t really ‘collectable’ at all and pulled the plug. But not before the page racked up several thousand views and the poster had the chance to answer

a raft of questions from eager bidders desperate for a hunk of useless metal.

Q: How do we know you’re actually the Ministry Of Defence?

A: I have a badge and I’m not very bright.

Q: Can I see your badge?

A: No. Q: I presume these items are boats of some description. Will they fit in my swimming pool? I have a very large swimming pool and would like to expand it.

A: As you know, submarines are designed to operate under water. However, these will be under water before you even switch them on, as they leak. If you’re going to expand your swimming pool, expand downwards.

Q: Can I do a test launch before I bid? Thx A: If you have a month to spare. Last time we tried it, after a week I could still see all the crusties at the protest camp. Then we ran aground. Good times.

Q: You send to Nigeria? I am very honest man, honestly. My uncle has just died. He was Prince Nadjer al Grabbem. He left me lots of money. All I need are your bank account details and your four digit pin and I will transfer to you all the money.

A: I read about your uncle. He should have known that hair-tongs were never intended for such a purpose, god rest his soul. Bank account details on the way.

Q: Will you dispatch immediately or will you wait until 2014 when you will be forced

to get shot of them?

A: As I said, they’re not much use to us here, so reckon you could have them for Christmas. Happy holidays!

Q: I feel that by purchasing this item, and at the same time demanding foreigners in the Middle East and Asia be forced to stop their nuclear programmes, I may feel a little bit hypocritical after purchase. Can I return this item if I suddenly develop some morals towards humanity?

A: What am I, your mother? Do you want to nuke or not?

Q: As you have zero positive feedback – does this suggest that you are not to be trusted? Do you have a holding company?

Who is the boss? I would be reluctant to part with 99p with any confidence.

A: Is your mistrust based on the grounding of HMS Astute? If so, it really wasn’t such a big deal. We covered up far worse.

Q: We might be interested up here in Shetland. Once Scotland gets independence, we’ll need nuclear capability to keep them away from our oil and money. Can you chip the missiles to lock onto Holyrood? Could be interested in a few Eurofighters too.

A: I like the way you think. Shetland, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

We should say now that this post was made

by Chris Tufnal of National, a Scottish Nationalism paper. Chris we salute you. But in no way should that be construed as an offer to purchase your fleet, or an interest in making a down payment.

THE REVIEW 2013 94