I don’t know how you do it. Where are you going now? Neil asks, as he spots me on the sidewalk outside my new London bolthole with my trusted Lipault wheelie bag.

Ibiza

That sounds relaxing

For three days.

He laughs,

I don’t know how you do it. I’d hate it.

And to be honest – why not be honest, right? – I was secretly dreading my summer travels before they began, wondering whether I am too old to be lugging a suitcase to these far flung spots, sitting in crowded airports with the world and their wives. But once I hit the road, I fell in love with the freedom and constant change – my gap summer. I felt like I was 16 again, without the travelers’ checks.

St Tropez to San Francisco, the Balearic Islands

to Shelter Island,

Ischia to Sonoma, I covered  a lot of beautiful territory. And all of it I did to spend time with people I love – girlfriends, Stretch, my family. They make me happy.

The older I get, the more I know what matters to me, and just as importantly, what doesn’t. Life gets distilled to its essentials. Turns out I am not the only one thinking this.

My friend Dani told me that her mother gave an 80th birthday party in Melbourne recently, and invited only women, not even her brother. Talk about knowing what you want and doing it. Husbands had to drop their wives off at 6pm and pick them up again at 8:30. Only Dani’s husband David made the cut because he plays the piano and what’s an 80th without John Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads”?

I bumped into my friend Karen the other day. She was sitting on a street bench on Lexington Avenue in New York with her two dogs, who she loves very much, but are cramping her style. She’s itching for freedom, she’s itching to do what she wants, what makes her happy.

I think back to when I had three little kids, a double stroller and a dog,  walking them to school every day, said Karen. Estrogen must have been coursing through my veins. I was so nurturing. Now, forget it. I just want to do my own thing. I googled the life expectancy of my dog last night.

Perhaps actress and new role model Kristin Scott Thomas summed it up best  in this scene in Fleabag below:

For anyone unfamiliar with the TV series, I so envy the binge watching ahead of you, especially Season 2. Fleabag, written and starring Phoebe Waller-Bridge as the main character, is a hilarious, touching, witty love story about a woman who has no filter and is trying to navigate life after tragedy. It’s a love story between Fleabag and herself, Fleabag and her uptight, unhappy sister and Fleabag and a hot priest. It is definitely not a love story between Fleabag and her fantastically awful, passive aggressive stepmother played by Academy Award winner Olivia Colman.

Anyway, back to the relevant scene, 58-year-old Belinda, a successful business woman played by Scott Thomas and Fleabag are talking in a bar after an awards ceremony. Scott Thomas is dispensing some pearls, namely that while the menopause stinks the aftermath is…

fucking wonderful. Yes, your entire pelvic floor crumbles, and yes, you get fucking hot and no one  cares. And then…. You’re free, no longer a slave, no longer a machine with parts. You’re just a person… It is horrendous but then  it’s magnificent.

I couldn’t agree more. Getting older has its minuses – dimply thighs, random chin hairs, wrinkly elbows- who loves those? But obsessing over them is such a time waster, and I don’t have as much time as I used to.  Mortality is a great awakener. I’m starting to notice (and make note of) good tombstones.

On my gap summer I barely wore any makeup, lathered my face with sun block, wore  unflattering head gear and avoided mirrors.

I felt liberated. I was doing what makes me happy – biking, exploring, reading novels, writing, laughing and hanging with my nearest and dearest. And avoiding what does not make me happy – sceney parties,  people who takes themselves too seriously, inauthentic people, having to succeed at all costs, fearing failure, envy and weak coffee.

And for those of you who were expecting this to be a travel blog, forgive me for getting super sidetracked.

Here are my top 3 pics from my gap summer:

Mezzatorre in Ischia, what the island lacks in charm, this pretty hotel makes up for with its picturesque seaside views, chic, simple interiors and delicious food and drink.  Go for 3 days of total unwinding. My suggestion: Visit buzzy Capri first and then hire a boat and motor over  to Mezzatorre. Flop on a sun lounger with a good book and a cold Aperol Spritz.

Ibiza- If you go there, don’t miss charming town Sant Gertrudis- great coffee (Bar Costa and La Petit Table our faves) and shopping spots, especially Es Cucons

And finally- Sonoma – we went to a lovely family wedding

We stayed at this heavenly find …

request bungalow Dolce (our favourite, but all are charming)

hiked in nearby Jack London State Park and had zen massages across the street here

September, 2019

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There’s something kind of thrilling going to an island off-season, off radar. Gone are the crowds, the lines snaking around the hottest restaurants, the cars crawling into town. There was no traffic, no rush to find a hidden beach, no clamour to get anywhere.

True, we didn’t sunbathe, swim or sail. But we were busy. On the first day we bike rode along some of the island’s 35 miles of bike paths, past roads with suggestive names like Old Quidnet Milk Route or Burnt Swamp Lane. The paths were so empty that one woman waved us down to ask if she could take our photo. She worked for a local realtor and was writing a blog about biking on the island but could find no bikers. Until we came peddling along…

When we got back to our hotel-  the old world, charming  Wauwinet 

That night we went into town and ate one of the best meals that I’ve had in ages at Nautilus.

The concierge at the Wauwinet told us she doesn’t even bother trying to get guests reservations at Nautilus during the peak summer months. People line up at noon to book a table a month away. But in October, it’s a different story. The casual restaurant with its popular bar scene was packed and buzzy on Friday night. We were seated  within half an hour with no reservation.

The tempura east coast oyster tacos, crispy marinated calamari and grilled lamb chops were heavenly.

Chef Liam Mackey is one to watch…

As we were paying we asked our waiter if there was anywhere to dance on the island.

Sure, go to the Chicken Box. It’s the only place on the island.

So we did.

And we danced alongside lots of locals to an enthusiastic band called Buckle and Shake. Again, no line, a $10 cover fee,  and all ages bogeying on the spacious dance floor, while others played pool in the back.

The next morning it was raining. We headed to the Whaling Museum. There we listened to a dramatic story teller recount the tragedy of the Essex, a sea voyage so harrowing and rich in detail, including cannibalism, that the story inspired Herman Melville to write Moby Dick.

When the skies cleared we grabbed a taxi and headed to remote and lovely Sconset on the eastern part of the island. We hiked about 6 miles starting in Sconset, past the Sankaty  lighthouse,

past deserted beach houses – some in mint condition, others less so…

and then down onto the beach itself… Apart from a flock of seagulls and a single seal that slithered by, we were alone.

Nantucket has 82 miles of coastline. We have 80 left for our next visit. About half of Nantucket’s 30,000 acres are under conservation. Take a drive down Milestone Road if you want to see Nantucket’s version of the Serengeti.

It was a short trip, a direct 45 minute Jet Blue flight from JFK. We were gone for 48 hours, but it felt like a week.

PS. Thank you Anne Hardy for all your Nantucket tips. You were absolutely right when you texted:

Wauwinet is going to be lovely and compelling and hard  to leave…  Sconset is delightful!

The Wauwinet closes for the season this Sunday (Oct 28) and reopens April 18th.

See you there.

October, 2018

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Most of my blogs, I sweat over. But seeing as I have an 8am flight to Portugal and I haven’t packed (or even unpacked from my last jaunt), this blog will be short and sweet. Stop looking so relieved.

If you’re in Manhattan this month, I recommend two exhibits that couldn’t be more different or as enjoyable- from the Lower East Side to the Upper West.

Don’t miss British-Ghanian artist Lynette Yiadom-Boakye’s

thoughtful and soulful paintings at the New Museum. Under Song for a Cypher as the show is lyrically called is a quiet exhibit, 17 new paintings in one room to be enjoyed alone. The show ends September 3rd and then Lynette is going on a sabbatical so now’s your chance.

They look like portraits of real people  but come from Lynette’s imagination. Read my interview in The Women’s Room Blog with Curator Natalie Bell to learn more about how Lynette paints. And while you’re in the New Museum check out the Instagrammable-friendly views from the top floor.

Practically on the other tip of Manhattan just off Central Park and 79th Street is Eloise at the Museum at the New York Historical Society . Who didn’t grow up wishing they could wiz up and down the elevator of the Plaza Hotel with pug Weenie in tow? Eloise had her very own “fawncy” suite and bubbly “bawthroom”. In my next life, I know who I want to come back as.

And the cafe at the museum, while not exactly the Plaza, is charming…

August, 2017

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You’re going to Milan? Then you must visit Stephan Janson’s studio. He’s a fantastic designer. His clothes would be perfect on you.

So like the teacher’s pet that I am, I went and was totally charmed by  Janson. Not only is he really funny and warm, but his clothes, which he admits have ‘zero hanger appeal’,  are very wearable. If you’re wondering why you have never heard of Janson, he shuns the spotlight big-time.

But all of Milan’s fashion cognoscenti are loyal clients. And he’s worked for a slew of top names like Saint Laurent, Kenzo, Diane von Furstenburg and Pucci. Here’s a blog I wrote about my new favourite person in The Women’s Room Blog.

Prepare thyself, I don’t look like the model above, but I do like this simple, long dress I bought.

Nancy loves the dress too although she did offer some styling tips,

When you wear a statement necklace, you don’t need statement earrings. And lose the watch.

She’s ruthless, but that’s another blog. For now read the one I wrote about Janson in The Women’s Room Blog. And go visit him next time you’re in Milan!

July, 2017

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Creel & Gow is  a delightful shop, a cabinet of curiosities owned by two avid collectors – Paris-based Jamie Creel

and former Sotheby’s expert and transplanted Brit Christopher Gow .

The morsel-sized shop  packs a big punch with exotic nature-based accessories from such far-flung corners of the globe as North Korea, Colombia and Timbuktu.

Looking for a Nigerian headdress to wow your friends?  My sister thinks her bridge group will be green with envy.

Or perhaps a Mayan loin cloth? Or both? Together!

We always come back and put things with feathers or textiles in the deep freeze for a month to kill all eggs and things, reassures Gow.

This taxidermic moose below with its antlers carved in Bali would inject some punch into any fireplace …

Creel & Gow is porn for globetrotters, especially if the friendly owners are in town and not scouring the world for exotic finds to bring home. They admit they are both obsessed with travel.

Gow estimates he’s been to 180 countries, 17 this year alone including Guam, Eritrea and Easter Island.  What’s still on his list? Papua New Guinea, Libya, Chad, Afghanistan and Pakistan.

My wanderlust drives me to countries that are difficult to reach or not the usual places tourists visit … As time goes by I come back more and more empty-handed as the world seems to be shrinking and the original factor or the quality factor is lacking.

While Gow laments how much harder it is to unearth original treasures, it’s hard to tell that by browsing in the shop. Boredom is not an option.

This taxidermic zebra from South Africa commands centre stage …

Some hand-loomed placemats from Bhutan required Gow to sip not one, but two cups of  rancid yak butter tea to seal the deal.

Creel, just back from Sumba, Indonesia, shipped some pig sticks to 70th Street. Of course. Next stop Tangiers and Mozambique.

Who knows what finds Creel & Gow will next pack in their carry-on?

Smack next door to Creel & Gow is Hayward House, a luxurious shop on the first floor of  Grosvenor Atterbury’s arts & crafts mansion. Launched by Marin Hopper in tribute to her star-studded parents – actor, photographer,  general Hollywood legend and bad boy Dennis Hopper and the glamorous, chic actress, writer Brooke Hayward. The shop is divided into two parts, yin and yang,

mother …

father …

The Hayward section carries gorgeous python, alligator and crocodile hand bags  made at Hayward Finesse, a Manhattan-based factory on 33rd street that ranks as the longest family-operated handbag factory in the U.S.

On the other side of the shop is the macho Hopper menswear side …

with iconic photographs, Stetson hats, menswear and jewellery. The Dodge hat below is a collaboration between Stetson and Hopper. Below is Hayward manager Jimmy Broadlick modelling the look …

This hip copper jewellery

is designed by the just as hip Brooklyn-based designer Burkindy from Burkina, Faso in West Africa.

Definitely ask to use the loo. The educational wallpaper is lined with a famous friends (Jane Fonda and Jack Nicholson to name a few) and family-tree wallpaper. All the bathroom reading material one could possible desire.

July, 2016

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