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

The post Off Season, On Island Escape appeared first on Elena Bowes.

So when our family plus friends the Vere Nicolls voted unanimously (minus one vote) to go skiing this past Christmas, you would be right in assuming that I was channeling my inner Mother Theresa. Call me Saint Elena.

And if you have to sacrifice yourself for others, then why not do it at an Aman?  I highly recommend snow martyring at the Amangani in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Perched on a hill about twenty minutes outside of town, the Amangani has views galore,

a steaming après ski hot tub,

high quality masseurs and easy-to-work, soothing fireplaces in every room. Plus the staff are extremely helpful, friendly and patient.

I figured that St Elena would just spend the week enjoying the hotel, testing out the spa,

sipping cocoa and reading by the fire, while the others, poor fools, braved the elements.

Sadly, my hopes of an indoor ski vacation were not to be. Every morning my friend Melanie, who must have been in the SAS in a past life, insisted that we go cross-country skiing on lengthier and lengthier treks.

Melanie is a cold weather person. She is also very strong – mentally and physically. She does not scare easily. So signs like this:

or Instagrams like this:

or mysterious paw prints like this:

don’t phase her. Even the faintly tinged pink paw prints we saw didn’t scare her. (Sorry, I didn’t take any pics, I was on an adrenaline rush, focused solely on distancing myself from owner of paw prints.) Later when I asked Melanie if she’d seen the suspicious footmarks, she said nonchalantly,

Oh, I thought those belonged to a very big dog.

Dog had not occurred to me. Mountain lion, wolf, bear, moose, that’s what had occurred to me. Especially moose. Apparently, they are everywhere in Jackson.

So what does one do if one encounters  a moose? I conducted an informal survey (asked every single local I met), and here are some of the answers I got:

Run like hell

Running won’t help you. A moose can outrun anything.

Stay still

Make yourself look big

Play dead

Give ’em a wide berth

Climb the nearest tree

Well, no one’s died. This year.

These replies were not reassuring. Not one bit. I am not a wildlife lover. The closest I got to wildlife growing up was my turtle Myrtle. When Melanie and I would go cross country skiing, she was invariably way ahead of me in deserted snowy wilderness with a lot of easy-for-moose-to-hide-behind trees.

Stunning, isn’t it? she would shout over her shoulder.

Or after the pink paw print ordeal, which also included a freak storm, golf-ball sized hail stones and 50 mph winds, Melanie sighed,

Wasn’t that a spectacular day?

Yes, because it’s over, I thought.

Typical, I didn’t spot this backpack essential in the Amangani shop until the last day …

In the end, thanks to my friend’s forceful, confident character, (aka bossy) I decided that I do kind of like ski holidays – as long as there are absolutely no moose sightings – NOT ONE – and I get to pamper myself when I get back to the hotel, surviving and all.

January, 2018

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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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I always tell my jubilant sister Diana to expect nothing when her birthday arrives and that way she’ll never be disappointed. Does she look like someone who would listen to me?

When my boyfriend Ken asked me if I’d like to go back to Shelter Island for the Fourth of July weekend, I forgot my ‘expect nothing’ rule and only thought of Carly Simon’s Anticipation song – for a good six months.

When the day finally rolled around, I packed a carefully chosen picnic for the evening ferry ride  from Bridgeport to Port Jefferson.

A ferry can be romantic,

until it starts moving. The selection of salads blew – not so carefully – everywhere, and in the dark. The plastic cups were no match for the sea breeze. I could feel the chilled Rose splash against my calves and ankles. I was shivering in my summer dress. And  I’m not going to discuss what havoc ferry wind can wreak on a Bergdorf blow dry.  When we got to the Chequit Inn–  hungry and thirsty with matted hair- we found our “upgraded room” had a view of the hotel’s numerous air conditioners.

Hmm, I thought. Maybe encores should be left to the theatre.

The next morning the perky staff moved us from Suite 1 (avoid) to Suite 20 (request). The best room of all (Suite 21) – the one we had last year with a view of the sea and oodles of space – was taken. The hotel’s terrace restaurant was open and looked inviting. We de-stressed at Shelter Island Pilates (highly recommended 2nd year in a row), bike rode to deserted Hay Beach (a two-year award winner), had drinks and watched the sunset at Andre Balazs’ Sunset Beach, and ate dinner with friends at buzzy Vine Street Cafe. We went there twice in five days, it’s that good. Another day we kayaked to scenic Big Ram Island, all repeats from last year.

So maybe, like a good relationship, familiarity isn’t such a bad thing. Getting to know a place and a person has its upsides. Not everything will be perfect, but that which is, is even more special.

Especially, when there’s a little danger mixed in to spice things up. We biked  to the Sag Harbor Golf Club and spotted a dirt path. Serene …

until you read the sign …

Don’t worry, it’s not hunting season, Ken laughs, peddling away.

Then what are these, I ask?

Old bullets. Don’t worry about it.

Ken is gone, and I’m both a chicken and a sheep so I peddle too, head tucked down in case of stray bullets. We follow a path to a gorgeous, deserted beach, only a few miles from bustling Sag Harbor.

Then we have a delicious lunch outside at the American Hotel – same menu as last year, same shirt too (Ken’s, not mine).

Another day my friend  Karen shows me her favorite parts of the island.

She and her husband Marc plus four kids have been coming here for a decade. He’s a big sailor. I never realised how much I like yachting life until I tried the yacht club’s Southside cocktails. Ahoy Captain!

Karen thinks Nostrand Parkway has the prettiest houses.

and Kyles the best doughnuts.

She gets a lot of her fruit and veg from organic Sylvester Farms.

For a gorgeous walk Karen took me to Mashomack Preserve which covers a third of the island. It’s so peaceful and beautiful that we got totally lost mid-deep-chat. She could see that I was slightly panicked about being lost.

No problem,  says Karen, I’ve got my phone. Oops, it’s out of juice.

Then she starts swatting her legs.

Look at these ticks. Jeez.

Isn’t this the capital of lyme disease? She casually brushes off about twenty from her body and then spots two on me. Where are the other 18, I wonder??? First bullets, then lyme. What next?

We eventually found the path back, went for a swim at Secret Beach whose location is, well, a secret. And as for the ticks – that’s where Ken comes into his own. Who knew he was such a talented tick inspector?

July 2016

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Production has since shifted from Derian’s bedroom to a 4,000 square foot studio in Manhattan’s Lower East Side, a two-minute walk from his three shops, where he sells his coveted nostalgic decoupage pieces, as well as a whole host of other irresistible homewares. Derian’s dreamy handmade designs are sold in over 600 top-notch interiors shops and via catalogues worldwide.

I liked crafting, building forts, rearranging furniture, drawing and play acting … I don’t remember school at all. I had a crazy imagination. I just remember fantasising about making stuff.

Despite growth Derian remains in many ways a one-man band, making all the creative decisions himself.

 I’m the hunter and the gatherer. I’m the father and the mother and have thirty kids between my studio and my stores.

Derian uses English, French and German prints from the 18th and 19th centuries as the starting point for his decoupage images which are then applied onto a range of household objects –  a paperweight, a bowl, a dish, a platter.

He sometimes collaborates with others, such as French ceramics maker Astier de Vilatte where his iconic imagery is splashed onto AdV’s classic white tableware.

Or these one-of-a-kind cat collages for fashion designer Anna Sui …

Derian does 4 shows a year – two in Paris and two in New York – where he introduces some 600 new objects. Typical themes for Derian are quirky, colourful, charming, useful and hand-made.  Vintage prints featuring slices of stone will debut on trays and office cups this August.

I collect things throughout the year and then twice a year I go through a pile of what I’ve collected, or I might go through my archive and see what I haven’t used. Sometimes I have things pinned to my wall for five years, and I think, will somebody understand this, and then, of course, they do.

For those of you who can’t get enough of Derian’s eye for the ephemeral, this October sees the UK  launch of  John Derian Picture Book (cover below),  an extra-large tome packed with 400 magical, full-page images, with a foreward written  by Anna Wintour. Derian hopes people will open the clothbound hardback, leaf through its extra-thick pages and tear out a page or two to be framed and enjoyed.

In addition to his own designs, the Lower East Side shops also sell vintage and antique imports, bed and table linens, stationery, plate-ware, vintage and new lighting, and an ever-changing mix of one-of-a-kind curios. (For those who can’t make it across the pond, some of Derian’s pieces are sold in the Conran Shop, Liberty and Duchy of Cornwall Nursery.)

Fancy a hand-made puppet?

A pony for the urban dweller?

or perhaps a wilt-free plant made from hand dyed tissue paper and vintage pots…

Derian explains that he gets unusually attached to objects, the same way others might for a painting. Objects carry the essence of the people who made them, who loved them, says the Cambridge native.

 I feel connected to things. They do kind of speak to me.

Derian lived in the same apartment for twenty years and thought

if this bowl were to break, I’d have to move.

Luckily, for Derian, the bowl did not break. Not yet, at least.

July, 2016

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