Feeling Pink (and Green) in Old Town Key West...

Escaping to The Village of Islands

I want to say a heartfelt thanks to all of The Library's beautiful readers, and especially those who have taken the time to post thoughtful comments these past two weeks. Reading them has made my heart sing as we've travelled through the US. I also want to apologise for the pathetic lack of posting from this end. It's never nice (or polite) to neglect a blog for too long, but I hope you'll bear with me. You see, we've been a tad distracted of late. We've actually been on our honeymoon.

It's actually our 'Rehearsal Honeymoon' (or 'Faux Moon' as RR calls it), but as it's the only honeymoon we'll ever get, it's official enough for me! (The nuptials are very soon, but as my partner is super-private, I'll probably be as shy about posting details of those as well.)

I don't want to bore you senseless with photos (and admittedly I haven't taken many, for once in my life), but I would like to show you a glimpse of where we stayed, an enchanting hideaway called The Moorings, down on the Florida Keys. It is, quite simply, my favourite place in the USA. And quite possibly the world.

PS A special thanks to my new friend Pamela (or 'The Diplomat's Wife', as RR calls her) who has been updating me on her European travels via the Comments on this blog. Pamela, you see, is also celebrating a honeymoon of sorts – her second! So it's quite fitting that we've been exchanging correspondence via our blogs. Pamela, I do hope this trip is as memorable and as wonderful as your marriage / relationship has been all these years.

I first stumbled across The Moorings three years ago when I came here for a photo shoot. I took one look at the beach, the idyllic little houses and the whole understated beauty of it all and fell head-over-palm tree in love. Everyone does. Even George Bush Sr. was won over by its endearing charm. The former president stayed here the same time I did and was reportedly so enamoured with the place he now returns each year to go fishing. Just him, a few mates and half a dozen Secret Service. (Bet those Secret Service men pull straws to get that gig!)

This is where Georgie stays. Beautiful, isn't it? Apparently he's a very nice man, according to Thomas Gibson, The Moorings' manager. I lean towards the Democrats myself (unlike my partner who is a firm Republican man!), but I'd happily have Georgie stay next door again. No loud music. No mooning out the windows. No running around the beach naked with a US flag draped over the nether bits. Those Republicans are obviously a discreet lot. (Unlike my Democrats who roared through New York yesterday in a cavalcade worthy of North Korea. I waved to the President as he passed – I just happened to be on Madison Ave at the time – but the Tour de President flew by so fast all I caught was some exhaust fumes out of 10 or so of the cavalcade cars. Mr President, perhaps you may like to consider riding a bike next time? I have a Schwinn. It's very handy for getting around town.)

But back to The Moorings. The estate is actually a former coconut plantation situated in a tucked-away place called Islamorada, which means 'Village of Islands'. (Beautiful name, isn't it? I'd love to put 'Village of Islands' as my address.) Unlike the cute name, the property was an eyesore when the owner, Hubert Baudoin, bought it. All it had were a handful of derelict old beach houses, a scattering of rusted cars, and a whole lotta palm trees blocking the view. A true visionary, Mr Baudoin spent the next few years painstakingly and lovingly restoring the property into the magical escape it is today. An anti-resort, it features just 18 cottages on 18 acres, which means you rarely see another person. And that suited my fake husband just fine!

The grand house with the blue shutters above was actually built by Mr Baudoin for his mother. He wanted a place for her to stay when she came to visit. So he knocked this little French Colonial number up. As you do. Mrs Baudoin spends half of the year in Africa and the other half in Paris, so the interior is a mix of French glamour and Out of Africa. I've seen inside. It's fabulous.

This is what Mrs Baudoin uses to drive around the islands. It's a Bentley. Personally, I think a Bentley is perfect for purring around the Keys. I like the garage too.

We didn't stay at The Great House. It's really only for presidents and people like J.Lo, not unknown plebs from Australia. But we did stay somewhere just as gorgeous. This was our cutie (above).

Here's another darling one with pink shutters. I asked the Hubster if we could buy a beach house with pink shutters one day? He was on the hammock at the time and muttered something beneath his political book that sounded like a profanity. But I could have been wrong. It could have been: "Of course honey".

This is him saying "Of course we can buy a beachhouse!". I swear I heard it. I'm positive it wasn't the palm trees whispering.

Seven other words you always long to hear are: "We'd like to give you an upgrade". This is what happened when we went to rent our usual Hyundai cheapie in Miami beach. Instead of the ol' Hynie, we received this: a black Mustang convertible. Talk about an upgrade.

Unfortunately, it was wasted on us. As we both burn easily, we only took the top down for three minutes to take this posy photo. Yes, we drove all the way down the Keys in a convertible with the top UP! For all we knew, we could have been driving the yellow Hyundai.

The place is so beautiful there are orchids growing out of the trees. Like weeds. Can you imagine a place where orchids are as prolific as weeds? I couldn't until I saw it for my own eyes.

They had my books in the Lobby / Reception, but I think they just put them there because they knew I was coming. That's the kind of thoughtful, generous thing they do at The Moorings.

More details: www.themooringsvillage.com. If you ever have a chance to stay here, do so, as it really is worth it. Thank you to Thomas and the lovely staff – who treat every guests as well as the president. We're so grateful to have stayed here.

Raising a Cocktail to Her Maj

We are down in Key West this week, a tiny island floating between Cuba and Miami. It is about as far from London and the Queen's Diamond Jubilee celebrations as you can get.

In fact, the only link between here and Her Maj are the glamorous drag queens who live in the Old Town and perform at the Crystal Room at La Te Da. (I suspect The Queen would no doubt love those names as much as we do.)

(And don't you love this image? In a way, this lovely lady reminds me of Ms Elizabeth. I think The Queen would approve of these earrings. And probably the hair do, too)

We have tried to find a bar in the Keys that's celebrating the Jubilee with suitable English-ness but the closest we've found is a quirky place where the staff not only welcome dogs, they even save seats for them. (See picture). We feel this is something Her Maj would be very pleased about.

So in the absence of English-ness, we've decided to create the great cocktail called On Your Throne and make our own small toast to our monarch. (Recipe below.)

Happy Jubilee Your Majesty! We're absolutely thrilled that you've made it this far.

Oh – and I also love this Piaget ring, which would be a great accessory to wear to Jubilee party, don't you think? It's a cocktail ring (of course), made from 121 diamonds, a yellow sapphire, a blue topaz and a white chalcedony. I love it. I think Her Maj would too.

PS Apologies for not posting regularly. I promise to resume posts once I put down these Key West cocktails  head back to New York next week.

PPS Did you know that The Queen likes a little Dubonnet and Gin before lunch each day? She adopted the habit from her mother, Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother. Once before a trip the Queen Mother was supposed to have said. "I think that I will take two small bottles of Dubonnet and gin with me this morning, in case it is needed…” I can believe that quote. For a few months in the early Nineties, I found myself (to my surprise) spending some time at Clarence House. I'm too polite to reveal the things I saw but I can tell you that the drinks were first class!

ON YOUR THRONE
{Courtesy of the great website wearenotfoodies.com}


Ingredients
1 fluid oz (30ml) of Orange Gin Liqueur
1 fluid oz (30ml) of Brandy
1 fluid oz (30ml) of Red Wine
Tonic Water
Cinnamon Stick
2 ice cubes
Slice or orange to garnish


Method
Pour the Gin, Brandy and Red wine into a low-ball glass or tumbler over ice. Top up with tonic water and garnish with a slice of orange and a cinnamon stick. Enjoy in the sunshine and pretend you are royalty.

What Makes For A Great Hotel?

I know this is a rather strange subject, but I want to chat about hotels. Specifically, what makes for a good hotel.

Tonight, we are staying in a mid-priced hotel on Collins Avenue in Miami. One of those ones considered hip by the cool crowd. If you're into hip things. (Which we really aren't. In fact, we feel very old for this crowd.) We got it for the un-Miami-like price of $60/night through Priceline. (Love that Priceline site!) In the past five hours, I've heard two guests vomit outside our door, inhaled the 'substance' of 10 black guys smoking something dubious by the pool (I entered the water shivering and came out doing moves like Bob Marley), drank a cocktail the size of a '66 Mustang, searched for a bathrobe in the room (obviously not available in $60/night hotels), searched for the air conditioning controls (see comments in bathrobe brackets) and listened to the sounds of some mighty savage rap music blaring out the lobby. ("I want to break your back baby, yeah, let's do it together in your mother's bed, yeah!")

It is now 1am in Miami. And I'm wide awake. (Possibly from all the weed. And the rap music.) I'm also wondering if I should have paid more money for our room?

Wind back to three nights ago. We were staying at the new Nomad hotel in New York. It was $500/night.  That included the New York hotel taxes and a $100 dinner. Was there rap music? No. Were there Marley-esque men smoking dubious things by the pool? No. Were there people vomiting all over the hall? No. Did we get some sleep? Definitely.

So I'm wondering, does price of a hotel room dictate the quality of your stay? My mother would argue no. She somehow finds great hotels for $50/night – AND they come with bathrobes, free tea-making facilities, air conditioning and comfy beds. But I would argue yes.

Miami can keep the marijuana. I'll take a good night's sleep any day.

Next post: The Perfection of The New Nomad.

Following in the (Horticultural) Footsteps of Edith Wharton

There is something incredibly restorative about being in a garden. Don’t you think? Like many of my friends, I came to gardening late in life. Before I turned 25, I was more of a fashion girl. The only flowers I really cared about were those on Gucci’s floral frocks. But then something happened. I went to the Chelsea Flower Show one year where, in the space of three wonderful, fortuitous hours, I met the legendary gardener Rosemary Verey, glimpsed Karl Lagerfeld approving Tom Stuart-Smith’s garden for Chanel (an exquisitely beautiful miniature version of Versailles), inhaled the scented poetry of David Austin's new tea roses and fell under the spell of Prince Charles’ Highgrove garden (or a fantastic replica of it). Enthralled, I took it all in with the wide-eyed wonder of a virginal teenager in a Las Vegas brothel. It was, quite simply, the most seductive thing I’ve ever seen.

Since then I’ve grown to love gardens with the passion that my partner has for vintage cars. It has become an addiction, an addition that has seeped into the soul and stayed there – much like compost in a vegie bed.

So it was an enormous treat (and a long-held wish) to visit an historic property called The Mount in Massachusetts.

The Mount is the creation of the American author Edith Wharton, a woman who readily admitted that gardens greatly affected her, too. The author of Ethan Frome, The Custom of the Country, The House of Mirth, and the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel The Age of Innocence (among many others), Wharton was better known for her books than her horticultural talents, but – curiously – she believed she was a better gardener than a writer. “Decidedly, I’m a better landscape gardener than a novelist,” she once wrote in a letter, and you may think she’s jesting – until you see the grounds of The Mount. They are as grand and as beautiful as any of Le Nôtre’s masterpieces.

The interesting thing is, Wharton started her writing career with an interior design book – one of the first ever published – called The Decoration of Houses. (A superb book; it was published in 1897 but is still relevant today.) Then, in 1904, she penned Italian Villas and Their Gardens. Around the same time, she decided to design her own home and garden, and set to work designing the gracious mansion and grounds that is The Mount. It was perhaps her greatest achievement.

Walking around The Mount was an inspiring insight into the cross-pollinization of interiors and gardens. Wharton believed that the inside and outside of a house should sit in harmony, and The Mount merges formal lime walks, sunken gardens and elegant horticultural symmetry with rooms that are a sheer pleasure to sit in. What is more amazing is that she was able to do it without any training. All she used were her instincts, her experiences of visiting gardens in Europe, and her philosophy that good architectural expression should be based on “order, scale, and harmony”.

I would like to show you The Mount, to show you just what a woman can do if she sets her mind to it.

The forecourt. Wharton believed the exterior entrance to a house should be as welcoming as the interior hall, and liked the idea of an enclosing forecourt – which almost cosseted the visitor as they drove up in a carriage, much like an architectural embrace. However, she didn't design this side of the house with much embellishment. The 'wow' factor was left for the other side, in order to surprise visitors when they passed through the interior and emerged the other side. (See image below.)

The main side. Wharton designed the exterior of the main side of the house, built on a stone terrace overlooking a lake and woods, with striking white stucco, dramatically set off by black shutters. Clusters of gables and white chimneys rise from the roof, which is capped with a balustrade and cupola.

The stables. The main house was augmented by a Georgian Revival gatehouse and stables (shown above). Wharton wanted these stables to be as grand as the house itself.

The doors. Wharton believed in making an entrance – architecturally speaking. The doors at The Mount are wondrous designs that emulate the French chateaux the writer had visited during her travels.

The gallery. Notice how the colour palette is drawn from the garden? Look at the lamp. Isn't it incredible?

Edith's boudoir. My favourite room. I loved the colour of the walls. Unfortunately, the estate's trust decided to embellish this room with bright raspberry drapes, which I think detracts from the lovely delicacy of the pale turquoise.

See?

The stairs. Wharton believe that stairs should never be the centrepiece of a house but rather a utilitarian space. Which is why she preferred hers to one side of the floor plan. But that doesn't mean that they were neglected and under-decorated.

The library. Edith Wharton rarely wrote in this room, as she preferred to write in bed. But she loved this space nonetheless, using it for entertaining beloved guests such as Henry James. The books are Wharton's own.