Friday, April 18, 2014

Back to the tailor's shop, Hong Kong



          
View of Hong Kong Island from the ex-Regent Hotel

      At the end of each new posting, blogger.com (with no urging from me) proposes a selection of previous musings which have had the highest number of hits.  The number of viewers doesn't usually have any obvious correlation with whatever reaction I may have personally received, so it is often fairly baffling why some pieces do so much better than others.

Hong Kong seen from Victoria Peak
     There is no selection proposed for the least  read musings, which is hardly surprising.  This being said, one of my early favorites has the distinction of having attracted the fewest readers.  You could certainly say in theatrical terms that it flopped.

     Anyway, I'd like to give it another chance.

      It's the Hong Kong piece.  It was the shortest of any of the musings, and it ran in October of 2012.  Hong Kong is one of my special travel memories.  I've been there four times in all, I've always liked returning to familiar destinations,  and it has never lost its appeal for me.  As money gets scarcer and travel more expensive, I imagine it unlikely I'll be returning to that part of the world.

Hong Kong by night
     So I trust you'll put up with this repeat.  For all those who didn't read it first go-round, I hope a few of you will give it a try this time.
 



THE KOWLOON SHANGRI-LA, Hong Kong


Main lobby seen from the mezzanine

       I have always stayed at the Shangri-la Hotel on the Kowloon side when in Hong Kong.  It is not the very grandest of Hong Kong’s many grand hotels, but it is nevertheless extremely comfortable, managed with elegance and excellent value for money.

The elevator carpets --one for each day of the week-- are changed daily, appearing promptly at one minute after midnight.

A funny little memory  remains engraved from my first visit to Hong Kong in 1997.  I had never been to a tailor (there are many thousands of them in this exotic metropolis, and virtually every hotel boasts its resident tailor) and had found my way into the Shangri-la’s shop mainly out of curiosity.

A rather grand old woman who looked much like the late English actress, Gladys Cooper, was giving clipped, precise instructions when I arrived.
   

The real Gladys Cooper (Google archives) 
Johnny
 It was the last year of    British colonial   rule,  and I gathered the lady  had lived there for a long time.  She clearly had a lengthy experience with Johnny (Hong Kong tailors all appear to take Anglo Saxon noms de  plume, presumably  bearing no resemblance to their Asian birth names).


She was accompanied by her twenty-ish granddaughter whom I guessed to be on the point of marriage.  The English dowager had ordered at least a half-dozen outfits for the young woman who sat shyly in a corner, never voicing an opinion.

“Johnny” showed no emotion as the order became increasingly important.

As far as I could make out, there was no mention of price until the very last moment.  As “Gladys Cooper” was exiting the little shop, she glanced briefly in my direction with just a hint of impatience, as though I might have had the good taste not to be there.

She then turned with supreme self assurance to the tailor and said, “Now I don’t want you getting any foolish ideas about asking for a lot of money, because that is entirely out of the question!”

Did  I detect just a flicker of irony in Johnny’s response?   “Certainly not, Madame, I quite understand.” 

Our last trip to Hong-Kong was in 2008 (photo by ?)


Your input is welcomed:  hotel-musings@hotmail.fr

[Photos are mine, unless otherwise credited]



Friday, April 4, 2014

58 - Rue des Beaux-Arts: Oscar Wilde, Francis Bacon and David Hockney


L'HOTEL, Paris


Cozy atmosphere at l'Hotel's "Le Restaurant"

    L'Hotel is a hidden gem, lost in the back streets of Saint Germain des Pres.   It has no other name, and no obvious sign outside.  You pretty well have to know it's a hotel or you wouldn't think of going there. 

Early Oscar Wilde (Bing)
     It is where Oscar Wilde lived in his last years which were neither happy nor prosperous.  In those turn-of-the-century times, it was called the Alsace, and it was a nondescript, inexpensive hostelry where rooms rented by the month.   Even so, Wilde --never at a loss for a bon mot-- is said to have quipped, more or less on his deathbed:  "Here I am about to die ... the way I lived ... above my means."
 

I first heard of it back in the early seventies when it had recently been transformed into a luxury establishment.  I used to sometimes  find myself at the Claude Bernard Gallery on rue des Beaux-Arts, just a few steps down the street from l'Hotel.

Ann 1974
  My friend Ann had once worked for the Marlborough Gallery in London.  She had remained friends with its director who made sure that she received invitations to some of the Parisian art world's to-dos.

So it was that we found ourselves regularly in attendance at the Claude Bernard Gallery's opening nights.  In those days C.B. was one of the Left Bank's most influential art merchants.   It had exclusive French dealership for David Hockney and Francis Bacon, and we saw both of these art world titans, not only at the gallery, but around the neighborhood as well.

We would go to these C.B. soirées as much to see the people as the exhibits, not to mention the free food and booze.   The guest list tended to be peopled with an assortment of with-it post-hippy eccentrics, none of them buyers as far as I could tell.   They all seemed to know each other, and I assumed they spent most of their time going to these parties.  For awhile we imagined ourselves on the fringe of their world, just by virtue of our regular attendance.

As the evening progressed, some of the richer attendees would invariably move their part of the party to the bar of l'Hotel.  An English woman with purple fingernails who was said to have posed for David Hockney, once asked if we were coming down the street, but it would have never occurred to us to move to an expensive hotel bar when the gallery was furnishing food and drink gratis.
   
 
Hockney self portrait
    I once saw David Hockney (who lived in Paris in those days) in a decidedly surrealistic moment, sitting alone on the open-air terrace of the Deux Magots Cafe.  It was raining, and he was sheltering himself and his coffee with a large red umbrella.

 On another occasion  I encountered Francis Bacon towards the end of his life walking down rue Bonaparte, mumbling in a particularly stressful manner to himself, looking much like one of his strangely distorted paintings.   I wanted to say something to him, but I only managed to emit a nod.  Bacon stared through me, and continued his tortured promenade.

Bacon at a London retrospective c. 1970 (Google photo)
 I became reacquainted with l'Hotel a few years ago when a client friend stayed there, and I learned then that many of the rooms in this intimate mini-palace are dedicated to some illustrious celebrities of the past.  

Of course there is the Oscar Wilde room which contains some period furniture from his era, and various artifacts associated with the scandalous writer.   Among others, rooms are devoted to the courtesan-spy Mata Hara and the French musical comedy star Mistinguett. 

The Oscar Wilde room (Curious Hotels photo)
  
Recently refurbished from its mini swimming pool in the old wine cellar to the top of its impressive atrium, it is an address which today again attracts a discerning clientele.  Michelin-starred chef  Julien Montbabut has graced its restaurant with his considerable talents since 2011.
 
L'Hotel's impressive atrium

Prices have increased a bit in recent months, but L'Hotel's restaurant remains excellent value for money.  The luncheon menu (Tuesday through Saturday) proposes the best of the day in a three course meal for 55 euros (two courses for 45 euros).  Needless to say, you can eat at any number of Parisian restaurants for this amount.  But rarely this well. 

BMP ... another lunch at l'Hotel




SIDEBAR:  A recent lunch
at l'Hotel with Brenda and Dickie

 
            Here are a few photos from our last lunch from the kitchens of Chef Montbabut.   It was during Dickie's visit in January, so naturally he joined us at what is probably his favorite Paris restaurant.


Brittany crab in sweet and sour vinaigrette, with lemon, radish, 
cucumber and avocado (and borage flowers which we all ate)

 
Duck foie gras,seared with chickpeas


No time for flattering portraits, just some serious eating!

Veal and spinach with  ham and rosemary stuffing



Served by the aimiable and bilingual Alberto (who grew up in St. Martin)
    
"Tete de Moine", thin shavings of a special Jura cheese, served with grated truffles


Chestnut dessert with merringue and pomegranate ice cream






Your input is welcomed:  hotel-musings@hotmail.fr

[Photos are mine, unless otherwise credited]


CROSS REFERENCING … a look at other postings
Ann was also mentioned in blog No. 5, "Room Without Bath" Sept. 2012;  No. 20, "Decaffeinated coffee ... in Hungarian?" Jan 2013; and blog No. 33, "Breakfast in the 1970's" April 2013 (to access, click on highlighted titles).




READER COMMENT –Note from Kathy Horgan

The following is a special,  witty reaction to today’s piece from my old friend Kathy, faithful reader of these musings.  I've changed a couple of names for obvious reasons.

  My friendship with Kathy dates back almost 40 years when we were both working at Unesco.  Kathy has since had any number of professional adventures, and after Paris lived briefly in both Holland and Turkey,  before returning to the U.S.A. a few years ago.   She  presently works at amfAR (American Foundation for AIDS Research)  in NYC, and serves as borough councilwoman in Red Bank, New Jersey.   
 
     Hi Frank!    Well, here I am again commuting to work on the ferry. Your Musings are such a welcome respite from the pole of work awaiting me at amfAR and the issues we are trying to resolve in the Borough of Red Bank.  It just never ends.

     I especially enjoyed this musing on L'Hotel.  I discovered it back in the early 80s after I had resigned from Unesco and before I began my studies at the Ecole du Louvre.   I became involved with a French artistic organization grandiosely called L'Organisation mondiale pour la Promotion des Arts et des Lettres.   It was headed by a breathtakingly beautiful but ditsy French/Martiniquaise who was married to an English banker.   Orchidée and Charles Henry, they were called ... a very interesting couple.   She was so happy to have me involved  because of my organizational skills that I was named to the Board of Trustees!!

    For a while they had a gallery on the Quai Conti and hosted exhibitions and events that were well attended and covered by the press.  Orchidée and Charles Henry were well connected. 

  You cannot imagine all the intrigues that went on.  Orchidée was bi-sexual, and it seemed that everyone desired her much to the chagrin of her very jealous husband.  Because I kept a distance and neutral position in all of this, I became her confidante.  She would tell me all kinds of things, most of which I didn't want to know!!  But she said that she trusted me. 
  
  All of this to say, that these conversations usually took place at L'Hotel over a kir!  I eventually lost contact.  The organization has now long since been dissolved.  I must say, I've often wondered what happened to them???

Thanks for another great story.  We are arriving in NYC now.

Lots of love, Kathy