Remembrances of Things Past

Have you ever found yourself in a place, far, far away from home, that reminds you, quite vividly, of another time and place in your life?

A chartered plane at one's disposal is a most addicting indulgence, I find
Photograph by Boy Fenwick

It just happened to me, Dear Reader.

Belgians are the only way to fly, don't you think?
Photograph by Boy Fenwick

I have recently returned from a week with dear friends on a tiny sand slip of an island way out in the tropic Atlantic Ocean, surrounded by turquoise waters, pale pink beaches, and nights spent dancing in postage stamp sized clubs to the pounding beat and soaring vocals of deep house music.

The view from the restaurant at the hotel we frequented during our stay
Photograph by Reggie Darling

It took me back many years, to when I was an habitué of the enormous dance clubs that once littered the downtowns of New York City, Los Angeles, Miami, and San Francisco, where I spent many, many nights dancing and carousing to the light fantastic, mind-bending music of the great, internationally acclaimed deejays of the 1980s and 1990s.

The picturesque house we rented in the island's little town
Image courtesy of Hibiscus Hill

I did so then with a close knit group of friends that I no longer see anymore.  After a decade of intense and constant interaction with each other we were blown asunder by the winds of change, shifting priorities, and evolving alliances.

The languorous piazza where we spent much of our time during our stay
Photograph by Reggie Darling

I will always look back on my laughter-filled years with my old gang as honeyed and intensely and insanely fun.  It was a close group of amusing, clever, and game-for-anything friends.  We were young, affluent, and handsome, and the world was ours for the taking.  Out all the time, shaking it, shouting with laughter, we were giddy and glad of it.

I spent many nights at dance parties similar to this one in La Grande Bellezza
Video courtesy of Janus Films

I'm no longer friends with that gang, though, with one or two notable exceptions.  I upset the apple cart when Lady Destiny raised her hand and tossed me the bewitching Boy Fenwick.  One look at him and I was smitten.  There was no going back for me.  After much hand wringing and with my heart racing I flew the coop and found myself deliriously soaring in the oxygenated air of the suddenly new and unexpected, excitedly and nervously anticipating what would come next, my fingers crossed.

Bougainvillea was everywhere on the island
Photograph by Reggie Darling

I ask you, what does one do when confronted by Destiny?  You follow her lead, Dear Reader, because you must.  That's why they call it destiny, after all . . .

I identify in certain ways with the character of Jep Gambardella
in La Grande Bellezza, as seen here in a still from the film
Image courtesy of Janus Films

And that's what I found myself reflecting upon as I danced the night away in the tiny nightclubs of the island I visited.  There I was, all these years later, laughing and dancing with another very special group of sophisticated, world-traveled style people of wit and good will.  My friends.  And each and every one of us was ready for the fun and frolic that was there to be had for the asking.

The view from the window of the plane we chartered to fly us back
to where we came from
Photograph courtesy of James Littlefield

Take it from me, Dear Reader, there is another act.

I'm the living proof of it.

A Round Hill Reverie

Now that the madness of the Christmas season is over, Dear Reader, I'm planning on posting a series of essays that have been in my queue for some time.  Today's post, a review of one of the Caribbean's most storied resorts, is the first in the line up.

This past October Boy and I visited Round Hill in Jamaica, to celebrate a milestone birthday for Boy.

The Main Lodge at Round Hill

Round Hill is one of the fabled Caribbean resorts, and one that I've always wanted to visit.  This was my first—and I'm confident will not be my last—stay at the Queen of Jamaica's resorts.

Situated on a secluded, 100+ acre peninsula near Montego Bay, Jamaica, Round Hill has virtually nothing in common with the enormous all-inclusive resorts the island is known for.  Round Hill is, in contrast, very discreet, quiet, small, and exclusive.

An aerial view of Round Hill
Image courtesy of same

Long celebrated for its exquisite location, luxurious amenities, splendid service, and rigid door policies (no tourists allowed, thank you), Round Hill has long been a favored tropical destination for those born with golden spoons in their mouths, captains of industry, international socialites, Wall Street heavyweights, and Hollywood icons of the old school.

Babe Paley and her husband, William Paley
at their villa in Round Hill, photographed by Slim Aarons

For example, Mrs. and Mrs. William Paley were once among Round Hill's most famous residents.

Mr. and Mrs. Ralph Lauren at Round Hill
Image courtesy of Architectural Digest

Today their villa at Round Hill is owned by Mr. and Mrs. Ralph Lauren.

The view from the veranda at Round Hill's main lodge

Round Hill sits on a lovely, sheltered bay, far from the hubbub and madness of Montego Bay.

President John F. Kennedy at Round Hill
Image courtesy of Round Hill

President and Mrs. Kennedy were regular visitors at Round Hill, drawn to it for its exclusivity and firm policy of protecting the privacy of its guests.

The pools at Round Hill
Image courtesy of same

The resort has all of the amenities that one could possibly wish for: a protected beach, pools, a spa, several bars, luxurious dining pavilions, and more.  The staff couldn't be nicer, or more accommodating.

Miss Grace Kelly, relaxing on the beach at Round Hill
Image courtesy of same

Grace Kelly was a regular visitor at Round Hill, both before and after her marriage to Prince Ranier of Monaco.

Mr. Clark Gable and Mrs. John Pringle at Round Hill
Image courtesy of same

Clark Gable was also an habitué of Round Hill.

Miss Mary Martin and Sir Noël Coward at Round Hill
Image courtesy of same

The playwright and composer Sir Noël Coward once owned a villa at Round Hill, where he regularly entertained the stars of Broadway and London's West End.

Miss Joanne Woodward and Mr. Paul Newman having
fun at Round Hill
Image courtesy of same

Joanne Woodward and her husband Paul Newman were no strangers to Round Hill.

Sir Paul McCartney and friends at Round Hill
Image courtesy of same

More recently Sir Paul McCartney and his family have been frequent visitors to Round Hill.

The villa we stayed in at Round Hill

While Round Hill's storied history was a plus for us, it was the sybaritic luxury of the resort that attracted us to it.

A night time view of the villa

We stayed in a private villa during our visit there, owned by a major U.S. media mogul.

The outdoor living room at our villa at Round Hill

The villa was beautifully appointed, with both outdoor and indoor living rooms to lounge about in.

The lovely, charming, and sweet Angela,
the Major Domo of our villa at Round Hill

We were beautifully attended to during our stay by a housekeeper/cook, two maids, and a gardner/poolman.  The staff cooked breakfast for us at our villa every morning, and served us lunch, too.

The "English taste" method of arranging pillows

We found the accommodations pleasant and exceedingly comfortable.  After only a minor amount of rearranging . . .

The "American taste" method of (re) arranging pillows

. . . the pillows in the villa's indoor living room were perfect, at least for the requirements of Boy, the Fancy New York Decorator.

Another view of the pool at our villa at Round Hill

We hardly left the grounds of our villa during our stay at Round Hill.  Why should we, when we were so beautifully attended to?  We ate breakfast and lunch at our villa every day, and we only ventured out in the evening for drinks and dinner at the resort's handsome bar and dining pavilion.  It was all very cushy, and very private, Dear Reader.

Boy swimming in his birthday suit
at our villa at Round Hill

We spent most of our time at Round Hill lazing about our villa and swimming in its private pool.

So, who needs a Speedo?

Bathing suits were largely superfluous, we found.

One does, of course need white wine!

Wine and cocktails, snacks, and meals were but a phone call away . . .

The splendid evening sky at Round Hill
Image courtesy of same

It was a lovely, low-key holiday, and a welcome respite from the madness of Manhattan and one's more mundane daily responsibilities.  I look forward to returning to Round Hill again sooner rather than later.  I highly recommend it to you, Dear Reader, as the perfect getaway from one's winter cares . . .

Round Hill Hotel and Villas
John Pringle Drive
Montego Bay, Jamaica
(800) 972-2159
www.roundhill.com

Please note: Reggie has received nothing in return for writing this review of Round Hill in Jamaica, nor does he expect to.  He has written this review solely for the enjoyment of his readers, which is why he writes this blog.

All photographs, except where noted, by Reggie Darling

A Reggie Roadtrip: Atlanta, Part I

It's been some time, Dear Reader, since I've done a "Reggie Roadtrip" post, and—as a number of you have noted recently—it has been some time since I've posted anything.  Today's essay (the first of a two part series) remedies that deficiency with my reportage on a whirlwind trip that Boy and I took several weekends ago to Atlanta, a city that I hadn't visited in more than twenty years.  Our agenda there included meeting a number of the area's noteworthy bloggers, reconnecting with old friends, shopping, eating out, and visiting a smattering of sights in what is indisputably the South's biggest, boomingest city.

We began our journey in the Delta Sky Lounge at LaGuardia Airport where we fortified ourselves with several rounds of pre-flight cocktails and handfulls of Chex Mix.  Reggie is fortunate to have access to most of the airlines' members lounges when he travels.  It is one of the few remaining perquisites of being an Investment Banker, and a soothing antidote to the horrors of airport security lines—even for those of us with priority privileges.

"On second thought, Miss, please make that a double!"

Upon our arrival at Atlanta's mindboggle-ingly enormous Jackson-Hartsfield Airport I upgraded our rental car to a new Cadillac ATS, the brand's recent entry into the sporty, entry-level luxury car market dominated by Audi, Mercedes Benz, and BMW.  It had been some time since I'd driven a Cadillac, and I was curious to check it out.  Our ATS drove like a dream and had a lot of pep to it, but it was a bit cramped for those of us—such as Reggie—who stand at over six feet tall and carry a BMI that could use (ahem) some improvement.  Such minor complaint notwithstanding, I enjoyed test-driving the Cadillac ATS during our visit to Atlanta.

There's really nothing quite like a Cadillac, is there?

Our first destination in Atlanta was the city's Four Seasons Hotel, where we checked in and had a quick bite before heading out to see what the town had to offer.  As I have written many times before here on this blog, Reggie is a big fan of the Four Seasons chain, and he usually stays in one of their hotels whenever he has the good fortune to find himself in a city that has one.  I was interested to check out the Four Seasons' Atlanta outpost, as I had never stayed in it before.

The Atlanta Four Seasons Hotel in all its magnificence

The Atlanta Four Seasons is a monumental limestone tower, and its lobby is exhilaratingly, uh, garish.

Trump Tower red marble for miles and a
Phantom of the Opera crystal chandelier!

Not that it bothered Reggie one bit, mind you.  Reggie enjoys a bit of questionable taste every now and then.  The Atlanta Four Seasons' grand staircase reminded him of the one in Rhett and Scarlett's Atlanta mansion, the one that Rhett carries her up, kicking and screaming, and then ravishes her.

"This is one night you're not turning me out, Scarlett!"
Image courtesy of Selznick International Pictures/MGM

Just as Mrs. Butler apparently enjoyed herself that night, we had a lovely time at the Atlanta Four Seasons.  The service was superb, and the staff couldn't have been more accommodating, or nicer.

"I just love the beds at the Four Seasons.  They're so comfortable!"
Image courtesy of Selznick International Pictures/MGM

Our spacious and well-appointed room at the hotel was on a high floor, and had a terrific view out over Midtown Atlanta.

The view of Atlanta from our hotel room

Atlanta has come a long way since it was burned to the ground in 1864, Dear Reader, during what some in the South still refer to as the "War of Northern Aggression." Visiting Atlanta 150 years after the war's end it is (almost) unfathomable to me that our nation came to such blows then and that so many died for "the Cause."  It certainly seems very remote to this writer today.  But that was not the case as recently as my own parent's generation, many of whom knew people who remembered the Civil War, and some of whom experienced it first hand.  One of my mother MD's grandfathers, for instance, was a drummer boy in the Union Army.  I and my brother Frecky own swords that were carried by ancestors of ours who fought in the war, on both sides.

A view of downtown Atlanta in 1865, after Sherman had finished with it
Image courtesy of Cornell University Library

With but a few hours on our hands before our first commitment, Boy and I headed over to Sid Mashburn, an Atlanta-based men's clothing store that I first learned about from reading Maximinimus, one of my favorite blogs.  Dusty Grainger, who writes said blog, is a great appreciator of all things sartorial (among many other appealing attributes) and sang the praises of Sid Mashburn's emporium in one of his recent posts.  After reading Dusty's enthusiastic endorsement, I knew that Boy and I simply had to visit the store during our trip to Atlanta

The eponymously-named Sid Mashburn is, in this writer's humble opinion, worth a trip to Atlanta alone (and for you ladies, there's an equally-lovely store for the fairer sex right next door, named Ann Mashburn, after Sid's wife).

"Warning!  Danger Will Robinson!"
Image courtesy of Fox Television Studios

But be forewarned, Dear Reader!  Should you be so fortunate (or foolish) to darken (either) store's doors I assure you that you will be seduced by a powerful siren song, and will find yourself helplessly stumbling away with armloads of expensive, beautifully-made clothes and accessories and a decidedly emptier bank account.

At least that's what happened to Boy during our not-one-but-two visits to Sid Mashburn during our all-too-brief stay in Atlanta.  Reggie knew that we were in serious trouble when the very helpful and accommodating Brad, who assisted Boy during our visits at Sid Mashburn, greeted us with "What are you drinking?" and then obligingly (and repeatedly) supplied it to us to imbibe while we examined the store's delectable offerings.  As I watched Boy succumb to the heady charms of Sid Marshburn's inventory I couldn't help but recall the clothes shopping scene in one of my favorite movies, Sunset Boulevard:

"As long as the lady is paying for it, why not take the vicuna?"
Image courtesy of Paramount Pictures

But, unfortunately for dear Boy, I wasn't about to play the Norma Desmond character in Sunset Boulevard and pick up the tab for his shopping spree at Sid Mashburn—Boy was there on his own.

I must say, though, that our vist visits to Sid Mashburn were one of the highlights of our trip to Atlanta, and well-worth the financial damage done to Boy's bank account, as he came away with a splendid replenishment of his wardrobe.  There is a reason, Dear Reader, that the expressions "You only go around once" and "You must strike when the iron is hot" are clichés.  Because they are true!  Boy simply had to "bite the bullet" and "take the plunge" at Sid Mashburn—for when would we pass this way again?

On the other hand, I can just hear MD snorting if she were still alive and reading this, "Yes, and the same applies to 'A fool and his money,' too, young man!"  Ah, well . . .

Stuck in stalled traffic on Fourteenth Street

Realizing that we were in danger of running behind for our first commitment in Atlanta—a cocktail party that we were hosting at our hotel—we quickly wrapped up our visit at Sid Mashburn and jumped into the Cadillac ATS for (what we thought would be) a quick trip back to the Four Seasons.  But it didn't turn out that way, Dear Reader.  Traffic in Atlanta can be horrendous, particularly on the city's main thoroughfares.  What we assumed would be a five minute drive turned into a forty minute one, and we were late for our own party.  Fortunately everyone else was, too, given the congestion in the streets leading up to the hotel.

Reggie's Bloggers & Bankers Party, getting under way

So why did Reggie throw a party when he visited Atlanta, you might ask?  Because he could, that's why!  As I have explained elsewhere in this blog, Reggie is a party person, and he enjoys not only going to other people's parties, but throwing them, too.  As I was preparing for our trip to Atlanta, I realized that we knew enough people in the area that it would be fun to plan a party while we were there.  I invited a number of Atlanta's noteworthy lifestyle bloggers to it—some of whom I've met before and some of whom I hadn't—and also a handfull of my non-blogger friends.  Each were invited to bring "significant others" or a friend, and all-in we had around fifteen convivial souls assemble for the festivity.

Settling in for conversation, hooch, and tasty vittles

Because most of my non-blogging friends in Atlanta (coincidentally) work at Sun Trust (which is not all that surprising, since I got to know them when we overlapped at various financial firms in New York), I decided to call our cocktail party "Reggie's Bloggers & Bankers Party."  Needless to say, it was a super fun evening!  Liquor flowed, food was plentiful (and delicious), and talk (and laughter) was nonstop.

The Atlanta Four Seasons did a marvelous job at
making sure all of Reggie's guests were "well-served"
at his Bloggers & Bankers Party
Image courtesy of Super Stock

From the blogging world I was honored to have as my guests Jennifer Boles of The Peak of Chic, Julieta Cadenas of Lindaraxa, Barry Leach of The Blue Remembered Hills, and Terry Kearns of Architecture Tourist.  During the party I learned that Allin Tallmadge, the husband of a dear friend of mine from the banking world, has recently started a blog of his own focused on cheese (but I can't remember the name of it or I'd provide a link to it here).  Not surprisingly, Allin is passionate about his subject, and he owned the now much-missed Tallmadge Cheese Market in Montclair, New Jersey (the subject of a "Hot from the Kettle" YouTube video) before relocating to Atlanta with his wife several years ago.

By this point in the evening no one was feeling any pain . . .

Although the invitation for the cocktail party said it was from six to eight p.m., there was enough fuel, food, and fun being had by all (beautifully and deliciously supplied by the very solicitous staff at the Four Seasons' Park 75 Lounge) to keep Reggie's Bloggers & Bankers Party going well beyond eight pm, with the last guests not departing until after ten—despite our pleas for them to please, please stay for "just one more" before heading out into the night.

While I'm not exactly sure, I think Boy and I may have consoled ourselves with one last drink at the bar before heading upstairs, but I admit that by that point in the evening it all gets a wee bit blurry. . .

Next:  Rain, the Swan House, more rain, the High Museum, even more rain, a return visit to Sid Mashburn, pouring rain, and dinner at the Iberian Pig

All photographs, unless noted, by Reggie Darling