My “view from the office” as I write this column is an expanse of iced- over ocean and snow-covered peaks, on the edge of the Arctic Circle. I’m aboard a polar explorer ship named Le Commandant Charcot, operated by French luxury cruise line Ponant, navigating the frosty waters off Greenland. Now, I absolutely hate the word ‘awesome’ when used to describe everyday things, like a tasty burger or a good movie. But the landscape here? Reader, it is legitimately, authentically, inarguably awesome.
The wildlife is impressive, too. On our first day out, I saw a couple of whales. Yesterday, I was awoken a little after 5am by the excited voice of our captain, Étienne Garcia, booming out of the speaker in my cabin, announcing that a polar bear had been spotted off the starboard bow of the vessel. I threw on my Heattech longjohns, Cleverley boots and Columbia fleece, grabbed my camera, and bolted for the deck. There she was, bounding across the ice. It was an incredible sight to begin the day with. (The bear, not my odd get-up.)
At the start of our journey, Captain Garcia—a spry Frenchman resembling a less sybaritic Serge Gainsbourg—had explained that seeing a polar bear from the deck of the ship was a wonderful thing, a rare treat few have the good fortune to experience. Encountering one of the beasts during a trek on the ice, meanwhile, is a far less attractive proposition.
Polar bears are the largest and deadliest bears on Earth. While their cousin, the American grizzly, will attack a person if it feels threatened or is worried for its cubs (you’ve seen The Revenant, right?), polar bears are strictly carnivorous—100 per cent meat diet, they don’t even want a side of fries—and view homo sapiens as a legitimate food source. They will not hesitate to make a meal of you. They’re fast, running up to 40 kilometres per hour, and will as happily stalk, kill and eat a human as a seal.
The local Inuit people return the favour, hunting polar bears for food and their water-resistant pelts. “The meat is good,” an Inuit guide told me. “It’s sweet.” A few hours after our ship’s bear encounter, I found myself seated atop one of the tasty yet fearsome animal’s skin on a dog sled, riding across the frozen sea to look at a glacier.
Her hull is rated Polar Class 2—bested only by hard-as-nails Russian atomic icebreakers—making Le Commandant Charcot one of the few vessels rugged enough to penetrate the ice in this beautiful but forbidding part of the world. In fact, she’s the only purpose-built passenger ship that can reach places like the east Greenland coast where I enjoyed my bearskin sled ride and glacial sightseeing. “We are the only one,” Captain Garcia said. “To have this kind of experience, there are no others.” Want to cruise to the North Pole while dining on Michelin- standard cuisine? This is the sloop for you, friend.
Belying her tough exterior, the ship is tastefully designed and extremely luxurious. One might expect as much, with Ponant being owned by France’s multi-billionaire Pinault family, proprietors of Kering, the parent company of Gucci, Saint Laurent, Brioni, Bottega Veneta and numerous other iconic labels.
The menu at the more formal of the ship’s two restaurants is the work of acclaimed chef Alain Ducasse, and the wine list boasts beaucoup bottles from Romanée-Conti, Petrus, Chateau Angelus and Cheval Blanc, among other vigneron big guns. The house pour Champagne is Henriot; the standard whisky, Talisker 10-year- old; my vodka martinis are made with Grey Goose.
The décor—all tasteful slates, taupe leather and matte Nordic wood panelling—is by architects Wilmotte & Associés and hospitality interiors specialists, Studio Jean-Philippe Nuel. The ship accommodates a maximum of 270 guests, with around 200 staff serving them, and on my journey the ratio is better than 1:1. In all, it’s the most genteel way of seeing the Arctic Circle.
Late last year I found myself in another circle altogether, one designed by Pritzker Prize-winning Japanese architect Tadao Ando. It was the 10th edition of an ongoing project called MPavilion. This initiative, funded by wildly successful Australian fashion entrepreneur Naomi Milgrom, sees leading architects from around the world invited to create a temporary pavilion that will be constructed in Queen Victoria Park in central Melbourne, serving as a meeting place and event space for a six-month period, before being moved elsewhere.
Most philanthropists direct their money to medicine, education, ecology, politics or the arts. The built environment tends to be overlooked. When I asked her why she so enthusiastically and generously supported this unique programme, costing her eponymous foundation millions each year, Milgrom said, “It’s a celebration of architecture. Not only of the built form, but of the idea that architecture can inform the way we live and that we can have that debate about how we can use architecture and design to do things better at the intersection of people, buildings and nature.”
Ando’s pavilion—his first structure in Australia—was so well received that last month, it was announced that it has been given a second lease of life. It will now remain in place for an additional six months (perhaps staying permanently, rumour has it). Before the zen-brutalist structure’s unveiling, Ando told me, “It evokes Japan’s traditional walled gardens. Inside there is a space to reflect, interact and appreciate that which is contained within, be it nature, art or people.”
The building may be cast in Ando’s signature grey concrete, but it is far from cold. This is the Osaka-based architect’s magic: his austere aesthetic serves to frame the surrounding greenery beautifully, while features like ponds or pools mirror the sky and trees. “One of the reasons I chose the architects that I have,” Milgrom said, “is because of their celebration of nature.”
“For MPavilion, the spatial sequence of circles and squares create spatial sequences of light and dark,” Ando explained. “These change throughout the day and the seasons as the sun moves through the sky. The surfaces that the light touches also change—walls reveal arresting patterns of shadows, while the water from the reflecting pool may cast dappled patterns on a previously plain surface.”
Ando told me he is proudest of his buildings when they manage to overcome a significant structural challenge, as the MPavilion did by successfully integrating a 17-metre central slit in one of its walls. The natural background seen through the gap is an ever-changing visual tableau: “The result is a moment in architecture that reflects our joy of living,” Ando said.
When it comes down to it, as grand as they may be, the magnificent boat I’m now aboard and Ando’s Melbournian building are merely lenses through which to view the beauty of nature. They are frames for the greatest work of art of all—the world around us. Which is circular, by the way, much as barmy Flat Earthers may wish to convince us otherwise.
The old man served us tea. He portioned the leaves, weighed them on a balance before steeping them in temperature-controlled hot water. The Nanyang tea, an oolong variety, was aromatic and smooth to the taste; to the lips, it was already cooled to a warmth.
This occurred at the reception room, where the room is outfitted with wood panels and peppered with Asian curios like ceramic vases, Chinese paintbrushes and even an old abacus. The air is subtly scented with a bespoke Scent by Six fragrance and mentally transports me to grand hotel lobbies like the ones in Bali or Bangkok.
This preparation of the welcome drink feels like a show but there's a purpose to the act—it pays homage to the Chinese settlers of yore, when rootless migrants found kinship with others from the Old Country as they bonded over tea.
The Clan Hotel is a peculiar sight. Or at least, where it’s situated at gives it that peculiarity. In the cluster of shophouses of the Telok Ayer district, the 30-storey building sticks out, obelisk-like, of Far East Square. As though as a pointed metaphor about the seemingly inevitable march of progress.
Nondescript paints the entrance of The Clan Hotel; with the staff helping with the luggage of travellers betraying the building's true nature. As the front door slides open, you're greeted with the calming smell that reminds you of tea and faint sandalwood. This scent is called "Kindred Spirit" and was specifically created by local perfumery, Scent by SIX. In fact, a lot of the hotel amenities—from the umbrellas to the tea sets to the soaps—were created with local entities and are available for purchase.
Given its proximity with its neighbouring neighbouring structures, The Clan Hotel focuses on building upwards: ceilings are high, sacred spaces are utilised to their utmost. The rooms are a blend of understated luxury and refined heritage. You'll find rich wood tones and modern furnishings; the angled constructions softened by the décor integrated by Chinese motifs.
There are three tiers of rooms—the Deluxe, Grand Premier and Premier Master. Bolstered by tech-forward amenities, my father, a man of simple needs, prefers the complimentary snacks and beer (pre-selected before arrival) as he sits by the bay window looking out into the skyline.
If you’re from out of town, take advantage of the tour activities at The Clan Hotel. Registration is required and the tour lasts for about an hour, where a guide brings you to some of the heritage sites within the area. Prefer to explore on your own, there is plenty to experience within reasonable walking distances. One can throw a rock and it would hit a local place of interest like Maxwell Food Market, the Nagore Dargah Museum or the Buddha Tooth Relic Temple.
If you’re not keen on hawker fare, The Clan Hotel has its own F&B establishment, Qin Restaurant and Bar. And if you wanna work off the meal, there’s the Sky Gym (because the gym is on the top level, duh) and the rooftop infinity pool.
It can be easy to relegate a stay at The Clan Hotel as just that: a stay but it's a cultural immersion. Heritage and family is a prevailing theme throughout The Clan Hotel. There, the past isn’t a foreign country, it’s a cocoon. It’s a familiar embrace where your many needs are met.
A sojourn at the hotel means that the Clan Keepers (the name given to the concierge staff) will tend- nay, anticipate your needs. We didn’t think that we needed an umbrella when the first drops of rain dot the pavement (a mere misting, was my recollection) but a Clan Keeper appears, ready with an umbrella.
Like any family member, concern is freely given; even when you didn’t ask for it but as the “misting” turns into a shower, graciousness sets in as your fingers grip the umbrella handle, slightly warmed by another’s touch.
The Clan Hotel is located at 10 Cross St, Singapore 048417
We’ve all heard the cliché: it’s about the journey, not the destination. But is it possible for the journey to matter more than the destination? Belmond’s latest venture, The Britannic Explorer, might just answer that question. Launching in July 2025, this is Britain’s first luxury sleeper train, and it’s a masterclass in the art of slow travel.
Departing from London, The Britannic Explorer offers three distinct journeys over the course of three nights—through Cornwall's rugged coastline, the Lake District's poetic vistas, and Wales' dramatic landscapes. For the insatiable wanderer, journeys can also be paired for an extended six-night adventure.
But let's talk about those cabins. London design studio Albion Nord has created 18 rooms that somehow manage to feel both thoroughly modern and tragically nostalgic. The three Grand Suites offer unparalleled opulence with king-sized beds and private en-suite bathrooms, but the 15 Suites aren’t slumming it either. Each room balances charm with comfort, with picture windows that frame the landscape of Britain like living works of art.
When Belmond enlisted British culinary icon, Simon Rogan, to helm the train’s dining program, expectations soared, and rightfully so. Rogan, whose restaurant empire boasts eight Michelin stars, infuses his menus with his signature farm-to-fork ethos and has created a menu that’s a love letter to Britain’s regional flavours.
“I hope every passenger not only enjoys the flavours but also feels a connection between the dishes and the journey,” Rogan says.
Once you’ve savoured Rogan’s food, head to the bar car, a botanically inspired space that channels the spirit of Victorian apothecaries. Its convivial atmosphere serves as the train's social nucleus. Here, mixologists craft botanically inspired cocktails alongside a carefully curated selection of artisan gins and craft beers. And because it’s launching in 2025, there's even an onboard wellness spa—because what's a luxury journey without a massage as you roll through the Cotswolds?
In a world obsessed with speed and efficiency, The Britannic Explorer is proof that there's still room for something that moves at a more considered pace—something that understands that sometimes the greatest luxury isn't reaching your destination quickly, but savouring every moment of getting there.
Remember that weekend road trip with your parents, popping haw flakes en route to grandma’s? Or how about blasting noughties hits with the top down all through college summer holidays? The journey was as big a deal as the destination back then, and not just because there was no avoiding it. These days, travellers are sleeping, reading, or even medicating to escape the mundane public transportation experience. Planes may be quicker, but they’re a lot less memorable.
In Japan circa 2016, I gained a renewed love of road trips when we drove to Mount Fuji via tiny villages with names I don’t remember. In a country famed for its Shinkansen bullet trains, I found that wheels led us to pastures unbeknown to the overseas visitor. There were no guides (English-speaking) to consult for information: we simply rocked up and connected with locals who shared their delicious broth potatoes with us.
I also had a splash road-tripping through France’s wine country. Every turn was a chance to discover an amazing vineyard, one that isn’t mass-producing Moët for chain hotels. In Bordeaux, I basked in sunshine and had the sips of my life at Chateau Quintus, an ancient vineyard perched up a hill overlooking a medieval Saint-Émilion town. It was wonderful serendipity, leading to the discovery of my new favourite wine. In Champagne though, I knew exactly where I was headed, to the house of Billercart-Salmon. I’d been a fan for years and was finally visiting the historic estate, family-run since the 1800s. In both cases, I took advantage of going off the beaten track to find boutique accommodations at reasonable prices. When you’re going around sampling grape juice, good overnight lodging is essential.
I took these road trips with a partner but I’ve recently been enjoying them as a group too. My friend Francesco is from Italy (famed for rolling hills, small towns and fine gastronomy), and so he knows to follow the wild for life’s bounties. In his Bentayga EWB, Bentley’s snazzy SUV which has a fully reclining airline rear seat, no less, we drove to Dorset this year. When you fly, you fear the worst: missing your flight, delays, uncomfortable seats, and bad plane food, but we had none of that to worry about with Ms Bentayga, as we called her. We waited for Francesco and his girlfriend, Amie, to pick us up at leisure, and any traffic delay was welcome in our eyes. Amie had a long playlist of ’90s hits to get us through, turning the SUV into a karaoke booth for half the four-hour journey. We stopped at a local pub for lunch, and a cafe for snacks and strong coffees, but it wasn’t always for edible reasons. In some cases, we stopped just because the view was nice, and we wanted to get out and have a wander. Road trips help you embrace curiosity, and best of all, aside from taking photos or connecting Ms Bentayga to our cheesy playlist, we barely took out our phones. We remained present in one another’s company. By contrast, it’s completely the norm to glue ourselves to a screen before take off, and throughout a flight, no matter how much you like your companion. Perhaps the communal nature of a journey forces us to retreat, whereas a car, especially if it’s a comfy one, provides a safe space to let loose.
On reaching our destination, an independent farm hotel called Outbuildings Dorset, there was a shift in the usual landing energy. Nobody was exhausted from the journey (not even driver Francesco). Rather, we were a mix of energised but ready for a cosy night in following an adventure. We sat by the fireplace, played cards, and feasted on homemade shepherd’s pie. There may have been some of that French wine hiding in the trunk that made it over to our cabin too. Our evening was quality, unscheduled time together. Equally, while we enjoyed Dorset—hiking to impressive sandstone cliffs and browsing farmers’ markets—there wasn’t a sense of time ticking. We even looked forward to the journey back home. The group made suggestions for the playlist and picked up some lotions from the property gift shop to pamper ourselves on Ms Bentayga’s passenger seats. There was an anticipation like it was the third portion of our trip. I’ve never recalled having that feeling for a flight home, except the times I flew business class. You could argue that this was a fancy car with the legroom of a limousine, but I’ve felt that way in a mini too. Excited about the potential for exploration, the camaraderie, and the music (though not for the confined space).
I still take flights for long-haul trips. After all, I can’t drive to Taiwan. I’m also a loyal Trainline customer and I use it every month. Trains are brilliant because they also come with views so I can easily put my phone down. I’m taking a train from London to Amsterdam next month, choosing it over flying purely because the ride itself is more enjoyable. Plus, the airport wait time is longer than the flight itself.
I believe road trips are serious contenders in the vacation sphere. They’re brilliant ways to adventure no matter the party size, be it a bachelor herd making its way to a huge Airbnb in Macau, or a couple driving to a Thai Anantara resort for a romantic weekend. I’d suggest getting to the airport, and if you can drive, taking the longer, more scenic route. There’s more chance of discovery, whereas a shuttle or small plane will just get you from A to B. From Singapore, there are many easy road trips you can take, including places like Malacca and Kuala Lumpur. If you’re heading to Singapore instead, you’d be happy to know it is ranked number one in Asia for road infrastructure. So let’s bring road-tripping back to the vacation mix. If anything, it’s a perfect excuse to upgrade those wheels.
Ah, Paris... The city of love, art and culture. The perfect place for a summer vacay. And at the heart of it, Cheval Blanc Paris has opened its terraces for visitors to take in the iconic sights of Paris. The hotel itself is a veritable museum in its own right. Located within proximity to the Louvre and the Marais, Cheval Blanc Paris embodies the Art Deco essence, showcasing the French art de vivre that is inspired by a bold, contemporary spirit all through its 26 rooms and 46 suites, along with splendid living areas, restaurants and wellness facilities.
The Cheval Blanc Paris terraces are open to the public. Perched on the seventh level, each terrace is a window to the magic of three culinary masters: Chef Arnaud Donckele; Chef William Béquin and Pastry Chef Maxime Frédéric. Under the purview of these talented chefs, each terrace promises an unforgettable gastronomic adventure against the stunning backdrop of Paris’ romantic cityscape.
Le Jardin de Cheval Blanc Paris is a verdant haven that is the picture of summer. Vibrant and adorned with red and white furniture and chic yellow accents, the terrace celebrates Parisian epicureanism. Delight in Chef William Béquin’s curated menu that features dishes like cherry tomato tart with pineapple tomato and basil sorbet. A strawberry ice cream sundae—crafted by Pastry Chef Frédéric—is a fitting topper to a meal. This idyllic retreat is wrapped in the heady aromatic scent of herbs and scarlet flowers.
Offering unobstructed views of the Seine, this contemporary brasserie invites you to embrace Parisian life through the palate. With flavours imagined by Chef William Béquin, featured dishes like green bean tart with stracciatella and smoked velvet with black olive. Treat yourself to lobster, red mullet, monkfish and sea bass in a saffron-infused bourride. End your culinary journey with a rhubarb vacherin, a modern twist on iconic French gastronomy.
With a name like Langosteria, you do come in with certain expectations. But the restaurant manages to surprise you with its convergence of Italian and French cultures on a plate. The restaurant opens on to a terrace that looks over the surrounding sun dappled rooftops, providing a painterly vantage. Reflecting Italian vibrancy and summery influences, the menu’s offerings include Sicilian gambero rosso, red tuna carpaccio with eggplant, and tagliatelle with royal (of course) langoustines. Desserts get the same sort of magic, again, created by Pastry Chef Frédéric, the Langosteria’s signature tiramisu, sans crustaceans, bien sûr.
Cheval Blanc’s restaurant terraces are now open. For more info, click here.
Among the more perplexing trendlets we’ve scrolled past this year is “rawdogging,” the act of denying oneself all forms of entertainment for the length of a long-haul flight. No books or games or movies or naps for our rawdoggers; instead, the guys—always guys, only guys—stare straight ahead at the flight map or the seat back of the person in front of them, spending the whole time lost either in thought or in search of a good one. As with all trendlets, there’s no way of knowing whether it’s real or just six goobers on TikTok with the same dumb idea. But it gained traction because it feels real. In a year when guys tried to out-guy one another via Cybertruck purchases and diss tracks, isn’t it more plausible than ever that they’d try to one-up each other at nothing?
Relax, try-hards, and try harder. If you’re going minimalist, go all the way. Rawdog the whole trip. Go somewhere new, with no plans, no guidebook, and—this is the key ingredient—no companions. If you do this in a foreign country whose language you do not speak, all the better. Solo travel, in an unfamiliar place and with an empty itinerary, is more extreme. It is much rawer. And it is delicious.
Apparently, we’re already doing it. Sixty-nine per cent of Americans planned to take a trip by themselves this year, according to an American Express survey. The number goes up to 76 per cent for millennials and Gen Z, which suggests younger people are more comfortable in their own company or else they are more unpleasant to be around. I have found both to be true!
Either way, I believe in solo travel with the zeal of the convert.
My conversion happened this summer in Italy, a place I had only seen over and over and over again on my Instagram feed. For years, it seemed like everyone went to Italy in the summer, and it was time for me to be everyone. As luck would have it, Gruppo Montenegro, a food and spirits company, invited me to tour its amaro distilleries in Bologna and Venice. It was all the excuse I needed. After the official business ended, I extended the trip five days.
When I touched down in Bologna, it hit me that I’d done nothing to give those five days any structure. I hadn’t picked out a town to hole up in, much less a room. I hadn’t learnt any words in Italian, including those for hello, help, and Italy. I hadn’t hit up my colleagues for good restaurants to try, and I work at Esquire magazine.
The official part of the trip was packed with activities, all of which, like everything in Italy, involved wine and snacks and Select Spritzes. When it wrapped up, I was in Venice, just me and my bag with nowhere to put ourselves. I stranded myself. And I liked the way it felt.
I hadn’t picked out a town to hole up in, much less a room. I hadn’t learned any words in Italian, including those for hello, help, and Italy. I hadn’t hit up my colleagues for good restaurants to try.
I’d had a grand and vague plan to rent a car and go into the mountains, or to hop on a train and find a small seaside village to make my own, but Venice was already in front of me, dense with art and architecture and history (and snacks and spritzes), so why not stay? I rented an Airbnb in the relatively quiet neighbourhood of Cannaregio and rawdogged Venice, with nothing on the agenda but my own whims.
So I followed them. I wandered, alone. The thing about Venice is that it is so tightly packed that you don’t really see the sights until you’re right on top of them. You turn a corner and the Rialto Bridge jumps out at you. You take a left off the footbridge over the canal and a massive medieval cathedral full of Renaissance art takes you by surprise. And you are always within arm’s reach of wine and snacks. It is a barrage of beautiful sights, sounds and smells, and I immediately understood how my dog feels whenever he sticks his head out my passenger-side window.
The urge to talk to people became overwhelming, particularly after a few lunchtime proseccos. I admit I broke from the ways of the rawdogger by making ample use of the iPhone Translate app, which is how I learnt that Italian is a language with an extremely high percentage of words that are fun to say. Italian could have stopped at “Ciao!” and secured a top-three finish in this category, but it did not. “Costruzione!” I shouted upon seeing a construction site. “Ospedale!” I bellowed as I passed the hospital across from the cemetery. “Sto imparando l’Italiano moltooooolentamenteeeee!” I enthused, surely the most triumphant reading of the statement “I am learning Italian very slowly” that any of my waiters and bartenders had ever heard. Honestly, I got on my own nerves this way only three or four times.
According to that American Express survey, two thirds of solo travellers planned their trips around self-care. There is no self-care like being on your own, in a place where you know no one, where a conversation with another person is impossible unless they only want you to shout “Construction!” at them. The conversation moves inward. You decide for yourself how you feel about Piazza San Marco or Canova’s tomb or the 12th little plate of ham you just ate. When there’s nobody to talk to, you learn to recognise the sound of your own voice.
The answers you seek within your soul aren’t in the seat back. They’re out on the streets of a place you’ve never been. They’re in the overheard snippets of rat-a-tat conversation in a language you cannot understand. If you are in Italy, they’re in spritzes and snacks. They’re in the simple act of maximum self-care: answering for yourself the question “What do I want to do with this day?”
Rawdog your next trip. But don’t be a weirdo: Bring a book for the flight.
Originally published on Esquire US
Lando Norris, the McLaren Formula 1 wunderkind has clinched first position at the recent Singapore Grand Prix. Even with his brief respite at the winner's podium, Norris' is off to another track to eye his next pole position. As someone on the go, Norris' partnership with TUMI exemplifies their shared values of precision, performance and innovation.
As TUMI is the perfect companion for the professional who isn't content to remain still, Norris is the embodiment of a lifestyle that demands efficiency while traveling globally. We spoke to Norris before his historic win about what he does in Singapore, what he brings whenever he travels and about his association with TUMI.
ESQUIRE SINGAPORE: What do you look forward to the most at the Singapore Grand Prix?
LANDO NORRIS: It's where I first started the lando.jpg account, so I try to go around and capture bits whenever I'm in Singapore.
ESQ: Given the Singaporean climate, how does it affect your performance?
LN: I’d say it doesn’t affect my performance but we do prepare for this race differently than we usually would for others by doing more heat training beforehand and ice baths straight after the session.
ESQ: How do you and your team adapt your routine during the race weekend to align with the night race schedule?
LN: We pretty much stay on European time for the whole weekend, meaning we have dinner when people are having breakfast and vice versa.
ESQ: Where do you usually head to whenever you’re in Singapore?
LN: I've started playing Padel over the last year or so and there's a court I went to last year so I'll try to go there again this year!
ESQ: What are some things that you’d always take with you when you travel?
LN: I’m a big gamer, so I usually bring my gaming laptop which is why I love the TUMI Navigation Backpack—it’s large enough to fit it along with my other stuff. I’m also always bringing an LN4 hoodie. I love wearing comfortable clothes when I travel.
ESQ: What does being a TUMI ambassador mean to you personally and professionally?
LN: This is my third year as a TUMI ambassador, and it’s been fun working with the team. TUMI and I both value the importance of innovation and functionality while still looking good. TUMI products—from the packing cases to backpacks to accessories like the shoe bag and packing cubes—have optimised my travel experience and allowed me to focus on being my best. Whether it’s preparing for a race weekend or being present with those around me.
ESQ: What aspects of TUMI's values and products resonate most with your personal and professional ethos?
LN: Both TUMI and I are always striving to succeed and evolve. I’m always looking to optimise my performance, and similarly, TUMI is always innovating and evolving its products.
ESQ: How do you incorporate TUMI products into your daily life and travels? Are there any specific items you find indispensable?
LN: Since I’m travelling so often, I always have some TUMI with me—usually my carry-on case or backpack. It’s hard to pick a favourite, but I find myself reaching for the 19 Degree Aluminium carry-on case the most often. It’s extremely stylish and also functional—really can’t go wrong.
ESQ: What excites you most about the new Turin collection? Which bag from the Turin collection do you personally prefer and what makes it stand out to you?
LN: I love that Turin is super sleek, the standout item for me has to be the Allora Tote with the silver “T” logo.
ESQ: What role does travel play outside of racing and how do TUMI products enhance that experience?
LN: Travel, beyond the realm of racing, offers an opportunity to connect with people and experience different cultures. TUMI ensures that these experiences are as seamless as possible by providing functional and durable products. Whether I need a compact sling for a day trip or a spacious packing case for a two-week journey, TUMI has everything I need for smooth travelling.
ESQ: Any memorable story or experience where TUMI products made a significant difference for you?
LN: I'd say it's being able to get all of my things back into my bags by the end of the weekend, it seems like no matter how badly I pack it all goes back in!
ESQ: Looking ahead, how do you see your role with TUMI evolve?
LN: Both TUMI and I share a deep commitment to performance and excellence in our respective fields. As our partnership evolves, I look forward to us pushing boundaries and driving innovation together.
Check out TUMI.
I have been to Desaru before. I likely won't forget about my first visit there, but not for the reasons you'd imagine. A classic case of Looked Better In Pictures. Catfished by a resort, if you will. It wasn't a particularly terrible night; facilities were functional and the advertised beach diligently lived up to its reputation. Yet, the one thing I remember was failing to fall asleep when dark fell, due to how unsafe I felt with the sheer lack of guests on the property.
Fast forward a couple of years to when the pandemic was just around the corner. Early announcements of One&Only debuting an outpost on the touristy Malaysian coast were circulating. Significant, being the first Southeast Asian destination of the brand's five-star portfolio. Sadly, as the world then came to a standstill, so did further news on the latest addition.
Thus when presented the opportunity to finally to pop by for a stay while attending the signature Four Hands of its Embers Beach Club, the conclusion is obvious. Chiefly that with One&Only, what you see is what you get.
You arrive to a verdant lawn framed by parallel blocks on both sides. Tread away from the lobby and the green cascades towards the main pool, an emerald runway symmetrically flanked by daybeds as it reaches for the ocean. The visual narrative of neat lines is inherited from its esteemed architect Kerry Hill, whose work here was ultimately a swan song before his passing.
The tropical retreat is likely not the only one that's home to over 80 species of flora and fauna, but preserving the original habitation was very much a deliberate decision. You'll find trees repurposed as signposts, like one that points towards the coordinates of other One&Only resorts.
You can put yourself down for a concise, on-site nature walk (10/10 recommend) as part of the one complimentary daily activity to fully appreciate the forestry of the 1,500 square metre mini kingdom. The most grandiose of the efforts resides at the One&Only Spa.
The intentionality of the space's design is evident, a personal favourite of the entire property I might add. Past the doors of reception, you enter an uncharacteristically dark passageway, and your vision focuses entirely on the light emanating at the end. At dead centre, a majestic, over 300 year-old Banyan tree. Besides the adjacent decked out (Techno)gym and cold plunge, the picturesque patio past the historic tree are easily the Spa's highlights.
The thematic reverance for nature pervades the suites. Locally sourced stone, cane, yellow balau timber and even the planted green roofs that you can't see from within.
The central courtyard is, without doubt, the most unique feature. Dividing spacious bed chambers from equally large bathrooms, it's also the most complained about, we're told. Seems it takes some getting used to for us first-world, ensuite folk.
Yet, I can't help thinking it's this very layout that sets the resort apart from many other luxury, nature-infused getaways. More meaningfully, it takes inspiration from traditional Malaysian kampung (village) housing that's filled with the weather's elements. Which unfortunately, the outdoor furniture are also at mercy of.
Still, it's a clever combination having the petite pool at the heart and the option to slide open connecting doors, all whilst shielded away by the exterior blinds. It allows a guest experience that feels both liberating while maintaining a desired level of privacy.
Housed within the estate are Japanese restaurant Hoshi with a towering vibrant mural, and Dusky Monkey bar with its portraits of the very dusky monkey it earns its moniker from, candidly photographed sitting at the counter by the establishment's former General Manager.
Ambara serves lovely cuisine of the country complete with an open kitchen to catch the action; but if you want that schnazzy pool hang, Ember Beach Club oozes that while simultaneously carrying a more intimate tone in the evening.
It makes perfect sense that even non-staying patrons come by to spend the entire afternoon there. To make the most of it though, align your calendar with the seasonal Four Hands that Chef Andrew Walsh divulges for a taste of Cure, matched with the best of the collaboration's guest chef.
Just a two-hour drive away under ideal traffic conditions, it honestly wins out further travel for an idyllic white-sand-turquoise-sea vacation. And believe me when I say that this time, it wasn't difficult falling asleep.
If someone tasked avant-garde filmmaker Alejandro Jodorowsky with creating an opulent desert palace, drawing inspiration from Star Wars and the Royal Family, we imagine it would look something like Erth, Abu Dhabi. ERTH, meaning “legacy” in Arabic, is an architectural behemoth of a resort, and even to the most initiated globetrotter, this sun- soaked haven is an indelible feast for the senses.
Previously the home of the Armed Forces Officers Club & Hotel, ERTH has been re-imagined as a unique destination for the ultimate Emirati experience, providing authentic cuisine and activities located in the heart of Abu Dhabi.
Comprised of six restaurants, a blue-flag certified private beach, swimming pool, indoor and outdoor recreational hub, fitness centre and a gym, a recently added ballroom, and offering 237 rooms, 42 suites and 13 villas, you’ll be lucky if you don’t get lost, but our instincts tell us that you secretly might want to.
Let’s be honest, we’ve all been to those hotels that claim to offer a fitness centre, but upon arrival one is quickly disheartened to find all but one treadmill and perhaps a few free weights that don’t exceed 10kg. ERTH makes no such empty promise. If you’re looking to hit a new PR on the bench press, or attempting to eclipse Michael Phelps as the fastest man in the water, then the Olympic-sized swimming pool or the plethora of gym equipment will quench all your fitness needs, and then some. Gym, beach, food, is the order of activities we’d humbly suggest.
For those looking for a tranquil escape from their daily routines, the serene and rejuvenating ERTH resort will leave you wanting more, if not extending your stay for just a few extra days.
As Jerry Seinfeld once said, “there’s no such thing as fun for the whole family,” and although that may be true more often than not, in this instance, we’ve finally proved him wrong.
Originally published on Esquire ME
“New York City Misses You Too.” It’s presumptuous but effective, as advertising slogans go, in that it prompted in me a nagging question: did I miss New York? If so, how much? Enough to do something about it?
The above legend was emblazoned across an illuminated billboard, skyscraper-tall, backed by a photo of Manhattan by night, lights atwinkle. I passed it on each occasion I took the Westway into central London and back home again—several times each week, during the months and, now, years following the peak of the pandemic. I had plenty of time to stare at it, to register the fact that circumstances in the travel industry remained so grave that even the second greatest city in the world was reduced to pleading, presumptuously or not, for British tourists to visit.
From the mid-1990s until five years ago, like so many people, I made regular pilgrimages to Manhattan— at least once or twice a year. Initially, entirely for pleasure. Then, for business and pleasure. Latterly, mostly for business. But in the period preceding the pandemic the trips became less frequent, and since 2018 I hadn’t been at all.
Feedback from those who had was not uniformly positive. Friends and colleagues, and some permanent residents, too, reported that the city seemed to have suffered more than most from the lockdowns and their aftermaths. The way they told it, the bagel had gone stale. New York, I was told, was tatty, bedraggled, even humbled. Hard to believe—and I didn’t, quite. But still my informants persisted: the subway was overrun by crazies; rats the size of sheepdogs had taken control of Central Park; and the whole place stank.
Frankly, this all seemed a bit rich to me: these were the same people who had complained for decades that New York had been gentrified into submission, Downtown had been Disneyfied, Brooklyn’s edge had been blunted. Now urban archivists who had long mythologised a lost demi-monde of junkie punk poets were holding their noses and coming over all suburban about... littering. What happened to the concrete jungle where dreams are made of?
Local press confirmed that New York is suffering. Crime is up. Rates of fatal overdoses are skyrocketing. An influx of tens of thousands of asylum seekers is putting an almighty strain on the public purse—and, it seemed to me from talking to friends there, the public patience. (Aren’t poor, huddled masses what New York was built on?) There is a housing drought and a glut of empty offices. Midtown is uncannily quiet compared to pre-pandemic levels, as people continue to work from home and businesses shutter or downsize or relocate. Tax revenue from commercial real estate has plummeted. The tech sector is in retreat. Adding idiocy to injury, to widespread consternation the mayor, Eric Adams, recently authorised a redesign of Milton Glaser’s iconic “I Heart NY” logo. (It now says “We Heart NYC”, in a sans-serif font, with a decidedly emoji-looking heart. In a word, it sucks.)
All desperate and depressing. But I confess, in my superficial way, that the thing that really hit home was that even my most elegantly dissolute Manhattanite friend, a perennial booster for the more dubious seductions of his adopted home, sounded defeated. Incredulity curdling into dismay, he told me that the dark art, at which he was a veteran practitioner, of scoring a last-minute reservation at the hottest restaurant, or a seat at the most exclusive bar, had lost its magic these days. It was too easy. The competition had either upped sticks for Westchester or retired into early-onset senescence. Perhaps, he suggested, those two are the same thing.
Everyone who remained, he said, voice dripping with glassy disdain, ate early and scuttled home to watch Netflix, as if they lived in Kansas or Ohio, rather than in what was once the greatest going-out city on Earth. (The hottest of hot new dining rooms in the West Village, where my friend lays his head, has the promising name Libertine. He reported that the place was packed but everyone was being scandalously well behaved.) Maybe, he suggested, I should come and see for myself, if only so he’d have someone to drink with, after hours?
I resisted. I could take his word for it. I had more than enough on my plate keeping London’s tottering hospitality industry afloat to lend a hand in someone else’s city. Especially at those prices.
Then, last spring, my wife decided she wanted to visit her friend, yet another former party person who’d lately quit the city (in her case for a big old doer-upper in Connecticut), and we should take the kids and make it our summer holiday. With all due respect to the Constitution State, I did not intend to spend my (our) summer holiday in Connecticut. Perhaps a couple of days there, a few days visiting other friends on Long Island, and either side of that: NYC?
Friends were sceptical. My wife was sceptical. I was sceptical. I’d never been to New York as a dad. I mean, I’ve been many times since I became a father, but I’ve never taken the kids with me. This would be a family holiday to a city I’ve only ever visited with less wholesome activities than sightseeing on my agenda. There would be no opening nights, no after-parties, no dive-bar lock-ins. What does a family of four do for fun in New York in the daytime?
I took advice. We should stay in Midtown (really?), because then you can walk to all the main attractions. When it came to those, you should book ahead, to avoid disappointment. Spontaneity has its place, but in New York, with the family in tow, you need to have a plan. Even, though I shudder at the word “itinerary”.
Twenty-plus years ago a regular bolthole of mine was 60 Thompson, on the edge of SoHo. It’s now part of a chain, owned by Hyatt. We booked into the Thompson Central Park, on West 56th Street. It maintains some of the spirit of Downtown—hidden behind a velvet curtain at the back of the lobby is a recreation of a grungy, graffitied burger joint (it’s called Burger Joint)—while offering the more chi-chi amenities one would expect of a luxury hotel. Our rooms were stylish and comfortable, service was warm and efficient, and the proximity to Fifth Avenue, Museum Mile and even Times Square turned out to be a boon.
New York City hotel rooms tend to be smaller than average, not only because space is at a premium but also because you’re in New York City: why would you spend any more time than necessary in your hotel room? (The old me—by which I really mean, the young me—would have had a smart-arse answer to that question, but he’s not here to argue.)
So, then, three full days in the city. Four people, all with wildly differing interests and priorities. Call me a curmudgeon, but I’m not, unlike Penelope (age 13), all that fussed about visiting the “biggest Sephora in the world”. Her mother, meanwhile, would rather be looking at contemporary art than researching and reporting a detailed list of the best pastrami sandwiches in the city, which is what Oscar (age 11)—and his gluttonous father—was focused on. (He was rewarded for his patience at the Guggenheim-Frick-Met-MoMA with an excitingly late-night screening of the latest Mission: Impossible.) Propping up the bar at Fanelli’s, on the corner of Mercer and Prince, will always be among my most cherished New York activities, but I must begrudgingly accept that daytime drinking in darkened watering holes is not the summer holiday the rest of the family was hoping for. (They got sun, sea and sand later in the week, in the Hamptons.)
And yet, despite all the kvetching and schlepping, there were moments of unexpected harmony, and these were a joy. Wandering Dimes Square with Penelope, on a sweltering afternoon, checking out the latest outpost of Lower East Side cool, drinking bubble tea, getting her nails done in a Korean place, checking out vintage T-shirts and second- hand books. A morning jumping in and out of cabs with Oscar, shopping for merch—Mets hat for him, trainers for me—while snacking on strawberry-liquorice twists from Russ & Daughters. Dirty Martinis in the bar of the Thompson with Danielle while, safely upstairs in bed, the kids watched Idris kicking arse, or perhaps ass, on Apple TV.
All four of us walked the length of the High Line on a sultry evening, from Hudson Yards through Chelsea and down to the Meatpacking District, where we watched the sun sink behind the skyline from the roof of the Gansevoort Hotel, while eating sushi from the outdoor omasake bar at Saishin.
All four of us lined up at the counter of the terrific S&P sandwich shop, opposite the Flatiron, being thoroughly spoilt by the funny young staff. All four of us enjoyed the view from the top of the Empire State Building. (Honestly, who knew?) And then a triumphant visit to a Broadway show, Wicked. (It really is.)
Yes, we saw crazies on the Subway. Yes, we saw rats in the park. Yes, we smelt weed wherever we walked. Not in a good way. Yes, it was clear that in recent years the city has taken knocks. Who hasn’t? And isn’t that yet another reason to declare, in solidarity: We Heart New York?
Our last night, a Friday, we went for cheeseburgers at JG Melon on the Upper East Side. The line outside was forbidding but the charming man on the door took pity on the hungry British kids and their hectored British parents and guided us through the throng to a prime table for four at the back. The place was buzzing, and I happily blew a week’s wages on another round of drinks and desserts. (Not going to lie, as Penelope says, New York right now is expensive.)
There’s a new billboard on the Westway, a pink background behind an image of the Statue of Liberty. New slogan, too: “It’s time for New York City.”
First introduced by American entrepreneur, James Sherwood, the private luxury train—the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express elevated rail travel. The iconic train wasn't just celebrated for its destinations but also for its journey and has since spawned several other services across the world.
Under the purview of the new owner, Belmond Limited, earlier in the year, it was unveiled the Eastern & Oriental express, which runs through Singapore, Malaysia and Thailand. The Eastern & Oriental Express now boasts a Dior Spa in its car.
After concluding its tenure on the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express, Belmond inaugurated its first permanent Dior Spa aboard the Royal Scotsman in April 2023. This will be Belmond's third Dior Spa on rails with the Eastern & Oriental Express.
House in one of the train's 16 plush Art Deco-inspired carriages, the interior is adorned with the House of Dior's cane work and furniture decorated in the iconic Toile de Jouy print. Crafted with hand-selected tropical woods, the spa's design seamlessly blends with the natural surroundings where the train winds through.
Given the beautiful interior, it's befitting that the treatments match its splendour. Exclusive to the Eastern & Oriental Express, guests can enjoy tailor-made therapies devised by the French Maison's wellness experts.
Experience Dior Spa's signature treatments like the D-Jungle treatment. A face and body therapy blending Asian traditions with rhythmic muscle massage. There's the Constellation massage which relieves body tension with a mix of techniques. While the D-Tissue massage offers deep, soothing movements to ease your pain.
For those with refined tastes, opt for the Kobi-Dior Facial. Steeped in Japanese Kobido tradition whilst combining Asian techniques with the Dior Prestige skincare line. The treatment sculpts the face, leaving you with a radiant and youthful appearance.
Finally, the Le Soin de Minuit treatment promises deep relaxation and skin rejuvenation, complemented by fine teas and nourishing delicacies.
To book a train ride and a facial with Dior Spa, visit belmond.com
It's not often that we're afforded the opportunity to bear witness to the birth of a legend—they're considered "legendary" for a reason. Son Heung-Min is one, a legend whose football skills have earned him critical acclaim and a number of accolades, while at the same time, possessing the charm and charisma of a seasoned public personality. And let's not kid ourselves, Son also has the mug of a model.
We'd go as far as to say that the partnership between Son and TUMI has been a seamless fit based on those attributes alone. The global ambassador embodies TUMI's dedication to quality, innovation, and style that the latter prioritises in pretty much all of its creations across the different facets of its ever-growing universe.
Son's latest campaign with TUMI is perhaps the most personal yet. The entire campaign was shot at the Tottenham Hotspur Stadium, essentially the second home of the club captain. "I was personally excited for this campaign to be set in my home away from home," he says. "I always value that TUMI is there for me and has my back, whatever journey I’m on." The brand literally has had Son's back for quite a while now too. He's often spotted with an iteration of the Navigation backpack from the Alpha Bravo series that pairs stylishly with both his professional kit as well as his off-duty outfits.
It's no surprise then that the latest campaign highlights the Alpha Bravo as one of the essential companions to Son's fast-paced lifestyle. Looks aside, the Alpha Bravo series' ballistic nylon composition has been a staple signature of TUMI for over three decades. Its hard-wearing strength is a boon for just about anyone living in the fast lane and dispels any worry about their bag falling apart or belongings not being well protected. Couple that with nifty design elements that put function at the very forefront, the Alpha Bravo series is made to outlast and outperform.
Speaking of innovations, the Tegra-Lite® luggage series takes centrestage as Son's travel companion. The series is available in a number of configurations and dimensions (a select few seen in the campaign) and all feature the durable and lightweight Tegris® material commonly used in lifesaving armour, race cars, and professional athletic gear. The shell of every Tegra-Lite® luggage is a composite of many layers that further strengthens the exterior, so you're assured that it'll hold steady against any and every bump along the journey.
Both the Alpha Bravo and Tegra-Lite® excel at being the embodiment of TUMI's key design pillars. The brand takes it a step further this time around—these pieces are not only thoughtfully designed to accompany your journeys, but also to be part of every moment. It ties back to Son; the signature pose that the pro footballer is known for—connecting his index fingers and thumbs together to resemble a camera, and often paired with a smile—after every goal as a means of capturing those moments and holding on to them. TUMI intends on the Alpha Bravo and Tegra-Lite® series to do the same albeit in more tangible ways.
As much as it's uncommon to be living in the same era as a known legend, TUMI's commitment to continuously innovating its function-first approach to design while marrying that with style, is too a rarity in the arena it's in. And if you're in the habit of making memories of just about every moment, the Alpha Bravo and Tegra-Lite® series by TUMI may just be the essential companions to those journeys.
The latest Alpha Bravo and Tegra-Lite® collections are now available at TUMI stores.
