Barbados’ Diaries

As promised, I wanted to share some impressions from my trip to Barbados last week.It’s been an amazing and inspiring time.  Even after a couple of days (and without any marijuana) you automatically pick up the relaxed vibe that surrounds you.

After liters of green tea and loads of vegetable and mahi-mahi fish (the weirdest looking fish on earth – google it!), I feel that my senses are sharpened again, ready to survive hectic London town.


Leaving footprints in the sand.

I spend hours walking the beautiful beaches of Barbados. After the heat of the mid-day sun slowly disappears and breathing in 33 °C gets easier again, I stroll along the west coast recovering from 5 hours of power-tanning.


Expanding your horizon.

In the afternoon and when the moon slowly prepares to relieve the sun, you will experience an hour where the horizon is beyond recognition. For a moment it seems as if the sky and the ocean were one and all you want is to just melt into this breathtaking endless blue (again; no drugs involved).


Collecting freckles.

Literally washing away all the dirt and stress from the urban jungle feels like a big relief. Running around with no make-up where no one really seems to care is refreshing and gives me the self-confidence back that I need to feel good in my own skin.

I am also happy to welcome back all the freckles in my face – I counted 237 (no joke). However, when embracing the long-awaited warmth of the bajan sun, it is important not to forget about good skin care. This holiday I decided to wear nothing else but “Skin Food” by Weleda. “Weleda Skin Food is a unique, ultra-rich whole-body cream that deeply hydrates, restores and protects your skin. This is deep-penetrating replenishing skin repair cream for dry patches of skin and for added protection.”



In my head.

My playlist for this vacation is packed with old-school rock from the late 60s. The Beach Boys’ rattling tunes suit the slightly shabby architecture that reminds of a different era.


I can still feel the waves rocking me to sleep on my air mattress while the salty wind blows in my face. The warm air befuddles me with a mix of aromas that both dazzle and dizzy me. Beside suncream, salt and water on my skin, I wear a new fragrance that’ll remind me of this trip and beam me back to paradise whenever I put it on now.


Who would have thought, my suitcase is packed chock-full with Acne Studios. I fell completely in love with their Spring/Summer collection 2014 and their odd prints.

Add the “Loop Wallpaper Yellow” blouse by Acne Studios to your wish list.


If you’re not completely bedazzled by now, the sunset will do the rest.




At least pretend to be healthy

Green Smoothies are everywhere. Is it just some sort of peer-pressure that everybody swaps their Starbucks cup for green mud? Or are they (I dare say) actually yummy? Well, this one certainly is:

Picture Credit: Nick Hopper
(use organic ingredients where possible)

serves 2 people

1 apple, 100g

2 sticks of celery

Half a cucumber

70g spinach or kale

20g watercress

Half an avocado

12g ginger, peeled

3g parsley

3 tablespoons of lemon juice/juice of a lemon

1.25 cups of filtered water

5g dried dulse – we like Clearspring

1 teaspoon of super green powder (chlorella, spirulina etc) – we like Naturya, or for a blend try Maximum Recovery Organic Super Mega Greens or Viridian Soul Food Greens Powder

To make it into a soup

1 large clove of garlic

1 tiny pinch of cayenne, to taste

2 medium spring onions

1 pinch of sea salt, to taste

Wash all of the fruit and veg. Add the dulse and spirulina to the blender. Chop the veg and apple and place in the blender with the green leaves, avocado, ginger, parsley, lemon juice and most of the water, pulse a few times and blend until smooth. Add more water to achieve desired consistency. Add the savoury ingredients if you want a gazpacho.
Find more delicious recipes here:


Look Me In The Eye!

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‘Ortensia’, Perfumed Candle

152 €,

Piero Fornasetti was a Milanese painter, sculptor, interior decorator, engraver of books and a creator of more than 13,000 products. In terms of variety of decoration, Fornasetti’s production of objects and furniture is one of the largest of the 20th century.

Fornasetti is celebrated as being among the most original creative talents of the twentieth century. During his career he created a visual vocabulary that is instantly recognisable and unceasingly engaging. Fornasetti designed a magical world, saturated in image and colour and filled with whimsy and wit.

Fornasetti Store Milan

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Maggie’s Nightclub – A Tribute To Thatcher

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This is uncanny. I’m washing my hands in a toilet in Chelsea and Margaret Thatcher is lecturing me. At least, I think it’s her. I can’t see her face, but her shrill voice echoes eerily around the urinals.

“We also had to deal,” she harangues me as I turn the tap, “with the problem of trade union power, made worse by successive Labour governments and exploited by the confidence of militants who had risen to key positions in the trade union movement. Positions which they ruthlessly exploited.”

As Thatcher’s words waft improbably over a hubbub of moneyed Sloanes and flushing latrines, I feel like I might be trapped inside one of those surreal audio- scapes from Chris Morris’s Blue Jam. But really the truth is far weirder. I’m at Maggie’s, a new Margaret Thatcher-themed nightclub. Yes, you did read that right. A club inspired by the Iron Lady.

Located on the border between Tory Chelsea and blue-blooded Fulham, it’s hard not to imagine Maggie’s as some kind of political statement. After all, the first thing you see when you enter the club is a wall of photos featuring Thatcher and Ronald Reagan. Hanging over the stairs is a picture of Thatcher flashing a two-fingered salute. And, as we now know all too well, toilet-goers are serenaded with the audiobook of Thatcher’s diaries.

So, I ask the club’s co-owner, Charlie Gilkes, is this the nocturnal equivalent of a neo-liberal manifesto? No, no, no, argues the Old Etonian, who opened Maggie’s with his business partner Duncan Stirling earlier this year. “It’s not a Tory club,” he says carefully, but rather a tribute to the 80s – a bit of “childhood nostalgia for the decade of our birth”. The reference to Britain’s most divisive politician, he says, is tongue-in-cheek. “I know she’s divisive, but I do admire her. She’s a leader.”

In this 80s, Thatcher-era themed club, bottles of champagne signed by the Iron Lady go for £5,000, but I make do with a Ferris Bueller Fizz, priced £10.50. A Super Mario mural adorns another facade and every table in sight has been made to look like a giant Rubik’s cube, while a Neil Kinnock figurine takes pride of place next to Gilkes’s own childhood collection of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

While Gilkes would love Thatcher herself to visit sometime – despite conceding “her nightclubbing days are probably over” – he says he turns down requests from Tory groups to hire the club. Gilkes is keen to emphasise his clientele aren’t all true blues. Lots of clubbers “don’t like Margaret – someone even punched in the speaker in the loos” – although one suspects the £250 fee for a table, on top of the £15 entry price, may put off most clients before they even reach the bathroom. “Adam Ant’s down quite a lot,” he says, while parts of Spandau Ballet frontman Tony Hadley’s signature are still visible on a poster by the door, despite a cleaner’s efforts to wipe it clean. Indeed, on the night I drop by, the dancefloor is rammed with a group out on an annual public school reunion. None will own up to being a fully-fledged Thatcher-lover, though the most convivial, Matt, says his family were fans. “My father was a Thatcherite, and my mother was persuaded because she felt that [a tax rate of] 98 pence to the pound was not the most effective use of my father’s money.” Thatcher, he concludes, “gave us something we all need a little of: capitalism.”

Back in the toilets, Thatcher warbles on. “A firm financial strategy was needed to provide economic reforms, tax cuts and deregulation of industry,” she explains to a new bunch of urinating clubbers. But as we enter another winter of discontent, I’m not sure any of them get the irony.

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Source:, by Patrick Kingsley