Month: May 2014

Elizabeth Cope + Shankill Castle Paulstown Kilkenny

Post author By Lavender's Blue
Post date May 25, 2014
No Comments on Elizabeth Cope + Shankill Castle Paulstown Kilkenny

Period Drama

There are whistlestop tours and there’s a 30 minute stopover till the Gatwick flight from Terminal 2 Dublin Airport departs to check out a centuries old castle complete with famous gates, a gatelodge, even more famous stables, cottages, a walled garden, an orchard, a ruinous church and graveyard. Oh, and did we mention squeeze in a coffee in the kitchen with the owners, an artist and historian, their film director son and dogs? Welcome to Shankill Castle, 45 minutes from the airport. If the heel is very firmly to the steel up the M9, that is.

The house is full of surprises. A playful Gothic exterior gives way to a wintry panelled entrance hall. “The 17th century chimneypiece without a mantelpiece is of an unusual design,” says Elizabeth Cope, the bold and brilliant artist in permanent residence. “There’s a similar chimneypiece in the National Trust house Dyrham Park just outside Bristol. This one’s made of Kilkenny marble. Did you know Kilkenny marble is actually polished limestone? Look at how tall and slim the Queen Anne doorcases are. They’re so elegant.” The hall, like all the rooms, is a wonderfully eclectic mix of period details, antiques and of course Elizabeth’s vivid paintings, bursting with life – and in some cases death. In the middle of the hall is a drum rent table with several dummy drawers for security and symmetry.

Beyond the entrance hall lies the dining room with a great boxy bay window overlooking the geometrically shaped lake at the back of the house. Dozens of wine glasses are laid out on the dining table. “It’s my son Reuben’s 30th birthday on Friday. The theme is The Great Gatsby. You must come! I love throwing parties. I always think no one will come and then at the last minute everyone turns up. This house is made for parties. There’ll be dancing through the night.” The drawing room is a gloriously summery space with wide windows opening onto the driveway and side garden reflected in 16 foot tall mirrors. Faded Edwardian wallpaper is the perfect backdrop to several of Elizabeth’s life size nudes. They’re as colourful and vivacious as the artist herself.

Through the former billiard room and ante room, now an interconnecting study cum office cum art store, to the bow ended staircase hall. “Look at the walls,” points Elizabeth. “They were lined with Sienna marble in 1894.” We’re heading towards the back of house now, literally and metaphorically. “Keep to the left!” We descend the precariously angled stairs to the basement. Along a veritable rabbit warren of domestic quarters: boot room, lamp room, gun room, scullery, wine cellar with no wine – “We’ve drunk all the wine!” – past a row of numbered servants’ bells we finally arrive at the kitchen, once the servants’ hall. “Different rooms have been used as a kitchen down the years,” explains Elizabeth. “Owners tended to move the kitchen in tandem with whatever room they used as a dining room.” Flagstone floors are gently worn by the passage of time.

The tour continues outside. “The nine sided sundial next to the lake is 36 minutes behind London time. Geoffrey my husband says more like 36 years behind London.” Elizabeth sighs wistfully. “London is the only place. We’ve sold our house in Kennington but I still exhibit in London. I recently had a show at Chris Dyson’s gallery in Spitalfields. Tracey Emin came. She wanted to buy the sofa in the gallery. I should’ve partied more in London when I was younger. What a waste!” she laughs. The Copes bought Shankill Castle in 1991. “It was as if the house was destined to be our home. We know the previous owners, the Toler-Aylwards. In fact they’re my daughter Phoebe’s godparents. Phoebe lives in Scotland – she’s an artist too.”

Time is pressing; we’ve broken into a run. Elizabeth cuts quite a dash. “Come quick and see the stables. They’re by Daniel Robertson.” She strikes a pose. Even though Elizabeth has a studio in a stone outbuilding which would be the envy of any artist, she exclaims, “I paint everywhere, in the garden, on the bus, you name it! I paint through the chaos of everyday life. If I was to wait for a quiet moment I’d never paint. I believe painting should be like dancing. The real ‘work of art’ is not so much the canvas when the paint is dry. Rather it’s the physical rhythm of the process of painting it.”

Beautifully restored estate cottages and the east wing of the castle are available to let. “The things you do to keep a place like this going,” says Elizabeth as we leap through the ruins of the church to the side of the front lawn. ‘Shan-kill’ is derived from the Irish for old church. “We throw a ScareFest every Halloween where I dress up and lie in a coffin to spook visitors. What people don’t know is it’s my real coffin. I was ill a couple of years ago so I thought I better get fitted out for one, just in case.” A full calendar at the castle includes the Midsummer Fair, Murder Mystery, Drawing Marathon, Wand and Quill Making Workshop, artist residencies and a new music festival Light Colour Sound.

It’s time to go, to drive by the haha and the trees planted in the 1820s to frame the view of Blackrock Mountain, leaving behind Shankill Castle, a world of its own.

Art Design Luxury People Restaurants Town Houses

The Cristal Room Paris + Baccarat

Post author By Lavender's Blue
Post date May 21, 2014
1 Comment on The Cristal Room Paris + Baccarat

The Truth is Plain to See

Like a forest fire, raging, sparking, keep ‘er lit, l’enfer, burning everything in its way with gusto, the desire, the lust, the greed, no make that the need to be and see and be seen and be paid to see and be paid to be seen… at the latest greatest eating house as it consumes London. London’s burning. Just as every other developer in town introduces his high density scheme as “inspired by the meatpacking district”, so the Manhattan trend for chasing restaurants for a fleeting 15 seconds has well and truly arrived in the English capital. Last year it was Balthazar, last Christmas it was Il Ristorante, last month it was Hoi Polloi, next month it will be Ham Yard. Now, very now, so now, right now, right on, it’s Chiltern Firehouse. Right?

With a three month waiting list for bridge-and-tunnel nonentities, the only alternative is to longingly gaze through the lead paned windows as girls-about-town celebrities Lily Cole, Lilly Allen, Lil’ Kim, bask in mutual glow, relishing the comforting closeness of riches and recognition, enjoying the peace and prosperity of the city. There’s always Monocle café across the street. At The Wolseley, Scott’s, Le Caprice, dining numbers dip slightly while the cameras flash outside The May Fair or Dabbous or The Ivy (weekend lunch menu Saturday 14th September 2002, £17.50, plus £1.50 cover charge in main dining room) and then it’s business as usual as Kate Moss, Kate Middleton, Katie Hopkins, return. In this feverish race to trip the light fantastic, skip the bright fandango, flip the trite almighty, moths fluttering up the lampshade of life, there are burnouts. Bistro K, where art thou? Senkai, why oh why? Enough. It’s time to tango in Paree.

The restaurant with a palace attached. No ifs, no buts. A ballroom (turn cartwheels ‘cross the floor) abuts the dining room abuts the marble staircase. A swimming pool fills the basement. More hôtel than hotel. Where the red carpet is always rolled out. Welcome to the Cristal Room at Baccarat, the hôtel particulier at 11 Place des États-Unis, 16th Arrondissement, a plumped up cushion’s throw from the Arc de Triomphe. Louis Quatorze, Quinze and Seize meet the current King of Design, Philippe Starck Première, Deuxième and Troisième. Where the past is never passé, lending a presence to the present. A place transcending our time, deserving of its own hard backed Assouline tribute. There are no equals.

The ghosts of the great and the good reside at no.11. They’ve all dined here. Not all at once. La Majesté Impériale le Tsar Nicholas II; Empereur de tautes les Russies; La Majesté Mozaffar-al-Din, Shah de Perse; Le Duc de Windsor et La Duchesse de Windsor; Comtesse Jean de Polignac; Monsieur Salvador Dalí et Madame Gala Dalí; Monsieur Alberto Giacometti; Monsieur Francis Poulenc; Monsieur Jean Cocteau; Monsieur Luis Buñuel; Monsieur Man Ray; Monsieur Marcel Duchamp; Madame Peggy Guggenheim; Mademoiselle Chanel; Mademoiselle Lee Miller; Mademoiselle Kiki de Montparnasse (ok maybe not her); Messieurs Lavender’s Blue. The crowd called out for more. Once the residence of les grands fromages Vicomte Charles de Noailles and Vicomtesse Marie-Laure de Noailles, their descendants lease the hôtel back to Baccarat.

Mirrored lipsticked lips snogging niches shriek of decorative welcome from the leafy square. Staggeringly strange explosions of rarity erupt amidst terrifying grandeur. Like an emissary from a modernist future, a marble head utters eloquent profundities. A chandelier, Baccarat no doubt, drowns in a glass cube of water (dry chandeliers are priced €20,000 to €120,000). A jaguar (glass objet d’art, not a car) in the library is ours or yours for €25,000. A gargantuan chair lords it over the landing. Upstairs, ladies lunch (“You simply must come to Munich”), boys do late brunch, eating, meeting, sat in satin seating. Le ciel, c’est les autres. A social whirl, the dining room is hummin’ harder, metaphoric symbols of cymbals clash in ironic oxymoronic cacophonic supersonic discordant harmony. Crystal (natch), mirror, gilt, chalkboard, linen (a whiter shade of pale), scaglioli, marble, wood, exposed brick (au natch) and trompe l’oeil (the sky’s the limit) rise as a realised Piranesian fantasy. Vasi, Candelabri, Cippi, Sarcophagi… “Vous êtes là!” the waiter randomly points on our opened map. We are, we’ve arrived. On a sultry late afternoon in August, fellow diners desert post dessert and we embrace the dining room to ourselves.

Appetites ablaze, we consume Michelin starred Guy Martin’s natural white asparagus, pecorino espuma and bresaolo in pesto garlic followed by Pollock fish cooked a la plancha with leeks and radishes in a dashi broth. C’est bon. C’est très bon. “Do you wish to continue outside?” Terrace for two, s’il vous plaît. Exquisite Harcourt is served alfresco. This is a light pistachio cream and crispy biscuit speckled with gold leaf as if fallen from the cornice. Let the rich eat cake. We call out for another drink, the waiter brings a tray. And so it was later.

Tags 11 place des états-unis, assouline, balthazar, bistro k, candelabri, chiltern firehouse, cippi, comtesse jean de polignac, dabbous, empereur de tautes les russies, ham yard, il ristorante, kate middleton, kate moss, katie hopkins, la majesté impériale le tsar nicholas ii, la majesté mozaffar-al-din shah de perse, le caprice, le duc de windsor et la duchesse de windsor, lil’ kim, lily allen, lily cole, madame peggy guggenheim; mademoiselle coco chanel, mademoiselle kiki de montparnasse, mademoiselle lee miller, messieurs lavenders blue, monsieur alberto giacometti, monsieur francis poulencm, monsieur jean cocteau, monsieur luis brunel, monsieur man ray, monsieur marcel duchamp, monsieur salvador dalí et madame gala dalí, philippe starck, piranesian, sarcophagi, scotts, senkai, the cristal room paris baccarat, the ivy, the may fair, the truth is plain to see, the Wolseley, vasi, vicomte charles de noailles, vicomtesse marie-laure de noailles

Luxury Restaurants

Caviar House + Prunier Heathrow Terminal 2 London

Post author By Lavender's Blue
Post date May 8, 2014
1 Comment on Caviar House + Prunier Heathrow Terminal 2 London

Siberia

Where better to while away the hours lounging between transatlantic flights than reading ~~Monocle~~ Lavender’s Blue in the £1.6 million Caviar House & Prunier restaurant at Heathrow. Time flies. Chairman and CEO Peter Rebeiz remarks, “It is with great pride that we continue our 30 year tradition at Heathrow with our newest seafood bar and store at Terminal 2. A meal at the Caviar House Seafood bar has become a much moved part of the travel experience for many passengers. I am delighted that our newest restaurant is taking centre stage at Terminal 2.”

Caviar House & Prunier is the only manufacturer of fine caviar and smoked salmon to serve its products in its own restaurants. A classic on the menu is the mouth watering Traditional Prunier Caviar. It comes courtesy of the Siberian sturgeon, Acipenser Baeri. Like its Caspian cousin, this monstrous beauty can grow up to three metres long. Caviar, The Definitive Guide by Peter’s sister Natalie Rebeiz-Nielson and Susie Boeckman includes dozens of recipes from tempura of aubergine and courgette with caviar to cream of leak and caviar soup gratinée. Quail’s eggs (from Hamish Johnston of course) and caviar really are the perfect breakfast at home.

To celebrate three decades at the airport, Caviar House & Prunier are offering for sale a wine collection from Château Lafite Rothschild. This collection of 28 Bordeaux vintages in original sealed cases dating from 1984 to 2011 is a snip at just shy of £410,000. It’s time for the chauffeur to load up the limo.

Tags caspian sturgeon, caviar house prunier, caviar house seafood, caviar the definitive guide by natalie rebeiz-nielson and susie boeckman, château lafite rothschild., hamish johnston northcote road, heathrow terminal 2, peter rebeiz, siberia, siberian sturgeon acipenser baeri, traditional prunier caviar

Architecture Town Houses

Paris + The Doors

Oat Coat Your

Paris, where even the doors are well dressed.

Tags cimetiere du pere lachaise, haute couture, paris doors, the doors

Architects Architecture Art Country Houses Luxury People

The Baglianis + Gaultier Lodge Woodstown Waterford

Post author By Lavender's Blue
Post date May 2, 2014
1 Comment on The Baglianis + Gaultier Lodge Woodstown Waterford

Townland and Country

Bastardstown, Cheekpoint, Mooncoin, Passenger East, Priesthaggard… Names, names, such memorable names. Say them with a cut glass accent. Only in Waterford, the civilised southeast coast of Ireland. Geography is close, history closer. Everything is near water, everyone remembers generations past. Land of Molly Keane. Nowhere is more horse and hounds than Gaultier Lodge (pronounced “Gol-teer”) thanks to its country pursuits loving owners, Sheila and Bill Bagliani. Animal motifs abound, on potpourri sachets, coasters, wallpaper friezes, upholstery, saltshakers, pepper grinders, paintings (there’s an artist in residence – Sheila), even wine glasses. “We’re a bit obsessional!” jokes Sheila.

Gaultier Lodge may have been referred to in Victorian times as “Gaultier Cottage” but don’t be misled by its reticent exterior. This is a sophisticated design befitting its former status as a hunting lodge of the Earl of Huntingdon. Four rooms span the original beach front, linked by a tripartite gallery along the entrance front. The middle two rooms are deeper with more ornate mantelpieces and cornices. Now the drawing room and dining room, they are interconnected by a vast pair of panelled doors. In the middle of the gallery is a square vestibule with symmetrical openings. Twin sets of doors include a false door for visual harmony. A guest bedroom bookends either extremity of the beach front.

The hand of a master is at work. His name is John Roberts, the architect who designed much of 18th century Waterford City and worked on Curraghmore, the Marquess and Marchioness of Waterford’s stately home. Never has a piano nobile been more appropriate. The raised ground floor provides breathtaking views across Woodstown’s unspoiled golden strand to a Knights Templar church on the opposite side of the Waterford Channel. “Thank goodness low tide goes out 2.5 kilometres,” says Sheila. “Otherwise we’d be as developed as Tramore.”

In the early 1900s a two bay bedroom wing was added – no country house, however miniature, should be without one. And a porch. “We’ve done our best to dress up the plain porch,” she continues, “with pillars and sash windows.” A pleasant colonial appearance is the result. The coastline was damaged by the Lisbon Tsunami of 1755. Gaultier Lodge was built four decades later. A photo dated 1870 shows the retaining wall along the beach part concealing the lower ground floor. “A storm has since washed away the mound of rabbit burrows against the wall. Last winter another storm flattened our greenhouse and blew 100 slates off the roof.” There’s a price to be paid for the beauty of proximity to nature. Not that it’s apparent, on a long spring evening sipping wine on the lawn watching the remains of the day.

“Historic houses are like horses,” declares Sheila. “They’re expensive to run!” That hasn’t stopped the Baglianis buying another one on the opposite side of Ireland. “Castle ffrench was the home of Percy French. Maurice Craig compares it to Bonnettstown in his book Classic Irish Houses of the Middling Sizes. All the original furniture was sold but we’ve bought suitable pieces, many from the US.” Sheila and Bill also own a stud in North Carolina, suitably called Castle French Farm.

The fire roars. Frequently read books on the country and houses and country houses and country house owners and lovers of country houses and country house owners’ lovers pile high on occasional tables. “When I used to go to Mount Juliet, it was just like the famous Colman’s Mustard advert, where the butler is sent back from the hunt to get mustard for a guest’s sandwich. The butler really did cater to every whim,” recalls Sheila. Bats noiselessly swoop in eternal graceless circles across the lawn while inside dinner is attentively served. Red onion and goat’s cheese tart is followed by monkfish with salad on the side, an American touch. The hallmark of Gaultier Lodge cooking is fresh country produce, layered with taste, such as the carrots soaked in butter and citrus. Gin and tonic sorbet – what’s not to love? Pudding is Italian carrot cake “baked with ground almond instead of flour to make it lighter”.

Woodstown has always been famed for its decadent high end hospitality. In 1967 newly widowed Jackie Kennedy and her children Caroline and John stayed at nearby Woodstown House. The Daily Herald breathlessly reported, “Woodstown House, about seven miles from Waterford City, where the Kennedys will stay during their visit is one of the most beautiful residences in the area, known for its gracious mansions… Mrs Kennedy will occupy the main bedroom which is toned in a predominantly dark blue colour.”

It keeps going, “The Woodstown area itself probably carries the greatest concentration of Anglo Irish blue bloods in the country and the social whirl runs at a pretty fast pace. Among her neighbours in the county will be the Duke of Devonshire who owns Lismore Castle and the Marquess of Waterford who lives at Portlaw.” Another temporary resident in the 1960s was Jack Profumo who decided to lie low at Ballyglan, his brother’s house across the road from Gaultier Lodge. Names, names, such memorable names.

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