Harper's Bazaar

Jacket; trousers, both the Row. T-shirt, stylist’s own. Trainers, Converse

Robe, Serena & Lily. Sunglasses, Lanvin. Necklace, Cartier. Mules, Jimmy Choo. Hair by Edward Lampley, using Oribe. Make-up by Maki Ryoke, using Chanel. Manicure by Olivia de Montagnac. Production by Nicole Tondre at Hen’s Tooth Productions. Set design by Heath Mattioli

confusing and unhinged about her reality would fade away and life ‘She’ll connect with anyone on set,’ offers Ross Duffer. ‘She loves would eventually feel normal again. ‘I remember Michelle being just getting to know people and talking to them. So it doesn’t matter like, “This is going to pass.” But I couldn’t hear it. whether it’s another actor who’s number two on the call sheet or it’s ‘I’ve never talked about it,’ Ryder says. ‘There’s this part of me a PA who happens to be handing her water.’ that’s very private. I have such a place in my heart for those days. Ryder’s input indelibly shaped the role of Joyce Byers. ‘We But for someone younger who grew up with social media, it’s hard originally just thought of Joyce as this strong, devoted, worried to describe.’ mother,’ Ross Duffer explains. ‘But then suddenly Winona brings The most vicious tabloid circus, though, descended in 2001, after an entirely new flavour to it, and we thought about how much fun Ryder was arrested for shoplifting at Saks Fifth Avenue in Beverly we could have with her, getting involved in the supernatural.’ They Hills. (She has since explained that after breaking her arm, she talked about their favourite childhood films, including Close was overprescribed painkillers, which left her disoriented. The pre- Encounters of the Third Kind – especially the scene, he says, ‘when scribing doctor’s medical licence was subsequently revoked.) Richard Dreyfuss’ character gets obsessed and makes a mound out And then she disappeared. ‘I definitely retreated,’ she explains. of his mashed potatoes’. ‘I was in San Francisco. But I also wasn’t getting offers. I think it was Soon, Joyce became a multidimensional character, not just pivotal a very mutual break. to the central plot but also helpful in drawing great performances ‘It’s so interesting when you look at the early 2000s,’ she says. out of the younger actors. ‘Winona brings it 100 per cent every time,’ ‘It was kind of a cruel time. There was a lot of meanness out says Matt Duffer. ‘I think that makes a big difference to the other there… And then I remember coming back to LA – it was a rough actors, especially when she’s working with the kids.’ period. I didn’t know if that part of my life was over.’ ‘It’s always been about the craft with Winona,’ says her longtime Because of these experiences, Ryder has been mindful of how friend Keanu Reeves, who met Ryder in LA in the late Eighties and her younger co-stars on Stranger Things are coping with the recog- worked with her several times, including on Bram Stoker’s Dracula nition the series has brought them and how they will adjust once it and A Scanner Darkly. He was struck by her intelligence and her wraps. (The drama will end after a fifth season, set to air in the next sense of humour, but says what sets her apart is that she ‘embodies a year or so.) ‘I want the kids to understand, this does not happen,’ she kind of vulnerability and a backbone at the same time. You believe says of being on a show so zeitgeisty that people are clamouring her. She’s grounded. You feel the wholeness of her characters.’ for your attention. ‘This is really unusual. And I’m always telling In Stranger Things, Ryder adds a new layer to her usual authenticity them, “The work is the reward!” Because and emotional presence: great comedic timing. when I was that age, it was so hard to enjoy ‘I’m always telling ‘The more we’ve worked with her, we’ve dis- the fruits of my labour.’ the kids on Stranger covered how funny she can be,’ says Ross Things, “The work Duffer. ‘I mean, she’s really, really funny.’ The Duffer brothers say that Ryder’s guidance has been incredibly useful to is the reward!” It’s almost as if the favourite gloomy teen them. ‘She’s talked to the kids about what Because at that age, of the 1980s has grown into a secure adult, celebrity is like and how the press can it was so hard for finally comfortable enough in her own skin to be, and the anxiety and confusion that share her wisdom and sense of humour with come along with that,’ says Ross Duffer. me to enjoy the the world. When Ryder’s boyfriend, Hahn, ‘I think she’s really helped them. I know fruits of my labour’ shows up to drive her home, we all end up she’s specifically helped Millie [Bobby chatting for almost another hour. It’s easy to Brown, who plays Eleven on the show] a lot imagine that he’s partly responsible for her to work through that. And that’s some- new-found ease and confidence. thing that no one else can help with, really, because so few people have experienced Witnessing Gen X’s moody, daydreaming it. It’s not something I understand. It’s not heroine wind up with another empathic, romantic soul feels like a kind of closure, the something that, you know, even a parent inverse of the generational vertigo incited by would understand.’ the way things have gone for many of Ryder’s The sensitivity that has made Ryder’s Hollywood trajectory so contemporaries. ‘We have a lot in common,’ she says of Hahn. ‘We painful also seems to be her superpower as an actress. Harbour recalls connected on so many levels. But it was amazing that he’s not in this that when they were filming a scene in season three of Stranger Things business… I really did try to keep it quiet.’ (Hahn is so far removed in which Hopper is shooting at Soviet guards, she ‘started talking from showbiz that when he first met Ryder, he didn’t even recognise about what these normal Russians would enjoy, saying that these her. ‘He thought I was Milla Jovovich,’ she says, laughing. ‘He told people aren’t in control of their lives. And I was like, “They’re just me I was great in The Fifth Element.’) the bad guys.” The quiet life is, after all, Ryder’s version of the best life. That’s ‘She is nothing but empathy,’ Harbour adds. ‘I think her vulner- where the fierce independence and raw emotional need of youth ability and her big heart are really an anomaly in this business. We tend to balance themselves out in maturity: far from the spotlight, all as artists have a certain sensitivity. But to rise in the ranks of the among old films, old books and old friends – the emotional equivalent film industry? She just doesn’t have any of those shells.’ of an old movie theatre with just a bed, a bathtub and a bike in it. www.harpersbazaar.com/uk September 2022 | HARPER’S BAZAAR | 203

‘Articles of Glass’ (2015). Artwork throughout from the ‘Light Passes, Shadows Fall’ exhibition at ARTWORK BY CORNELIA PARKER Cristea Roberts Gallery, on show until 17 September 2022 www.harpersbazaar.com/uk 204 | HARPER’S BAZAAR | September 2022

Object lessons CORNELIA PARKER’S NEW PODCAST, MAKING THE MARK, IS AVAILABLE TO DOWNLOAD AT WWW.CRISTEAROBERTS.COM. COURTESY OF THE ARTIST AND CRISTEA ROBERTS GALLERY, LONDON © CORNELIA PARKER ‘Treasure’, the theme for Bazaar’s ninth annual short-story competition, inspired hundreds of submissions exploring topics including memory, nature and the first throes of romance. The challenge of finding a winner was taken up by a team of judges comprising Bazaar’s editor-in-chief Lydia Slater, features director Helena Lee and contributing literary editor Erica Wagner; the author Monica Ali; Bloomsbury Publishing’s Alexandra Pringle; and Caroline Michel from the literary agency PFD. After much enthusiastic debating over lunch at Claridge’s, the panel awarded the top accolade to Kaliane Bradley, for her tale about motherhood, cultural heritage and David Bowie. ‘Lively, surprising and perfectly voiced, “Golden Years” is a story that delivers both humour and emotional depth, and does so with great élan,’ said Ali, while Pringle praised the writer’s ‘truly original voice’. Bradley wins a two-night stay at Billesley Manor, and her entry is published here, alongside those by the two runners-up, Penny Wincer and Margaux Vialleron. GByolKdeanliaYneeaBrsradley Sovanni texted back, No. Four seconds passed. The screen blinked white. On the day that David Bowie died, Sovanni texted her mother, David Can you come to temple 16 APRIL ? for KHMER NEW YEAR bowie oh no :( do you still have my vinyl records at home? She texted back, Okay. The screen flinched again. Two emails. One was a promotional Hermothertextedback,Thatashame!! when SINN SISAMOUTH email from Time Out, which she couldn’t bring herself to unsubscribe died, we did not know because he dissapear !! Om Pich say to me: bang he may from even though she considered herself too iconoclastic for Time have fled to LAOS. Sovanni I don’t know what is your records , you must Out offers. The other was from Second Heart magazine. come to sort out you self. see you on SATURDAY we will have lunch together. Dear Sovanni Reun, Thank you for your submission to Second Heart magazine and your interest in our publication. Unfortunately, this piece isn’t She put the phone to one side and stared at the ceiling. what we’re looking for at present… ** ** Sovanni and her best friend Joyce went to visit the Bowie mural Joyce had a theory that mid-life crises were induced by the body, in Brixton. She showed Joyce her mother’s text. like menopause or puberty. ‘Your body has a reasonably good ‘I think my favourite thing is the space between the words and idea of when your life is going to end,’ she said, ‘because it’s got all the exclamation marks,’ said Joyce. ‘She’s working up to it. Like the data, right? Allergies, substance abuse, sleep cycle, et cetera. So a jump cut.’ when you reach what it reckons is the halfway point, it triggers ‘It’s the punctuation equivalent of bugging your eyes out,’ a flood of whatever hormone it is that reminds you that you’re mortal.’ Sovanni agreed. ‘That’s supposed to be evolutionarily useful, is it?’ Sovanni asked. Joyce’s mother, who was a transplanted Hong Konger, wrote They were wrapped in coats and scarves in a pub beer garden, on texts with the rigid grammatical perfection of a Chinese woman their second bottle of wine, and sharing a cigarette. They slumped educated in a former British colony. Sovanni’s mother wrote French so powerfully that their backs made only incidental contact with with fewer spelling eccentricities, but her punctuation still hit the the chairs. screen with rainfall randomness. Sovanni’s mother was dyslexic. ‘Yeah, of course. If you haven’t done any breeding, you’ll be People were always surprised to learn that. They assumed she wrote overcome with the powerful urge to start screwing younger, more texts the way she did because she was an immigrant. fertile people.’ ‘Ah, come on,’ said Sovanni. She tucked her chin and sailed her ** wine glass to her approximate mouth area. Sovanni , her mother texted, put in your diary 16 APRIL. We will ‘What? There are people who literally swell up and die if you give go to the temple x them a peanut. How is this weirder?’ Ten minutes later, do you want cashmur coat I got from Jan? Too big Something clicked in Sovanni’s lower back, mean as a gunshot, for me !! and she threw herself upright. A burgundy disc of wine slapped onto the aluminium tabletop. She grunted. ‘Wouldn’t that make David Bowie’s mid-life crisis Ziggy Star- dust?’ she asked, massaging her lower back. ‘Man seemed kind of on top of the world then.’ www.harpersbazaar.com/uk September 2022 | HARPER’S BAZAAR | 205

** She took two buses to see her mother. It only required one bus, but she had to get off and hork at a drain halfway through the journey. Technically, what she did was known as ‘dry-heaving’, but the experience was unpleasantly juicy. ‘Sovanni!’ crowed her mother when she stumped through the door. ‘My favourite daughter!’ ‘Your only daughter,’ said Sovanni. She said it in a voice ham- mered flat by the joke’s repetition, but she couldn’t help the smile. ‘Your only child, in fact.’ Her mother hopped out of the kitchen to embrace her, pleased and sunny as a quail. ‘I cleaned my IKEA and I found all my old records that your auntie sent me when she was still in Phnom Penh. After we eat lunch, we will listen to the Cambodian David Bowie.’ ‘Sinn Sisamouth,’ said Sovanni, her voice now flat enough to lay on parquet. Her mother snorted and trotted back into the kitchen. ‘No, Yol Aularong,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘More cool and rock and roll. Bong Samouth is like Elvis. How can I bring you up and you don’t know this? You can’t hear music properly?’ Sovanni toed her shoes off. ‘Did you find my Bowie records?’ she called after her mother. ‘What?’ ‘One Day This Glass Will Break’ (2015) ** Almost all the things in her mother’s home had been there for Joyce squinted at her fingers and counted under her breath. ‘No, most of Sovanni’s life. The ‘IKEA’ – an enormous, grubby white wall it’d be… Thin White Duke. Which makes a lot of sense.’ of built-in wardrobes and cupboards, bought from IKEA in the 1990s – was doll’s-house-y, with masking tape and accidentally ‘Because of the evolutionary desire to do fucking loads of coke?’ magnolia paint repairs. The toiletries in the bathroom were thrown ‘You’re being sarcastic,’ growled Joyce, swaying towards her with into neon plastic baskets and bowls that had outlasted several ver- such momentum that two chair legs lifted from the floor, ‘but, yes! sions of the 99p discount shops they came from. Every bookshelf To make him feel like he was awake enough and living fast enough was crammed with copies of books that had gone into new editions for the days he had left.’ – except the Cambodian ones, which had never been reprinted after the Khmer Rouge. ** Sovanni always felt embarrassed about the cheapness of the The next morning, Sovanni had a hangover. This used to mean house’s working objects. It made her life feel mass-produced. She an iron plate in the head and churning in the bowels, but since hadn’t achieved any distinction of form that she could separate she’d turned 30, hangovers had a terrible, emotional dimension. herself from the cracked rubber hose of the handheld shower head. Her mind congealed. All day, she carried her brain around in her She always thought she would have done more by now. Made her skull like she was carting a box full of dead rats. Everything felt name, made some money, moved her mother into a place where the nasty and off-key. walls were smooth and painted in Seaside Retreat grey-blue. Almost She texted Joyce, So good to see you <3 was I unbearable last night? every writer her age she followed on Instagram posted pictures from feel like I said something stupid x Aga-warmed kitchens filled with inherited oak chairs. Why hadn’t Neat, tyrannical piles of things stood about in the corners and she provided her mother with a life of non-IKEA furniture? walls of the flat. These were her multimedium obligations: laundry Sometimes it occurred to her that her aesthetic was less aspira- to fold, paperwork to read, books to give away, tidying to do. Ten tional and more escapist – imagine if I were a middle-class white person years ago, Sovanni thought she’d have written a novel by now. – but children of immigrants were supposed to decorate better than Five years ago, Sovanni thought she’d have put out a collection of their first-generation parents. This was a basic tenet of upward short stories and have a novel in the works. Every book in the give- mobility and also a fantastic source for anxious personal essays away piles had prose she was sure she could improve on, but every about identity, tradition and sacrifice. She’d had a good run of those, book in those piles actually existed, so where did that leave her? but the magazines were moving on to younger, differently trauma- The phone trembled briefly. tised diasporas now. No bitch you were enchanting. Drink some water and say hi to your mum If Joyce was right, all these thoughts were part of some deathly for me xxxxx secretion. The void is coming! Get a grandchild fucked into you! But she didn’t feel the chasm extending beyond her, into a formless place where a child wasn’t. Instead it spread out behind her, thickening darkly every time she tried to imagine how she’d live with herself when her mother finally passed. She bent down to knock on wood, thinking, not for years, please, 206 | HARPER’S BAZAAR | September 2022 www.harpersbazaar.com/uk

COURTESY OF THE ARTIST AND CRISTEA ROBERTS GALLERY, LONDON © CORNELIA PARKER and rapped the laminate flooring. Her hangover pulsed in her eyes and tragedy, thank you. No need to wait for me to die to remember you her stomach flipped over. She scurried back into the bathroom are Cambodian.’ and threw herself over the toilet. Sovanni sniffed enormously. ‘Do you have that Ros Sereysothea ** song, “I’m Sixteen”?’ she asked. ‘I read this really sad article,’ Sovanni said, over lunch. ‘About this Japanese-American girl whose mother got dementia, and how much ‘“Chnam oun dop-pram muy?” No, but this one is Pen Ran singing she struggled to reconnect with her heritage without her mother to about how she is 31 and doesn’t want to get married.’ guide her.’ ‘I’m not demented yet,’ said her mother sharply. ** ‘It was just really sad.’ Sovanni opted to spend the night in her childhood bedroom, ‘When I am dead,’ said her mother, ‘then you will realise how sad.’ lured by the promise of pepper beef and rice. ‘Oh, my God.’ After dinner, she sat cross-legged at the dining-room table and Sovanni’s mother squeezed another lime quarter over the num opened her Notes app. banhchok. ‘You don’t have to wait until I die to “reconnect” your ** “heritage”,’ she said. ‘I’m right here.’ The records tremble in my hands; postcards from the past, speaking words of song ** singing words of song They pulled the records out after lunch. The Bowie LPs were singing of words musical and emotional there, along with some Patti Smith remasters and dozens of works ‘Want to watch Inspector Morse?’ her mother asked hopefully. by indie landfill artists. Sovanni looked up at her mother, met her eye, and put her ‘Who the fuck are The Pigeon Detectives?’ Sovanni muttered. phone down. Her mother bashed her on the thigh, but in quite a friendly way. ‘Yeah, go on,’ she said. Her mother’s records were all 45s, kept in a box that unfolded like She didn’t say it with any particular significance or symbolism. an accordion’s bellows. The paper sleeves were printed in risograph- She just said it. Her mother said that she’d have to have the subtitles vivid colours. Sovanni, who had a thing about ephemera, handled on because she was old and also Lewis mumbled too much, which them with excessive care. made it hard for her to guess the criminal. ‘These are so cool,’ she said. And Sovanni said that was fine, it wouldn’t bother her. Because What she meant was: these are the most beautiful things in this house. mostly that’s what words were for: saying the obvious, but remem- They’re love letters from another world. They’re magical, too, treasure bering to say it. I love you. Thank you. I’ ll be here tomorrow. Goodnight. rescued from a falling city, the soul of a nation pressed into black. They made it across the world, just like you did. ‘Told You So’ (2015) She tried explaining this to her mother, who looked pleased. ‘I’m glad you like Khmer music,’ she said. ‘You used to love it when you were a little girl.’ ‘Yeah, but it’s also that. You know. These are unique.’ They fanned the records out along the floor, jewel-bright and clamorous. ‘You think they’re worth money?’ asked her mother. She glanced at her daughter. ‘Not what you meant.’ ‘I guess they might be.’ ‘Oh, look,’ said her mother, pulling out a Meas Hok Seng record. ‘I hate this song! Very dramatic and crying. I’m going to put it on.’ The two women were sat on the floor, and Sovanni’s mother had to kneel up to put the 45 on the turntable. She was wearing a black jumper, thinly striped in ochre and mustard – or orange and yellow, as she’d put it. She smelt nicely of cooking. When she knelt back, she tucked her knees against her chest. ‘You see how annoying he is,’ she said comfortably. They listened to Meas Hok Seng bewail the fate of a mated pair of doves, one of which had been shot by a hunter. ‘Why do you hate this song so much?’ asked Sovanni. ‘I think it’s very romantic.’ ‘Oh, sure,’ said her mother, ‘very romantic to be dead. Sovanni, you don’t have to make a big mess for love. You can just wake up and decide you want to love.’ The record crackled to a close. Sovanni knelt up to unhook the arm, producing a comedy-scratch sound. It felt like there was a knuckle in her throat, which was either a new hangover symptom or a sign she was going to cry. ‘I love you even if we don’t go through a big tragedy,’ said her mother, watching her closely. ‘I have had enough of big www.harpersbazaar.com/uk September 2022 | HARPER’S BAZAAR | 207

Missing Things sport (fake an injury and be put on ‘physio swimming’ for the rest ByPenny Wincer of the term, which meant leisurely laps in an indoor pool instead of running around in the mud in a tiny hockey skirt); and which They say the things that happen to you when you’re young are the teachers to avoid (Mr Jefferies, who would talk to our chests). things that affect you most. The events imprint themselves onto you as you’re forming, taking shape, in a way that they don’t when you’re By my second term, I was well and truly ensconced in the school. older. If this is true, then for me it wasn’t an event but a person. My mother, freed from the guilt of not doing a very good job of looking after me, allowed me to stay on. Hermione and I were insep- I turned 14 in the summer of 1992. I was a typical teenager in arable. We started our own theatre club on Friday afternoons, where many ways, morose yet diligent in my schoolwork, dreaming of we read lines from earnest mid-century American plays and used escape via a driver’s licence and an amateur-theatre group. What cigarettes and fedora hats for props. Hermione was both sophisti- wasn’t perhaps so typical was that my mother had tried to kill herself cated and completely childlike in her enthusiasm for everything and for the third time that summer and had landed herself a three-month I found my tastes following hers. I no longer listened to current music stay in a psychiatric hospital. This led, of course, to the problem of but instead spent my scant pocket money on CDs of Nina Simone, what to do with me. Peter Sarstedt and Serge Gainsbourg. On holidays back at home, friends from my old school teased me for my black cigarette trousers My father, who at this point I saw once a year when I flew up to and suede ballet pumps and I found I didn’t care what was considered Queensland to stay with him on his sheep farm, was very quickly fashionable by them anymore. At school, we created a bubble in which dismissed by everyone, including me, as a suitable full-time substi- we existed outside of time, not beholden to anyone else’s ideas of what tute. And so it was decided by my mother, her doctor, my father and was cool. We wore kilts and brogues with no socks, woollen rugby various extended family members who did not want the trouble that jumpers with tiny denim cut-offs and knee-high socks with T-bars. I would go to boarding school when term began again. Arrange- ments were made, a place found. At the beginning of February, my Holidays with my mother were spent writing long, ardent letters bags were packed and I made my way alone, in a chauffeur-driven car to Hermione and the small gang of girls who had sprung up around service (much to my embarrassment), to the country school chosen us, while longing to return to school and my place within it. for me to attend. Hermione’s letters were filled with private-club swimming pools and tennis lessons in the humidity of Bangkok. Her life was like You might think I was pretty put out by being sent away but, actu- a Somerset Maugham novel and I wanted to be part of it. ally, I was thrilled by the whole thing. I wanted my mother to be well, obviously, but I was also glad someone else had the responsibility of In the final term of that year, a minor scandal began to occupy keeping an eye on her, for a change. When I dropped my bags down our time. Things started to go missing. At first, they were small: in my assigned dorm, I felt a jolt of excitement at this new adventure. a single earring, a CD, a pair of headphones. But over time, they esca- lated to a necklace, an expensive tennis racket and an entire jewellery Australian boarding schools were not exactly like those in box, not filled with jewels but sentimental letters. Judy, whose box it England; they weren’t filled with small children whose parents had been, had wept for hours on her bed. Matron had given her thought being away at school would be good for them. Australian a note to excuse her from classes for the whole rest of the day. boarding schools were for country kids who had to drive over an hour just to get off their own property, or the children of expats Hermione and I spent our spare time trying to find clues as to who whose companies entice them to Hong Kong and Singapore with was behind these mysterious disappearances. We would sit in the education back at home paid for as part of the deal – plus the odd dining hall playing amateur sleuths, watching our fellow students. child like me, who found themselves without a parent available. Lucy, who had recently been moved to a scholarship fund, was Hermione’s prime suspect, along with a new girl, Caitlin, who had I met Hermione on my first day. She came into our five-bed dorm barely said a word since she arrived. We decided it must be one of us, room, dragging two suitcases behind her and throwing them onto someone who could move freely about the dorms without suspicion. the bed opposite me, smiling ear to ear. She held out her hand and One moment a bottle of perfume would be there, then you’d come introduced herself in a tumble of words, as if she hadn’t spoken in back, pink from a hot shower, to find it gone. My compact camera months and it was all pouring out in one go. She had flown in from went missing and I was furious, though more concerned about the Bangkok two days earlier and had spent a couple of days at her loss of the film than the cheap plastic camera itself. The two of us grandmother’s flat in Toorak before coming down, much to my plotted the revenge we would take on the culprit when we discov- relief, also in a car service with no parent present. As she spoke, she ered her true identity. moved her long brown arms at speed, fiddling with her short blunt bob, which seemed a very young hairstyle for a 14-year-old. With I was planning a trip to Bangkok to stay with Hermione that a French mother and an Australian dad, she told me her parents had summer and could think of nothing else. After much begging over argued for years over whether she should go to school in France or the telephone, my father had agreed. I was to fly on my own and be Australia. Evidently, her father had won. By bedtime I was com- met at the airport by Hermione, and we would spend our days pletely entranced by her. exploring the city and swimming at her club. I was longing to lie by the pool in my newly acquired black vintage-style bathing suit and Over the coming weeks, I allowed her to lead me by the arm, read my latest obsession, Truman Capote, while watching beautiful showing me the ropes. She taught me the dining-room protocols young men do laps, just as I had read about in Hermione’s letters. (always sit near the slush trolley so you don’t have to parade past groups of sixth-form boys, carrying your tray); how to navigate Our school was quite relaxed and one of its more pleasing rules was that, if you had a lifeguard in attendance, you could swim in the outdoor pool anytime you liked. Hermione was qualified but she could rarely be dragged out of bed early enough to take advantage. But with the end of term looming, I convinced her to get up early for a swim before our last exams. Three of us – Hermione, me and Julia, one of our theatre gang – got up at 6am and threw on our cossies, 208 | HARPER’S BAZAAR | September 2022 www.harpersbazaar.com/uk

walking across the oval in only our bathing suits and towels. It was a necklace… and then my eyes fell on a jewellery box. I opened the a balmy morning already and looked like it was going to be a hot day. lid. It was filled with letters. I picked up the box and my breath caught. Underneath was my compact camera. Without thinking, I We swam, shouting and jumping in, playing Marco Polo and grabbed it and pressed the rewind button. After the whirring screeching at the top of our lungs as we chased each other in the stopped, I opened the back, pulled out the film canister and slipped pool. I was It, eyes closed, when I heard the wet slap of feet on con- it into my pocket. I replaced the camera and the box and returned crete; I yelled ‘Fish out of water!’ and heard a splash. I opened my the suitcase to its place under the bed. eyes and found myself momentarily alone before Julia’s head popped up out of the water. Then I saw a dark, unmoving shape at the far side By the time I got back down to the pool, Hermione was being of the pool. We swam towards it. The two of us dived under, each loaded into an ambulance. Matron, who had arrived ahead of me, grabbing an arm, and pulled Hermione to the surface, then out of climbed into the ambulance after her, telling Julia and me to head the pool, and laid her in the recovery position. I could see a growing back to the house. Hermione was going to be just fine: she had red patch at the base of her head, blood mixing with water on the a slight concussion and needed a few stitches. bright white tiles. Julia applied pressure and told me to run for help as she covered a shivering Hermione with her towel, eyes still closed That was the last time I saw Hermione. Days later, when but visibly taking breaths. I returned home for the holidays, my mother said she’d had a call from her father. She had recovered, but she was going to Paris and I ran back across the oval, straight to Matron’s door, hammering I would have to cancel my trip. I wrote to her Bangkok address, on it hard and then doubling over to catch my breath as I explained hoping someone would forward her post to her, but after a few weeks what had happened. Matron went to call an ambulance and told me all the letters came back, marked ‘return to sender’. to put some clothes on and go straight back to the pool, shouting after me as I ran to get some warm clothes for Hermione too. I raced When I returned to school in February, Hermione did not. I had up the stairs and into the twin room we now shared. I threw on an plenty of friends, but no one like her. Sorting out my uniforms one abandoned school dress and jumper, hoping it would calm the day, I found the old school dress that I hadn’t worn since the day of chatter in my teeth, before going over to Hermione’s side of the room the accident. The roll of film was still in the pocket. When I had it to find some clothes. developed, I saw the rehearsals of our final play together, Hermione on the steps of Flinders Street Station, the two of us drinking milk- The wardrobe was virtually empty and I realised she’d been shakes. But the last picture was what we would now call a selfie, packing for the end of term, so crawled on my knees to pull one of which didn’t have a name back then. It was Hermione, in a dark her suitcases from under her bed. When I opened it, I found myself room, lit by a flash, sticking two fingers up at the camera, which left staring at a pile of random objects. A tennis racket, perfume bottles, a dark V-like shadow across the middle of her face. ‘Fox Talbot’s Articles of Glass (tagged decanters)’ (2017) COURTESY OF THE ARTIST AND CRISTEA ROBERTS GALLERY, LONDON © CORNELIA PARKER www.harpersbazaar.com/uk September 2022 | HARPER’S BAZAAR | 209

‘Eclipse’ (2020) FBeyrMnaanrdgaa’suFx iVshiaSlloeruopn shop is located on the Boulevard de la Mer, a quiet avenue during the months of winter and jammed in summertime, Nana rolling the iron Nana is always seen with a broom in one hand and a cigarillo in the shutter open. The building needs repainting, the cement showing other. A midi skirt falls underneath the fold of her knees, nickel- patches of mould and graffiti in support of various political move- like colour and woollen fabric; she tucks a white shirt inside and ments, writings imbued with the nostalgia of a springtime that has keeps warm with a loose cardigan, the grey fading in favour of the long gone. The shop window gives her business away, mannequin dark side of green. Her arms cross often, her long hands holding onto faces showing off what Fernanda can offer. Cloche, derby and fedora the back of her shoulders, blue veins haunting the milky tone of her hats and flat caps. She named the shop after herself, not in praise of skin. Nana smells of gardens – woody juice, lotus flower and aro- her person but in lack of inspiration for another name. matic bursts. She starts each day with a spray of eau de toilette. The sun left a stain on her skin long ago. Her nails have yellowed in On Fridays, Fernanda goes to the market. Trestle tables, wheels the light of packs of cigarillos, her voice has grown raspier, her thin of cheese, bottles of oil, seasonal products from the town’s allot- hair is glued behind her ears with satin hairspray. Extra strength, ments. Children scream at the sight of the carousel, generations she nods, the lobes of her ears following the pacing of her speech; meet up in the town hall’s parking lot. Fernanda waves hurriedly, her large pearl earrings are clipped. stare focused on the one stall she has come to visit: a sprinter van. The back door is wide open and the leftovers from their catch of the Nana fits wigs on the bald heads of women who saw illness steal week are displayed in crates, prices by the kilo written in obscure their hair and she perches hats on enchanted heads. She leaves cans cursive letters. Fernanda’s lips crack open as soon as she reaches the of tuna on the side of her front door for the stray cats to find; she starting point of the long waiting line. She asks for five hundred shares smoking breaks with the daughter of the convenience store’s grams worth of gurnard, hake and crab, each with heads, bones and owner. She swipes her ashes clean as she moves around. The bell gills preserved. rings often as the postman, customers and friendly visitors step inside her store. A dream catcher hangs on the opposite wall. The ‘Aye, Nana, we had a good fishing week.’ He begins to gather her order together, blue fleece jacket, a matching beanie and bitten nails. Fernanda follows him closely with the weight of her gaze, still smiling but her lips touching closed this time. He clears his throat. ‘The type of sea he’d have enjoyed. Fresh breeze on Monday, gale by Wednesday and cumulus giving the ocean a purple touch. I’ll add a couple of oysters to your order: Brunes de casiers from Talmont-Saint-Hilaire.’ Fernanda nods and he continues. ‘We weren’t allowed to go out to sea yesterday. Safety measures, they 210 | HARPER’S BAZAAR | September 2022 www.harpersbazaar.com/uk

COURTESY OF THE ARTIST AND CRISTEA ROBERTS GALLERY, LONDON © CORNELIA PARKER said. We paid a visit to the colleagues in the marshes instead.’ He simmering broth. She serves herself another flute of champagne, hands her a shopping bag. She exchanges a bank note against the then throws a gulp into the casserole and adds a glass of Roger’s plastic feel, crackling music playing with the breeze. ‘Cursed gale, favourite cognac; she gives the soup a stir. They stood in the court- aye, Nana? See you next week.’ yard outside the kitchen door after dinner, between drying cords of laundry and with a liqueur café in their hands, counting stars in the Fernanda turns around, the back of her shoulders jarring with rush to guess tomorrow’s weather, the knowledge that a storm will the pressing movement of her legs, stopping at the grocer to pick up always come as a surprise thrumming in their ears. Nana brings carrots, parsnips and onions. When she returns home – a small everything to the boil again. She read in the encyclopaedia that townhouse at the end of a road perpendicular with the beach – sand drowning is a form of death by suffocation. The lungs fill up with has obstructed the pipes. She tucks her cigarillo between her teeth, water, becoming heavy and oxygen failing to reach the heart. Roger swiping the pavement and groaning from the bottom of her throat. loved reading; the lines on the pages distracted him from the expe- Cursed winds and sacred tides, Nana mutters. She opens the front door, rience of land sickness, something few people knew about him. He then the sticky fridge with yellowing seals, before she fishes for the collected paperback editions of the Americans who wrote about bottle of champagne. She pops the cork and lays out filleting and their travels, beats from the other side of the Atlantic he sailed. Slowly, gutting knives, a white chopping board and a bowl of cold water on Fernanda waves her hips as she lowers the heat and leaves the soup the kitchen counter. She scrolls the tuning knob on the small radio to cook gently. There is nothing that can be done – she will need to and the music begins. Her hips balance slowly, from one side to the skim off the scum at the surface. other, the front door of the kitchen left open as a witness to the falling sun. If only the radio had caught their screams for help that day, men lost at She fillets and pin-bones the fish in the meantime, the palm of her sea, Nana cooking in dismay in her kitchen. Brick walls, wooden hand pushing against what is left of the skin, the cold edge of the cupboards, a gas hob and a round table at the centre of the room, knife chilling her blood. Leftover scales stick against the rubber feel Fernanda and Roger shared a glass of champagne with a fish soup of the chopping board, sparkly confetti, sad testimonies of what life for dinner on Fridays. La potée chaumoise for when Roger returned was once. Roger, his asymmetrical beard, the dragging sound of his from the sea. voice when he pronounced the letter ‘B’, the pragmatic answers he gave to Fernanda’s problems, his glass eye, and his charismatic wink. In a large casserole pot, she brings water to the boil with bay With her fingers firmly placed on the blunt edge of the knife, Nana leaves, thyme sprigs, carrot peels, celery and half an onion. While pokes the fish through its back. She follows the spine carefully, the broth comes together – flagrant and agitated, jaunty like the slicing and keeping the fish in a parallel line, she peels the side out water that took her Roger away – Fernanda spikes a hole under and repeats the process a second time. She cuts each fish into six the crab’s flap. Nana killed the crab. She smashes up the shell small pieces and seasons them with salt and pepper. She swipes the with the help of a rolling pin, preserving its juice, working it to a scales and bones that fall on the floor, sticking in-between the tiles, mushy consistency before she draws in another inhale of cigarillo. rendering a melancholic smile on Nana’s face as she remembers her She fries everything in a separate pan, including the crab shell, pours fear of stepping on the flooring’s joints when she was a child. A curse herself another glass of champagne and exhales a thick smoke. Nana for bad luck, she dared think. adds tomatoes, stirs well and leaves the meat to cook on a low heat. The bottle of champagne is finished, and she strains the broth She returns to the parcel from the market and extracts the into a bowl. She rinses the casserole and returns the filtered broth to gurnard and the hake fish, laying them on the chopping board. the boil. What did he remember last? Her research was inconclusive She begins to work meticulously, cleaning, gutting and gilling the about when cerebral activity ceases in the case of drowning. She animals. A stream of cold water runs through the tap. Roger and adds cubed carrots and parsnips to the soup and leaves the vegeta- Fernanda met after-hours at the bar, the years of the yé-yé music, bles to cook until soft, then poaches the fish gently. The testimonies thick and colourful pearl necklaces, bow ties and derby shoes. Nana from Roger’s fellow fishermen about that day’s events summarised cleans the fish, rubbing the inanimate bodies with both her bare as a blur. ‘It all happened so fast’, is what they said. Nana covers the hands, cutting the fins off. They danced all night in silence, eyeing casserole with a lid and allows herself to sit for the first time today. up, before they went fishing the day after, talking from dawn to dusk, ‘The visibility was poor. Water was coming through at port and catching nothing. She scales the animal, holding on to the tail with starboard sides. Signal was lost at 08:42,’ the official statement vigour, scraping with the blunt side of her knife, swiping from tail to reported. At the table, Fernanda crushes a garlic clove with a good head. She repeats the exercise with the second fish. Fernanda never pinch of salt in a mortar. She adds the yolk of one egg and begins to steps back, sliding the tip of her knife into the vent of the fish. Roger beat the preparation until she reaches an emulsion; another shell was renowned for not finishing his sentences, but Nana knew what cracks and she adds the second yolk. She beats faster, beating, he meant to say. She lines the fish, holding gaze, standing firm on her fastening. She pauses. A drop of olive oil and a tear of water; she legs, removing guts and entrails. He loved the ocean more than any- continues to beat until the mixture thickens into an aïoli. She tastes thing else, but her more than anyone else. Both stormy and blue – she and then she adds the juice of half a lemon. can hear him whisper, still. She scoops the fish’s kidney before rinsing the cavity under a continuous stream of calm and clean Dinner is ready. Nana dresses the table with the casserole in the water. He is the one who told her about the winds that rock the coast middle: one bowl on each side, she pours a ladle of fish soup in each, of Vendée, westerly gusts most often, fertile, humid weather as a sprinkle of cayenne pepper, fresh parsley and a spoon of aïoli to serve. a consequence. Fernanda cuts the fish heads, precisely where gills and spines meet, with the delicacy of a woman who handles pins and Smoky, Roger would have commented, after blowing over his first needles. When Roger was still alive, she sewed back his anorak mouthful. Nana is always seen with a cigarillo tucked between her and jumpers with recycled hat ribbons and other materials from her fingers, her yellowing nails and stormy eyes, a broom in the other shop. He stood with impatience while she took his measurements. hand, transforming ashes into ghosts. Regardless of how much aïoli is melted inside, Fernanda’s fish soup tastes of cold fire like a curse. Nana adds the cleaned fish heads and bones to the pan, and she Roger went out to sea every day until the ocean captured him, but smashes them up. She mixes the preparation and transfers it into the Fernanda does not know how to swim. www.harpersbazaar.com/uk September 2022 | HARPER’S BAZAAR | 211



BEAUTY EDITED BY KATY YOUNG Look created using 5 Couleurs Couture eyeshadow palette in Reflexion and Rouge Dior lipstick in Redred Velvet Tulle dress, £780, Dior Go boldly How to master the latest statement make-up styles. Plus, why it’s time for an open conversation about the perimenopause; and our beauty director shares her new must-have products PHOTOGRAPHS BY BETINA DU TOIT

Slow burn oanTf hdCisbhesrerirasys.tioPanen’stebDeriaoPurhtyMiliispaasks,etcuudrpeya,insthisvocewaraslenht o–dwainmtodapcegrirmefescdotnitrh,ebecrficiteokrry look by blending scorching shades across eyes, lips and nails

BEAUTY ‘Tsomaockyheieyev,esetlheectntewwodduiaffle-croelonutr ushnaddoewresyhea,daensdfobrlethnedlwidhaenrde theyftroaumceh.eFyiellsanbdebaruustihfublrloyw’ s to Look created using 5 Couleurs Couture eyeshadow palette in Black Bow and Red Tartan BETINA DU TOIT

‘Cool but classic, this new take on Eighties lmooakk.eB-ulepnisd aneyinestrhigaudionwg uinpwtotoitthhthemebablturteoswrhes,dafinn lidisphfusins’ ge Look created using 5 Couleurs Couture eyeshadow in Red Tartan, Rouge Blush in Poison Matte and Rouge Dior Forever lipstick in Forever Sisterhood BETINA DU TOIT

BEAUTY ca‘Ansvatrsocnregatleipsoansatrnikuidneg ewffeitcht.aKdeeeplicskaintelulmayienrooufs menathteafnoucnedabtrioown,safnodr a strong but natural finish’ Look created using Dior Forever Skin Correct concealer in 1N, Rouge Dior Forever liquid lipstick in Forever Dior and Diorshow On Set Brow brow gel in Brown Wool jacket, £3,200, Dior www.harpersbazaar.com/uk Month 2022 | HARPER’S BAZAAR | 217

BEAUTY ha‘Trmheomnoitotouhsesrheaisdes www.harpersbazaar.com/uk taenxtdurceosm: tpryleamwenatarmry brolawshnesshaanddowa,fbierircck-ered scarlet on the lips’ Look created using Dior Forever Skin Glow Foundation in 1.5N and Rouge Dior Forever lipstick in Forever Night Sheer fabric, stylist’s own 218 | HARPER’S BAZAAR | September 2022

‘A matching lip and nail sctaynlaebn.edJutsshetepxpayiinrenwyaeicthsle’ soofft Look created using Rouge Dior Forever lipstick in Forever Unapologetic and Dior Vernis nail polish in Rosewoodrose Lace jumper, £1,600, Dior BETINA DU TOIT

BEAUTY ‘Contemporary but rormetraon, roticck: ’n’ roll yet this vintage look updated with a matte red lip ticks all the boxes’ Look created using Dior Forever Skin Correct concealer in 1N and Rouge Dior Forever lipstick in Forever Sisterhood MAKE-UP BY PETER PHILIPS, CREATIVE AND IMAGE DIRECTOR FOR DIOR MAKEUP, USING ROUGE DIOR FOREVER STICK. STYLED BY TANIA RAT-PATRON. HAIR BY SEBASTIEN BASCLE AT CALLISTE AGENCY. MANICURE BY SOPHIE A AT CALLISTE AGENCY, USING DIOR BEAUTY. MODEL: DEIRDRE FIRINNE AT VIVA 220 | HARPER’S BAZAAR | September 2022 www.harpersbazaar.com/uk

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BEAUTY Cycleof life But apsesrhiFmeoedrniKsocapotayvueYsroes,usbneregema, ckeoidnngfdratohunentittniangbgot.hoe is key to navigating this momentous change with grace and equanimity THE SAYING GOES THAT TIME, AS to the possibility that the symptoms I have it grows old, teaches all things. But as I been occasionally experiencing – brain fog, approach my 45th year, I feel none the wiser hot flushes, anxiety – could be anything about the perimenopause and its inevitable other than a result of the hormonal fluctua- onset. When I was asked if I would like tions triggered by breastfeeding. Though to write this piece, I was initially reluctant. my situation is unique, the diagnostic chal- What would I know about this stage of life? lenges I am facing are common to many I have a bouncing 14-month-old toddler, women of my age. ‘Recognising the signs of am still breastfeeding, and feel mostly as perimenopause can be a grey area, as indi- hale and hearty as I did in my thirties. For vidual hormonal patterns make everyone’s now at least, the prospect of going through experiences so different,’ says Campbell. the menopause seems remote. The perimenopause can also be a pain- Yet as the nutritionist Pippa Campbell fully prolonged process, as the oestrogen explains, having a better understanding of and progesterone hormones constantly how my body may change over the coming rise and fall before their final descent into decade can only be beneficial. ‘The peri- the menopause, when the cycle stops for menopause can come on 10 to 15 years good. Dr Wendy Denning, a GP at the before the menopause, so it’s likely that your Health Doctors, explains that prescribing hormones are already changing,’ she says. hormone-replacement therapy (HRT) for ‘But for a lot of women, it doesn’t even cross perimenopausal women can involve com- their mind, particularly if, like you, they have plex medical decisions. ‘The menopause is had babies later in life, as they simply put all relatively easy to manage, as hormone levels the changes down to being post-partum.’ flatten, so I only need to see women once Admittedly, I hadn’t even given a thought a year,’ she says. ‘During the perimenopause, however, hormone levels fluctuate a lot; you might get hot flushes and night sweats one month and nothing the next, which is why I would need to see you every two months. It’s like hormonal coaching.’ In the early stages of perimenopause, progesterone, usually present in the second September 2022 | HARPER’S BAZAAR | 223

half of the cycle, begins to fall. ‘This can lead children later in life can go into the meno- WELLBEING to anxiety, worsening PMS, breast tender- pause quite quickly afterwards,’ Campbell NOTES ness, palpitations, frequent migraines, night warns. While I will need to wait until I have sweats, cloudy thinking and insomnia,’ says stopped breastfeeding to undergo testing, Expert tips to ease your transition Dr Rebecca Poet, a clinician at the Women’s I can focus on managing my stress levels – through the perimenopause Hormone Clinic. ‘As perimenopause pro- something all practitioners will advise. gresses, oestrogen can start to rise, up to ‘Treatments including acupuncture and FOR SLEEP three times higher than is typical, provoking herbal medicine can be very helpful,’ notes symptoms including irritability, breast pain Denning. The problem is that the adrenal ‘For those experiencing insomnia, massages can and heavy periods. Oestrogen levels can also gland responsible for cortisol, the fight-or- directly influence the body’s production of fluctuate wildly, causing hot flushes, sweats, flight hormone that is released when we are palpitations, mood swings and weight gain under pressure, also produces progesterone, serotonin and melatonin, both of which are needed as we become sensitive to insulin. There and during stressful times will always to promote a good night’s rest.’ may be a change in our periods too.’ choose life over fertility. ‘It’s why people Sarah Dewey, massage therapist who have had generally non-stressful lives Given all this, it is hardly surprising to will have an easier time, as they approach FOR SKIN learn that, until the official medical term was the menopause with more reserves.’ coined by a physician in 1821, the meno- ‘If you suffer from dry skin, be sure to add hydrating, pause was known as ‘women’s hell’ – but Massages and other therapeutic treat- lipid-rich skincare to your routine. Avoid hot it doesn’t have to be this way. ‘Talking ments can help, as can healthy eating. about the perimenopause isn’t about fear- Campbell advises her clients to follow a diet showers, and eat an anti-inflammatory diet, with mongering,’ says Campbell. ‘The point is rich in good protein, such as organic meat plenty of olive oil and leafy green vegetables.’ that, if you catch those subtle changes early, and fish, and dark cruciferous vegetables to you can manage the transition beautifully.’ flush used progesterone from the system. Dr Usman Qureshi, wellness doctor and founder of We would also do well to top up with green Luxe Skin The first step after experiencing symp- powders – look for iodine to support the toms is to see your GP to request hormonal thyroid, spirulina for bone health and tur- FOR THE BODY testing. Be aware that the UK’s clinical meric for achy joints – while prebiotics and guidelines stipulate that after women have probiotics will strengthen the gut. To rebal- ‘The main goal of exercising at this stage in your life reached the menopause (defined as going 12 ance blood sugars, Campbell warns against is to counteract insulin sensitivity and reduce months without a period), testing is no intermittent fasting and alcohol, both of longer required, so seeking medical help in which put pressure on your system at a time inflammation. Strength training can also prevent the interim stage is crucial for accessing when insulin resistance is already increased. hot flushes and improve brain functioning.’ treatment. The gold standard is to get blood Dr Rebecca Poet, clinician, the Women’s tests on day 21 of your cycle to measure pro- While these hormonal changes and Hormone Clinic gesterone levels; more detailed still is the their potential effects may seem intimida- 28-day Dutch urine test, which tracks your ting, the experts I spoke to all agreed that FOR THE MIND hormonal patterns throughout the month, the perimenopause need not be a time for though this is not yet available on the NHS. suffering in silence. Rather, their goal was ‘Keep a journal: write down what you are grateful to ignite a conversation that would prompt for and what you want tomorrow to hold. This stage It is perfectly possible to have regular women who might otherwise be caught of life should be about stepping up, not fading away.’ periods or get pregnant while experiencing up in their careers and family to focus on the perimenopause, so this should not pre- their own wellbeing – an ethos that I fully Rebekah Brown, founder of MPowder clude eligibility for hormone checks even for intend to embrace. someone like me. ‘Plus, women who have FOR WELLBEING ‘Do explore holistic medicine; both acupuncture and herbal treatments can be extremely helpful for relieving symptoms of perimenopause.’ Dr Wendy Denning, GP and functional doctor LITTLE HELPERS The supplements, oils and vitamins to keep you feeling your best Pippa Campbell Neal’s Yard Remedies The Nue Co. Debloat Beauty Pie Ingenious Beauty PHOTOGRAPHS: TRUNK ARCHIVE Balance Supplements, to Roll Women’s Food + Prebiotic, Like Sun Vitamin D3 Supplements, Balance, £8 £28 £60 £41.85 with K2, £40 www.harpersbazaar.com/uk 224 | HARPER’S BAZAAR | September 2022

BEAUTY

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ESCAPE EDITED BY HELENA LEE DOING THE CONTINENTAL An haute couture stay in Dior’s Paris flagship. Plus, our pick of the finest European hotels by the water; island splendour in Ischia; and an insider’s guide to Milan PHOTOGRAPH: © ASSOCIATION WILLY MAYWALD/ADAGP, PARIS, 2022 Christian Dior in about 1949 at his brand’s HQ, now also home to an exclusive suite and apartment

ESCAPE Below: the Diorama display at La Galerie Dior. Right: the library of Suite Dior 30 Montaigne MY GRANDMOTHER HILARY WAS AN ENDLESS A night PHOTOGRAPHS: © KRISTEN PELOU, © PIERRE MOUTON, © PHILIPPE LE TELLIER source of bedtime stories. When she ran out of inventing fantasies with Dior & PARIS MATCH, SCOOP/COURTESY OF DIOR about me as the naughtiest pupil at school, she would dish up vignettes from her career as a fashion artist for magazines and news- Lydia Slater savours a fairy-tale stay in the papers. I particularly loved her tales of the Dior shows at Avenue lavish apartment at 30 Avenue Montaigne Montaigne in Paris: the scents wafting in the air, the haughty ‘model girls’ – Victoire, France, Svetlana – threading their way through the fur-coated audience crammed on the grand staircase, while my grandmother perched on a tiny gilded chair, sketching feverishly to capture every detail of the sleeves, buttons and pleating. Once, when she turned up unexpectedly and no model was available, she made my mortified mother, then a gawky 14-year-old, pose for her in a full-skirted frock, barely visible beneath an enormous hat. So 30 Avenue Montaigne has always had a romantic ring; but I never expected to spend the night there. After all, even Christian Dior took himself off at the end of the working day. But as part of the two-year revamp of Dior’s historic headquarters, overseen by the architect Peter Marino, alongside a museum, a res- taurant, a pâtisserie, internal and external gardens, the haute couture salon and space to display all the current collections, a luxurious apartment for two has been added, initially for the delectation of top private clients, but now for anyone with the resources to pay for it. The sheer glamour of the experience begins at the front door, where you are waved in through the original entrance and whisked up by the butler in a lift adorned by the British artist Sophie Coryndon to look as if it has been hand-embroidered in gilt thread. 230 | HARPER’S BAZAAR | September 2022 www.harpersbazaar.com/uk

Inside, the vibrant decor of the enormous suite offers a pleasing By now, the last customer had left, and 30 Avenue Montaigne was contrast to the pale serenity of the store. Chromatic modern art hangs on the walls, the sofas are stripy, the Yves Klein coffee table ours alone. Dizzy with champagne and excitement, we roamed its glitters with gold leaf, and the dining-room is panelled in hamm- ered silver. To enhance the atmosphere of relaxed opulence, guests airy halls and indoor gardens, perused the homewares, fingered the are encouraged to make personal requests; for me, that meant lavender-stuffed pillows on the bed, Twinings tea bags in the cup- It-bags, tried on the shoes, and several of us invested in the sun- board, Diorissimo scent on the dressing table and Taittinger in the fridge. Even the bathrobes and slippers had been sized to fit perfectly glasses… Guests at the Suite can shop all night, if they so choose, – a new experience for my husband Richard, whose size 12 feet must normally go unshod in a hotel bathroom. and indeed some do, but we had dinner in the private salon to look Tempting though it was to snuggle down into our ineffably forward to. This is a space where Monsieur Dior used to entertain chic home-from-home, we wanted to explore the myriad other amenities offered only to those staying in La Suite Dior. So while and is furnished as he had it; we were asked not to take photographs, our affable majordomo Clément Chapron oversaw our unpacking, and had some splashes removed from Richard’s tennis shoes, we set but I retain an impression of exquisitely moulded walls hung with off for a private tour of the haute couture salons. It was a rare oppor- tunity to admire the exquisitely beaded and pleated creations of art, sparkling chandeliers, rococo candelabra and a dining table Dior’s creative director Maria Grazia Chiuri in close-up. (I noted with approval how many of them had proper pockets.) From there, adorned with full-blown peonies. From a menu that had included we were escorted behind the scenes into the ateliers themselves, where the white-clad seamstresses (known as les petites mains) beef fillet ‘Fashion Show’ and a soup named after Christian Dior’s worked in silent concentration on masterpieces of wearable art: one young woman steaming fine pleats into a Grecian-style bridal beloved home, La Colle Noire, I had chosen simpler options: crab gown, another fitting a lace sleeve to a couture creation, while in the tailoring rooms, two more deliberated earnestly as they pinned and avocado with grapefruit, then roasted poularde with pommes together a Bar jacket, made to its 1940s specifications with extravagant hidden hip pads. The corridors were lined with tailor’s Anna, culminating in chocolate profiteroles that arrived, in my case, dummies, each individually wadded to reflect the precise measure- ments of every private client; it was refreshing and instructive to with a celebratory birthday candle to blow out. see the extraordinary variation in the feminine physique. Clearly, Dior is not a brand reserved for the size-zero contingent; which is It was past midnight; but there was one final treat in store. While fortunate, given that the in-house dining is supervised by Paris’ most fashionable chef, Jean Imbert. our guests were ushered out, Richard and I made our way up the The evening of our stay was my birthday, so I had invited a few fabled staircase that my grandmother knew so well, and out onto friends over to share a little of the experience. They marvelled at the sumptuous dressing-room and the mirrored bathroom with a private formal garden. There, a pair of astronomers were waiting its ‘his and hers’ cosmetic fridges, while Clément kept the cham- pagne flowing, and the kitchen sent up hot silver dishes of truffled to show us the stars twinkling unseen above the City of Light. It was, croque monsieurs that disappeared with embarrassing speed. famously, finding a lucky star on the pavement that first motivated Suitably refreshed, we were escorted the superstitious Christian Dior to found his couture house on this to La Galerie Dior, a permanent instal- lation dedicated to celebrating the spot; and as I stood in the perfumed darkness and gazed through the maison’s design heritage, inspired by the V&A’s record-breaking ‘Christian telescope at a distant galaxy, I felt sure Dior: Designer of Dreams’ exhibition. The bedroom at La Suite that he would have approved. During the day, the entrance queue Dior. Right: the marble La Suite Dior enquiries should be made at stretches around the block, but we had House of Dior, 160–162 New Bond Street, the place to ourselves, and wandered bathroom. Top: Christian London W1. slowly through the decades, from the Dior leaving 30 Avenue 1947 New Look to the present day, Montaigne, October 1957 taking in an enchanted garden of floral designs, a celebration of the maison’s artistic connections, Christian Dior’s study, the models’ original cabine and an enormous ballroom peopled with mannequins in spectacular gowns that left us gasping. The tour concluded with a descent down the Diorama – a spiral staircase running the height of the building, lined with miniature dresses and accessories printed in graduated rainbow shades, that has become Instagram catnip. www.harpersbazaar.com/uk

La grande bellezza Frances Hedges finds herself seduced by Ischia’s dramatic volcanic landscape, majestic mediaeval fortifications and hidden horticultural wonders THERE’S SOMETHING THRILLING The island about arriving at a new place by boat: you of Procida catch sight of your destination from afar and watch it gradually emerge into your vision, Ischia’s volcanic soil has another advan- by the hotel and run by a charming local anticipation building as the details of the tage: it lends itself perfectly to viticulture, couple (Michele the maître d’ and Lucia the landscape reveal themselves before you. with the island’s white wines frequently sommelier) whose culinary CVs include Such was our experience when we sped named among the best in Italy. We sampled stints working in the kitchens of Angela across the water by hydrofoil from the the creamy Crateca Biancolella and the Hartnett and José Pizarro. It serves port of Naples, bound for the steep, rugged fresh, fruity Crateca Rosato, both from a menu of dishes drawing on the Campania glory of Ischia. First to materialise was the a small vineyard just a few kilometres south region’s finest produce: a salad of sweet imposing form of the mediaeval Aragonese of San Montano, alongside dinner one night Datterini tomatoes, a hearty stew of freshly Castle, perched strategically at the highest at O’Pignatello. This lively bistro situated in caught seafood, and an elegant dessert of point of a craggy islet connected to the main the nearby town of Lacco Ameno is owned pear, ricotta and dark chocolate. island by a long causeway. Then, as we approached the coast, church domes and spires came into focus one by one, specks of colour decorating hillsides carpeted with palms, pines and olive-trees, while dramatic rock formations sprang up almost vertically from the turquoise sea beneath. Larger than its neighbour Capri, but not quite as chi-chi, Ischia has traditionally been more popular among Italian tourists than with international visitors, though its prom- inence as a setting in Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan novels has helped draw new audiences. A volcanic island, it has a long history as a spa destination, with a host of health retreats harnessing the benefits of the mineral-rich natural springs dotted through its valleys and bays. My fiancé and I were staying at the San Montano Resort & Spa, a hilltop haven on the northern coast that is home to five thermal pools – some shallow enough for our toddler to splash about in, others ideal for shaking off the stresses of parenthood with long, luxurious laps. There was succour to be found in the Ocean Blue spa, where I was treated to a massage using lemons picked from the resort’s fragrant citrus grove, followed by a restorative visit to the Turkish bath and sauna. 232 | HARPER’S BAZAAR | September 2022 www.harpersbazaar.com/uk

ESCAPE The castle Though we could happily have occup- of Aragonese ied ourselves for several days alternating gelato-punctuated strolls in Lacco Ameno on Ischia with sunbathing sessions, the attractions of the island were calling us. High on our list PHOTOGRAPHS: GETTY IMAGES, GIANNI DI NATALE, was a visit to the Giardini La Mortella in San Montano NATI MELNYCHUK/UNSPLASH Forio, a private garden built into a gorge Resort & Spa by Susana Walton, the Argentinian wife of the English composer William Walton (best The Postman are just three of the movies that known for writing the Queen’s coronation have been made here). We were escorted anthems), after the couple came to live on over to this compact paradise, whose the island in the 1950s. Susana enlisted the 10,500-strong population has its roots in the help of the landscape architect Russell Page still-flourishing fishing industry, on board to create a horticultural sanctuary on two San Montano’s private boat, accompanied levels, the lower dedicated to subtropical by an expert guide from the region. On planting – ferns, geraniums and ginkgo arrival, our meanderings led us through the bilobatrees–andtheuppertoMediterranean cobbled streets of Marina Corricella, then species. Among her most fantastical flour- up to the mediaeval stronghold of Terra ishes are a temple filled with bas-reliefs Murata; here our daughter happily ran riot depicting the cycle of life, a ‘crocodile pool’ amid the crumbling fortifications. A prime designed to lure visitors to the highest point spot for admiring the panoramic views, this of the garden (only for them to discover that part of the island is now also a thriving cul- the reptile in question is actually made of tural centre, where a 16th-century palace bronze) and an ancient-Greek-style amphi- that was used as a prison from 1830 until as theatre built into the mountainside. Today, recently as the 1980s has been given a new this has been transformed into the venue for lease of life as a contemporary-art gallery. a series of open-air summer concerts that can seat up to 400 people, keeping the Giardini’s The next day, as we lingered over cap- musical heritage alive for a new generation. puccinos, reluctant to leave behind Ischia’s serene beauty, we were reminded of the Another ambitious regeneration pro- poetry of WH Auden, who spent nearly gramme is taking place over the water a decade’s worth of summers here in the in Procida, the smallest and most untouched mid-20th century. ‘My thanks are for you, of the three Neapolitan islands, this year Ischia,/to whom a fair wind has/brought named Italy’s capital of culture. If Capri is me rejoicing with dear friends/from soiled Ischia’s glamorous younger sister, Procida productive cities,’ he wrote in a 1948 ode is its unassuming twin: it has very few hotels, to the island. Though we were shortly to let alone any delivering five-star luxury, yet its resume our busy urban lives, we knew that, pastel-hued coastline, reminiscent of picture- like Auden, we would surely return another perfect Positano, has long been a source of year to see Ischia rise up out of the water inspiration to filmmakers (Cleopatra, The and welcome us onto its shores once again. Talented Mr Ripley and the Italian classic San Montano Resort & Spa, from about £380 a double room a night, including breakfast Giardini La (www.sanmontano.com). Mortella If Capri is Ischia’s glamorous younger sister, Procida is its unassuming twin September 2022 | HARPER’S BAZAAR | 233

SOURCE OF HAPPINESS From river’s edge to rocky coast, find restorative tranquillity and unmatched elegance at these European hotels by the water OAKLEY COURT BERKSHIRE, ENGLAND Just an hour’s drive from London, on the banks of the Thames, stands a Victorian gothic pile that the creative director Alex Eagle has transformed into a destination hotel. Decorated with mid-century furniture and original artworks, Oakley Court is home to a spa, tennis courts and an outpost of Eagle’s own concept store. Take a boat trip along the river from the hotel’s private dock or explore the Thames Path by bicycle, before returning to sample the execu- tive chef Shimizu Akira’s omakase tasting menu. Oakley Court (www.oakleycourt.co.uk), from £325 a person a night. ANDRONIS ARCADIA SANTORINI, GREECE PHOTOGRAPHS: TRYFON GEORGOPOULOS, RICHARD HAUGHTON, ALIXE LAY Named after the home of the Greek god Pan, Andronis Arcadia is a retreat in the northwestern village of Oia. The hotel’s 52 Aegean www.harpersbazaar.com/uk Sea-facing suites are furnished with locally woven rugs and baskets, handmade ceramics and wicker chairs, and each has its own private terrace and heated plunge pool, providing an idyllic spot for taking in the island’s sunsets with a champagne cocktail in hand. Come nightfall, book a table at Lauda – the oldest restaurant in Oia – on Main Street, overlooking the caldera, for a traditional menu of lobster kakavia soup, smoked onion with feta, and apricot yoghurt mousse. Andronis Arcadia (www.andronis.com), from about £575 a room a night. 234 | HARPER’S BAZAAR | September 2022

ESCAPE THE MAYBOURNE RIVIERA PROVENCE, FRANCE The Côte d’Azur is hardly short of glit- tering hotels, but the latest outpost from the owners of Claridge’s is a jewel along its shores. This breezy French debut has a cliff-top location and unmatchable views of saturated sunsets that illuminate Monaco beneath. On entering the dram- atic and clean-lined building, you are greeted by dazzling contemporary art and design, including a Louise Bourgeois sculpture and striking Lalique panelling on the door to the fumoir. As is to be expected, the food is an attraction in itself: sample the truffle pizza at Jean-Georges Vongerichten’s Pool Bar, or head to Mauro Colagreco’s top-floor restaurant, Ceto, for a modern take on Mediterranean classics. The Maybourne Riviera (www.maybourneriviera.com), about £1,035 a room a night. BAHÍA DEL DUQUE TENERIFE, SPAIN Overlooking Costa Adeje’s loveliest beach, Bahía del Duque is a gem on the Tenerife coast, with 346 rooms and 40 airy villas that come with private pools and round-the-clock butler service. There are nine restaurants to choose from – we recommend the Michelin- starred Nub, which serves creative dishes blending Mediterranean and Latin-American influences, or the Japanese cuisine at Kensei. By day, take advantage of the hammams and outdoor massage cabanas at the spa; and as dusk falls, visit the obser- vatory to get closer to the wondrous night sky. Bahía del Duque (www.thetaishotels. com), from £190 a night a person based on two people sharing for a week with Sovereign Luxury Travel. VILLA DUBROVNIK DUBROVNIK, CROATIA Built into the rocky cliffs that define the dramatic Dalmatian coast, the sail-white Villa Dubrovnik is a short walk from the drawbridge of the Ploce Gate, one of the entrances to the historic walled city. The hotel’s Mediterranean restaurant, Pjerin, is the perfect viewpoint from which to watch the sun hit the horizon while you gaze at Lokrum, an islet and nature reserve perched in the Adriatic Sea. Unwind in the pristine spa with a treatment from Sodashi, the Australian natural-beauty brand, or take a com- plimentary speedboat into the Old Town, departing from the hotel’s private jetty. Villa Dubrovnik (www.villa-dubrovnik.hr), from £325 a room a night. www.harpersbazaar.com/uk