Straight and narrow

The title of this post has very little to do with the way I conduct my life, if I can help it, but more about the pretty red-flowering hedges and the hanging bougainvillea in the water garden next door, which we overlook from our balcony.

The tranquil image is somewhat diminished this evening by the preparations for a party in the vicinity, which would certainly drive me to drink, if I was attending in person. Instead I shall just have to look down on it, (appropriately enough) and if I sit on the balcony, wear earplugs when the singer begins her wailing.

This afternoon I was exercising vigorously in the gym, which overlooks our pool, and watching one of the maids sweep up the leaves which have been providing a steady shower with the breezy days we have been experiencing in Bangkok. She was also lining up the chaises longue, but appeared to be making a horlicks of that. So I lent my (verbal) assistance, to ensure that there was parallel parking, and indeed that each was equally spaced, an issue she had no problem in achieving for herself. 

Straight (placement) and narrow (gaps).

Gilt trip

I'm having a distinct craving for giltwood. Not quite on the scale of the furniture in the White Drawing Room at Buckingham Palace, but more the judicious use on a limited scale, such as that seen in Gervais de Bédée's post, where antique giltwood fauteuils are placed within a modern setting.

In both cases the use of one colour for the fabric on the furniture enhances its beauty. And white goes particularly well with gold. Despite its name, the White Drawing Room's furniture fabric is predominantly gold. 

This large stool is for sale at auction at Sheppards Irish Auction House in Durrow, Ireland.

But these Chinese pieces prove that the gilt works perfectly with the turquoise blue of the foo dogs, (sold recently in England for GBP1,200) or the red of the altar piece, which graces my table in the hall, and seems to have been designed with some of my collection of netsuke in mind. 

The danger of course with giltwood furniture is that it is beloved by many with money but no taste, and there are plenty of hideous examples of reproduction pieces which would make me shriek in horror. Like so many design schemes, less is very often better.

The image of the White Drawing Room is from the British Monarchy website; others where attributed.

Puddle

Maurits Cornelis ("MC") Escher (Dutch, 1898-1972), "Modderplas (Puddle)," 1952, color woodcut, signed "M.C. Escher" in pencil lower left, inscribed "Eigendruk" in pencil lower right, impression: 9.4"h x 12.6"w (23.8cm x 32cm), paper (overall unframed): 11.2"h x 14.5"w, Ref: Bool, 378. Provenance: Napa, California collection, Property of Dr. Giles W. Mead Jr. (Director, Los Angeles County Nautical History Museum).

This rather brilliant woodcut was for sale at Clars Auction Gallery in Oakland, CA and was estimated at USD20-40,000 and achieved USD15,000. Despite the rather heady estimate and price achieved, it is a fine piece.

We authors, Ma'am

This rather unassuming book with its stylised VA on the cover, is a copy of

Leaves from the Journal of Our Life in the Highlands

written by a lady known less for her literary works and more for a name that she gave to an era.

Queen Victoria. 

I purchased this book at auction because it is a signed copy, dated 1868. One of Victoria's favourite Prime Ministers who knew how to flatter, referenced the Queen's writing with his own, by beginning a sentence, "We authors, Ma'am...", which worked like a charm. He was of course Benjamin Disraeli. Disraeli further flattered Victoria by creating her Empress of India, so that she and subsequent monarchs until India's independence in 1947, signed their names RI. This signature predates the imperial title and is therefore only Victoria R.

Name changer

Whilst flicking through the duty free magazine on my flight from Saigon I noticed this advert for an eau de toilette from Hermès.

It's perhaps not the name I would have chosen, but I suspect it was the easily trips off the tongue qualities that appealed to the copywriters. Anyway, between that, and the coffee brand's name, there was a bombardment of double entendres. Or I just have an overactive imagination when it comes to word play.

The daily grind

Our days begin with a cocktail. But an unadulterated one of carrots, apples, celery and ginger, juiced to a delicious orange glass of joy. Those observant amongst you will notice the rather later hour than one might associate with leading such a pure life. But normally I am doing this an hour earlier. On either occasion, I am not up with the sparrows. If we're swimming or gym-ing in the morning this activity follows after drinking the juice, and then the remainder of breakfast, either mango or cereal, is consumed thereafter.

That itself is followed by the one and only cup of coffee. Vietnam produces some delightful varieties, and we stocked up on a few kilos of it whilst we were there, and is best when freshly ground. The coffee is good, but it would almost be worth buying it for the name of the shop alone, in the hope that it provided a boost to do just that. I can certainly attest to the fact that caffeine gives one an extra boost to taking exercise, when I have drunk it after lunch and prior to exercising in the afternoon.

But I digress. I cannot more highly recommend the benefits of making this combination of juice in the mornings. It is a bit of a pallaver, but I have the contents washed prior to going in the fridge, (it tastes so much better cold, and this is enhanced by having the glasses chilled in the freezer), and as I'm responsible for cutting up the ingredients and juicing, I am excused cleaning duty, which my partner does dilligently. But all this, however mundane, does provide a structure for the day, which along with exercise, I find an essential requirement to the success of "retirement".

Bleeding hearts

I have quite unashamedly lifted this photo within this series of photos from the Telegraph. 

I also think some of the bridesmaids costumes are particularly fetching. But perhaps this one takes the Michael more than most:

wherein the co-ordination between dresses and curtains follows the very best possible advice.

From a monkey.

If memory serves...

This morning I received a thank you email from my father for a card similar to these, of a Vietnamese girl riding her bike wearing the traditional ao dai. He remarked that he wished he could have accompanied us on our recent trip to Saigon, but alas age (he's nearly 88) prevents him travelling to even places within the village where he lives. "I have always wanted to see these beautiful Annamese girls riding their bicycles so gracefully in their elegant native dress." My father's interest in the beauty of the fairer sex has not yet deserted him. Nor indeed has his encyclopedic brain. In my ignorance I thought he might have mistyped Vietnamese, but no, of course he is still right. I looked it up and it is now linked, as above.

Conversely, by a series of memory lapses by various people, there was a complete balls up, to use the technical term, about a fabric samples book here at the palace, travelling as it did from room to lobby to room and really having a jolly good time of itself, which has now been satisfactorily resolved, but perhaps more attributed to lack of co-ordination on top of memory lapses, (myself included), although I'm only admitting the latter grudgingly, and in the spirit of egalitarianism, (which is of course very foolish).

Hissing and slithering

Whilst in Saigon the city was preparing itself for Tết, (the lunar new year), erecting illuminated flowers over some of the central roads, or bedecking the columns of shopping malls with peony patterned wallcoverings

or completely covering a capitalist institution with a communistic colour

or having photographs taken in front of the French colonial style city hall, with a statue of Uncle Ho with a youngster on his knee 

and real life youngsters being rewarded for their endeavours with an ice cream.

The snake is on its way, replacing the gnarly dragon. Thailand has many of Chinese origin, so it is a huge celebration here, (not to be confused with the new year on the first of January, or the Thai new year in mid-April). But as it's more open for business as usual here, it is a popular destination for those in the Chinese dominated region, and we alone have friends from Singapore, Hong Kong and Vietnam visiting.

The ties that bind

Canal through the park, 1978

by Felix Kelly

Sold by Artcurial, Paris for EUR6,800

When I first saw this picture last week on the auction site, (from whence this image comes), the estimate was about EUR500 and the starting price about EUR350.

I knew from a similar work sold at an auction at Christie's in London which I attended that it would in all likelihood fetch considerably more. I knew of the artist because a friend of mine owned two, which he bought when we both lived in Hong Kong in the 1990s.

The picture immediately made me think of this friend, with whom I had recently been in touch, after a long period of estrangement. I contacted him in December because I learned that he had recently had a stroke and was in poor health, and we began a brief period of correspondence, discussing amongst other things art and pictures that I thought might make his life a bit more interesting, as he was now immobile and reliant on a friend and a nurse to go about normal daily activities.

I last wrote to him, (we used fax because he never mastered the computer), on Christmas Day to wish him a pleasant day, (however unlikely that might have been, given his condition). I never heard back, but nor did I expect to, because I knew it was an enormous effort, and required assistance. When I saw the Kelly picture last week I was about to write again to mention it, the mispricing, and how I remembered his own two. I never did get around to that.

This morning I received an email from a mutual friend who lives in New Zealand to tell me that he had died yesterday morning, in his flat in London. The picture sold in Paris yesterday.

Felix Kelly painted this picture in Auckland.

I have mixed emotions. I am relieved that he no longer suffers the indignity that can burden the victim of a severe stroke, and I feel hugely glad that we reconnected, however briefly, before he died. I think the picture was a message to confirm that.

Calm, cám ơn

It was pleasantly reassuring that what attracted us to the Park Hyatt Saigon when it originally opened and on subsequent visits remained pretty much in evidence upon our return again. The city has gone mad with construction, some of it good, and some of it not. But the manicured strip of lawn outside the hotel's front

is repeated by the poolside, seen from our room. This was a strategically important view, in that it allowed us to check whether the pool was being used, and if not, as was the case every morning before ten, we hot-footed it down to plough through 60 lengths. Doing so meant missing breakfast, but as we discovered L'Usine, this proved to be a delightful alternative, which much better suited our schedule. 

The Lobby Lounge is a rather gracious affair

and is adjacent to the front entrance, beyond which is one of the restaurants, with its glass-shelved wall which doubles as a wine rack.

And the Reception desk is discreetly position behind pillars opposite the entrance. The entire public areas are adorned with rather good pictures, both oils by Vietnamese artists and old photographs of Saigon and Indochina, and some pretty passable European and Chinoiserie style furniture.

Shoe business

During our recent Saigonese trip every evening before we dined, and sometimes if we'd had one, after a siesta, we would call our butler to bring ice for the cocktail hour, and to have our shoes polished. Initially this was a rather elaborate performance, with the first time involving the ice bucket being filled and being laid out on a tray near the glasses and the fridge, and shoes

appearing in a wicker basket that had seen better days, but none the less

noteworthy for the ritual. As our stay progressed this protocol slipped somewhat, until finally the shoes and the filled ice bucket were handed over at the door. This could have been because it all happened during the cocktail/evening/bath/time period and the butler realised his need to come into the room was more of an inconvenience than a service. After all, I wasn't at home where my own trusted valet comes and goes as I sup on an aperitif and dress at the same time, ably assisted by him with studs for my collar and cuff links for well, my cuffs, (I've been watching too much Downtown as you can see).

But it brings me to a point, and that is, why do hotels' "turn down service" always occur at around 6.30pm, when any civilised people are doing exactly what I've described? Of course I politely send them away at that time, and ring for that service to take place as I'm leaving my room on my way to dinner. Turn up to turn down, when I need you. The lady's not for turning etc. Elementary my dear Bates.

Buoyancy

I am grateful to Reggie Darling's post and this picture, above in particular, which he has kindly given me permission to use. It brought to my attention the Christie's New York sale which included some China Trade pictures, which I had overlooked,

and in particular this scene of Singapore, which was estimated at between USD25-40,000 and which achieved a very bullish USD86,500. I have recently purchased an iconic scene of Victoria Harbour, (Hong Kong), so it is always pleasing to see that I have probably managed to get it at a rather good price. The Singapore picture would have made a nice companion, as they are almost identical in size, and both have the traditional and similar blackwood carved frames, and date from the 1860s. That I have lived in both cities during their days as part of the British Empire was an added incentive.

But as it happens, I was thinking about two pictures that I had seen at a gallery in Saigon,

by the Vietnamese artist Bui Tien Tuan. The glazing makes them rather difficult to see, but they are acrylic on silk, and had both a Japanese and Toulouse-Lautrec quality that appealed to me, (particularly the second one). Unfortunately the price was far too much in my opinion, probably buoyed by a visit to the gallery by the Clintons, which has immediately added an unwelcome premium to anything they are selling, (even if the Clintons did not buy this artist's work).