For the second Hautelist Xmas Special, we’re focusing on the Globe Trotters… those perennial travellers who are always off somewhere hot and exotic (grr!) – so if your present list includes anyone who loves a vay-cay, here’s an opportunity to make their journeys a little more glamorous. Check out our top Christmas picks here… (more…)
Gallivant; verb: to roam around in search of pleasure or amusement, often in search of food.
We were certainly hunting for a weekend retreat, somewhere not too far from London with good food and some nice scenery to literally gallivant around. We stumbled upon The Gallivant, a shabby chic boutique hotel which boasted a 2 minute stroll from the beach dunes of the Camber Sands. It was pretty reasonable too considering the location, and the prospect of roaming around on the vast golden beaches in the sunshine ticked a few more boxes! (more…)
It’s nearing the end of the summer; September in all of its pre-autumnal glory has hit and you’ve still not taken a break. You’re more burnt out than burnt ends and your brain has started to resemble a sieve. What’s a girl to do? Hit the beach, that’s what.
So, off we did trot to Quinta do Lago, a gorgeous Portuguese sanctuary just 20 minutes outside of Faro. We wanted to visit somewhere new, and the promise of early September sunshine, teamed with a short-haul flight, ticked the requisite boxes. We weren’t disappointed.
Cala Conills is my favourite restaurant on the island of Mallorca, found in the small town of Sant Elm. It is carved into the rocks by the sea and looks out onto an island affectionately called “la dragonella” by locals as it looks like a huge dormant dragon who is snoozing in the turquoise waters. Mermaid tendencies are instantly in overdrive.
The last time I had visited the Ancient City was exactly 10 years ago in 2004 on a break with Jodie. My memories of that trip include gelato for almost every meal, fresh strawberries with lemon and sugar (from McD’s! We were on a budget…), the Diesel store where we invested in our first pair of jeans that weren’t Miss Sixty’s (with those covetable poppers down the sides) or Lois bootlegs, and vague flashbacks of us standing on the top of the Spanish Steps taking photos on very chunky cameras or reading books in the middle of St Peters piazza in the Vatican. (more…)