Jim Mitchell's Summer Abroad

September 11, 2013, 6:24 am

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The Grand Canal in Venice.

My friend Jim Mitchell, a veteran New York publicist of the international jet set since just about its “inception” (in the international press), always spends part of his summers abroad, in Venice, Morocco, the South of France and then back home in Newport. It is a world and way of life that follows literally in the footsteps of those who dwelled in the photographs we've published in Augustus Mayhew’s serial chronicle of Ellen Ordway’s photographs on these pages in all 26 chapters. It was, and remains for some, a world in which the word “luxury” defined its essence, and without a price tag attached. Last June when Jim told me he was spending a good part of the summer in Europe, I asked him if he’d take some notes and some photos of his travels for us. These are his notes and photos, taken by the hand and eyes of the man who’s walked these paths many times before, and in an ever-changing world.

VENICE VENICE is one of the most beautiful cities in theworld ... lots of tourists ... lots of Japanese tourists. Sarah Ferguson, The Duchess of York with her daughters, Beatrice and Eugenia, along with Kate Moss were at a dinner on the terrace of the Hotel Monaco on the Grand Canal given by Sir David Tang. Toni and Martin Sosnoff's lunch at the the Hotel Cipriani was with the world famous cardiologist, Dr. Sanford Friedman and his wife, Ginny Housam Friedman.

Hotel Monaco and Harry's Bar (right) on the Grand Canal in Venice.

The restaurant at the Hotel Monaco on the Grand Canal.

Dinners at Harry's Bar, one of the most expensive restaurants in the world ... Bellinis, 16.50 euros; Salad, 22 euros; Pasta, Baked Tagliolini (a signature dish for Cipriani all over the world), 43 euros; Steak, 66 euros; Cipriani's famous cake, 32 euros. It is the same menu as Cipriani on Fifth Avenue in New York City. Harry's Bar is packed every night — very few tourists. There is a dress code: no shorts; but the restaurant is full of well dressed Venetians and Italian nobility. Harry Cipriani, the patriarch of the family, has dinner several nights a week at the restaurant with a couple of friends. He gets up from his table every night and personally greets all of the guests having dinner. After dinner he takes the vaporetto home. The vaporetto is the bus on the Grand Canal and one of the stops is next to Harry's Bar.

The vaporetto on the Grand Canal.

The Biennale ... Murano ... Burano ... lunches on the island of Torcello ... Harry's Bar ... The Terrace of the Hotel Monaco ... The Gondolas ... The colorful singing Gondoliers ... Drinks and music in the Piazza San Marco ... The Pigeons ... The Beautiful Churches ... The Church Bells ringing every hour ... Hotel Cipriani ... The Vaporetto ... The Excelsior Hotel and the beautiful beaches on the Lido ... The magnificent Palazzos on the Grand Canal ... Peggy Guggenheim's Museum ... Shopping of the Rialto Bridge ... ALL part of the mystique of Venice.

Piazza San Marco.

Piazza San Marco.

The Excelsior Hotel, Venice.

The beach at the Excelsior Hotel on the Lido in Venice.

TANGIER Tangier, the exciting city on the top of Morocco, is a holiday mecca. July, August, and September. It is what St. Tropez used to be in the '50s. One of the most exciting things that happened this summer was the opening of El Morocco Club on top of the Casbah. El Morocco Club is owned by Vincent Coppée, and is packed every day for lunch and dinner. Lunch is in the Garden. Dinners in the club — three floors with a terrace that overlooks the Mediterranean. There are the famous zebra stripes, good food — a Continental menu; music, dancing and endless magnums of Champagne ... lasting until the sun comes up.

El Morocco Club In Tangier.

Charles Sevigney, Vincent Coppée (owner of El Morocco), and Jim Mitchell.

The dining room at El Morocco Club.

Jerome Guerin, Rubis Felderman, Sophie Raynal, and Isabelle Topolina in the garden at El Morocco Club.

Pierre-Henri Ramaget, Jerome Guerin, Isabelle Topolina, and Francesco (standing).

Charles Sevigny’s beautiful house, "Dar Zero," is high on top of the Casbah,which overlooks all of Tangier. Charles, an American, was one of the most famous interior designers in France. He lived in Paris, and with the late Yves Vidal they bought the famous York Castle on top of the Casbah where the Atlantic and the Mediterranean meet. York Castle was known allover the world for its incredible decor including lots of Knoll furniture. Yves Vidal was the President of Knoll International.

Charles Sevigney at his house, "Dar Zero."

The Garden of "Dar Zero."

Jamie Creel at "Dar Zero."

York Castle was also visited by some of the most famous names in the world for lunch and dinner during the big Malcom Forbes birthday party in the late '80s. Many of Malcom's guests stayed there. Charles now lives in Tangier in his beautiful house, gardens and lots of servants, Anwar, Rachid, Said, and Abdella, whom Charles says, "treats him like a Prince." Jamie Creel of New York and Paris, a partner in Creel and Gow on Madison Avenue in New York City, and often a visitor of Charles at "Dar Zero," arrived in Tangier for his annual summer holiday.

Malcom Forbes and Liz Taylor at his 70th birthday party in Tangier, 1989.

A summer wedding in Tangier.

MARBELLA Marbella is an hour away from Tangier by boat to the coast of Spain. A paradise on the Mediterranean where the weather is perfect. It never rains in the summer. July, August, and September in Marbella is one of the most glamorous places to be in the world. Lunches are at the MC Beach restaurant, near the Marbella Club, which is the center of the social life.

The MC Beach restaurant In Marbella.

Barbara San Damian with Daniel Shahmoon, owner of the MC Beach restaurant.

Count Rudi von Schonburg-Glauchau and Barbara San Damian at lunch at the MC Beach restaurant.

The Spanish soup at the San Damian lunch.

The Paella.

One of the social leaders in Marbella is Barbara, the Marquesa Viuda de San Damian. Barbara lives in Madrid, Marbella, and Palm Beach. Her house, "La Barbara," is on the grounds of the Marbella Club. Everyday she and many of her friends have lunch at MC Beach which is packed at 2 p.m. and has the best fish in Marbella ... MC Beach is like Michael's in NYC. MC Beach is owned by Daniel Shahmoon, son of the late billionaire David Shahmoon. Many days Daniel's wife Nadine and his baby daughter Inez have lunch at the restaurant. Barbara's lunch at her house was for Princess Marie Louise of Prussia and her husband,Count Rudi von Schonburg-Glauchau. The Count is one of the most important people in Marbella. He has made the Marbella Club the great place that it is today.

Barbara San Damian at her house, "La Barbara," in Marbella.

Left to right: Princess Marie Louise of Prussia, Princess Alexander of Yugoslavia, Fee Loudon, Ann Robinson, Erik Loudon, Barbara San Damian, and Count Rudi von Schonburg-Glauchau (standing) at "La Barbara."

Princess Alexander of Yugoslavia and Jim Mitchell.

Erik Loudon, Ann Robinson, Barbara San Damian, and Prince Veriand Windisch-Graetz.

Barbara's guests at her lunch were Ann Robinson, Jim Mitchell, who had just arrived from a month in Venice ... Fee and Erik Loudon, who were leaving for a cruise in the Greek Islands (Fee is the former Countess von und Zu Solms) ... Prince Veriand Windisch-Graetz (his first wife was Caroline Knott, who was Liz Smith's secretary at Igor Cassini's office many moons ago). They had two sons. She later married Howard Cushing and next married the son of the owner of the Washington Post ... William Graham ... Prince and Princess Alexander of Yugoslavia. Princess Alexander was formerly Princess Barbara of Lichtenstein. Prince Alexander is the father of Prince Dimitriof Yugoslavia, who lives in New York and Prince Michel of Yugoslavia who lives in Geneva. Their mother is Princess Maria Pia de Savoia, the wife of Prince Michel de Bourbon-Parme, who lives in Palm Beach. Prince Alexander just celebrated his 89th birthday. They were in Marbella for 6 weeks, leaving at the end of September for a big Romanov family reunion in the Crimea. Prince Alexander is a Romanov.

Princess Marie of Prussia on the beach in Marbella.

NEWPORT Some of the memorable moments of the Newport summer were: The Flower Show ... The Antique Show ... Ruth Buchanan's dinner dance at her house "Beaulieu" on Bellevue Avenue ... Maureen Donnell's big party in August ... Jay Page's dinner at the Clambake Club ... Topsy Taylor's lunches on her private island ... Helen Winslow's lunch at Bailey's Beach for Fern Tailer and Barbara Cates ... Angela and Steven Kumble's party at their magnificent apartment at "Bonniecrest" ... the New York Yacht Club's Invitational Cup Race, which runs from September 7th to September 14th.

Ruth Buchanan's house, "Beaulieu," in Newport.

Saturday Night, August 31st. Under a balmy summer night more than 600 guests were at Bailey's Beach annual Clambake. The evening is one of the most beautiful events in New England. Nothing in America is better. There is music, dancing, lobsters, clams, corn on the cob, hamburgers, hot dogs, chili, ice cream ... lots of little blonde children, lots of students who are home for summer vacation, Newport's summer and winter residents, their houseguests and others who make Newport one of the most glamorous places in the world.

The New York Yacht Club, Newport.

Some of the people in Newport this summer were: Joanne and Henry Breyer ... Maureen Donnell and her houseguests, Fern Tailer and Jimmy Clarke from Palm Beach, Barbara Cates and Jim Mitchell ... Diana and Jerry Slocum ... Helen Winslow, who is moving back to New York City ... Oatsie Charles ... Irene Aitken, who spends July and August in Newport ... Louise Grosvenor ... Marjorie Spencer ... Bobby Spencer of Palm Beach ... Henry Lynn ... Alice Lynch, who has been away on a cruise ... Steven Elkman ... Nanette Cavanaugh and her husband, George Herrick ... Pamela O'Connor who lives in Newport and Palm Beach ... Jay Page ... Melinda Hyland, whose family was the late millionaire Philanthropist, Elmer Bobst. Bobst gave NYU the Bobst Library. He was a personal friend of PresidentEisenhower and a very close personal friend of President Nixon. Also in Newport: Stuart Sundlun, the son of the former Governor of Rhode Island ... Michael Sullivan ... Linda and David Lindt from Texas ... Audrey Oswald and others who make up the summer in Newport.

The Newport Harbour Court at the New York Yacht Club.

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Jamee's Journey to Palm Springs

January 16, 2014, 8:32 am

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Windmills and billboards line the massive highway leading to Palm Springs.

Jamee's Journey to Palm Springs By Jamee Gregory Westward ho! Where to spend Christmas near LA? Faced with finding a resort, driving distance from Santa Monica, appealing to four generations, I remember our 1980 stay at La Quinta, fifteen minutes beyond Palm Springs, nestled at the foot of the Santa Rosa Mountains. Ginger Rodgers told my husband, Peter, that it was her favorite American vacation spot. So off we went, with my newly widowed father-in-law, my grandmother, sister and our toddler. We arrived, instantly charmed by grapefruit-laden trees and the charming villas spread across the vast property. A beautiful dining room, built in the 1920s, welcomed us, as it once did to Greta Garbo and Lana Turner.

Garbo and John Gilbert spent many hours looking out over the Santa Rosa Mountains.

We loved the swimming pool, a terrific tennis complex and an outdoor lunching area. Everyone was thrilled, until the sun nestled behind the mountains and the temperature dropped from the high 70s to the low 40s. We were not prepared, shivering in our summer clothes. Why not return, dressed properly, to an enchanting place, 2½ hours from Los Angeles? Friends of my daughter, Samantha, assured her that present day La Quinta was perfect for a child, with newly built playgrounds, pools and art areas, suggesting the Eisenhower suite, and two adjoining rooms. My grown-up golfing friends told us of lovely restaurants and a street of shops, El Paseo, rivaling Palm Beach's elegant Worth Avenue that would appeal to my mother.

The entrance to La Quinta.

The scenic view towards the gate.

We reserved in September. The first alarm came late November, as we dined with a savvy-journalist friend whose eyes popped when we mentioned our destination. "I changed rooms 6 times!" she said, warning us to instantly shift our accommodations to the newer spa complex. "The original rooms are untouched. You will be miserable. It is quite different from the place you visited." We followed her advice, but by then there was no turning back. Off we went, after a fabulous week at our home-away-from-home, Santa Monica's Shutters, in two cars, speeding on the 10, past billboards and fields of energy-generating windmills, to the desert. We arrive after my son-in-law, Roberto, who calls, saying there is a problem.

A 1927 clipping about the hotel's opening.

The ground floor spa suite and adjoining room are lovely, with gas-burning fireplaces and a large living area, but the third room was not as described. A separate entrance, around the corner, with over 20 steps, leads upstairs, right into the middle of a musty-smelling bedroom. My mother would not be safe. Reception has no gates. A cot for my granddaughter cannot make it up the stairs. By default, the room is ours. So much for my fantasy of little Carolina waking us up each morning!

Early morning view from our window.

Villa roof tops.

We arrive as the sun sets, around 4:30 PM. The entire mile-long drive is lit up with over-head tree lights, like Las Vegas. Cars cover the vast driveway, clogging the entrance. Cheered by the sight of a beautiful Christmas tree, and then shocked as the bellmen refuse our bags, telling us to drive them to our villa ourselves after checking in. The reception area, crowded with 40 people waiting in line, looks like a bank.

We are greeted by an enormous Christmas tree. The view at night.

This is not what I remember! Desks fill the front hall peppered with signs listing car rentals and conventions. Guests wear track suits, shorts and sneakers. Directed to our room, we hoist our numerous bags, as Peter curses me for bringing so many clothes to a place resembling a Carnival Cruise. Without unpacking, we rush to meet in the outdoor restaurant, Twenty6, in time for 5:30 PM dinner, which turns out to be the hardest reservation to get. Every family has children in tow, as well as dogs and at least one grandparent. It is pitch black, and quite a walk, past hundreds of villas, where there had formerly been 40!

Lunch outside at Twenty6.

Four generations enjoying lunch.

The family fun continued into dinner at Twenty6.

Signs direct us past villas clustered around pools. The 6 of us arrive, breathing a sigh of relief, as we are seated outside, surrounded by heat lamps, on an attractive terrace. Carolina is given crayons and a coloring book. We discover crab cakes and flatbread with smoked salmon or artichoke hearts, very much to our liking, along with Pinot Grigio. Things look up. 6:30 AM, sun streaming in, we reconvene for breakfast, minus my mother, in the same spot. A buffet waits, but we are too cold for outdoor dining. The thermometer barely hits 40 degrees. Inside, large TV screens are turned on. Ignoring them, we order and enjoy a lovely breakfast. Samantha heads off to run. We ask at the concierge for the prettiest trail for our 4 mile walk, and are directed to the Santa Rosa Mountains, a five-minute drive.

Under the desert sun, trekking up the mountain path.

Carolina scooting.

We arrive, finding ourselves under blaring sun, on a barren path, littered with broken glass. Optimists, we forge on to a pinnacle, crowned with an ominous looking round receptacle that probably holds nuclear waste. Perspiring profusely, we head down, dying of thirst, and meet our daughter in the drive. Her jogging trail ran alongside the four-lane highway. Seems this section of desert is better for golfers than hikers. Heading back to my mother's room, we find Carolina bouncing on her bed, having the best time ever, eager to put on her helmet and scoot between bungalows, followed by a big swim. We take my mother for a walk, rediscovering the original villas, where Tyrone Power, Marlene Dietrich and Errol Flynn once frolicked. We pick grapefruits.

Steps leading to the outdoor terrace where musicians play at night. Flowers leading to the hotel's boutiques.

A grapefruit-laden tree. Desert blooms.

The sun shines without mercy and temperature rises. We meet for lunch, and my mother wishes everyone looked rich and thin. I still sport my workout wear and fit right in. Carolina tucks into scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese. Surrounded by kids, she cannot wait to return to the kiddy pool, filled with large mats in the shape of dinosaurs and screaming children.

The scene at the crowded kiddy pool.

The adult pool.

Center Court at the tennis complex.

We escape, heading for El Paseo, discovering blocks of stores, more Chico's and J.Crew than Valentino. We find a nice Ralph Lauren, running a sale, and a large Saks. Returning with bargains, we decide going off campus is fun. Malls and gated communities border the highway. We reserve at Okura, a wonderful Japanese restaurant, where we feast on seaweed salad, sushi, tempura and miso soup. Discovering a Dairy Queen, all generations are content. We happily climb into bed by 7:30 PM, struggling to stay awake through a movie.

Palm trees and shops dot the street in El Paseo.

The mountains make a dramatic backdrop.

Peter and I savoring our last lunch in the desert.

My mother and I ready for the road.

Over the next five days we explore everything from The Living Desert Museum, a dusty stretch of nature with few animals, the Eisenhower Hospital, a first-rate institution, some uninspiring restaurants and shops, enjoying the daytime activities, even the walks parallel to the freeway and visits to the kiddy pool. CVS and Walgreens dot every corner, catering to aging golfers and wounded children. Failing to secure a massage for my mother, as the spa is fully booked, we soldier on.

Our last view of the wind mills.

Carolina watches "Frozen" nine times and we all have fun, finding family time in the midst of the teaming masses. Would I rush back? Probably not, but we never stop laughing. Although the food at La Quinta's Adobe was about as good as dinner on Delta, their frozen Margarita's hit the spot. Carolina wants to go back for her birthday saying, "It is more fun than Disney Land!"

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Ojai, Here We Come ...

May 19, 2014, 6:58 am

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Morning coffee on our favorite bench in Ojai, California.

Ojai, Here We Come ... By Jamee Gregory Sometimes last minute changes are the best. For weeks we looked forward to our Easter holiday in Montecito, California. Two days before, our daughter Samantha took charge explaining that 60-degree temperatures along the fogged-in coast were not ideal, and suggested a new game plan. So off we went to the historic Ojai Valley Inn & Spa, a 220-acre property, opened in 1923, further inland and only an hour and fifteen minutes north of LA.   Edward Libbey saw the valley and fell in love, thinking up many plans for expansion and beautification of the existing rustic town. Who knew that the valley was an agricultural and spiritual center and that we were arriving at peak season, when local small, seedless, and easily-peeled “Cutie” Murcott mandarin oranges were being celebrated and featured in everything from margaritas to sorbet? The 10x3 mile valley, surrounded by hills and mountains, is known for its beauty and the ‘Pink Moment’ which occurs to the east, not west, as the sun sets over the 6000-feet high Topa Topa Bluffs. Its name, pronounced ‘oh-hi’, comes from its original settlers, Chumash Indians, and was their word for moon. In 1917, Edward Libbey helped design, build and finance the downtown in a Spanish Colonial Revival style. Hippies and gurus arrived in the 1960s, attracted by the peaceful Shangri-La-like setting. Today, guests are drawn by the golf course, tennis center, spa, restaurants and magnificent grounds. Families from San Francisco and Los Angeles enjoy the ranch, trails and newly renovated spa and suites. There are three dining areas, a pub, a driving range, putting green, boutiques and exercise studio. Visitors fill over 300 rooms, but the vast resort never feels crowded, retaining an elegant, old-world charm.

Ojai Inn, c. 1880s.

Libbey's Transformation of Downtown Ojai.

Roses and lavender leading to the main lobby of the Ojai Valley Inn & Spa.

Bright foliage lifts one's spirits.

Pale pink roses, large as saucers.

More roses.

A rose-covered arbor used for weddings.

Peter as a wallflower.

Carolina, my granddaughter, sings along to Let It Go from Disney’s “Frozen,” as we follow the Freeway. Arriving in high spirits, we are taken by cart on a tour, arriving at spacious adjoining suites with fireplaces, overlooking the grown-up’s swimming pool with a magnificent herb garden to our left.

Carolina, in the car, singing Let it Be from "Frozen," all the way to Ojai.

Brightly tiled terra cotta stairs, layered into the mountain, join the rooms to the resort’s main areas. Walkways are covered with tumbling roses and perennials. We change, climbing the stairs, huffing and puffing, and head for the well-appointed pool, heated and full of families. Lunch is served by friendly bus boys and girls, straight to your lounge or to an umbrella-covered table. The fare is light and lively, with Cobb salads and sandwiches and sweet potato fries. Under bright sunshine the pool glistens and Carolina dons goggles, kicking her way across the shallow water, making friends and enjoying every underwater second.

Heading for the swimming pool.

Roses cover the swimming pool walls and beautiful blooms tumble from every trellis.

Heaters add warmth for outdoor dining at breakfast and dinner.

The scene at the swimming pool.

Carolina donning her goggles.

Wrapped up at breakfast, when the temperature is cool.

Lunch by the pool.

Enjoying watermelon in a sweatshirt that depicts Casper, the Inn's avian mascot, who resides in a well-appointed and enormous bird cage beside the pool.

Next, it's time for tennis with Tom, a delightful pro who taught at John Gardiner’s Tennis Ranch. He wins favor with our four-year-old, saying, “Are you ready, spaghetti?” which makes her giggle. By lesson’s end she hits the ball over the net and gives him a big hug.

Tennis lessons with Tom.

And putting lessons with grandpa.

The golf course, surrounded by mountains.

Afternoon shadows make patterns on the greens.

My husband, Peter and I take a 4-mile hike, along a woodland trail. By 5:45 we meet for dinner on the Oak Grill terrace. Nicely dressed families populate early-bird hour, enjoying splendid views and local wines.  As night falls, trees are gently illuminated and children return to their tables from the lawn. A musician plays inside and many guests take seats. In another area individual bonfires are lit for S‘mores, a combination of melted marshmallows, Hershey chocolate and graham crackers. Needless to say, Carolina loves toasting the marshmallow until it turns golden brown on the skewer.

Ready for dinner at the Oak Grill terrace.

The S'more pit, before being ignited.

Waiting for the smoke to subside leaving hot embers for S'more roasting.

Many steps keep guests in shape.

The spa.

The spa courtyard, for peaceful contemplation.

The next day she paints a glass jar at the Artist’s Cottage class, visits the playground, and swims. We sample spa cuisine inside, barred from the adult’s only terrace. After lunch, we hop on a bright red trolley taking us to town, sharing the ride with several pony-tailed, aging hippies. We stop at a terrific ice cream parlor, with homemade flavors, instead of visiting Bart’s Bookstore, a famous outdoor destination.

The charming trolley to the village center.

A plaza in town. The old-fashioned ice cream and candy store in town.

Returning to the resort, we study the schedule’s hourly offerings, from Stretch and Spinning, to Tequila Flight Tasting. We pass on most organized activities, but enjoy a fascinating lecture offered by the local animal rescue organization, on wounded raptors. The children are mesmerized by the appearance of winged creatures at close range. We sign up for a treasure hunt, individually tailored to your child’s interest. Carolina chooses a “Wizard of Oz” theme, and we follow tailor-made clues that are beautifully illustrated and cleverly personalized, ending with a plate of pastel sugar cookies served at Joe’N Go, the coffee shop, after an exhilarating half-hour race, up, down and across the property. Each clue is within Carolina’s reach. She loves the experience.

Raptor Rescue.

Reading the clue we found at the front desk.

Reaching Hugh for a treasure hunt clue. Finding Dorothy and Toto.

Climbing the tiled steps in a princess costume.

Visiting the playground where children's activities are held at Camp Ojai.

Three generations, waiting for the 'Pink Moment' at sunset.

Settling into a routine, we dine at our favorite table on the terrace edge, always presented with crayons and coloring pages along with the menu. After dinner, we pause for music and make our way back down the many steps to our rooms, observing live bunnies, the pink sunset and once crashing a wedding.

The dining terrace with heaters.

Dinner on the terrace.

Beautiful weather for outdoor dining!

My favorite moment comes each morning when Samantha deposits Carolina and takes off on her run.  Easter Sunday arrives before we know it. There are Egg Hunts for each age. Carolina finds the lucky egg and wins a giant bunny. She is thrilled. On Monday we pick up our last handfuls of “Cuties” and are really sad to leave this heavenly spot.

Carolina on her way to Easter Egg Hunt. A real Easter bunny pausing on the lawn.

Egg hunting.

With the Easter Bunny.

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London Social Diary

July 22, 2014, 6:18 am

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Bing Tailer, Sharon Sondes, Ann "Daya" Baker, and Sharon's sister Maureen.

London Social Diary By Sharon Sondes Since I was five years old, I don't think I've missed more then a few Junes in London. As soon as school was out, my sister Maureen, our beloved English governess Ann "Daya" Baker, and I would board the SS America or the SS United States, which were the height of luxury at that time. And off we'd sail for a wonderful two months in London.

S.S. United States & S.S. America (foreground) side by side.

Nowadays, except for the brief interlude of the Concorde, most travel is a nightmare. At least planes have seats that can turn into beds, which I hoped would neutralize my terrible jet lag. It didn't. When in London, we always stay with our best friend Persian beauty Kokoly Fallah, known the world over as Kooki. She kindly sent a car and driver to pick us up with a note not to do anything but come straight to her house. I have a tendency to disappear into the market, the chemist, Selfridges, and everywhere else and forget the time.

Sharon and Kooki.

After we arrived and caught up briefly, I had mentioned to Kooki that I'd like to try André Balaz's new place, the Chiltern Firehouse. Kooki (who goes everywhere) said, "don't fret, we already have reservations." OH! Naomi Campbell heading to the Chiltern Firehouse. ©Wenn.com I admire Balaz and think he's very smart and very talented. I especially enjoy Chateau Marmont in Los Angeles. Supposedly, one can't book a table at the Firehouse until October unless you're a Biggie, a Somebody, or a Famous Star of film or stage. It was all so un-English, all that hype and velvet ropes and paparazzi. I had always enjoyed the nightclub Annabel's, Harry's Bar, Mark's Club, San Lorenzo, The Ivy, Nobu, and Robin Birley's newish 5 Hertford Street — very popular establishments without all the hype and hysteria. Finally, we do get to that controversial little outpost of Hollywood, the Chiltern Firehouse. It's both a hotel and restaurant, but I'm not sure the hotel part is open yet. It seems that people either love it or hate it depending on how they're treated — which makes sense. At this point it should be renamed Movie Star Central. It's sort of sad that they are getting almost all of the attention, and making the less famous customers, of which there are few allowed in, feel snubbed. I say sad because the decor is very smart, the staff seems nice, and the Portuguese chef's Nuno Mendes'"specials," such as crab donuts and crunchy chicken skin (without the chicken) Caesar salad, deliciously different. I just hope CF lasts, and doesn't prove Lao Tzu's quote true, "The flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long." A few days later, Robin and Rupert Hambro hosted a book party for Billy Rayner, author of the highly acclaimed two-volume set titled Notes and Sketches: The Travel Journals of William P. Rayner. Billy has probably had more book parties than any other author I know! And he deserves every one of them and many more.

Hosts Robin and Rupert Hambro.

He never moves from his perch, diligently signing every book. He must be ready to cast his hand in bronze! His elegant wife Kathy is a brilliant hostess in NYC, East Hampton and Palm Beach. I don't think Kathy has ever given a party she didn't love. This past year, though, to put all her best efforts in feting the person she loves most in the world must have been a thrilling experience for both. They are like one person enjoying and appreciating all the same things in life, and very proud of each other.

Billy signing away.

These volumes in lovely slipcases and nestling in a hard case — one on Billy's adventures in Africa, the second in India — are beautiful both outside and in. They've crossed the pond, and more people will fall in love with Billy's many years of travel and adventures. That's certainly what happened with the crowd at Robin and Rupert Hambro's drinks party. The extraordinarily handsome Hambros seem to have rounded up every "Yank" and "Brit" in London to their darling house on Ebury St.

Anyway, it was a fun party. The Rayners then invited everyone to dinner at a delicious Peruvian restaurant called Coya. Enjoying the spicy lamb and charcoal grilled Chilean sea bass were Alfred and Judy Taubman, Ann Nitze, Kimberly and Jonathan Moffat, George Farias, Earle and Carol Mack, David and Jill Gilmour, Ivana Lowell, Peter Duchin, and Christopher Mason at the piano, Dame Vivien Duffield, Hilary and Wilbur Ross, Kooki Fallah, Mario D'Urso, Bob Colacello, the Martin Grusses, and Ann Summers.Prince and Princess Michael of Kent were at drinks, but gave up dinner so they could spend more time with their son Freddie and his wife Sophie and their baby Maude, who were visiting from Los Angeles.

Our Royal Enclosure badges at Royal Ascot.

The next day, Geoffrey, Kooki and I went to a Royal Ascot "picnic" lunch held in Car Park No.1. It's a very amusing party, and in no way your ordinary picnic. It comprises tables and chairs set up under umbrella's and tents and features an opulent buffet accompanied by delicious wines, Champagne and a full bar. Also an excellent, attentive staff. The lunch was hosted by Russian magnate George Piskov (Chairman of the Board of Uniastrum Bank), his wife Tatiana, and Liz Brewer, party organizer Extraordinaire. Liz, who seems to be able TO DO IT ALL and make it look easy, is now in St. Moritz at the Palace Hotel teaching her famous Royal Etiquette and Classic British Etiquette Classes.

Liz Brewer at the Palace Hotel in St. Moritz.

Ascot these days can be as much about the inventive variety of hats as it is about the racing and the horses. Ladies can be seen in hats that range from the beautiful and flattering (Remember that wonderful scene with Audrey Hepburn looking gorgeous at Ascot in "My Fair Lady") to what can only be called "tongue in cheek" by wearers with a sense of humor and a flair for the unusual.

'Picnic' lunch in the No. 1 Car Park at Royal Ascot 2014.

Maria and David Hesketh with Judi Etzin.

Actress Helen Masters with Ben Duncan.

Ben Duncan, Lisa Tchenguiz, and Clive Leigh Collins.

Tatiana Piskov and Michael Whitelock.

Sasha Ratiu, Isabell Kristensen, and George and Tatiana Piskov. Inset: Isabell Kristensen' s hat at last year's luncheon. Heather Bird Tchenguiz with Liz Brewer's co-host George Piskov.

Geoffrey Thomas. Kooki with Geoffrey Thomas and Michelle Herbert.

We were especially excited by our lunch invitation the following day in the newly opened private dining room on the 5th floor of the grandstand. It's aptly named 'ON 5'. Our hosts, that adorable young couple Kamel (aka Kaz) and Chloe Alzarka, treated 62 of us to a delicious lunch presented by chef Tom Kerridge. He won two stars from Michelin after opening his gastropub, The Hand and Flowers, in the beautiful Georgian village of Marlow. I love pub food, and was lucky enough to once have Tom's signature dish — his take on a hog roast. Aside from the most delicious menu, what makes 'ON 5' such a treat and a winner is the spectacular view of the racetrack. Kaz, CEO of The Falcon Group, loves to entertain in special places such as Versailles, where he married Chloe.

A view from our table at 'ON 5'.

Nathalie Dauriac-Stoebe with Chloe and Kaz Alzarka, hosts of the 'On 5' lunch presented by two-star Michelin chef Tom Kerridge.

Lady Kilmorey. Isabell Kristensen with her son Martin Kristensen.

Nicholas Barham, Chloe Alzarka, Karen Carwin, and Kaz Alzarka.

Liz Brewer. TV presenter Donna Air.

Liz Brewer with the Royal Ascot Racing Club Manager Emma Banks.

Chloe Alzarka on the 'On 5' Balcony at Royal Ascot. Luna de Casanova and Lisa Tchenguiz.

The Royal Party arriving.

Prince Charles and Camilla, the Duchess of Cornwall.

When we visit London or any place where we have lots of good friends, we are entertained all of the time. I'm not complaining, but you never get to some of the neighborhood favorites or good solid restaurants that have lasted for years. Our dinner hosts (top to bottom): Sir Ian Lowson and Lady Tana Alexander; Ambassador John Loeb and his wife Sharon; Jennifer Loxton Peacock (with SS). Thanks to Kathrine Palmer and author Peter Watson, we rediscovered Bellamys, which is named after the club in Evelyn Waugh's "Sword of Honour." It's wonderful, partly because it's managed by some of the old Annabel's staff. Another delicious brasserie is Le Columbier where we were taken by Sir Ian and Tanya Lowson. It has such a cheerful ambiance that when we weren't busy eating ... we were laughing. My cousin Ambassador John Loeb, and his wife Sharon took us to the private club 5 Hertford St., which you already know all about. It's somewhat new compared to the above, a lot of fun, and where you run into absolutely everyone. Going there only proved my point that there were more Americans in town then ever. I ran into Bettina Zilkha, Beverley Camhe, and Elizabeth Esteve, to name a few. Jennifer Loxton Peacock,Lady Tana Alexander and her husband Paul Focke entertained us at their beautiful homes. At Tana and Paul's I met Sir Jonathan Guinness, who was in Margaret Thatcher's Think Tank, has an exceptional library, and is an expert on paintings and the authenticity of them. I kept hearing one of my smartest and best friends, the late Judy Green, instructing me to "Listen!! You already know what you know, but you don't know what he knows!" So listen, I did! Also at Jennifer's, the aunt of George Osborne (Chancellor of the Exchequer) had included one of my most amusing pals from the 1970s, Backgammon champion and raconteur Lewis Deyong. He wrote the entertaining "Playboy's Book of Backgammon." Kooki took us to her favorite Italian restaurant, Lucio, which is my favorite now, too. It's cosy and yummy and has some of the most delicious pasta dishes I've ever tasted.

Kathrine Palmer and SS. Kathrine was also one of our dinner hosts.

Some other highlights of this year's visit was a pre-Wimbledon brunch at the Hurlingham Club. I wouldn't have believed such a beautiful place existed until we drove down Kings Road, took a left through two gates, and entered 42 acres of private club grounds, polo fields, grass tennis courts, croquet courts, lovely fountains and gardens. The amazing thing is that all of this beauty is smack in the middle of London, and has been ever since 1869.

The Main Clubhouse at Hurlingham.

The Lake at Hurlingham.

After a gorgeous lunch and afternoon exploring the grounds of Hurlingham, we had to move on. It was Geoffrey's birthday, and that evening we celebrated it with Kooki and a mixture of pals at 5 Hertford St. The ubiquitous Bob Colacello was at a long table, and the only other person I could see was Pepe Fanjul. He and Emilia gave Bob a really nice book party in Palm Beach this March celebrating the reprint of "Holy Terror." Originally published in 1990, Bob rewrote the introduction. He was also the Editor of Andy Warhol's Interview through some of the '70s and '80s when I was a contributing editor.

SS and Andy in the '70s.

Andy used to work out in my home gym with my instructor and me. My late ex husband Henry (The 5th earl Sondes) would already be downing his 5th Sharpener and banging on the door, threatening to yank Andy's wig off. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship between Andy and me. We would just howl with laughter at the silliness of it all. I have fond memories of those times with Andy, but that's a whole other column. Back to Geoffrey's Birthday and books. I ran into an old pal Cheever Hardwick, who has a very witty book coming out in mid October called "The Labrador Theory." It's illustrated with the brilliant cartoons of Alasdair Hilleary.   Cheever describes the book as "a simplistic treatise for women who wish to maintain a marriage or relationship with someone of the male sex after the initial bloom has gone off the rose." Geoffrey loved his cake (a four-layer white cake with apricot jam, raspberry jam and marzipan icing — such a treat with vanilla, mango, and banana ice cream), all the gossip, and was thrilled by his birthday in general. Now It's time to say Toodle-loo to Kooki, London, and her beyond adorable baby grandsons who visit her every day.

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