Six best lemon recipes from Sardinia
Letitia Clark with her husband, Lorenzo, and their son
CHARLOTTE BLAND
Her latest book, For the Love of Lemons, is full
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Daily Mail
4 hours ago
- Daily Mail
Margot Robbie dances the night away in Capri alongside husband Tom Ackerley as she lets loose during European summer in Italy
Margot Robbie is having the time of her life while enjoying her Euro summer in Italy. The Aussie actress, who was recently snapped packing on the PDA with her husband Tom Ackerley in Naples, partied the night away on Sunday at a disco-themed dinner on the island of Capri. The 35-year-old looked stunning in a halter neck dress, which boasted a funky yellow and brown pattern, perfect for a summer night on the town. Rocking a glowy tan that she no doubt caught while sunbathing under the Italian rays, Margot looked radiant as ever as she enjoyed the lively dinner. Her signature blonde locks fell in waves across her shoulders, adding to her vacation-mode aesthetic as she let loose. From A-list scandals and red carpet mishaps to exclusive pictures and viral moments, subscribe to the DailyMail's new showbiz newsletter to stay in the loop. Margot was joined by her producer husband, 35, who looked suave in a white unbuttoned shirt during the high-energy date night. The Australian beauty was all smiles as she and her fellow dinner guests held their napkins in the air and spun them around, an Italian custom often demonstrated during celebrations and weddings. On Friday, Margot and Tom were spotted enjoying a tender moment during their getaway to Naples. The Suicide Squad star and her husband packed on the PDA on the balcony of the Grand Hotel Parker's while taking in the historic views. Tom was pictured tenderly placing both hands on his wife's midriff while kissing her from behind, with Margot covering one of his hands with her own. The Australian actress — who gave birth to their first child last October — showed off her toned legs in a chic mini dress with an elephant print. The two new parents are reportedly over the moon with their son. 'They waited a long time to get pregnant, so it was almost unbelievable when the baby actually arrived,' an insider told People in November. Margot and Tom are reportedly over the moon with their newborn son 'They've both been settling into being parents. They're homebodies so it's been lovely to spend the time just them, at home with him,' the insider added. 'They're so happy.' Margot's pregnancy was made public in July, and the couple enjoyed a romantic 'babymoon' to Sardinia, Italy, at the end of August. The couple welcomed their son in October, and have yet to reveal their child's name. They got married in 2016 and are co-producers on a number of projects, including Hulu's Dollface, through their production company LuckyChap Entertainment.
Times
4 hours ago
- Times
‘It's about more than just shoes, it's about self-respect and confidence'
To paraphrase Dr Seuss in his book Wacky Wednesday, it begins with the shoes. A lot of grown-ups, it seems, were paying attention to the American children's author. The few bespoke shoemakers who remain are experiencing a boom — and a wave of orders are currently clogging their tables. Tailoring is often said to be the highest form of British craftsmanship. But bespoke shoemaking is the ultimate bridge between art and practicality. George Glasgow Jr, the CEO of George Cleverley in the Royal Arcade, has a working life as peripatetic as a Foreign Office mandarin — an indication of the global demand for British bespoke shoes. Thanks to his selfies with the sultan of Brunei and videos of Sylvester Stallone praising them on Instagram, George has managed to create one of the world's most successful luxury shoe brands without spending a penny on marketing. While demand in cities such as New York, LA, Paris and Milan has waned, he says, in the past ten years places like Miami and Nashville are booming. And not everyone is after just one special pair either, he says. 'It is not uncommon to have clients order six to ten pairs at a time.' The reason why they don't just use local shoemakers is simple, he says. There aren't many bespoke shoemakers outside of Britain, France, Italy or Japan. Recently Nicholas Templeman, a British bespoke shoemaker, moved to Vancouver and set up shop there, making him, I daresay, the only true bespoke shoemaker in Canada. It's not an inexpensive club to join. A pair of bespoke shoes often costs north of £5,000 (and well into five figures for exotic skins). And, on top of that, a first pair can often take a year to be made. But according to Tony Gaziano, of the Savile Row bespoke shoemaker Gaziano & Girling, which makes shoes for the King and recently received a royal warrant from him, some people don't care. They just want the experience of going through the process. How do the shoemakers justify the price tag? They make the shoes almost too good to put on feet and so beautiful that their new owners will just marvel at them. (Although longevity and comfort appeal too, Galziano adds, saying that a large proportion of their customers 'are men from the legal or medical professions who are required to wear formal shoes for work'.) Last year, in spite of their high prices, Gaziano & Girling made about 150 pairs — an increase of 25 per cent over the past two years. That might be in part to the fact that, while their quality is extraordinary, by European standards the price tags are quite reasonable. Should you visit John Lobb in Paris (which Hermès bought in 1976) or Berluti, you might pay up to £1,000 more (and, given continental shoes are less structured and lighter weight, British makers can also claim yet more bang for buck). What is true bespoke? Well, it is the process of making shoes by hand, tool and eye. After measurements are taken of the foot, a wooden last is created, which is not a wooden facsimile of the foot, but more the maker's interpretation of the inside of the shoe, and how it should be shaped to flatter the foot. All aspects of the shoe will be built round it, from the hand-patterned leather to the welt that connects the upper to the sole and is sewn by hand. Most British shoemaking of this type is done either in Northampton, the home of British shoemaking, or in garden sheds by outworkers. Some is still done in London; if you walk into John Lobb on St James's Street, all you'll hear is the ticking of the grandfather clock and the tocking of tools. Ditto at Cleverly. A newcomer in some ways is Canons Bespoke, formerly Fosters & Sons, which is run by Simon Bolzoni from a large space in Islington — aptly on Northampton Street. The sudden boom, the owner believes, is because bespoke shoes are an antidote to 'a world of unsatisfying, quick gratification. It requires a complex and unique blend of artistry and engineering, which results in a functional, technical item that actively enhances the wearer's quality of life, while also serving as an expression of their identity.' Because makers take about three to five years to fully train, and the old guard are retiring, professional shoemakers are becoming an ever rarer breed. Canons have 20 — which they will need, given 2024 was their busiest year to date, with sales up 70 per cent compared with 2020. Thankfully, Dean Girling, the other half of Gaziano & Girling, says there are a tranche of young people coming into the trade, 'who are thinking more about working with their hands than tapping a keyboard'. Covid, counterintuitively, also had a positive effect. Not only were men glued to their screens, but they started to appreciate craftsmanship more. On YouTube, a Japanese maker named Ken Kataoka of the house Siroeno Yosui has created a series of videos that regularly receive millions of views. All he does is record the process of crafting a pair of shoes from scratch across a 30-minute video. There is the ASMR draw but also the undeniably entrancing witnessing of an artisan making the very difficult look very easy. There is also the great Texan Kirby Allison, whose mission, which he repeats like a sergeant major's 'left, right, left, right', is to communicate what true 'quality, craftsmanship and tradition' looks like. He has educated middle America in how to be classier and now has 800,000 subscribers and camera crews that make James Cameron seem indie. As he says, 'Shoes are a universal entry point into the world of quality craftsmanship and tradition. Unlike tailored clothing, where personal style varies widely, men tend to share a more consistent appreciation for well-made shoes. The distinction between expensive, entry-level footwear and high-quality shoes is also far more tangible, one can see and feel the difference.' Kirby's audience is over 93 per cent male, between 25 and 44, primarily in America but dotted around the world. He hears from viewers all the time about how his videos inspired them to commission a pair of shoes. 'Many viewers describe a deep sense of personal fulfilment in their decision to begin dressing better. It's about more than just shoes, it's about self-respect and confidence. My job is simply to reveal the beauty and embellish the romance.'
The Guardian
6 hours ago
- The Guardian
Smart, sharp and nonstop dance: how Twyla Tharp is bossing the Venice Dance Biennale in her 80s
'Do you know how much I could deadlift in my 50s? Guess!' Twyla Tharp implored Wayne McGregor, in a post-show interview at the Venice Dance Biennale. McGregor, the festival's artistic director, didn't dare venture a figure. 'Two-hundred and twenty-seven pounds!' she told us all, delightedly. Never underestimate Twyla. The slight, white-haired 84-year-old is as sharp as ever, and a force in the dance world. She's been choreographing for 60 years, for ballet companies and Broadway, dance both experimental and accessible, art and pop. And she is honoured this year with the biennale's Golden Lion for lifetime achievement. Tharp is a smart, no-nonsense woman with a dry sense of humour, and her work is much the same. Only two pieces from her vast repertoire are staged in Venice this year, but one especially, Diabelli (from 1998), set to Beethoven's 33 Diabelli Variations, has the same precise, self-certain manner as the woman herself. It takes one idea – the rigorous exploration of music and form – and drills into it determinedly. The dance is non-stop, a showcase for the tremendous dancers of her company, all quite different bodies but brilliant technicians, rooted in classicism with Tharp's easy synthesis of jazz, contemporary and vernacular dance forms. It is absolutely chock-full of steps. That might seem obvious, but a lot of contemporary dance now hinges on vibe, mood and repetitive riffs, whereas Tharp is just step after step, finely and deliberately wrought phrases in constant motion with absolute clarity. With its fairly unwavering tone, from the audience there's perhaps not as much light and shade as Tharp herself sees – but she has no time for dawdling (there's a similarity with McGregor's own work here: the constant fast-paced flying mind, expecting you to keep up). The second piece is the European premiere of Slacktide, set to Philip Glass. It's new, but interestingly, uses material from Tharp's back catalogue, reversioned. Compared with Diabelli, the look is certainly more 'now', diffused light, dancers in black shorts and vests, and rather than the front-facing performance mode of the earlier work, the dancers are on their own trajectories, moving between solos and groups. It has a greater sense of freedom, dynamic and edge, but the same very serious conversation with choreography. The winner of the Silver Lion, for an outstanding upcoming choreographer, was the Brazilian Carolina Bianchi. Bianchi has the same absolute commitment to her art as Tharp, but is a completely different proposition. She's best known for the first part of her Cadela Força trilogy, The Bride and the Goodnight Cinderella, in which Bianchi takes a date rape drug live on stage and then attempts to continue the show while the audience watch its effects take over, made in response to her own experience of sexual assault. The second chapter of the trilogy, The Brotherhood, gets its Italian premiere in Venice and it goes deeper (very much deeper, at almost four hours in length) into Bianchi's own attempts to process what happened to her: the injustice, the omnipresent patriarchy, the bewilderment over what gives men seeming licence to abuse women, from the rape of Lucretia to Gisèle Pelicot. She does this through film, performance, a faux interview with a famous theatre director, set-pieces with the male performers from company Cara de Cavalo, and addressing the audience directly. She considers hazing initiations, the myth of the troubled genius in art, the politics of the rehearsal room, the subtle undermining of women in professional life. There's so much here, a bit of editing wouldn't go amiss (although it doesn't feel like 220 minutes) but then this is the ever-circling mind after trauma, always returning to the wound, never finding the answer. Fearless Bianchi is sometimes provocatively shocking, she is also constantly questioning herself, getting in her criticisms before anyone else can. Her subjects are theatre, art, violence and anger. And the real question may be, why aren't we all angrier, all the time, about how commonplace this abuse is? Bianchi introduces herself on stage as predominantly a writer, and this is a text-based show within the realm of performance art, an interesting choice for a dance prize. But the body is absolutely at the centre of her work. Her central question, as she puts it, is what do we do with this body? How to live in a body that survives rape? Elsewhere at the biennale, the opening show comes from Australia's Chunky Move, a company established in 1995, now led by Antony Hamilton, who has choreographed U>N>I>T>E>D. The stage is dominated by a large mechanical contraption, a piece of rigging that holds what looks like a giant insect with flashing and glowing lights. The dancers have mechanical limbs too, multijointed insect-y legs attached to them, turning them into human-machine hybrid hexapods. It immediately brought to mind a piece McGregor made for his company in 2002, Nemesis, where the dancers wore mechanical limbs extending their arms. In fact the whole look is very millennium-bug-throwback, like a guerrilla army of hackers who've jumped the fence at Glastonbury, in baggy parachute pants with all sorts of straps and layers and clashing patterns and camo and reflective neon. It's a crusty-cyberpunk look – if you ever went near Brighton in the 1990s, you'd recognise it. Except that in the 90s we barely had mobile phones or email addresses and this kind of tech felt like pure sci-fi, whereas now, the idea of humans getting tech implants or machines becoming sentient is basically the world we live in. So that's unnerving. But what does Hamilton have to say about it? Not so much. The thing about all the cumbersome props is that they extend the body's possibilities, but also reduce their ability to move. There's a vague sense of struggle between embracing or fighting the machines but, just like in the real world, having the technology is one thing, deciding what to use it for, or what you want to say with it, is entirely another. It's neither stirringly hopeful nor apocalyptic enough to be terrifying. Twyla would have those mechanical critters for breakfast. The Venice Dance Biennale continues until 2 August
