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AU Financial Review
09-07-2025
- AU Financial Review
Make like Great Gatsby at this intimate French Riviera hotel
The rosé is flowing freely and the purple bougainvillea is in full bloom on a balmy summer evening at Juan-les-Pins' five-star waterfront hideaway, Hôtel Belles Rives. It is a scene redolent, in the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald, of the 'diffused magic of the hot sweet South … the soft-pawed night and the ghostly wash of the Mediterranean far below'. Those words, from Fitzgerald's novel Tender is the Night, were probably written in this very spot. Back in 1925, when Fitzgerald was working on his novel, this hotel was a private villa that he rented for himself, his wife, Zelda, and daughter, Scottie.
Spectator
02-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Spectator
How postcards made Britain
Worse for drink, and lonely in his Hollywood apartment, F. Scott Fitzgerald sat down to write a postcard. He began, 'How are you?', an important question as he was planning to send the postcard to himself. Although he never sent it, perhaps he understood the magical ability of the postcard to cheer us up. They've been doing that since the first ones – plain cards bearing a pre-printed stamp – were introduced into Britain in 1870. It took time for the current format as we know it to develop: picture on one side and, on the other, a space for the address and some words. By the Edwardian period, 800 million cards were being sent a year. They had the same kind of impact on communication that early text messages had for us and for similar reasons – they were quick, cheap and the limited space tended to make the messages more immediate. Postcards could even be lifesavers. Sweetheart messages during the first world war between troops in the trenches and loved ones at home were good for morale, as long as they escaped the attention of the army's censors. Often the troops drew painted love tokens and messages on one side – a moment of tenderness as the shells fell. Sometimes they sent cards embroidered by local French and Belgium families. These little pieces of art were a way of standing up against the brutality of the conflict. They might feature a flag or patriotic message or black cats for good luck. No two cards were the same, and millions were sent. It was in the 1940s that the postcard became a cultural icon, defining a certain kind of bawdy humour. James Bamforth was a portrait photographer who began producing the first saucy seaside postcards in 1910. They are glorious, rude and full of larger-than-life ladies and little men. Usually, they highlight a misunderstanding between the sexes and are pretty astute on sexual politics. The master of the art was Donald McGill, who produced 12,000 magnificently vulgar designs. His work caused such an uproar that in 1954 he was fined under the Obscene Publications Act. An early defender of his cards was George Orwell: 'The corner of the human heart that they speak for might easily manifest itself in worse forms, and I for one should be sorry to see them vanish.' I have a lot to be thankful for when it comes to postcards. Indeed, I owe my life to them. My father was a cockney who couldn't read or write. When he was on active service in Suez he received a postcard from a prospective pen pal in London. He showed the card to his commanding officer, who answered it with another one – pretending to be my dad. He commented that the young woman who was writing seemed quite posh and nice. He became my father's Cyrano de Bergerac. Correspondence by card continued for a year or so and after my father was demobbed, he met his pen pal. They married and they had me. Sadly, postcards have been in steep decline for decades, but they are still sent as a memento of a family holiday in some seaside town. I received one recently from a relative which simply said: 'Weather shit, can't wait to come home.' There is something quite profound in those seven words.
Yahoo
11-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
European fry-up: Two Spanish taverns battle for title of world's oldest restaurant
Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Spain, where we lay our scene... A bastardised Shakespeare opening that suits the ongoing 'rivalry' between two family-owned taverns, who both claim to be the world's oldest establishments. There's Madrid's Sobrino de Botín, which holds the coveted Guinness World Record as the world's oldest restaurant. Founded in 1725 and located a stone's throw from the famed Plaza Mayor, it is famed for its wood-fire oven and has attracted patrons like Truman Capote, F. Scott Fitzgerald and was immortalised by Ernest Hemingway in his book 'The Sun Also Rises' - in which the author described Botín as 'one of the best restaurants in the world." It was awarded the Guinness accolade in 1987 and celebrated its 300 years of continuous service earlier this year. Then there's Casa Pedro, located on the outskirts of Madrid. The rustic tavern has boldly claimed that they have a shot at the title. The establishment has hosted Spanish King Juan Carlos I and current Spanish monarch King Felipe VI, and the owners assert their establishment endured the War of Spanish Succession at the start of the 18th century - therefore making Casa Pedro older than Botín. 'It's really frustrating when you say, 'Yes, we've been around since 1702,' but... you can't prove it,' says manager and eighth-generation proprietor Irene Guiñales. 'If you look at the restaurant's logo, it says 'Casa Pedro, since 1702,' so we said, 'Damn it, let's try to prove it.'' Guiñales' family has hired a historian and has so far turned up documents dating the restaurant's operations to at least 1750. She continues to hunt for records proving that Casa Pedro dates back to 1702. The question remains: How can either restaurant claim the title? Guinness provides its specific guidelines only to applicants, according to spokesperson Kylie Galloway, who notes that it entails 'substantial evidence and documentation of the restaurant's operation over the years." Antonio González, a third-generation proprietor of Botín, states that Guinness required Botín show that it has continuously operated in the same location with the same name. The only time the restaurant closed was during the pandemic – much like Casa Pedro. That criteria would mean that restaurants that are even older, like Paris' Le Procope, which says it was founded in 1686, aren't eligible for the Guinness designation. To make matters dicier, an Italian trattoria located in Rome's historic center, may pip both Sobrino de Botín and Casa Pedro to the post and steal the cake. Nestled on Vicolo della Campana, La Campana claims 'a taste of authentic Roman cuisine with a side of history' and more than 500 years of operation, citing documents on its menu and a self-published history. Its owners have said they have compiled the requisite paperwork and plan to submit it to Guinness. The battle of tasty households continues... Let's hope that chef blood won't make chef hands unclean.
Euronews
11-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Euronews
Two Spanish taverns battle for title of world's oldest restaurant
Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Spain, where we lay our scene... A bastardised Shakespeare opening that suits the ongoing 'rivalry' between two family-owned taverns, who both claim to be the world's oldest establishments. There's Madrid's Sobrino de Botín, which holds the coveted Guinness World Record as the world's oldest restaurant. Founded in 1725 and located a stone's throw from the famed Plaza Mayor, it is famed for its wood-fire oven and has attracted patrons like Truman Capote, F. Scott Fitzgerald and was immortalised by Ernest Hemingway in his book 'The Sun Also Rises' - in which the author described Botín as 'one of the best restaurants in the world." It was awarded the Guinness accolade in 1987 and celebrated its 300 years of continuous service earlier this year. Then there's Casa Pedro, located on the outskirts of Madrid. The rustic tavern has boldly claimed that they have a shot at the title. The establishment has hosted Spanish King Juan Carlos I and current Spanish monarch King Felipe VI, and the owners assert their establishment endured the War of Spanish Succession at the start of the 18th century - therefore making Casa Pedro older than Botín. 'It's really frustrating when you say, 'Yes, we've been around since 1702,' but... you can't prove it,' says manager and eighth-generation proprietor Irene Guiñales. 'If you look at the restaurant's logo, it says 'Casa Pedro, since 1702,' so we said, 'Damn it, let's try to prove it.'' Guiñales' family has hired a historian and has so far turned up documents dating the restaurant's operations to at least 1750. She continues to hunt for records proving that Casa Pedro dates back to 1702. The question remains: How can either restaurant claim the title? Guinness provides its specific guidelines only to applicants, according to spokesperson Kylie Galloway, who notes that it entails 'substantial evidence and documentation of the restaurant's operation over the years." Antonio González, a third-generation proprietor of Botín, states that Guinness required Botín show that it has continuously operated in the same location with the same name. The only time the restaurant closed was during the pandemic – much like Casa Pedro. That criteria would mean that restaurants that are even older, like Paris' Le Procope, which says it was founded in 1686, aren't eligible for the Guinness designation. To make matters dicier, an Italian trattoria located in Rome's historic center, may pip both Sobrino de Botín and Casa Pedro to the post and steal the cake. Nestled on Vicolo della Campana, La Campana claims 'a taste of authentic Roman cuisine with a side of history' and more than 500 years of operation, citing documents on its menu and a self-published history. Its owners have said they have compiled the requisite paperwork and plan to submit it to Guinness. The battle of tasty households continues... Let's hope that chef blood won't make chef hands unclean. Khaby Lame, the world's most popular TikTok personality, has left the US after being detained by immigration agents in Las Vegas for allegedly overstaying his visa. The Senegalese-Italian influencer, whose legal name is Seringe Khabane Lame, was detained Friday at Harry Reid International Airport but was allowed to leave the US without a deportation order, a spokesperson for US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) confirmed in a statement. Lame, 25, arrived in the US on 30 April and 'overstayed the terms of his visa,' the ICE spokesperson said. His detainment and voluntary departure - which allows those facing removal from the US to avoid a deportation order on their immigration record, which could prevent them from being allowed back into the US for up to a decade - from the US comes amid President Donald Trump's escalating crackdown on immigration. This includes raids in Los Angeles that have sparked days of protests against ICE, as the president tests the bounds of his executive authority. Many from the world of entertainment have reacted to Trump's deployment of the National Guard to LA, calling the actions as 'Un-American' and 'a fucking disgrace'. Governor Gavin Newsom also announced his plans to sue the federal government over the National Guard deployment, calling it 'an unconstitutional act.' "This is exactly what Donald Trump wanted. He flamed the fires and illegally acted to federalize the National Guard. The order he signed doesn't just apply to CA (California). It will allow him to go into ANY STATE and do the same thing. We're suing him." Khaby Lame was born in Senegal then moved to Italy as a young child and was raised in a poor area of the town of Chivasso, outside of Turin. When COVID hit, the then 22-year-old lost his job in a factory and was forced, like millions of Italians, to stay home. Lame took to social media to pass the time and quickly rose to international fame without ever saying a word in his videos, which would show him reacting to absurdly complicated 'life hacks." He has over 162 million followers on TikTok alone. His internet fame quickly evolved. He signed a multi-year partnership with designer brand Hugo Boss in 2022 – the same year he became an Italian citizen. In January, he was appointed as UNICEF goodwill ambassador. Last month, he attended the Met Gala in New York City, days after arriving in the US.
Mint
10-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Mint
Fitzgerald's Gatsby is still great at 100
I reread F. Scott Fitzgerald's 1925 classic, The Great Gatsby, for the first time in my early 30s. I had moved to Delhi around that time, rented the tiniest bedsit I could find in the upmarket southern part of the city, my very own version of the seamier West Egg side of Long Island Sound in the novel, and, like Nick Carraway, the Yale-educated but 'no-money" narrator of Gatsby (to borrow a phrase from critic Tony Tanner), began getting acquainted with the new- and old-money denizens of the posher East Egg side of the society I had thrown myself into. I had a sense of turning a corner in my life, like Nick, who turns 30 in the course of the novel, and his epiphanic line about that momentous event struck a cord with me: 'Thirty—the promise of a decade of loneliness, a thinning list of single men to know, a thinning brief-case of enthusiasm, thinning air." Recently re-reading the novel after an interval of nearly 15 years, I was amused by my youthful indulgences, which, in a sense, captures the essence of what Gatsby is all about. When it came out exactly 100 years ago, it portrayed a generation of men and women and their excesses, not just material but also psychological, during the so-called The Roaring Twenties. The 1920s were a time of boundless hedonism. A flamboyant sense of optimism coursed through the air during those inter-war years, which would presage The Great Depression of the 1930s, followed by World War II. A century later, the capitalist effluence that Fitzgerald described in his novel is even more pronounced—watch the limited series, Sirens, on Netflix, in case you need a reminder, or just follow the exploits of Elon Musk and Co. The Great American Dream, once a rallying cry of egalitarian aspiration in the proverbial land of the free, is now the privilege of only the select few—indeed, the elected few, by the people. Also read: Two films show our present is the future we once feared Instead of the glamour and cultural cache of the jazz age, we have the xenophobic, exclusionary politics of Donald Trump's MAGA. In that sense, Fitzgerald's novel holds up a perverse mirror to 21st century America—the glass has cracked and the reflections in it have become distorted and monstrous. While it's tempting to read The Great Gatsby as a social commentary, at its heart it is a bloody good story before everything else. Part of its mystique is the central character himself. As late as 1924, Fitzgerald wrote to his editor Maxwell Perkins, 'I have now decided to stick to the title I put on the book. Trimalchio in West Egg." Both Perkins and Fitzgerald's wife Zelda dissuaded him from the idea, but the allusion is revealing. Trimalchio refers to a social upstart in Satyricon, a classical play by Roman writer Petronius, who is a master of revels. He is a glutton with an outsized appetite for both sex and food and, like Jay Gatsby, is in the habit of hosting lavish banquets. Curiously, by the time the novel was ready for publication, not only had the title changed, but the eponymous hero resembled nothing of the Roman character. Gatsby, as Nick tells us, doesn't drink, though alcohol flows wildly at his parties. This generosity during the Prohibition Era not only attracts uninvited guests to his raucous evenings, but also raises more than a few eyebrows. And while Gatsby has ample opportunities to indulge in sexual dalliances, he remains unmoved by the women who throw themselves at him. He has eyes for one person only, and that is Daisy, Nick's distant cousin, who is married to the boorish Tom Buchanan, scion of a wealthy family. Gatsby's life, especially his dodgy career, has been geared toward building wealth and a reputation befitting of Daisy's exalted antecedents. He erases his origins, his given name, and all the myriad struggles he had to endure in order to retrieve his beloved from the clutches of her brutish husband. Unlike Trimalchio, he does not want to lose himself in the affluence he has amassed for the sake of it. Rather, everything he has achieved—the exquisite decor of his palatial home, his sprawling property with a swimming pool, the most beautiful clothes money can buy—are to impress Daisy as her potential suitor. Apart from the enigma that is Gatsby, the other character of interest in the novel is Nick himself. Critics have pointed out that Nick isn't Fitzgerald, though the two men have shades of each other, as does Gatsby and his author. Like Gatsby's obsession with Daisy, Fitzgerald harboured a lifelong attraction to socialite Ginevra King. Although King reciprocated his love, her family was against the match with a young Midwesterner of no comparable pedigree except for an Ivy League education. Like Nick, who went to Yale, Fitzgerald attended Princeton, and like Gatsby, he served in the war. King's friend, Edith Cummings, an amateur golfer, became the inspiration for Jordan Baker, who has a short-lived flirtation with Nick. Although Nick is a stand-in for the omniscient narrator, he is not someone who can be fully trusted. 'I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known," he tells the reader, a statement that immediately puts the latter on the alert. He also reflects Fitzgerald's ambivalent feelings about the Jazz Age, in that he is bedazzled by the splendour of Gatsby's soirees but does not necessarily identify with his set. Instead, he keeps a delicate balance between distance and proximity, which gives him the advantage of having an interested outsider's perspective on everything that comes to pass in the novel. There have been several movie adaptations of The Great Gatsby, most notably by Baz Luhrmann in 2013, with Leonardo DiCaprio in the lead role. Unfortunately, the screen version puts an undue focus on the pomp and splendour of Gatsby's parties, at the expense of going deeper into the hollowness of the human condition that the novel truly trains its eye on. But, as with every great work of literature, the reader comes away with a new sense of significance with each reading. Revisiting it this time after a decade and a half, I saw less of the glitter but more of the gloom at the heart of the story. Also read: 'Mountainhead' review: Plutocrats in party mode
