The Rake August 2019 - Issue 65

I lie awake in bed, screaming the name of the devil, terrifying my normally unflappable sausage dog so much that she burrows into the deepest recesses of my goose-down duvet howling in sympathy. I lie curled in an embryonic ball of frayed nerves, quaking in night terrors, my shirt drenched in sweat. I start to weep in horror, so haunted am I by those three syllables that until the day I die shall represent the deepest form of depravity and evil perpetuated on the world since Epimetheus’s bimbotic lady friend Pandora opened a clay jar clearly labelled “Do not open under any circumstances” and unleashed all manner of maleficence upon humanity. That name is, of course, Ryanair, the airline whose boss, Michael O’Leary — a man who can only be…

I made a risky purchase recently. The whole thing could have affected my marriage and therefore my relationship with my two sons. You have a fantasy that the transaction will realise all the pleasure and delight in your imagination, though the sense of gratification is often followed by shame and anxiety at the financial and spiritual consequences that come with such an impulsive decision. I read the text saying simply, “I’m on my way”. My palms were dank. At the designated hour the doorbell rang and a scrimmage of conflicting voices found their way between my ears, an angel and a devil on my shoulders jostling for position: “This is exactly what you need; it’s what you deserve, you’ll love it.” And: “Think of the look on your wife’s face when…

Nick, a Contributing Editor for The Rake, a historian and an author — and surely London’s most prominent luxury commentator — writes for periodicals including How To Spend It, the Financial Times, The Independent, Vanity Fair and The Daily Telegraph. Among his many published tomes to date are the Count d’Orsay biography Last of the Dandies (2005), Dunhill by Design (2006), TAG Heuer (2009), Cigar Style (2008), Gentlemen and Blackguards: Gambling Mania and the Plot to Steal the Derby of 1844 (2010), Swans, Legends of the Jet Society (2013), Bernard Buffet: The Invention of the Modern Mega-Artist, and the finest compendium on combustible agriculture, Cigars. In this issue, he pays tribute to Niki Lauda, the courageous Formula 1 champion and aviation entrepreneur who died in May (page 26). The freelance writer…

“I suppose the truth is that I am as well known for surviving that terrible fiery accident in the 1976 German Grand Prix as I am for winning three world championships. I do not generally dwell on the events at Nürburgring almost 20 years ago, but it certainly served as a graphic indication of the potential dangers of motorsport’s most senior category.” Writing in the foreword to a book about improvements in medical care in “motorsport’s most senior category”, Niki Lauda was not one to allow himself even the faintest, most evanescent wisp of an illusion. In assessing his legacy he was as unemotionally calculating as he was at the wheel of the cars with which he won the Formula 1 world drivers’ title in 1975, 1977 and 1984, driving first…

Saint Barthélemy, or St. Barths, is a small paradise on Earth where one can immerse oneself in a life of luxe, calme et volupté. It has crystal-clear turquoise waters, the best food and shopping in the Caribbean, charming hospitality from its inhabitants, and world-class hotels and villa rentals. Thankfully, its super-small airport has protected the island from mass tourism, so the island remains undisturbed and peaceful. My favourite Vilebrequin bathing shorts for the island are the super-chic and fun ‘Moorea’ with multicolour turtles on a black background. As well, the sexy ‘Man’ model in lagoon-aqua perfectly matches the colour of the sea around St. Barths. Each bathing suit contains 200g of plastic waste collected from the Mediterranean Sea. Here are some of my personal highlights from the island: Lunch Le Toiny Beach: The most…

In early 1956, John Cassavetes was a guest on a popular evening talk radio show, Night People, where he was scheduled to promote some of his forthcoming projects. So far, so standard P.R.; Cassavetes was a 26-year-old actor whose dark, tousled good looks and wiry intensity had won him many roles — including a fair smattering of criminals and hoodlums — in jittery B-movies such as The Night Holds Terror and Crime in the Streets. A little way in, however, the conversation took a somewhat unexpected turn. Cassavetes started lambasting what he described as the “artificiality” of Hollywood. “Most of what the studio system churns out is nothing more than repetitive and formulaic drivel,” he announced to his somewhat disconcerted interlocutor. He then set listeners a challenge: if they wanted to…