Caribbean call or delete???
– Take one Lady Luxe (and her not quite recovered eating disorder)
– Plated on an all-inclusive resort where cocktails punctuate every movement of the sun
– Ring fenced by restaurants
– And washed down with a bucket load of Americans
Lornaluxe S.O.S
So last week, at very short notice – our great friends from way back when headed off (in haste/not shotgun) to share their vows in tropical Antigua and we were invited. It was a priviledge and we couldn’t say NO.
n.b. Mr. Luxe loves a holiday and I enjoy planning it. A lot. We’re both super fussy (who isn’t?) and we know what we like. We’ll discard a whole continent if the photo opps aren’t up to scratch. I present him with my shortlist/mood board including visuals, he flips it into an uninspiring spreadsheet with the ££££’s and then over decadent cocktails (or sometimes a squash) we make our decision. It’s an exhausting selection process but it works.
This holiday was different
It was chosen for us – the hotel, the airline – the whole god damn thing! ‘I’m a control freak get me out of here’ might have been warbled once or twice. I had more reservations than Balthazar on a bank holiday before we booked.
Accompanied by Mr. Luxe and armed with duty-free laden Neverfull’s, we arrived in paradise…?
I dipped my boney little toes into a full on carb fest – my faithful lkbennett sandals for moral support.
Resort chic was, dare I say it ‘tits on toast’ so my beloved Cavalli kaftans – like me – were well and truly out of their comfort zone. That said, I wore them. They looked fabulous
Day 1 and my usual morning holiday ritual – fresh fruit, green tea + side order of Vogue had been severely displaced…
Maybe I missed the memo but a Mojito doesn’t qualify as a fruit option… And I was super thirsty!
By day 4 – battle lines were drawn. Sun shocked and appetite supressed, I’d mastered the art of dissecting (with little digestion) any food on any plate presented to me.
All-inclusive had turned into an all day slog. Respite was my mid morning Mimosa and greasy fingered photocopy of the daily mail. Please dont tell…
True to form, Mr. Luxe took to the pool bar like a duck to water. We exchanged loving glances whilst I performed various feline manoeuvres upon my sunlounger – who said romance was dead..
On the day, with rosé tinted miumiu’s I opted for a pink on pink ensemble.The ceremony cantered along to the sound of steel drums. We floundered in the searing heat, Mr. Luxe slowly melting into his crisp linen suit like a day old california roll. Me and my wilting headpiece darting across the beach papping the ceremony in all its glory
The day was sublime – suitably fuelled by plentiful champagne and Lornaluxe friendly canapes Beseiged by the resort photographer, our hosts made a dash which made way for Mr Luxe to indulge my exhibitionist streak. Holiday photo’s are my guilty pleasure… apologies if they’re not yours.
Palm tree porn