Throwback Tuesday: Cara G x Audrey Hepburn

Photographer Hyvis Tong captured Aussie/Hong Kong super-duper model Cara G stepping out of an iconic Hong Kong red cab. 

Well, then we had her step in and stick her head out in Central. Not just a fab model, just one of the most amazing people to work with.

The Aubrey Hepburn shot parallel.... well, inspired, but not duplicated. 

Richard Ekkebus by Nic Gaunt

 

These images by photographer Nic Gaunt of Chef Richard Ekkebus. Remembering Nic today out of the blue. He was just the loveliest person to work with, collaborate with... his sudden passing was such a shock. There were projects in the air, ideas being worked on, artistic visions left unfulfilled. 

Grateful for the opportunity to work with him. This was not only his, but my last cover shoot and feature with the magazine. Decades in, glad I only remember the good times and great people. Everything else fades to black. 

Ekkebus and Son

Chef Richard Ekkebus is the only chef so far to get serious real estate on the cover of Prestige magazine. 

Not long after, got to shoot his son, the avant-garde designer, Mathis. 

Edwin Datoc snapped him on the streets of Central, on On Lan Street. 
 

From Me to You: Yume is officially open!

The basement on 38–44 D’Aguilar Street is coated with stardust, celebrity shenanigans, of good people and the profligate.  I have walked past this staircase and the insalubrious lanes a thousand times.

First as a wide-eyed teenager trying to get past the bouncers who usually did a body-scan with their reptilian eyes before letting anyone in to... drop. Easily one of the smallest piece of real estate that has hosted some of the most glamorous people on earth. Kate Moss, Gwyneth Paltrow, Sting, The Black Eyed Peas. Obviously, powered by my own steam, I'm certainly not cool enough. Propelled by a weekly column in South China Morning Post however, suddenly a few doors opened. Albeit reluctantly. To be fair, to the "door bitch", I don't fit a welcoming profile; I  look like I only nurse a Diet Coke, wear a wardrobe of a disgruntled accountant, and will clumsily report on the night's activities in a column, searching for a punchline. 

Then as a twenty-something, chasing the loudest bass in the city when drop ruled the underground, and a dear friend was passing us freebies behind the bar, my crew and I were there a bit more. When your friend Dj'd at some ungodly hour (Ellul! Tom Price!!), you tried a bit more to be there at 2:00am... drop had some serious beats. 

Later, older, wiser (well... debatable), nursing expensive vodkas at Quality Goods [what drop morphed into under new management] while pretending I still belonged there at midnight as I grew older and the crowd looked younger...  Every era left its fingerprints on those black steps. Cigarette burns, spilled champagne, the ghost of someone’s first kiss pressed against the wall, the faint odor of a wretched retch after a spicy vodka shot, hook ups and break ups have all occurred along that narrow alleyway. 

The address never changed; only the name etched on the door did. 

Tonight the name is Yume.夢. Dream.

And for once the word doesn’t feel like marketing fluff. It feels like a dare. A promise. An occasion. You descend at 6 p.m, and the city’s noise dissolves the moment the door seals behind you. Still has that tricky staircase (and yes, I tripped and fell on my first visit). 

The lighting is low, deliberate—like someone turned the saturation down on real life. Japanese cedar somewhere, faint incense, the quiet clink of hand-cut ice. This is not the Hong Kong that screams. This is the one that whispers, “Stay a while.” There's a Miami-Vice colour schemed wall that's an 80s throwback that not a single influencer by the bar, got the reference to. 

The bar is the altar. Behind it, magicians in crisp white jackets move like they’ve done this in another lifetime. The opening menu is called Dream Is Destiny—yes, a little dramatic, but when the first drink lands in front of you, you forgive the theatrics. It Was All a Dream: dark rum, rye, coconut, pineapple, served in a porcelain coconut shell because why the hell not. One sip and you’re barefoot on a beach you never actually visited, but swear you remember. Ukiyo: Nikka Days whisky rinsed in sesame-fat-washed Oloroso. Silky, nutty, borderline obscene. You close your eyes and taste Tokyo at 2 a.m. in a bar with no sign.

Tickled like a teen, you smirk at the name; F.YU: gin, soju, shiso, cantaloupe. Bright, green, dangerous—like summer flirting with you after three martinis. Kiss of a Geisha: bourbon washed with shiitake, coffee liqueur, bitters. Earth and caffeine and regret in the best way. There’s an origami cootie-catcher on every table. Open the flaps, follow the instructions, let the bartender surprise you. 

Jejune? Absolutely. Perfect? Also absolutely. The room changes with the hour. 7 p.m.: soft jazz, conversations you can actually hear. 10 p.m.: the lights bleed violet, the bass wakes up, the Tokyo influence sharpens its edges. By midnight the Japanese shōji screens glow crimson and the space feels like the inside of someone else’s lucid dream.

Food arrives in waves you want to ride forever. Tuna tartare wearing a crown of Oscietra caviar. Iberico katsu sando so good it should be illegal. Wagyu sliders that make you believe in a higher power. Japanese curry empanadas that taste like homes you never had.

This is not another “Japanese-inspired” knockoff. This is the real conversation between Tokyo’s precision and Hong Kong’s chaos, translated into a room that knows exactly who it is. The crowd is the city in cross-section: finance bros loosening their Hermès ties, artists in vintage Comme des Garçons, expat models, local kids who grew up on this staircase, tourists who stumbled in thinking it was just another bar and leave three hours later texting their friends “I think I just fell in love with Hong Kong again.” Those who call it Home Kong are spanked as they leave. 

Yume understands something the old clubs sometimes forgot: we don’t always want to lose ourselves in strobe lights and bottle parades anymore. Sometimes we just want a perfect drink, a corner sofa, and the feeling that time has politely agreed to pause.

Yet when the night decides it’s ready to roar, Yume roars with it. The playlist deepens, the lights pulse harder, and suddenly you’re dancing with a stranger who feels like an old friend.

Same basement. New dream. And for the first time in years, I left at a respectable hour… then came straight back the next night. Because some dreams, m'luv, you don’t want to wake up from.

Images courtesy of Noor. 

Yume
38–44 D’Aguilar Street, Basement
Open from 6 p.m. until the city forgives you
Dress code: Come as your favourite version of yourself

15 Years of the Finest in Menswear: Mark Cho of The Armoury in Hong Kong and Mats Klingberg of Trunk Clothiers.

 

Gentlemen Prefer Bonds 

Mark Cho and Mats Klinberg’s discuss 15-years of timeless menswear wisdom, forged over Hong Kong coffees. 

On a rain-lashed morning in Hong Kong, Mark Cho, co-founder of The Armoury, welcomed Mats Klingberg, the visionary behind Trunk Clothiers, into his Pedder Street flagship. Take-away coffees in hand, the two arbiters of refined taste—each marking 15 years since launching their respective ventures—settled into a corner of the atelier-like space amid rails of Neapolitan tailoring, Japanese selvedge denim, and shelves of artisanal accessories. 

What began as a serendipitous reunion blossomed into a candid dialogue on enduring style, customer psychology, and the quiet art of building legacies in an industry prone to fleeting trends. Cho, ever the pragmatic aesthete with transatlantic reach from New York to Hong Kong, and Klinberg, the empathetic curator with intimate outposts in London and Zurich, revealed shared philosophies tempered by distinct geographies and personal evolutions. 

Their conversation, moderated by yours truly, offered rare insight into the minds steering two of the world’s most respected independent menswear destinations—destinations that have become more than shops, but trusted confidants in the lifelong pursuit of refined self-presentation. My first question, "Congratulations on 15 years each. You’ve both survived an era of fast fashion, digital disruption, and global upheaval. What have you learnt about men and how they dress—and about sustaining a business in this capricious trade?"

Full feature out now at Elite Traveler. 

Meanwhile, somewhere in Kerala, everything is blooming

 

Gucci at Canton Road in Hong Kong:

Gucci's flagship at Canton Road, Hong Kong. 

The young peeps, esp the younglings of UHNW, love it. 

There was a moment when I looked around and was possibly the oldest person in the room. 

Left quickly. 

The Fendi collab: Working with Yana, photographer Dino Busch and Karen Yiu's team

Couple of BTS shots. 

Cover shoot for Runway magazine, rare pics from behind the scene. 

That Fendi look...  

Throwback Thursday: Outtake from a cover shoot for Runway magazine

 

Interview hack; Make 'em Laugh!

For the uninitiated, photoshoots and interviews can be unnerving. Key hack; make 'em laugh. After that, it gets easier. Kinda...

The Dior dinner in Hong Kong

TBT: How do you host a private, VIP dinner with Dior and the most happening ladies of Hong Kong? Make 'em laugh!

This exquisite soiree, where Dior took over an entire floor, refurbished it with the brand's accessories and we hosted 21 of my fav gals I've featured, photographed and interviewed over the course of a decade. This week and last had meetings with some mega brands to plan and plot more events in the coming year.

Parting Shot: Photoshoots in the streets of Hong Kong

The reference was obvious; the execution, perfection.

Photographer Olivier Yoan and our model and muse for the day — the incomparable Diane d’Arenberg — brought their A-game to a shoot that wrapped in just 15 minutes. We shot in the middle of the night in some forgotten corner of Sai Ying Pun/Sheung Wan, chasing the right street, the right lights, the perfect tone and texture — all while keeping Helmut Newton’s iconic 1966 portrait Le Smoking firmly in mind.

Calls were made to the powers-that-be at Yves Saint Laurent (hoping they’d loan a full menswear look akin to the original). Unfortunately, (re-named-) Saint Laurent didn’t have anything similar to the look… but d'Arenberg did. Because that’s exactly how she rolls. To pilfer a quote from her Insta (@post_ism)," Wearing my own hashtag#vintage and sustainable + unisex Berlin designers @estherperbandt on the streets of my beloved hashtag#HongKong. (I don’t smoke, so no ciggie with le smoking)."

Nicoline assisted with the lights, Olivier lay on the unwashed streets to get that shot and angle. I was prayin' the cops won't shoo us away. We'll do just about anything for the parting shot...

Cover shoot with Chef Richard Ekkebus

 

The coolest chef in town, Richard Ekkebus is celebrating Amber At 20, while collaborating with Dom Perignon, the team has invited a line-up of celebrity Chefs for a one-night only dinner. 

The ONLY chef I've ever featured on a cover story over the past 25 years.