Balancing Act
Armed with new research about the inextricable link between our guts and our brains, a forward-thinking health resort on the Mediterranean is working to bring them into harmony.
It might sound blasphemous to visit Spain, the land of paella, pan con tomate and patatas bravas, and choose to dine on miso soup with a side of algae. But that’s my meal one evening at SHA Wellness Clinic, a health resort in Alicante whose terrace restaurant overlooks the Mediterranean Sea. Instead of enjoying it with a glass of rosé, I wash it down with a cup of umeboshi tea, a soupy brew made from the funky, salty Japanese plum that’s known to be an antibacterial superfood.
The menu isn’t part of some newfangled scheme to shed kilos. Rather, the macrobiotic drinks and dishes all have microbiome-boosting properties that alleviate bloating and support gastrointestinal health, the target of the new “gut-health-focused pack”. The week-long regimen—crammed with specialist consultations, colon cleansing and other stomach-healing treatments—can be added onto SHA’s existing programs. It comes at a time when emerging research indicates that the link between the GI tract and the brain may be far more crucial than Western medicine has previously acknowledged. Findings suggest that the digestive system heavily impacts our well-being and, when out of whack, accelerates anxiety and even depression.
The SHA retreat, which sits on the edge of a nature preserve and offers brilliant water views, opened in late 2008. Since then, it has made a name for itself with luxurious, nutrition-centric programs designed to address everything from healthy ageing to weight loss. Stays can range from four days to three weeks and are administered in a state-of-the-art facility under the care of a team of physicians and alternative healers. Having experienced my own set of digestive trials and tribulations after picking up parasites during my travels, plus ongoing inflammation from a bad bout of dengue fever years ago, I figured a week of nutritional rigour and high-touch therapies in the Spanish sunshine couldn’t hurt.
“In recent years, the knowledge of the gut microbiota has advanced leaps and bounds,” says Mariel Silva, MD, one of SHA’s medical practitioners. “This research has led to an understanding of the importance of digestive health for optimal health. This means that if the function of the nervous system is altered, the function of the digestive system is altered, and the same happens in the reverse direction. As a consequence, when you have stress, you get dysbiosis [the medical term for an imbalance of bacteria], and when you have dysbiosis, you don’t tolerate stress.”
One 2019 study, for example, found that mental tension and depression can alter the composition of gut bacteria, which in turn can release metabolites and toxins that cause a vicious cycle of problems. Another article published later that year highlighted an association between Western diets filled with processed foods—which already correlate with chronic illnesses such as diabetes and cardiovascular issues—and increased gut inflammation, which the authors argued can promote other inflammatory diseases.
“Countless people have walked around for years with gut issues,” says Maura Henninger, ND, a New York City–based naturopathic doctor who specialises in gastro health. “The explosion in research has helped immensely.” Increasingly, studies are showing how simple hacks such as altering our diets or taking probiotics can, in some cases, be more effective than prescription antidepressants. “Studies in laboratory mice have shown that certain probiotics can increase the production of GABA,” she notes, referring to a neurotransmitter manufactured by gut microbes that helps minimise feelings of fear and stress, “and reduce anxiety and depression-like behaviour”.
But while the scientific research and the quest for solutions to bring the gut and the brain back into balance are new, the link between mind and stomach is as old as humanity. “We have started to understand more about how they are intimately connected,” says Tim Spector, MD, a British epidemiologist and professor who has dedicated years to researching the microbiome and recently published a new book, Food for Life: The New Science of Eating Well. “I think there’s a growing realisation that the food we eat plays a pivotal role in health,” he adds. “It is ultra-processed industrialised foods that seem to be wreaking havoc with our microbes and metabolism.”
Henninger points to integrative medicine, which takes an holistic approach that embraces both biomedical and alternative solutions, as a successful way to improve digestive health. “Where Eastern medicine and naturopathic medicine come in is that they have been used to treat gut issues successfully for generations. They’ve used tools like botanical medicine, diet, and acupuncture,” she says. “While they didn’t always have the definitive weight of research behind them—although they increasingly do now—they were inarguably effective. And they continue to be,” she notes. “Science is catching up.”
That SHA’s methods incorporate both Western science and alternative medicine makes it well suited to fortifying the body’s microbiome “You have everybody aligned to find your solution,” says Fernando Rojo, SHA’s general manager. “When [guests] come here, they have everything under one roof.”
For the gut retreat, expect a comprehensive GI test upon arrival, in which a stool sample is sent away to a lab to identify specific bacteria, plus an intravenous liver detox containing glutathione and vitamin C, and colon hydrotherapy, which flushes out your intestines with gallons of water. Turnaround time for the GI test can be sluggish—a report takes two to three weeks—but a doctor will explain the results on a follow-up call. I also have appointments with a medical doctor, a digestive physician and a psychologist (with whom I speak about emotional eating) and even undergo a form of lymphatic-drainage massage, conducted via machine, called pressotherapy.
Other treatments take a far more spa-like approach outside the boundaries of Western standards—and everyone on staff is required to buy in. “We will never have a doctor who doesn’t believe that acupuncture or physiotherapy or osteopathy are medical practices,” says Rojo. These sessions include a “hydro-energetic detox cure”, which has me marinating in a jetted bath with kelp cream and detoxifying herbal oil before being hosed down, and a “ginger therapeutic compress”, for which a hot, ginger-soaked towel is pressed onto my side—purported to be a way of cleansing the liver. At one point, I find myself lying on a sunbed while a therapist conducts a form of the traditional Chinese medicine practice called moxibustion, lighting artemisia and holding it over my midsection for 15 counts. It doesn’t hurt, but the burning plant is close enough that I can feel the heat from its flame. She explains that the fire will help “stimulate the small intestine”, and even admits, “This looks strange.” Odd or not, that night I have the best sleep I’ve had all week and wake up with a stomach as flat as the buckwheat pancakes I’ve grown accustomed to eating here.
What ties everything together at SHA is nutrition, its lodestar. The restaurant’s menu is devoid not only of meat, cheese, eggs, caffeine and sugar, but also of spicy and oily foods. The strategy here is less about calorie counting and more about reducing toxins. To that end, the chefs focus on highlighting local, seasonal and organic ingredients, and incorporate plenty of grains, vegetables and seaweeds. For someone who has long followed a keto or low-carb diet, reducing protein and ramping up millet and quinoa goes against every fibre of my being, so to speak. But everyone at SHA, even the waitstaff, is so hell-bent on the benefits of the macrobiotic diet that there’s little point arguing.
For each meal there are three menus available—which vary from gastronomic to calorie-restrictive—but the cooks also prepare off-menu dishes for patients whose nutritionists recommend individualised eating plans. In these cases, meals get tweaked over the course of the stay according to how you’re feeling. Coming to Spain without indulging in Manchego cheese or a boozy carajillo coffee may sound boring, but eating at SHA really is healthy fine dining at its best. In the kitchen, head chef Andrés Morán creates flavour-packed meals from ingredients that would taste like cardboard if not prepared correctly. Tempeh is spun into ceviche, prawns are delicately draped with sheets of gluten-free pasta and drizzled with pumpkin miso, and almond- and rice-flour cakes are crusted with hazelnut. And while alcohol isn’t recommended, there’s a selection of fine wines on offer (though you have to sign a waiver if you want to deviate from the nutritionists’ orders).
On a warm Friday evening, as the rosy sun is setting over the ocean and turning the landscape golden, I hear the distant sound of people having a party. It’s an idyllic Mediterranean summer moment that only a glass of wine might improve. But rather than envious, I feel smug. No hangover for me! Besides, the clinic has its own party, with a Spanish guitarist stringing songs and serenading diners. Instead of toasting with vino, we raise shots of vinegar in water (served before a meal, I am told, to help the body metabolise an amino acid called homocysteine and move glucose out of the bloodstream to prevent sugar spikes). A woman behind me even orders a glass of Champagne.
I don’t care to drink. After a full week of discipline, I feel both sharper and calmer, and I can finally button up my jeans without worrying I look pregnant—something I want to hang on to for as long as possible. I’m down to one caffeinated beverage per day, which I had negotiated with my nutritionist on arrival. My eyes look brighter, my skin is clearer and my stomach feels infinitely less bloated. I even start to look forward to my breakfast of miso soup, quinoa porridge with berries, and a second cup of non-caffeinated barley coffee with homemade almond milk.
But while I don’t want to end my good-health streak, I also don’t feel like everything will fall apart when I return to life in the city. “If you drink one glass [of wine] and you’re enjoying with friends or family, or even yourself, that is important, too, because we have a very close relationship between the brain and the bowel,” Silva tells me when I break the news that abstinence doesn’t have a permanent place in my future. Happiness is good for the gut, she reminds me. “Just avoid anything processed!” she warns.
Unlike other wellness clinics with more rigid protocols, SHA’s flexibility makes returning to the real world easier. Guests go home with a nutrition plan and receive a follow-up call from a doctor. Test results and other data are handily saved in an app, making them easier to pass along to your local physician—and they’re a useful baseline for future visits. Which is key: the easy-does-it model means 50 percent of visitors return, often many times. One afternoon by the pool, I meet a repeat guest who’d previously gone to an Austrian clinic to detox and lose weight, which she describes as “life-changing” but “way too tough” to do twice. Not only does she find the food at SHA much more enjoyable, but she also likes the relaxed approach, which she can incorporate into her daily life. (Plus, when she leaves, she’ll have a tan.)
While waiting at Alicante Airport for my return flight, I notice legs of Ibérico ham dangling at all the kiosks, but I’m not tempted. I’ve been primed with good habits that obviate the need to summon my willpower. I’m also in the early stages of healing my sensitive digestive system, which still needs a few more weeks to set straight. I have yet to receive the results from my dysbiosis test, but because I tested positive for parasites and SIBO (small intestinal bacterial overgrowth) in the past and am still having symptoms, the medical team is confident my issues haven’t been resolved. “Sometimes these things can take three or even six months to heal,” Silva says.
Once I’m back home, she gives me a six-month treatment plan that begins with antibiotics, followed by a course of supplements including lion’s mane mushroom and curcumin. Silva also instructs me to increase the levels of nutrient-dense foods such as avocados and blueberries in my diet and to continue exercising. I start making that porridge for breakfast and ramping up my intake of salmon at dinner. Though I’ll never be fully macrobiotic, I’m no longer terrified of farro and chickpeas.
There are moments when sticking to a single glass of wine feels impossible, especially when friends come to town the week following my return. But by and large, the habits I learned at SHA have stuck. When I travel, I occasionally skip breakfast to let my digestive system rest. I generally avoid gluten and dairy, and I try to eat as much local, seasonal produce as possible. I also pack digestive enzymes and sometimes umeboshi plum paste, a superfood SHA’s nutrition team swears by because of its high polyphenol concentration. No matter where I am in the world, I meditate most mornings and do yoga, take a long walk, or hit the gym. I am in it for the long haul.
Finally, I receive my test results over a Zoom call: it had indeed found traces of both SIBO and parasites—unsurprising, considering my bloating is still flaring up (a nearly unavoidable symptom of SIBO).
What SHA reminds me is that although a week-long retreat can certainly fast-track gut health—while doubling as an amazing all-around respite—there are no quick fixes. Long-term solutions require a realistic, holistic approach along with healthy daily habits. And, sometimes, a glass of good wine. ●
Rates at SHA Wellness Clinic start at around $9,200 for the seven-day Rebalance program with gut-health add-on, plus around $665 per night for a deluxe suite.
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Mauve on Up
Brisbane boutique stay Miss Midgley’s offers a viscerally human experience—especially if you dig pink.
On a sun-bleached corner of Brisbane’s New Farm, where the scent of frangipani mingles with the clink of coffee cups, stands a building that has lived more lives than most people. Once a premier’s residence, an orphanage, a hospital and a private school, the 160-year-old stone structure now finds itself reborn as Miss Midgley’s—a boutique stay that teaches a masterclass in how to make heritage feel modern.
Designed and run by architect-mother-daughter duo Lisa and Isabella White, Miss Midgley’s captures the cultural confidence of a city in bloom. Nowhere is that new confidence more visible than along James Street—the leafy, slow-burn heart of the city’s fashion and dining scene—where Miss Midgley’s sits quietly at the edge, its shell-pink façade glowing in the subtropical light.
Built of Brisbane’s rare volcanic tuff, the building’s soft mauves and pinks are more than aesthetic; they are its identity. Locals still remember its 1950s incarnation as the Pink Flats, and the Whites have honoured that legacy with a contemporary blush-toned exterior, chosen to harmonise with the stone’s peachy undertones. Inside, those hues continue in dusty terracottas, russets and the faint shimmer of brass tapware. “Design can’t afford to be for the sake of fashion,” Isabella White has said. “It has to respond to what’s in front of you.”
That sentiment is tangible in every corner. Five apartments, each with their own idiosyncratic floor plan, occupy the building. Ceilings bloom with heritage plasterwork, 19th-century wallpaper fragments have been preserved in the kitchens, and tiny hand-painted notes left by the architects point out original quirks: a misaligned beam here, a hidden archway there. It’s a kind of adult treasure hunt for design lovers, where discovery feels personal and unforced.
Even the picket fence, a heritage requirement, has been reimagined in corten steel—a sly nod to regulation turned into sculpture. It’s this blend of reverence and rebellion that gives Miss Midgley’s its edge: heritage without starch, nostalgia without sentimentality.
True to Brisbane’s easy elegance, luxury here is measured not in marble or minibar but in proportion, privacy, and personality. Each apartment—from the Drawing Room and the Assembly Hall to the Principal’s Office—is a self-contained sanctuary with its own kitchen, large bathroom and outdoor space. The ground-floor units open onto leafy courtyards and welcome small dogs; upstairs, the larger suites spill onto verandahs shaded by jacarandas.
At the heart of the property lies a solar-heated pool hemmed with tropical greenery and fringed umbrellas—more mid-century Palm Springs than colonial Brisbane. Around it, guests share a petite laundry, a communal library and that rarest of urban luxuries: a car park per apartment. The atmosphere is quietly collegiate—a handful of travellers who might nod to each other on the stairs but otherwise inhabit their own creative bubbles.
The hotel’s namesake, Annie Midgley, lends the project both its name and its spirit. An ambidextrous artist and teacher, she famously instructed two students at once, writing with both hands simultaneously—a fitting metaphor for the dual vision the Whites bring to the building: one hand rooted in history, the other sketching toward the future. “Not famous, yet known,” goes the property’s understated tagline—and indeed, Miss Midgley’s has quietly become that most desirable of addresses: the one whispered about by people who know.
Sustainability isn’t an accessory here; it’s structural. The adaptive reuse of the heritage building is its boldest environmental act. Solar panels power the property; an electric heat pump warms the pool; recycled decking and tiles frame the courtyard. The metre-thick tuff walls regulate temperature naturally, and the amenities follow suit—refillable bath products, biodegradable pods, Seljak blankets spun from textile off-cuts, and compendiums wrapped in Australian-made kangaroo leather. It’s slow luxury in the truest sense.
In a world of carbon-copy hotels, Miss Midgley’s feels deeply human—a place where history isn’t curated behind glass but lives in the warmth of stone and the flicker of afternoon light. The lesson it offers is simple and resonant: that the most elegant modernity often comes not from reinvention, but from listening to what’s already there.
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My Brisbane…Monique Kawecki
The Queensland capital is carving its own distinctive take on Australian culture. Here, a clued-up local aesthete takes us around town.
It’s almost a given that all globally minded creatives will, at some juncture in their careers, choose a path that leads directly to one of the planet’s vital cultural hubs—metropolises with the cosmopolitan thrum of New York, the lofty elegance of Paris, the futuristic edge of Tokyo.
True to form, Monique Kawecki’s work odyssey transported her to the buzz of London for over a decade, but the editor and creative consultant now admits to “finding a balance” in Brisbane, using the Queensland capital as a base for generating international content. Together with her husband, industrial designer Alexander Lotersztain, she’s proud to call the fast-blooming city her home.
Driven by curiosity, Monique joins the dots between creative communities and helps bring visionary projects to life through her studio Champ Creative, a space she runs with her twin sister in Tokyo. Her work as co-founder and editorial director of Ala Champ Magazine, a print-turned-digital-media platform rooted in design, architecture and creative culture, allies thinkers and makers who are shaping the future.
EAT
Central
Step underground and you’ll find more than just a Hong Kong-inspired eatery. This vibrant enclave in the CBD is the vision of chef Benny Lam and young restaurateur David Flynn, combining an avant-garde space—designed by up-and-coming J.AR Office—with inventive Asian-fusion plates and a curated Chinese and Australian wine list. Every detail, from the menu to the disco-era soundscape, combines for a memorable experience.
Gerards
A restaurant that has long held its place among Brisbane’s primo venues, and its makeover by J.AR Office has confirmed it is a mainstay in the city. Rich, rammed-earth textures and sleek steel set the stage for the Levantine-inflected fare, where Queensland produce meets Middle Eastern tradition—all served on textured Sally Kerkin tableware that casts the eclectic dishes in an even more visually pleasing light.
DRINK
+81 Aizome Bar
Inspired by the hidden cocktail bars in Tokyo’s Ginza district, an intimate, indigo-hued 10-seater designed by Alexander Lotersztain. The dimly lit space presents drinks served over hand-cut Japanese ice and expertly crafted “neo cocktails” courtesy of mixologist Tony Huang. Champ Creative curated and sourced the artisan-made tableware and glassware from Japan, making sure the experience is as authentic as possible.
Bar Miette
Overlooking the Brisbane River, Australian chef Andrew McConnell has enlisted executive chef Jason Barratt to direct two of his standout dining ventures—this venue and Supernormal—on the waterfront at 443 Queen Street. Both offer stellar dining—the milk bun with mortadella and smoked maple syrup is simple yet sublime—but this is the spot to visit for a glass of wine accompanied by water vistas.
ART & CULTURE
QAGOMA
Together, the Queensland Art Gallery (QA) and Gallery of Modern Art (GOMA) form Australia’s largest modern and contemporary art gallery. Roosting on Brisbane’s South Bank, the establishment showcases exemplary art from Australia, Asia and the Pacific, and, as such, has become a firm favourite among both locals and tourists. By day, world-class exhibitions such as Danish artist Olafur Eliasson’s Presence—beginning December 6th—take centre stage; after dark, expect illuminated theatrics as GOMA permanently projects an intense, multi-hued James Turrell artwork onto its facade.
SHOP
BrownHaus
The experience of entering the luxurious, travertine-clad space is as beautiful as the creations the jewellery studio constructs. The culmination of founder Drew Brown’s 25 years of refining his craft, fine jewels and elevated everyday pieces for both men and women captivate your gaze, each example formed with the utmost intention and care. Moreover, Brown is redefining traditional artisanship and service in a new, modern way, ensuring the flagship store is accessible and exciting in equal measure.
James Street Precinct
For shopping, dining or even just perfecting the time-honoured art of people-watching, James Street is a one-stop hub where fashion, cinema, design and dining converge in Fortitude Valley. Wandering through the streets, discovering fresh, and established, ventures is a cinch. Restaurants sAme sAme and Biànca (from the team behind Agnes and the new Idle bakery) are hard to pass up; next door, be prepared to queue for a cone at Gelato Messina. A recent arrival to the zone is Heidi Middleton’s Artclub atelier, while Australian tailoring brand P. Johnson recently launched its new store, designed by the renowned Tamsin Johnson, across from The Calile hotel.
WELLNESS
The Bathhouse Albion
In Brisbane is home to multiple wellness centres in which one can work out or unwind, such as the five-floor, $80 million TotalFusion Platinum Newstead. This facility, designed by architectural practice Hogg & Lamb, presents a more serene, temple-like experience in the once-industrial Albion Fine Trades district, delivering a communal yet luxe bathhouse with spa, cold plunge, sauna, float, and steam room. With a separate area for hydration spruiking organic TeaGood loose-leaf teas, an hour session ensures a restorative reset.
DAY TRIP
Lady Elliot Island
Visiting one of the most pristine sections of the Great Barrier Reef in one day from Brisbane? Yes, it is indeed possible—and in style, too. With an early start from Redcliffe, around 40 minutes’ drive from the city, take a 90-minute flight to the 45-hectare island and then indulge in a glass-bottom boat viewing, an island tour, and a guided snorkel where you will swoon over mesmerising coral and other-worldly marine life. Lunch is included.
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Tropical Storm
Brisbane’s design-led renaissance is gathering momentum and redefining the city as a destination of distinction.
When it comes to the question of which Australian city can claim to be the country’s epicentre of cool, it’s always been a two-horse race between you-know-who. But challengers to the municipal hegemony do periodically raise their heads above the cultural parapet: Hobart has the world-class MONA in its corner; Perth flexes its white-sand beaches and direct flights to London; plucky Canberra enduringly punches above its weight, wielding a Pollock masterpiece or two at the National Gallery. Now, Brisbane— for decades ironically nicknamed “BrisVegas” as a jibe at its lack of places to see and be seen—is ready to assert itself as a serious contender to break the Sydney-Melbourne monopoly.
The Queensland capital is booming, buzzing and bougier than ever. In the past twelve months alone, Brisbane has seen the addition of $80 million ultra-luxe members’ wellness club TotalFusion Platinum, and earned a place on Condé Nast Traveller’s Hot List for hosting the second outpost of Andrew McConnell’s renowned restaurant Supernormal—both designed by Sydney-based multidisciplinary studio ACME. Since the latter’s opening, the upscale dining scene in the CBD—once steeped in starched white-tablecloth tradition—has come into its own with high-concept, slick and scene-y establishments you’ve likely already seen on Instagram.
Among them is Central, named Australia’s best-designed space at this year’s Interior Design Awards. The subterranean late-night dumpling-bar-meets-disco, designed by one-to-watch local firm J.AR Office, is bathed in bright white light and features a DJ booth built into the open, epicentral kitchen. A 10-minute walk along the river towards the Botanic Gardens reveals Golden Avenue, a buzzy collaboration between J.AR Office and Anyday, the Brisbane hospitality group behind some of the city’s most beloved restaurants of the last decade (Biànca, hôntô, sAme sAme, and Agnes). A skylit oasis where palm fronds cast slivers of shade over tiled tables laden with bowls of baba ganoush and clay pots of blistered prawns, the Middle Eastern-inspired eatery feels like Queensland’s answer to Morocco’s walled courtyard gardens.
That design-forward premises anchor much of the buzz around Brisbane’s new pulse points should come as no surprise. After all, this is an urban centre whose perception and personality were transformed in the 2010s by the brutalist breeze-block facades of the then-burgeoning James Street Precinct. Financed by local developers the Malouf family, and designed by Brisbane’s architecture power couple Adrian Spence and Ingrid Richards, the zone has become a desirable, nationally recognised address for flashy flagships and big-name boutiques (just ask Artclub’s Heidi Middleton and The New Trend’s Vanessa Spencer, who each unveiled plush piled-carpet stores along the strip in October).
But it wasn’t until the 2018 opening of The Calile Hotel that Brisbane truly shed its “big country town” image, staking its claim on the international stage. The Palm Springs-inflected urban resort—which, by now, surely needs no introduction—landed 12th in 2023’s inaugural World’s 50 Best Hotels ranking, ahead of Claridge’s and Raffles.
“That was really quite massive for the optics of what Brisbane has to offer the rest of Australia,” says Ty Simon, a born-and-bred Brisbanite and one of the four visionaries behind the Anyday group, along with his details-driven Milanese wife Bianca, executive chef Ben Williamson, and financial backer Frank Li. From that point on, the use of elite architects and designers became de rigueur across the enclave, weaving a sense of permanence into the local fabric. “We believe in what’s happening here,” says Marie-Louise Theile, creative director of the James Street Initiative and PR executive behind many of the city’s primo spots. “And we’re digging in.”
For in-demand Australian interior designer Tamsin Johnson, the mastermind behind some of James Street’s most carefully curated properties—including her husband Patrick Johnson’s P. Johnson Femme showroom, which opened in September—this momentum is “a wonderful thing”. Idle, Johnson’s August-launched first project with Anyday, is a prime example of what she calls a “contemporary sleekness” that feels intrinsic to the new mood taking hold in Brisbane. A modern-day answer to Milan’s 140-year-old gourmet emporium Peck, the site is a study in how mixed materials—glass, concrete, stainless steel and terrazzo—can create a sense of freshness with a 20th-century overtone.
It’s this dialogue between old and new, so intrinsic to Johnson’s work, that makes Brisbane such a compelling canvas for the Melbourne-born, Sydney-based creative. “I think Brisbane is striving hard for its own identity and voice in Australia, and it is clearly working,” she says. For Johnson, that evolution is also “a process of recognising what you have”, a nod to the strong bones the city has to work with and revisit. From the airy stilted Queenslanders to GOMA’s riverside glass pavilion and the subtropical modernism of Donovan Hill’s landmark C House, Brisbane’s design heritage is a quiet yet potent force, infused with what Johnson calls “the subtle memory of bucolic Australia”. Brisbane’s best contemporary architecture reflects what Richards and Spence described when designing The Calile as “a gentle brutalism”. It incorporates the style’s characteristic heaviness—concrete, rigid geometry and cavernous interiors—but, in response to the climate, does away with barriers between outside and in, and welcomes light, air and a feeling of weightlessness that creates spaces that feel open, relaxed and intimately connected to their surroundings.
Johnson will explore this language further in Anyday’s most ambitious venture yet: a four-level dining destination within the colonial-era Coal Board Building, just across from Golden Avenue. Its debut concept The French Exit—a wood-panelled brasserie with half-height curtains and a 2.00 am licence—is set to be unveiled by year’s end, ensuring the once-sleepy heart will beat well into the early hours.
Luring big names to lend the city their cool factor for one-off projects is one thing, but perhaps the most profound sign that Brisbane still bursts with promise is the fact that so many creative forces are choosing to stay, rather than take their talent elsewhere. “I never thought I’d still be in Brisbane,” laughs J.AR Office director Jared Webb, a local-for-life who started the firm in Fortitude Valley in 2022 after a decade spent working under Richards and Spence. “Trying to entice people to stay and see Brisbane as a city to live in, and to visit, is a big undertone of all our work on a much broader scale,” says Webb, whose designs rely heavily on steel, concrete and stone, both as a means to temper the tropical climate and evoke an aura of continuity he believes Brisbane’s built environment has lacked. (Once dubbed the demolition capital of Australia, the municipality lost more than 60 historic buildings during the ’70s and ’80s under former Queensland premier Joh Bjelke-Petersen, whose two-decade rule was recently revisited in a dramatised documentary available to stream on Stan).
Translating Brisbane’s current buzz into something lasting seems to weigh on the minds of many of the city’s creatives. Vince Alafaci, who forms one half of ACME with his partner Caroline Choker, shares this sentiment when reflecting on their design for Supernormal. “It’s about creating spaces that evolve with time, not ones that date,” he says. “We wanted every element to feel timeless—grounded, honest and enduring.” That pursuit of longevity is something Tamsin Johnson recognises, too: “It’s the people pushing for it that excite me the most. They’re committed,” she says, reflecting on the city’s creative ambition. “I think our designers, the most committed ones, want to leave landmarks and character, bucking against the trend of mundane, short-term and artless developments that all our capitals have experienced. And perhaps Brisbane is leading this mentality.”
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Holiday Gift Guide
The supreme Christmas wish-list awaits—maximum impact guaranteed.
Consider this your definitive shortcut to Christmas morning triumph. From museum-grade jewellery to objects of quiet obsession, this is a wish-list calibrated for maximum impact and minimal guesswork. Each piece in this round-up earns its place not through novelty, but through craft, heritage and that elusive quality collectors recognise instantly: desire with staying power. There are icons reimagined (Piaget’s Andy Warhol watch, a masterclass in pop-era permanence), feats of mechanical bravado (Jacob & Co.’s globe-trotting tourbillon), and indulgences that turn ritual into theatre—whether that’s a Hibiki 21 poured just so, or a Rolls-Royce picnic staged like a state occasion. Fashion, design, fragrance and fine drinking are all represented, but united by a single premise: these are gifts that signal intention. The kind that linger on the mantelpiece, wrist or memory long after the wrapping paper is cleared. The stocking at robbreport.com.au, as ever, is generously—and ingeniously—stuffed.
[main image, top] Tiffany & Co. Blue Book Collection Shell Green Tourmaline Brooch, POA; tiffany.com
Top Tip
Montegrappa limited edition 007 Special Issue fountain pen, $2,850, at The Independent Collective; theindependentcollective.com
Clear Winner
Alchemica ‘Transparent’ glass decanter, $1,000; artemest.com
Holding Court
Celine Halfmoon Soft Triomphe lambskin bag, $5,500; celine.com
Beauty and the Feast
Rolls-Royce picnic hamper, $59,676; rolls-roycemotorcars.com
Minutes of Fame
Piaget limited-edition Andy Warhol Watch Collage with 18-carat yellow gold caseback, $128,000; piaget.com
Fancy That
Graff High Jewellery fancy intense yellow oval, white oval and round diamond necklace, POA; kennedy.com.au
Momentos in Time
Christopher Boots Thalamos Keepsake trinket box, $859; christopherboots.com
Strapper’s Delight
Roger Vivier La Rose Vivier sandals in satin, $2,620; rogervivier.com
Sun Kings
Rimowa x Mykita Visor MR005 Aviator Sunshield, $940; rimowa.com
Take Your Best Shot
Hibiki 21 Year Old blended whisky, $1,399; kentstreetcellars.com.au
Making Perfect Scents
Creed Aventus, $559; creedperfume.com.au
Earth Hour
Jacob & Co. The World is Yours Dual Time Zone Tourbillon, $464,750; inspire@jacobandco.com.au
Glass Acts
Fferrone May coupe, $445 (set of two); spacefurniture.com
Fferrone May flute, $375 (set of two); spacefurniture.com
Worth the Wait
Masterson 2018 Shiraz. $1,000; available to order from the Peter Lehmann Cellar Door by calling (08) 8565 9555.
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Radek Sali’s Wellspring of Youth
The wellness entrepreneur on why longevity isn’t a luxury—yet—and how the science of living well became Australia’s next great export.
Australian wellness pioneer Radek Sali is bringing his bold vision for longevity and human performance to the Gold Coast this weekend with Wanderlust Wellspring—a two-day summit running 25-26 October 2025 at the RACV Royal Pines Resort in Benowa. Sali, former CEO of Swisse and now co-founder of the event and investment firm Light Warrior, has long been at the intersection of wellness, business and conscious purpose.
Wellspring promises a packed agenda of global thought leaders in biohacking and longevity, including Sydney-born Harvard researcher David Sinclair, resilience pioneer Wim Hof, performance innovator Dave Asprey and muscle-health expert Gabrielle Lyon. From immersive workshops to diagnostics, tech showcases, and movement classes, Sali aims to make longevity less a niche pursuit for the elite and more an accessible cultural shift for all. Robb Report ANZ recently interviewed him for our Longevity feature. Here is an edited version of the conversation.
You’ve helped bring Wellspring to life at a moment when longevity seems to be dominating the cultural conversation. What drew you personally to this space?
I’ve always been passionate about wellness, and the language and refinement around how we achieve it are improving every day. Twenty years ago, when I was CEO of Swisse, a conference like this wouldn’t have had traction. Today, people’s interest in health and their thirst for knowledge continue to expand. What excites me is that wellness has moved into the realm of entertainment—people want to feel better, and that’s something I’ve always been happy to deliver.
There are wellness retreats, biohacking clinics, medical conferences everywhere. What makes Wellspring different?
Accessibility. A wellness retreat can be exclusive, but Wellspring democratises the experience. Tickets start at just $79, with options up to $1,800 for a platinum weekend pass. That means anyone can learn from the latest thought leaders. Too often in this space, barriers are put up that limit who can benefit from the science of biohacking. We want Wellspring to be for everyone.
You’re not just an organiser, but also an investor and participant in this field. How do you reconcile passion with commercial opportunity?
Any investment I make has to have purpose. Helping people optimise their health has driven me for two decades. It’s satisfying not just as an investor but as an operator—it builds wonderful culture within organisations and makes a real difference to people’s lives. That’s the natural fit for me, and something I want to keep refining.
What signals do you look for in longevity ventures to separate lasting impact from passing fads?
A lot of what we’re seeing now are actually old ideas resurfacing, supported by deeper scientific research. My father was one of the first in conventional medicine to talk about diet causing disease and meditation supporting mental health back in the 1970s. He was dismissed at first, but decades later, his work was validated. That experience taught me to look for evidence-based practices that endure. Today, we’re at a point where great scientists and doctors can headline events like Wellspring—that’s a huge cultural shift.
Longevity now carries a certain cultural cachet—its own insider language and status markers. How important is that to moving the field forward?
Health is our most precious asset, and people have always boasted about their routines—whether it’s going to the gym, doing a detox, or training for a marathon. What’s different now is that longevity practices are gaining mainstream recognition. I see it as something to be proud of, and I want to democratise access so everyone can ride the biohacking wave.
But some argue that for the ultra-wealthy, peak health has become a kind of luxury asset—like a private jet or a competitive edge.
That’s short-sighted. Yes, there are extremes, but most biohacking methods are accessible and inexpensive. Look at the blue zones—their lifestyle practices aren’t costly, yet they lead to long, healthy lives. That’s essential knowledge we should be sharing widely, and Wellspring is designed to do that in an engaging way.
Community is often cited as a key factor in healthspan. How does Wellspring foster that?
Community is at the heart of it. Just as Okinawa thrives on social connection, we want Wellspring to be a regular gathering place where people uplift each other. Ideally, it would become as busy as a Live Nation schedule—but for health and wellness.
Do you worry longevity could deepen class divides?
Class divides exist, and health isn’t immune. But in Australia, we’re fortunate—democracy and a strong equalisation process help maintain quality of life for most. Proactive healthcare, like supplementation and lifestyle changes, isn’t expensive. In fact, it’s cheaper than a daily coffee. That’s why we’re one of the top five longest-living nations. The opportunity is to keep improving by making proactive health accessible to everyone.
Some longevity ventures are described as “hedge-fund moonshots.” Others, like Wellspring, seem grounded in time-tested approaches. Where do you stand?
There’s value in both, but I’m more interested in sensible, sustainable practices. Things like exercise, meditation, and community-driven activities are proven to extend life and improve wellbeing. Technology can support this, but we can’t lose sight of the human elements—connection, balance, and purpose.
Finally, what role can Australia—and Wellspring—play in shaping the global longevity conversation?
The fact that we can put on an event like Wellspring, attract world-leading talent, and already have commitments for future years says a lot. Australia is far away, but that hasn’t stopped great scientists and thinkers from coming. We’ll be here every year, contributing to the global conversation and, hopefully, helping more people extend their healthspan.
