Ride of Your Life

What could be better than a luxury cycling trip on a sultry Mediterranean island. One where your biggest hero in the sport is right alongside you.

By Ben Oliver 25/11/2024

It’s a balmy afternoon, and I’m riding my bike around an idyllic island in the Mediterranean. I keep glancing at the cyclist next to me—partly to make conversation but also to check that he’s really Geraint Thomas, winner of two Olympic gold medals, three world championships and a Tour de France. I can’t quite believe my luck: I’m wheel to wheel with one of the sport’s greatest living athletes, and to top it off, he has a bruising hangover, enabling me to keep pace with him as if I were a pro. And yet, this extraordinary experience was not that hard to achieve. 

Want to shoot hoops with Stephen Curry, have a kickabout with Lionel Messi or face a few fast bowls from Pat Cummins? Get ready to write a sizeable cheque. The opportunity to rub shoulders with your sporting heroes—whether as part of a fantasy-camp afternoon or, for truly unfettered access, by buying the teams they play for—comes neither easy nor cheap. 

Ibiza’s Cala d’Hort beach, with the mythologized Es Vedrà island in the distance. Amokliv/Getty Images/iStock

The exception, it seems, is cycling. Consider my recent long weekend on Ibiza with Thomas. I might also have joined Eddy Merckx, the Pelé of cycling and probably the greatest rider ever to have turned a pedal, or six-time Olympic gold medalist Sir Chris Hoy, or any one of a litany of elite athletes who have rolled out side by side with guests on a LeBlanq tour. 

Founded by British former pro cyclist–turned-entrepreneur Justin Clarke, LeBlanq aims to provide superior holidays on two wheels and is part of an explosion of start-ups and buyouts in the multibillion-dollar luxury cycling space. It offers around a dozen itineraries each year, in regions with spectacular scenery—such as the Norwegian fjords and the Scottish Highlands—and particularly those with an oenological link, such as Champagne in France, Spain’s Rioja and Constantia Valley in South Africa. On each trip you’re guaranteed at least one titan of the sport, a luxury hotel as accommodation and a wellness program for those in attendance but not cycling. A superstar DJ may headline the post-ride party, and there’s always a celebrity chef providing nutrition more appealing than the vast quantities of rice that pros typically cram down during a race. 

2018 Tour de France champ Geraint Thomas edging out retired pro Johan Museeuw, the 1996 road-racing world champion, for the lead.
Richie Hopson

Before starting LeBlanq in 2020, Clarke built the Taste food festivals, which showcase the work of the best fine dining restaurants in 19 cities around the world (it has since been sold to IMG), and his contacts run as deep in gastronomy as in cycling: Michelin-starred chefs Nathan Outlaw and Angela Hartnett, among many others, have cooked for LeBlanq guests. And here gluttony is justified, with depleted riders needing to fuel up on all that sensational food after burning thousands of calories on the road and in preparation for the following day’s outing. Plus, assuming you don’t have too bad a hangover, alcohol is useful as an extra carbohydrate. 

Cycling has always been a democratic, accessible, mass-participation sport. Its recent surge in popularity around the globe has been driven by its health and environmental benefits; and involvement also flourished during Covid shutdowns, when gyms were largely off-limits. The activity is almost unmatched in its ability to let you sustain a high heart rate and burn more calories for long periods, and its metronomic, meditative qualities have been shown to be good for your mental health as well: riding with friends is social; riding alone brings solace. But while the advantages of the sport are universal—and entirely unrelated to the price of your bike—those enthusiasts willing to spend can majorly amplify what can quickly become an addictive and all-consuming pastime. For example, while you can’t buy a current F1 car, you can purchase a bike nearly identical, save a few prototype parts, to that of a Tour de France winner. Or you can engage a custom builder to create a model tailored to your precise dimensions, colour preferences and specifications—like a Savile Row suit, but far more expensive. (An elite commissioned machine can run from around $15,000 to upwards of $40,000.) You can wear stylish cycling gear created by Sir Paul Smith while riding it (the British designer once aspired to compete professionally, before injuries sustained in a major accident derailed those ambitions and he moved into fashion). Beyond LeBlanq’s offerings, you can book other operator’s trips that let you pedal across frozen Mongolian lakes or the game reserves of Botswana’s Okavango Delta. 

A recent analyst report estimates that the market for luxury cycling will increase by a third, to around $29 billion, over the next five years. The poster child for this booming sector is luxe clothing brand Rapha, founded in London in 2004; a private equity firm run by Walmart heirs Tom and Steuart Walton, themselves keen cyclists, bought a majority stake in 2017 for about $395 million. Similar deals continue. Last year, mining billionaire Ivan Glasenberg, another devotee, paid an estimated $383 million for controlling interest in high-end Italian bike brand Pinarello, a name as resonant to cyclists as Ferrari and Maserati are to motorists. 

Despite the enmity that some (erroneously) perceive between those two tribes, the luxury car marques are eager to be part of the cycling surge: smart brands go where their customers are, and these customers are increasingly out on their bikes. Which explains why Aston Martin and Lotus each launched radical, innovative bikes—costing far more than even Geraint Thomas’s Tour-winning Pinarello—at the Rouleur Live cycling show in London late last year. And why, along with Rapha, Marqués de Riscal wine, Laurent-Perrier Champagne, InchDairnie Distillery and Bianchi bikes, both Aston Martin and Porsche have partnered with LeBlanq to provide the “team” cars that follow each group of riders with supplies and spare bikes. 

Pouring a post-ride glass of Champagne Andrew Grant

In my 30 years as a journalist, this was the first time I needed to train for a story. I signed up to ride at LeBlanq’s event on the Spanish island of Ibiza alongside Thomas, who at 37 remains a contender for the great prizes of the sport, having only lost his lead in last year’s Giro d’Italia on the penultimate day. Just before flying to Ibiza, he announced that he would compete on billionaire Sir Jim Ratcliffe’s INEOS Grenadiers team for another two years. 

Thomas is a world-class professional athlete performing at the pinnacle of one of the toughest endurance sports. I am, well, not. What on earth was I thinking, agreeing to ride with him? I’m 49. I’ve cycled semi-seriously since I was 12 and was a solid midrange finisher when I competed for a while in my teens; I gave up after realising that racing hurt, and that I was no good at it. Now, even with no trophy or purse at stake, I feared the humiliation of being “dropped”—parlance for getting left behind—not only by Thomas but by the hyper-alpha, ultra-fit bankers and lawyers I imagined to be the clientele at a LeBlanq event. 

Writer Ben Oliver (right) keeps pace with cycling great Geraint Thomas.
Andrew Grant

So I trained for three months, shedding more than five kilos and getting my power and pace up slightly. I thought I’d better upgrade my bike, too, so I called German maker Canyon, the Porsche of cycling, whose bikes I’ve owned for years. The Canyon folks saw my predicament, agreed that my eight-year-old model wouldn’t cut it, and instead loaned me an Ultimate CF SL Disc 8.0 Aero. It’s similar to the machine favoured by Thomas’s Tour rivals on the Movistar and Alpecin teams (the Aeroad CFR Di2, priced at about $15,000) and was the Financial Times’s “best race-oriented bike” of ’23, but at around $10,500 costs a lot less than his roughly $23,000 team Pinarello Dogma F. To quote Lance Armstrong, it’s not about the bike, but I figured I should take all the help I could get. 

I needn’t have worried. I arrived at the beachfront Hotel Riomar in Santa Eulalia, which LeBlanq had taken over in its entirety, and immediately had the new bike whisked from me and brought to the secure service area, where LeBlanq’s mechanics checked it over, added a race-style plaque with my name and rider number under the seat, and hung it on the racks in the company of what was probably well over a million dollars’ worth of bikes that had been flown in from the US, the Middle East and Europe by the 120 other participants. 

A Bianchi bike
Andrew Grant

Inside the hotel I was handed my Rapha x LeBlanq team gear and a bag of energy bars, gels and drinks for the four days of cycling. So far, so pro. But then someone pressed a glass of Laurent-Perrier into my hand, and then someone else topped it up, and I began to realise that for all LeBlanq’s race-ready image, the reality might be a bit more like a fun run through Centennial Park—if you want it to be, anyway. 

Riders are split into groups of 10 to 12 each based on ability and likely speed. Each is led by someone very experienced, often an ex-pro, who takes care of the directions and pace, with a support car following. For the short opening jaunt of around 30 km, I decided to roll with the gentlest squad, led by the effervescent former racer Monica Dew, who ensured that the members of her pleasingly mixed group never felt stretched. (The pros trade cohorts over the course of the weekend so everyone gets a moment to bask in their reflected glory.) There were participants of all ages and abilities, some wearing running shoes rather than the clip-in cleats favoured by the more hardcore, and some on battery-assisted e-bikes. 

Cycling leaders Adam Blythe, Monica Dew, and Johan Museeuw kick back
Andrew Grant

A significant part of the appeal of such events is the experience of riding in a peloton. Having others around you deflects headwinds, reducing the effort required to maintain a given speed by up to 40 percent. You find yourself being sucked along by the group, feeling like a pro, going faster than you ever could on your own while comfortably holding a conversation with the person next to you. 

And what chats. Wearing the same bib is a great leveller, and the collaborative nature of a group ride means confidences are quickly shared. As well as the expected doctors, executives and pilots, I found myself moving with the founders and funders of tech firms, a world-leading cybersecurity expert, a man my age who’d had a heart attack just a year before, a couple who’d taken a previous LeBlanq trip for their honeymoon, and the arena-filling British DJ Pete Tong, perhaps best known for exporting house music to the world. Another turned out to be Nick Evans, managing partner of private equity firm Active Partners, chairman of Rapha, and the guy who gave luxury cycling its defining moment by brokering that $395 million sale to the Waltons. 

DJ Pete Tong Richie Hopson

The exchanges were so good and the concentration required to keep up in a fast, tight, well-disciplined group so intense that I needed to remind myself to look up and absorb the extraordinary scenery. Ibiza’s rural roads are mostly well surfaced and lightly trafficked. Temperatures in the mid 20s were perfect for cycling, and the air was scented with the pine needles that lay in piles at the edge of the road. There were few serious climbs—just enough to keep things interesting—and they often rewarded with a view over yet another deserted, pine-fringed beach and the azure Mediterranean beyond. 

For non-riding partners or those taking a day off, Northern Irish TV sports presenter and former track-and-field athlete Orla Chennaoui had curated a comprehensive wellness program with sunrise yoga sessions, breath-work classes and restorative hikes through the local hinterland. But Ibiza is perhaps better known for the un-wellness programs of its nightlife, and a bit of that attitude permeated the LeBlanq trip, with some very well-lubricated after-ride fetes. My partner, Sophie, not a cyclist and there ostensibly for the yoga, got us on the guest list for the season-closing party at Pikes, Ibiza’s original boutique hotel and still a hedonist’s playground, in whose swimming pool Wham’s “Club Tropicana” video was filmed in 1983. I demurred, extremely reluctantly, as I was due to join a faster group for 160 km with Thomas the next day. My alarm was set for 6:45 a.m., and I didn’t want to wreck three months of training with one night of clubbing. 

Orla Chennaoui leads a mindfulness session.
Richie Hopson

Thomas, however, did not decline. In a later interview with The Times in the UK, he admitted to having been drunk for 12 out of 14 nights during his brief post-season break from racing and training; we were responsible for two of those. He finally rolled back in from Pikes at 5 a.m., and a couple of LeBlanq guests gleefully claimed that they’d not only biked with their hero but shared a drunken dawn cab ride with him. 

Despite the colossal respect he commands, he was given an amused, ironic, slow handclap when he appeared well past the start time that morning. But even when you know he has slightly disabled himself, there’s something eerie and disconcerting about standing in your kit astride your bike, ready to set off, when a world champion and Tour de France winner appears dressed in the same INEOS team uniform and those hallmark white shades you’ve watched him wear on television for years. Imagine standing by the side of your local swimming pool, putting on your goggles, and seeing Ian Thorpe appear in the lane next to you. 

Again, I needn’t have worried. Usually a very funny, voluble, sometimes indiscreet character, Thomas was unusually quiet in the opening kays, hanging his head over his handlebars every time we stopped. “Oh Ben,” he sighed at one point, “what I did last night… I just don’t know if it was worth it.” 

The conversation improved as his hangover cleared. He enjoys the lifestyle of a major sports star—the house in Monaco, fine taste in watches, and a Porsche 911 Turbo his wife bought him as a birthday present—but he remains connected to his Welsh roots and retains a surprising degree of impostor syndrome for a man who has won so much. 

“I just take it for granted that I can come along and ride my bike in amazing places,” he told me as we pedalled. “But then you realise that people have paid a lot of money to do this, and it’s weird that they want to do this with me, even though I know I’ve won some stuff. But cycling’s always been accessible like that. You don’t need a ticket to watch the Tour de France. You can just stand by the side of the road and watch us ride past, and even touch us. When I was 14, I went to the Netherlands to watch a race. One of the big teams rode to the start line from their hotel, and me and my mates just rode with them. I’ll always remember that. And the thought of people wanting to do that with me now, it’s mind-blowing.” 

Yes, well, same for those riding with Thomas. Even dozens of kilometres into the morning, it was still surreal to see those white shades centimetres away from me, and I admit that I asked for a selfie. I took some pride in the fact that he got out of the saddle when I did on climbs and also dropped down to his lowest gear. But then I noticed that, as we spoke, I was struggling to get my words out between breaths while “G” (as he’s universally known in the sport) might as well have been sitting in an armchair. “You could have raced me if you’d wanted to,” he told me later. “After that 5 a.m. finish, I’d have let you win.” 

That night, our last, he’d recovered sufficiently to fully enjoy the long weekend’s premier party, held at a rooftop bar and pool with spectacular sunset views of the sea. Nieves Barragán Mohacho, the Michelin-starred head chef at London’s buzzy Spanish restaurant Sabor, had flown in with her brigade to give the crowd what they wanted: carbs, mainly, in the form of the perfect tortilla (there was one more ride to be done the next day) but also bluefin tuna loin and the most incredible acorn-fed bellota pork, marinated in sherry until it had acquired an almost beef-like colour and richness. 

Then Pete Tong, who opened King Charles’s coronation concert and whose Ibiza Classics orchestral tour later played London’s O2 Arena, spun a private set for the hundred or so of us still up and boogying. For fans of Ibiza’s sun-soaked electronic dance music, this was a moment as seminal as riding with Thomas. I just couldn’t work out how, with all the cycling and dancing, I stepped on the scale when I got home and found I’d put half of those five kilos back on again. 

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Mauve on Up

Brisbane boutique stay Miss Midgley’s offers a viscerally human experience—especially if you dig pink.

By Horacio Silva 17/12/2025

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.

 

 Miss Midgley’s

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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.

By Monique Kawecki 17/12/2025

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.

Olafur Eliasson / Denmark b.1967 / Beauty 1993 (installation view, Fondazione Palazzo Strozzi, Florence, Italy, 2022) / Spotlight, water, nozzles, wood, hose, pump / Spotlight, water, nozzles, wood, hose, pump / Installed dimensions variable / Purchased 2025. The Josephine Ulrick and Win Schubert Charitable Trust / Collection: The Josephine Ulrick and Win Schubert Charitable Trust, Queensland Art Gallery | Gallery of Modern Art / © 1993 Olafur Eliasson / Photograph: Ela Bialkowska, OKNOstudio

 

 

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. 

By Maeve Galea 17/12/2025

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.

Chef’s table at open kitchen at Central by local firm J.AR Office. Photography: David Chatfield.

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).

A five-storey living fig tree anchors the reception area of Total Fusion wellness centre.

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.

A view of the dining room at Golden Avenue, also by J.AR Office. Photography: Jesse Prince.

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.

A view of the bar at Supernormal. Photography: Josh Robenstone.

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.”

The lobby of The Calile Hotel. Photography: David Chatfield.

 

 

 

 

 

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Holiday Gift Guide

The supreme Christmas wish-list awaits—maximum impact guaranteed.

By Horacio Silva 15/12/2025

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

 

Photography: Dan Martensen.

 

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

Generated image

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.

By Horacio Silva 23/10/2025

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.

 

 

 

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