Polar Opposites
A journey north to one of the harshest, remotest spots on Earth couldn’t be more luxurious.
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A century ago, an expedition to the North Pole involved dog sleds and explorers in heavy, fur-lined clothes, windburned and famished after weeks of trudging across ice floes, finally planting their nations’ flags in the barren landscape. These days, if you’re a tourist, the only way to reach 90 degrees north latitude, the geographic North Pole, is aboard Le Commandant Charcot, a six-star hotel mated to a massive, 150-metre ice-breaking hull.
My wife, Cathy, and I are among the first group of tourists aboard Ponant’s new expedition icebreaker, the world’s only Polar Class 2–rated cruise ship (of seven levels of ice vessel, second only to research and military vessels in ability to manoeuvre in Arctic conditions). Our arrival on July 14 couldn’t be more different from explorer Robert Peary’s on April 6, 1909. On that date, he reported, he staked a small American flag—sewed by his wife—into the Pole, joined by four Inuits and his assistant, Matthew Henson, a Black explorer from Maine who was with Peary on his two previous Arctic expeditions. (Peary’s claim of being first to the Pole was quickly disputed by another American, Frederick Cook, who insisted he’d spent two days there a year earlier. Scholars now view both claims with skepticism.)
Our 300-plus party’s landing, on Bastille Day, features the captain of the French ship driving around in an all-terrain vehicle with massive wheels and an enormous tricolour flag on the back, guests dressed in stylish orange parkas celebrating on the ice, and La Marseillaise, France’s national anthem, blaring from loudspeakers. After an hour of taking selfies and building snow igloos in the icescape, with temperatures in the relatively balmy low 30s, we head back into our heated sanctuary for mulled wine and freshly baked croissants. Mission accomplished. Flags planted. Now, lunch.
As a kid, I was fascinated by stories of adventurers trying to reach the North Pole without any means of rescue. In the 19th century, most of their attempts ended in disaster—ships getting trapped in the ice, a hydrogen balloon crashing, even cannibalism. It wasn’t until Cook and Peary reportedly set foot there that the race to the North Pole was really on. Norwegian Roald Amundsen, the first to reach the South Pole, in 1911, is credited with being the first to document a trip over the North Pole, which he did in 1926 in the airship Norge. In 1977, the nuclear-powered icebreaker Arktika became the first surface vessel to make it to the North Pole. Since then, only 18 other ships have completed the voyage.
Visiting the North Pole seemed about as likely for me as walking on the Moon. It wasn’t even on my bucket list. Then came Le Commandant Charcot, which was named after France’s most beloved polar explorer and reportedly cost about US$430 million (around $655 million) to build. The irony of visiting one of the planet’s most remote and inhospitable points while travelling in the lap of luxury doesn’t escape me or anyone else I speak with on the voyage. Danie Ferreira, from Cape Town, South Africa, describes it as “an ensemble of contradictions bordering on the absurd”. Ferreira, who is on board with his wife, Suzette, is a veteran of early-explorer-style high-Arctic journeys, months-long treks involving dog sleds and real toil and suffering. He booked this trip to obtain an official North Pole stamp for an upcoming two-volume collection of his photographs, Out in the Cold, documenting his polar adventures. “Reserving the cabin felt like a betrayal of my expeditionary philosophy,” he says with a laugh.
Then, like the rest of us, he embraces the contradictions. “This is like the first time I saw the raw artistry of Cirque du Soleil,” he explains. “Everything is beyond my wildest expectations, unrelatable to anything I’ve experienced.”
The 17-day itinerary launches from the Norwegian settlement of Longyearbyen, Svalbard, the northernmost town in the Arctic Circle, and heads 1,186 nautical miles to the North Pole, then back again. As a floating hotel, the vessel is exceptional: 123 balconied staterooms and suites, the most expensive among them duplexes with butler service (prices range from around $58,000 to $136,000 per person, double occupancy); a spa with a sauna, massage therapists, and aestheticians; a gym and heated indoor pool. The boat weighs more than 35,000 tons, enabling it to break ice floes like “a chocolate bar into little pieces, rather than slice through them”, according to Captain Patrick Marchesseau. Six-metre-wide stainless-steel propellers, he adds, were designed to “chew ice like a blender”.
Marchesseau, a tall, lanky, 40-ish mariner from Brittany, impeccable in his navy uniform but rocking royal-blue boat shoes, proves to be a charming host. Never short of a good quip, he’s one of three experienced ice captains who alternate at the helm of Charcot throughout the year. He began piloting Ponant ships through drifting ice floes in Antarctica in 2009, when he took the helm of Le Diamant, Ponant’s first expedition vessel. “An epic introduction,” Marchesseau calls those early voyages, but the isolated, icebound North Pole aboard a larger, more complicated vessel is potentially an even thornier challenge. “We’ll first sail east where the ice is less concentrated and then enter the pack at 81 degrees,” he tells a lecture hall filled with passengers on day one. “We don’t plan to stop until we get to the North Pole.”
Around us, the majority of the other 101 guests are older French couples; there are also a few extended families, some other Europeans, mostly German and Dutch, as well as 10 Americans. Among the supporting cast are six research scientists and 221 staff, including 18 naturalist guides from a variety of countries.
The first six days are more about the journey than the destination. Cathy and I settle into our comfortable stateroom, enjoy the ocean views from our balcony, make friends with other guests and naturalists, frequent the spa, and indulge in the contemporary French cuisine at Nuna, which is often jarred by ice passing under the hull, as well as at the more casual Sila (Inuit for “sky”). There are the usual cruise events: the officers’ gala, wine pairings, daily French pastries, Broadway-style shows, opera singers and concert pianists. Initially, I worry about “Groundhog Day” setting in, but once we hit patchy ice floes on day two, it’s clear that the polar party is on. The next day, we’re ensconced in the ice pack.
Veterans of Arctic journeys immediately feel at home. Ferreira, often found on the observation deck 15 metres above the ice with his long-lensed cameras, is in his element snapping different patterns and colours of the frozen landscape. “It feels like combining low-level flying with an out-of-body experience,” he says. “Whenever the hull shudders against the ice, I have a reality check.”
“I came back because I love this ice,” adds American Gin Millsap, who with her husband, Jim, visited the North Pole in 2015 aboard the Russian nuclear icebreaker Fifty Years of Victory, which for obvious reasons is no longer a viable option for Americans and many Europeans. “I love the peace, beauty and calmness.”
It is easy to bliss out on the endless barren vistas, constantly morphing into new shapes, contours and shades of white as the weather moves from bright sunshine to howling snowstorms—sometimes within the course of a few hours. I spend a lot of time on the cold, windswept bow, looking at the snow patterns, ridges and rivers flowing within the pale landscape as the boat crunches through the ice. It feels like being in a black-and-white movie, with no colours except the turquoise bottoms of ice blocks overturned by the boat. Beautiful, lonely, mesmerising.
Rather than a solid landmass, the Arctic ice pack is actually millions of square kilometres of ice floes, slowly pushed around by wind and currents. The size varies according to season: this past winter, the ice was at its fifth-lowest level on record, encompassing 14.6 million square kilometres, while during our cruise it was 4.7 million square kilometres, the 10th-lowest summer number on record. There are myriad ice types—young ice, pancake ice, ice cake, brash ice, fast ice—but the two that our ice pilot, Geir-Martin Leinebø, cares about are first-year ice and old ice. The thinness of the former provides the ideal route to the Pole, while the denseness of the aged variety can result in three-to-eight-metre-high ridges that are potentially impassable. Leinebø is no novice: in his day job, he’s the captain of Norway’s naval icebreaker, KV Svalbard, the first Norwegian vessel to reach the North Pole, in 2019.
It’s not a matter of just pointing the boat due north and firing up the engine. Leinebø zigzags through the floes. A morning satellite feed and special software aid in determining the best route; the ship’s helicopter sometimes scouts 65 or so kilometres ahead, and there’s a sonar called the Sea Ice Monitoring System (SIMS). But mostly Leinebø uses his eyes. “You look for the weakest parts of the ice—you avoid the ridges because that means thickness and instead look for water,” he says. “If the ‘water sky’ in the distance is dark, it’s reflecting water like a mirror, so you head in that direction.”
Everyone on the bridge is surprised by the lack of multi-year ice, but with more than a hint of disquietude. Though we don’t have to ram our way through frozen ridges, the advance of climate change couldn’t be more apparent. Environmentalists call the Arctic ice sheet the canary in the coal mine of the planet’s climate change for good reason: it is happening here first. “It’s not right,” mutters Leinebø. “There’s just too much open water for July. Really scary.”
The Arctic ice sheet has shrunk to about half its 1985 size, and as both mariners and scientists on board note, the quality of the ice is deteriorating. “It’s happening faster than our models predicted,” says Marisol Maddox, senior arctic analyst at the Polar Institute of the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars. “We’re seeing major events like Greenland’s ice sheet melting and sliding into the ocean—that wasn’t forecasted until 2070.” The consensus had been that the Arctic would be ice-free by 2050, but many scientists now expect that day to come in the 2030s.
That deterioration, it turns out, is why the three teams of scientists are on the voyage—two studying the ice and the other assessing climate change’s impact on plankton. As part of its commitment to sustainability, Ponant has designed two research labs—one wet and one dry—on a lower deck. “We took the advice of many scientists for equipping these labs,” says Hugues Decamus, Charcot’s chief engineer, clearly proud of the nearly US$12 million facilities.
The combined size of the labs, along with a sonar room, a dedicated server for the scientists, and a meteorological station on the vessel’s top deck, totals 130 square metres—space that could have been used for revenue generation. Ponant also has two staterooms reserved for scientists on each voyage and provides grants for travel expenses. The line doesn’t cherrypick researchers but instead asks the independent Arctic Research Icebreaker Consortium (ARICE) to choose participants based on submissions.
The idea, says the vessel’s science officer on this voyage, Daphné Buiron, is to make the process transparent and minimise the appearance of greenwashing. “Yes, this alliance may deliver a positive public image for the company, but this ship shows we do real science on board,” she says. The labs will improve over time, adds Decamus, as the ship amasses more sophisticated equipment.
Research scientists and tourist vessels don’t typically mix. The former, wary of becoming mascots for the cruise lines’ sustainability marketing efforts, and cognisant of the less-than-pristine footprint of many vessels, tend to be wary. The cruise lines, for their part, see scientists as potentially high maintenance when paying customers should be the priority. But there seemed to be a meeting of the minds, or at least a détente, on Le Commandant Charcot.
“We discuss this a lot and are aware of the downsides, but also the positives,” says Franz von Bock und Polach, head of the institute for ship structural design and analysis at Hamburg University of Technology, specialising in the physics of sea ice. Not only does Charcot grant free access to these remote areas, but the ship will also collect data on the same route multiple times a year with equipment his team leaves on board, offering what scientists prize most: repeatability. “One transit doesn’t have much value,” he says. “But when you measure different seasons, regions and years, you build up a more complex picture.” So, more than just a research paper: forecasts of ice conditions for long-term planning by governments as the Arctic transforms.
Nils Haëntjens, from the University of Maine, is analysing five-millilitre drops of water on a high-tech McLane IFCB microscope. “The instrument captures more than 250,000 images of phytoplankton along the latitudinal transect,” he says. Charcot has doors in the wet lab that allow the scientists to take water samples, and in the bow, inlets take in water without contaminating it. Two freezers can preserve samples for further research back in university labs.
Even though the boat won’t stop, the captain and chief engineer clearly want to make the science missions work. Marchesseau dispatches the helicopter with the researchers and their gear 100 kilometres ahead, where they take core samples and measurements. I spot them in their red snowsuits, pulling sleds on an ice floe, as the boat passes. Startled to see living-colour humans on the ice after days of monochrome, I feel a pang of jealousy as I head for a caviar tasting.
The only other humans we encounter on the journey north are aboard Fifty Years of Victory, the Russian icebreaker. The 160-metre orange- and-black leviathan reached the North Pole a day earlier—its 59th visit—and is on its way back to Murmansk. It’s a classic East meets West moment: the icebreaker, launched just after the collapse of the Soviet Union, meeting the new standard of polar luxury.
The evening before Bastille Day, Le Commandant Charcot arrives at the North Pole. Because of the pinpoint precision of the GPS, Marchesseau has to navigate back and forth for about 20 minutes—with a bridge full of passengers hushing each other so as not to distract him—until he finds 90 degrees north. That final chaotic approach to the top of the world in the grey, windswept landscape looks like a kid’s Etch A Sketch on the chartplotter, but it is met with rousing cheers. The next morning, with good visibility and light winds, we spill out onto the ice for the celebration, followed by a polar plunge.
As guests pose in front of flags and mile markers for major cities, the naturalist guides, armed with rifles, establish a wide perimeter to guard against polar bears. The fearless creatures are highly intelligent, with razor-sharp teeth, hooked claws and the ability to sprint at 40 km/h. Males average about three metres tall and weigh around 700 kilos. They are loners that will kill anything—including other bears and even their own cubs. Cathy and I walk around the far edges of the perimeter to enjoy some solitude. Looking out over the white landscape, I know this is a milestone. But it feels odd that getting here didn’t involve any sweat or even a modicum of discomfort.
The rest of the week is an entirely different trip. On the return south, we see a huge male polar bear ambling on the ice, looking over his shoulder at us. It is our first sighting of the Arctic’s apex predator, and everyone crowds the observation lounge with long-lensed cameras. The next day, we see another male, this one smaller, running away from the ship. “They have many personalities,” says Steiner Aksnes, head of the expedition team, who has led scientists and film crews in the Arctic for 25 years. We see a dozen on the return to Svalbard, where 3,000 are scattered across the archipelago, outnumbering human residents.
The last five days we make six stops on different islands, travelling by Zodiac from Charcot to various beaches. On Lomfjorden, as we look on a hundred yards from shore, a mother polar bear protects her two cubs while a young male hovers in the background. On a Zodiac ride off Alkefjellet, the air is alive with birds, including tens of thousands of Brünnich’s guillemots as well as glaucous gulls and kittiwakes, which nest in that island’s cliffs, while a young male polar bear munches on a ring seal, chin glistening red.
On this part of the trip, the expedition team, mostly 30-something, free-spirited scientists whose areas of expertise range from botany to alpine trekking to whales, lead hikes across different landscapes. The jam-packed schedule sometimes involves three activities per day and includes following the reindeer on Palanderbukta, seeing a colony of 200 walruses on Kapp Lee, hiking the black tundra of Burgerbukta (boasting 3.8-cm-tall willows—said to be the smallest trees in the world and the largest on Svalbard—plus mosquitoes!), watching multiple species of whales breaching offshore, and kayaking the ice floes of Ekmanfjorden. Svalbard is a protected wilderness area, and the cruise lines tailor their schedules so vessels don’t overlap, giving visitors the impression they are setting foot on virgin land.
Chances to experience that sense of discovery and wonder, even slightly stage-managed ones, are dwindling along with the ice sheet and endangered wildlife. If a stunning trip to a frozen North Pole is on your bucket list, the time to go is now.
PARADIGM SHIP
For those studying polar ice, a berth aboard Le Commandant Charcot is like a winning lottery ticket. “This cruise ship is one of the few resources scientists can use, because nothing else can get there,” says G. Mark Miller, CEO of research-vessel builder Greenwater Marine Sciences Offshore (GMSO) and a former ship captain for the US National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA). “Then factor in 80 percent of scientists who want to go to sea, can’t, because of the shortage of research vessels.”
Both Ponant and Viking have designed research labs aboard new expedition vessels as part of their sustainability initiatives. “Remote areas like Antarctica need more data—the typical research is just single data points,” says Damon Stanwell-Smith, Ph.D., head of science and sustainability at Viking. “Every scientist says more information is needed.” The twin sisterships Viking Octantis and Viking Polaris, which travel to Antarctica, Patagonia, the Great Lakes and Canada, have identical 35-square-metre labs, separated into wet and dry areas and fitted out with research equipment. In hangars below are military-grade rigid-hulled inflatables and two six-person yellow submersibles (the pair on Octantis are named John and Paul, while Polaris’s are George and Ringo). Unlike Ponant, Viking doesn’t have an independent association choose scientists for each voyage. Instead, it partners with the University of Cambridge, the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, and NOAA, which send their researchers to work with Viking’s onboard science officers.
“Some people think marine research is sticking some kids on a ship to take measurements,” says Stanwell-Smith. “But we know we can do first-rate science—not spin.” Other cruise lines are also embracing sustainability initiatives, with coral-reef-restoration projects and water-quality measurements, usually in partnership with universities. Just about every vessel has “citizen-scientist” research programs allowing guests the opportunity to count birds or pick up discarded plastic on beaches. So far, Ponant and Viking are the only lines with serious research labs. Ponant is adding science officers to other vessels in its fleet. As part of the initiatives, scientists deliver onboard lectures and sometimes invite passengers to assist in their research.
Given the shortage of research vessels, Stanwell-Smith thinks this passenger-funded system will coexist nicely with current NGO- and government-owned ships. “This could be a new paradigm for exploring the sea,” he says. “Maybe the next generation of research vessels will look like ours.”
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The bustling Middle Eastern city is emerging as an important hub for serious watch collectors
Tucked away in a corner of the Dubai International Financial Centre, near the Ritz-Carlton, is Perpétuel Gallery, an unassuming 1,200 m² boutique displaying some of the world’s most important independent watchmaking. During Dubai Watch Week—a biannual event run by the Seddiqi family, the most prominent watch retailers in the UAE—the shop, just a few minutes’ walk from the fair in the DIFC, held its own exhibition that was filled to the brim with the watchmakers themselves, from Roger W. Smith to Simon Brette to Rémi Maillat of Krayon. There, holding court, was Hamdan Bin Humaid Al Hudaidi, a distinguished collector who founded Perpétuel in 2021, in the middle of the Covid pandemic.
“I never thought I would take my passion professionally, ever,” he tells Robb Report. “Everyone was against the idea because they were very certain this would fail.” How wrong they were. Instead, Perpétuel has become one of the most significant global players in connecting and brokering deals between collectors and their indie idols. As a serious client himself, Al Hudaidi has unique relationships that allow him to create limited editions exclusive to the gallery—quite a feat when you consider the waiting lists for some of the watchmakers in question are a decade or more long. A recent collaboration of 15 limited-edition Krayon Anywhere watches with desert-orange accents sold out to clients—not just in the Middle East, but also in Australia, the US and South Africa.
Courtesy of Perpétuel Gallery
It’s proof positive of the area’s booming and influential watch scene. Many credit Dubai Watch Week—and by extension the Seddiqi family—for the fervent local interest in watch collecting. When the event launched in 2015, it was small, hosting just 15 brands, mostly independents. “It was really a project to give back to the industry,” says Hind Abdul Hamied Seddiqi, director general of the event and CMO and communications officer for Ahmed Seddiqi & Sons, “but also to educate the general public that the watch industry is not as intimidating as you think.” It’s a strategy that has paid off. Last year’s edition ballooned to 60 brands, including big-name players such as Rolex, Audemars Piguet and Van Cleef & Arpels, along with nearly 24,000 attendees, the largest crowd to date.
Despite the draw, the five-day-long public event has an easygoing appeal that other watch fairs often lack. One can spot Philippe Dufour perched outside a pavilion smoking a pipe, Kari Voutilainen enjoying an alfresco lunch, or Rexhep Rexhepi in line for an espresso. It’s an exceedingly rare chance for collectors to mingle with the masters in a relaxed space where everyone is in a jovial mood thanks to the casual atmosphere and balmy weather—and Seddiqi plans to keep it that way. “I worry if we go bigger, we’ll lose this feeling of intimacy,” she says. “I have a lot of people asking me to commercialise the show, but it’s just going to ruin the whole vibe.”
Courtesy of Perpétuel Gallery
The explosion of interest isn’t just for new timepieces: vintage is also having its moment. Historically, the Middle East hasn’t been receptive to “used” goods, but recent years have reflected a shift in perspective. Tariq Malik, cofounder and managing partner of Momentum, also located in the DIFC, just a three-minute walk from Perpétuel, was an early pioneer in the area when he opened shop in 2011. In the beginning, he says, it would be common for someone to look at his wares and ask if he was selling “used” watches. “I said, ‘It’s vintage,’ and they said, ‘Oh, wow.’ When I would say ‘vintage’ they would start pulling out their camera and taking photos. We brought vintage to Dubai, so it was a new thing.” He’s now sought-after by clients both in the UAE and internationally for his allotment of rare Rolexes, with a specialisation in Day-Dates and hard-to-find Stella and stone dials.
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Bugatti’s hybrid Tourbillon is the most powerful model in the marque’s history. And the coolest bit? An instrument cluster inspired by the finest Swiss horology.
First there was Veyron. Then came Chiron. Now Tourbillon. Bugatti’s new 1,800 hp (1,342 kW) hypercar delivers even more shock-and-awe than its predecessors. Gone is the famed 8.0-litre quad-turbo W16 engine. In its place is a new 1,000 hp (746 kW), 8.3-litre naturally aspirated V16 paired with a trio of electric motors delivering 800 hp (597 kW). That combination makes this the most powerful Bugatti ever.
While the design of the all-carbon-composite body is clearly derived from the signature lines of both the Veyron and Chiron, its roofline is lower, the body lighter and more aerodynamic, and that iconic horseshoe grille more imposing. Yet the likely headline feature will be the car’s all-new interior featuring a skeletonised, titanium-and-sapphire-glass instrument cluster inspired by Swiss watchmaking (for the uninitiated—“tourbillon” refers to the mechanical complication that increases accuracy in high-end timepieces).
Bugatti Automobiles S.A.S
“Beauty, performance, and luxury formed the blueprint for the Tourbillon. What we have created is a car that is more elegant, more emotive and more luxurious than anything before it,” stated Mate Rimac, Bugatti Rimac’s CEO, to Robb Report during an exclusive preview at the company’s newly opened design studio in Berlin.
He explained that, four years ago, when the Tourbillon concept was on the drawing board, there were multiple suggestions for what an all-new Bugatti might look like. Options included an SUV, a coupe-like crossover and a luxury four-door sedan. Then there was the choice of either a hybrid or all-electric power train. “The proposal to make it electric was the obvious choice. We had our [Rimac] Nevera, that we could easily transfer our technology and re-skin the body. But I felt it was wrong for Bugatti,” said Rimac. “I wanted a successor to the Veyron and Chiron, a true hypercar with a combustion engine. Our customers agreed.”
Bugatti Automobiles S.A.S
To create it, Rimac teamed with Cosworth, a renowned British engine builder, to help develop the naturally aspirated V16 mill. Designed to rev to 9,000 rpm, the engine offers a similar output as the original Veyron’s quad-turbocharged W16. To heighten the performance, Rimac and his team used their proven expertise in electric propulsion to pair the V16 with twin electric motors driving the front wheels, with a third at the rear. For battery power, a 25 kWh, oil-cooled 800-volt pack is integrated into the chassis and located behind the passengers. It’s powerful enough to give the Tourbillon a usable electric-only range of around 60 km.
As you would expect, the Tourbillon has been developed to be blisteringly fast. According to Emilio Scervo, Bugatti’s chief technical officer, early prototype tests suggest a rate of acceleration from zero to 100 km/h in 2.0 seconds, zero to 200 km/h in 5.0 seconds, and zero to 300 km/h in 10.0 seconds. Flat out, the max-speed target is 445 km/h, though with a speedometer that reads up to 550 km/h, we expect there’s more to come. “For us, it was important that the car retained the pure and raw analogue feel of a naturally aspirated combustion engine, while pairing it with the agility and ability provided by electric motors,” said Scervo.
The engine itself sits low in the Tourbillon’s new, super-stiff body structure, which is formed using next-generation T800 carbon composites. It features a forged-aluminium, multi-link suspension—front and rear—that replaces the previous double-wishbone steel setup used in the Chiron. The 3-D-printed aluminium suspension arms and uprights, and AI-developed, 3-D-printed hollow airfoil arm at the rear, are nothing less than pieces of art.
Bugatti Automobiles S.A.S
For the exterior lines, Frank Heyl, Bugatti’s director of design, explained that styling influences came from three landmark Bugattis of old: the Type 35 racer of the 1920s, the long Type 41 Royale built from 1927 through 1933, and the storied Type 57SC Atlantic from the 1930s. “The design focus was on Bugatti’s iconic horseshoe grille. It’s significantly wider and lower than in the Chiron, and it’s from which all lines of the car originate. It defines the car,” said Heyl, who added that another signature element is “the new central windshield wiper, which continues the line that starts on the hood and flows back along the roof. Just like on the Atlantic.” Set back from the grille are twin rows of wafer-thin LED lights. Between them is a narrow panel on the hood that raises up to reveal a “frunk” big enough for a set of custom-designed luggage.
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Upon opening the dihedral “scissor” doors and entering the cockpit, you’re presented with arguably the new Tourbillon’s most dramatic feature; a skeletonised instrument cluster inspired by the art of Swiss watchmaking. Made up of more than 600 components, it’s constructed from titanium with sapphire-glass faces and detailing that incorporates rubies.
The three-dial cluster is fixed in place, with the twin spokes of the flat-bottom steering wheel rotating around it. The unit is constructed, in-house, to remarkable horological tolerances of 50 microns—the average cross-section of a human hair. The entire cluster weighs just 709 g. Cascading down from the middle of the fascia is the centre console featuring crystal glass that’s formed over 13 separate stages to ensure strength and clarity. The aluminium elements are anodised and milled from a single block.
A close-up of the Bugatti Tourbillon’s 1,000 hp, 8.3-liter naturally aspirated V-16 engine.
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To add a little theatre to firing-up that big V16, there’s a prominent center-console aluminium knob that you pull to start, and push to turn off. It’s another nod to Bugatti models of yesteryear. What you won’t see, however, are any touchscreens. Heyl believes that the primary element that dates a car is an oversized screen. “What was state-of-the-art 10 years ago, is now ugly,” said Heyl. “The Tourbillon is designed to be timeless.”
In Bugatti tradition, the Tourbillon will also be highly exclusive. Only 250 examples are planned, each starting at around $6.3 million. The first customer cars are scheduled to be built at Bugatti’s atelier in Molsheim, France, starting in 2026.
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“Yes, it is crazy to build a new V16 engine, to integrate it with a new battery pack and electric motors, and to have 3-D-printed suspension parts and a real Swiss watchmaker instrument cluster,” noted Rimac. “But it is what Ettore Bugatti would have done.”
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Extreme leisure or full-throttle engagement? The private-jet cabin of the future will offer both.
Within a decade, private-jet cabins could make even today’s cutting-edge interiors seem ancient by comparison. From digital skylights and smart seats to eye-tracking functionality and immersive soundscapes, the array of innovative amenities could transform even the longest flights into time well spent. Here, six areas in which technology will take the onboard experience to new heights.
Screen Time
Within three to five years, some private jets may have select windows replaced with curved, high-definition 4K OLED displays connected to live video feeds from the aircraft’s exterior. Imagine a cabin ceiling that morphs into a conservatory with a spectacular view of the moon, or full-height windows that present the landscape below with incredible fidelity. Information overlays are easy additions, but consider that these built-in visual portals could also double as insane gaming screens.
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E-textiles will transform the next generation of jet seats into intuitive in-flight spa recliners. Sensors within the fabric will note your size, weight, pressure distribution, and body temperature, then rely on their A.I.-driven processors to, say, heat the seat before you realise you’re chilly or massage that kink in your back without being asked. Powering themselves by converting body heat into electricity, the chairs might also know to widen and recline when you nod off.
Seeing the Light
Chronobiological lighting to mitigate jet lag will comprise organic light-emitting diode (OLED) panels, capable of creating 16.3 million different light combinations, to reset a passenger’s internal clock as they traverse time zones. Eventually, such panels will migrate from light fixtures to smart fabric on the ceiling, resulting in more diffuse illumination that allows for near-infinite options across the colour spectrum.
And there are many other applications. For example, OLED displays, as wide as a piece of paper, can be used to digitally transform the entire wall of the cabin’s colour, texture or scene. It is called projection mapping, and it will make changing the wall color from hot pink to a textured crocodile leather as easy as changing your computer screen saver. As Ingo Wuggetzer, vice president of cabin marketing for Airbus, explains, light literally creates spaces, giving cabin designers a highly versatile and easily customisable digital canvas.
Higher Management
The ability to access basic audio or video from your smartphone is here, but imagine faster, streamlined connectivity that lets you manage video conferencing, heating, mood lighting, window shades, service requests, even a steriliser—from a single app. According to Airbus’s Wuggetzer, next-gen digital architecture will turn personal spaces into individual “ecosystems” controlled by each passenger. Tim O’Hara, director of completions research and development at Gulfstream, notes that eye-tracking technology could allow you to interact with the app via virtual screen, meaning you don’t even have to lift a finger.
Breaking the Sound Barrier
Rosen Aviation has developed a new onboard audio system with Laurence Dickie, designer of the famed Bowers & Wilkins Nautilus loudspeaker. According to Rosen’s Lee Clark, the goal is to go from today’s audio equivalent of “a 1970s eight-track” to what he refers to as “Elvis, six feet away, singing to you”—a soundscape that only you will hear, delivered by headrest speakers and haptic drivers in the seat. Meanwhile, Bongiovi Aviation intends to employ transducers embedded in the jet’s interior side panels, eliminating the need for traditional speakers altogether. The advantages are numerous, and it allows airframers to reduce cabin weight and fully utilise space while eliminating traditional speakers from the design.
Bringing movie-theater audio quality to aviation is already available. Dolby Atmos puts you inside the movie or song as it is playing. In collaboration with Dolby, SkyCinema Aviation was the first to create an Atmos-enabled processor built for business jets to compensate for cabin altitude and jet noise. The result? You will clearly hear the car approaching from a half mile away in that famous scene of the 1959 Hitchcock classic North by Northwest, just as the director intended.
Hands Free
With full showers, skylights, and large vanities gracing the lavatories of the most luxe business jets today, what could be next? The smart lavatory is evolving into a nearly completely hands-free space by incorporating sensors to activate everything from faucets to showers. Using an AI algorithm, Diehl Aviation has taken it a step farther to add more functionality with voice-controlled commands for opening and closing the door, turning on lights, and activating water. Hologram light switches will eventually keep the lavatory completely hands free, while smart mirrors can multitask by providing an interactive display of digital content.
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28/10/2024
30/10/2024
George Hamilton’s Rules for Timeless Style
The Hollywood icon continues his conversation with Robb Report, touching on manners, tailoring, and La Liz.
So riveting was my chat last week with George Hamilton and his tailor, Paolo Martorano, that I decided to continue my conversation with the actor in a second installment this week. Despite the grey sky and steady drizzle falling outside the windows of my New England home, Hamilton’s sunny demeanor had me feeling more like I was in Palm Beach, cool drink in hand and clad in a coral linen ensemble. And almost two hours later, it was apparent why he has earned the icon status he enjoys.
Hamilton is, by all standards, larger than life: a charming gentleman and a style legend who epitomises Hollywood at its most glamorous. Generously candid, his humour is rivalled only by his sincerity. Amid stories from his childhood, of his A-list costars and insights he’s gleaned throughout his life, Hamilton offers a masterclass in true masculinity, with a sharply attuned acuity for what women want and a practiced understanding of what makes a gentleman—with or without a bespoke tailor at one’s service.
“A man should look confident and capable, and those two things reside between the waist and the shoulder. Because if the waist is nipped in a little, it means he’s in good shape. If the shoulder is robust, he can handle the problem.”
George Hamilton
The Language of Suiting
The question is an all too common one: how does one define “gentleman?” It’s an elusive proposition and fodder for countless think pieces, none of which can rival Hamilton’s estimation: “I think a man should always look as though he’s able to handle the problem, if need be,” he says, though his mind can’t resist turning to tailoring.
“A man should look confident and capable, and those two things reside between the waist and the shoulder. Because if the waist is nipped in a little, it means he’s in good shape. If the shoulder is robust, he can handle the problem,” says Hamilton.
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We joke about the scourge of skinny suits and discuss the value of a good tailor, though he was adamant that a man does not need a bespoke bank account to pull off bespoke style, suggesting that young men look to the prep aesthetic and pair a smart made-to-measure sport coat with a gray flannel trouser. “It makes a young man look incredibly well dressed and without too much study.” It’s the prerogative of an older man, too, he says to keep yourself looking good. “When you finally get your head together, your ass is falling apart,” he says with a warm laugh.
No matter the age, he insists the principles of good dressing remain the same. In addition to proper jacket proportions, pants should serve to elongate the leg and be complemented by well made shoes. “What is it you’re selling? You’re selling you,” he says. “Not the suit. Not the shoes. Not the socks. A great tailor doesn’t make you look like you’re wearing a costume. It blends into you, it makes you look great. That’s the whole trick. They have to subordinate their ego a little bit to make you look better. But when they do it right, it makes everyone want to look like that. And then the tailor becomes the one who’s the architect.”
“When you finally get your head together, your ass is falling apart.”
-George Hamilton
Well Groomed
Grooming is also paramount, a show of respect for yourself and the people around you. The cologne Hamilton wears is one he’s spent sixty years getting just right. From taxi drivers to female companions, everyone is completely intrigued by it—and its name is the one thing in our conversation he demurs on. According to Hamilton, a man’s grooming routine should fit in a dopp kit and tend toward restraint. “Whether it be a manicure, a pedicure, or the right haircut, it must be simple and to the point,” he says. “We’re meant to be out killing dragons while the woman’s getting ready. But it doesn’t mean that it needn’t be sophisticated.”
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He credits his mother with much of his style instinct and one story in particular illustrates the precarious balance of intentional elegance and ease. “I remember the first time I was going out to dinner at a debutante thing in New York, and I got all dressed up. I stood at the door and she said, “What are you doing? You’re standing there like you’re a waiter.” You should get on the floor and play with the dog, with your tuxedo, with your dinner clothes.” So I got on and played with the dog. When I got up, she said, ‘Now, that’s the way you should stand. That’s the way you go.” I never forgot that.”
Manners Maketh the Man
It’s not just Hamilton’s style sense that hinges on balance. “Men can’t give up kindness to be strong,” he says. “Strength without kindness or kindness without strength—it won’t work. There’s a balance to it.”
Again, he attributes his upbringing for these values. “I was raised in an era that had manners, and those manners were the lubricant for all problems,” he says. “If you live long enough and you travel enough, and if you churn in the right company, civility is the ability to keep everything oiled and proper so that you don’t bump up against things.”
For Hamilton, manners are defined by what all people you encounter have to say about you once you’ve left their company: the compliments you pay people when you have nothing to gain, nothing transactional to incentivise you. “The way you treat people that the world might not deem important? That denotes or connotes who a person really is.”
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Hamilton also says humour is imperative. “I don’t take myself seriously, or any of it seriously. And most people do,” he says. “But life is over so fast – and it’s hard to have a sense of humour, but if you have that, it saves you. It’s the shock absorber for everything.”
And critically, despite a man’s station in life, humility is a defining mark of character. Put simply: no one likes a show off. “You don’t have to flaunt it,” he emphasises. “We all have to learn the basic rules of life and you don’t have to go around explaining to everyone that you know and you are better. I don’t think that’s attractive for a man or a woman really. But I think a woman appreciates a kind of quiet confidence.”
What Women Want
Those glints of humanity, of fallibility, are imperative when it comes to romance and seduction. “You have to have a human touch to it all, I think. Not always being perfect, it’s sometimes the imperfect that makes it a human quality that makes it. And sometimes, you can’t display it, you have to betray it,” Hamilton says.
Just ask Elizabeth Taylor.
When Taylor was playing Cleopatra, Hamilton says, they were in England shooting. The weather was horrible and the studio had already sunk millions of dollars into the production. Finally, they cast Richard Burton to play opposite Elizabeth Taylor as Mark Antony. “They were working on a scene where she’s supposed to say, “I haven’t dismissed you,” Hamilton recounts. “And Richard had been drinking for two or three days, and was exhausted. He had no sleep.” He told Taylor he needed coffee. They brought it to him, but he couldn’t bring the cup to his mouth. “So he asked her if she would lift the cup to his mouth so he could drink. And she said that’s when she fell in love with him.”
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Taylor sought security her whole life—a product of growing up a child actress with others always reliant on her. “She wanted someone to take charge, because she never had that as a child,” he says, noting that it was Mike Todd, who he believes was her most compatible match in that regard.
But not to be outdone, Hamilton and his gentlemanly ways left their own imprint on Taylor’s life. “Elizabeth was extraordinary,” he says. “But she was like a little girl, kind of lost. And she always had a list of things she needed, ten or twelve things.” The two were staying together at a hotel in New York when George asked her to write down her list of “necessities” for him. “She sat down and lingered over the list for an hour, getting it together and worrying about it. And I took it downstairs to the manager of the hotel, Bernard Lackner. And I asked Bernard, “Can you take this list of things that Elizabeth Taylor needs and get them done?’ “Of course,” Lackner said. “15 minutes later, everything would be done.”
Very modestly, George tells me he didn’t so much manage the list himself, but he knew how to delegate. Still, it impressed Taylor all the same. Hamilton returned to their room, list completed and delivered the good news to Taylor.
“I’ve never met a man like you who incredibly took charge and handled everything,” Taylor said. Here’s to men who can get the job done.
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28/10/2024
Yachting’s Sea Change
Sure, the yachts dreamed up by big-name architects and designers look fabulous. But are they seaworthy?
Pleasure yachts were once the province of amateur sailors and oligarchs—men who, aside from a shared appreciation of varnished teak, adhered to diverging aesthetic templates. For serious mariners, form followed function, and fripperies were frowned upon. The upper-cruster aboard his gin palace, meanwhile, preferred nightclub chic, with heavy doses of gold, chandeliers and black-lacquered surfaces. Both types of vessel suffered from a surplus of wood panelling and a scarcity of sea views.
That design rulebook has now been thrown out, thanks to shifting priorities, new technologies and the pandemic-fuelled boom in yacht ownership. A rising generation of younger owners prefers watersports toys and wellness suites over cigar lounges and book-matched mahogany. Seductive superyacht concepts on social media promise a life in which families waft unbounded through fluid, open-plan, indoor-outdoor spaces devoid of clutter and supporting walls.
Suffice to say, such experimentation is not typically dictated by dyed-in-the-wool naval architects but comes from a fresh influx of creative outsiders from the land-bound worlds of hotels, private homes, furniture and even fashion. The designers serving the yacht-owning class of 2024 may be disparate, but they have one thing in common: boats are not their area of expertise.
For decades, a group of former apprentices of Australian Jon Bannenberg, the godfather of yacht design, dominated the field with their trademark lavish style. Bannenberg, part of London’s “swinging ’60s” creative wave, designed celebrated vessels for the great and the not-so-great, including Malcolm Forbes, Adnan Khashoggi and Robert Maxwell. Throughout the ’80s and ’90s, his protégés—Andrew Winch, Terence Disdale and Tim Heywood—catered to the tastes of their plutocrat clientele (think fussy mouldings, high-gloss hardwoods, tinkling crystal and veiny marble), with their brand names adding pedigree to ships and their style seen as the hallmark of opulence.
These designers “made a fortune”, says Giovanna Vitelli, chair of the Azimut-Benetti Group, by some distance the world’s biggest builder, who describes their style as “an institutional interpretation of luxury” dating from a more hierarchical era. “So, when I enter the yacht, I find a formal main salon, and then a big formal dining area, prepared to serve a lot of people,” she says. “I also stay away from the sea” due to privacy concerns, meaning small windows and high, enclosed sterns. This “shouted luxury”, in Vitelli’s words, is now giving way to a fresher, airier, more modern approach driven by a rejection of formalities and a new focus on “the very reason you go boating, which is the sea and nature”.
An embrace of the outdoors was a crucial focus for Norman Foster, one of the world’s most famous architects, whose designs for the 2008 YachtPlus fractional-ownership fleet, though controversial, prefigured some of today’s trends. Foster was perhaps the first outsider to disrupt the industry—“a conservative world” at the time, according to Angus Campbell, a senior partner at Foster’s practice who worked on the project: “You spend all this money, and then you have to look through these tiny little porthole windows; you’re on the sea, but you can’t see out. Why is that? So we looked at creating windows and external space that you can walk around.”
In 2010, Vitelli found herself asking similar questions and decided to hold design competitions specifically for creatives from outside the industry. A successful initial collaboration with architect Achille Salvagni that same year led to a series of partnerships with other architects known for their global portfolios of luxury retail, hotel, residential and product design, including Lazzarini Pickering in Rome, which did two interiors in the Benetti Motopanfilo line; Matteo Thun and Antonio Rodriguez in Milan, who are producing sustainable designs for the Azimut Seadeck series (the first of which will launch at Salone del Mobile this month); and Bonetti/Kozerski in New York, responsible for the interiors of Benetti’s 40M and 34M Oasis series.
Georgio Armani
The fashion icon’s design for the 72 m Admiral megayacht leans into his sophisticated, muted palette and prioritises outdoor space.
Roberto Palomba / Ludovica Serafini
The Milan-based architecture and design duo created the F100 Glass Cabin for Amer Yachts.
The results upended yachting convention. The traditional, strict divisions between interior and exterior were eroded, with “huge glass, huge doors” and a drop-down stern, recalls Vitelli, referring to Benetti’s pioneering “Oasis deck”—a lowered rear section with wings that fold down to create an expanded beach-club zone.
Other shipyards followed suit. One particularly radical concept was the 2015 Savannah, created for Feadship by Cristina Gherardi, who previously was director of architecture at Dior and designed projects for Armani Casa. The yacht featured multiple innovations, including hybrid propulsion, an engine ventilation that filtered air through tables in the bar, and a partially submerged glass-walled Nemo Lounge for watching passing fish.
Oceanco, a full-custom builder that counts Jeff Bezos and Steven Spielberg among its clients, now works with non-yachting designers under its NXT program, while Amer, a smaller semi-custom brand from the Permare Group, recently partnered with Milan-based architectural studio Palomba Serafini to create the award-winning F100 Glass Cabin. And in 2020, Giovanni Costantino, founder and CEO of the Italian Sea Group (TISG), reeled in the Moby Dick of designers: Giorgio Armani. The fashion maestro, who has owned his own yachts for two decades, not only signed up to create two Armani-branded 72 m Admiral megayachts, including one that launched at the Monaco Yacht Show this year, but also bought a 4.99 percent stake in TISG.
The brand-name appeal of famous designers targets a new type of buyer, one who shops for a yacht as they would a luxury car, says Philippe Briand, a naval architect and creator of racing vessels as well as Vitruvius superyachts. The previous generation “came with sailing experience”, he says, “so they were more aware of functionality and constraints. Today, this generation are newcomers, and they’re consumers. That’s fine, but they need to be a bit educated about how complex it is to create a boat.”
Ownership is expanding and changing. There were 1,203 superyacht projects under construction in 2023, according to the Global Order Book, an annual industry survey. That’s nearly twice as many as a decade prior, and demand looks likely to grow in line with the boom in multimillionaires: the most recent UBS Global Wealth Report predicts that the number of people with over US$50 million (around $76 million) in assets will rise to 372,000 by 2027, up from 243,060 in 2022.
“In the past, rich people were mainly over 50, and now it’s completely different,” says Antonio Rodriguez, co-designer of the Azimut Seadeck series. “There is a boom of younger rich people, especially in Asia.”
Gregory C. Marshall, a veteran naval architect based in Victoria, Canada, says his millennial clients (some of whom are in their 20s) “just don’t seem to be interested in traditional superyacht thinking”, adding that “they travel with a backpack and surfboards”. They want ships that are “less polished on the outside and a little more ‘How many toys can I pile on?’ ” 
Enrico Bonetti/Dominic Kozerski
Bonetti/Kozerski, based in New York, aimed for nonchalant elegance with its Oasis series for Benetti.
Norman Foster
The Pritzker Prize–winning architect kicked off the “outsider” boom with his envelope-pushing YachtPlus.
But yachts are still status symbols: no one buys a superyacht solely due to a love of sailing. “If people like the sea, in general they buy a sailboat,” Rodriguez notes. For grander vessels, clients see no reason not to bring in a famous name with no knowledge of the category “like they use a designer for a house in the city or in the countryside,” he says. “It’s a floating house.”
Roberto Palomba’s vessel for Amer was commissioned by a client for whom he had designed projects on terra firma. “He knew me and he loves my style, so he wanted my style in his yacht,” says Palomba, who had no previous marine experience.
The older generation of owners believed that conventional layouts by established industry professionals locked in resale value; today’s clients are much more comfortable with risk. Concepts aimed at this market include vessels shaped like sharks, the Star Trek Enterprise, and bird skeletons. Oceanco’s NXT offerings include Aeolus, a 131 m gigayacht with a huge, sculpted primary suite and panoramic windows, and Kairos, which has the cosmic, asymmetric feel of a Tokyo shopping mall.
“It’s a less formal naval feeling onboard nowadays,” says Paris Baloumis, group marketing director at Oceanco. “Space has become much more fluid.” The aim, he says, is seamlessness between interior and exterior, work space and private space. “Back in the day, you had a special area for aperitifs, maybe a cigar lounge. A lot of different spaces dedicated to specific functions.” In contrast, Oceanco’s NXT Tank concept has replaced rooms with three amorphous zones.
Much of the work of external designers involves removing clutter. Giorgio Armani tells Robb Report that his blueprints were inspired by the clean lines of military vessels “and the optimization of space characteristic of old ships—away with all the infrastructures that can normally be seen, such as the tenders.”
Inside his Admiral yacht for TISG, windows feature sliding panels to help create “spacious interiors flooded with natural light”, he says. “The sensation is wide-ranging and of total immersion in the surrounding environment.” The effect, enhanced by the stealth-wealth decor, recalls his relaxed yet deceptively decadent suits.
Touring yachts as part of his research for the Oasis series, Enrico Bonetti, of Bonetti/Kozerski, found the interiors “very stiff, rigid, with furniture where nobody would sit” while also prioritising “something flashy here, something else flashy over there. So what we tried to do is to link all the spaces together and have a continuation of materials and textures and colours.” The aim, he says, is nonchalance: “sophisticated but without showing it too much”.
The main difference between the old and the new is a shift away from ostentation and toward a discreetly refined simplicity. Rodriguez’s mantra is “Always remove”. Instead of a bunch of gold and marble, he says, “we try to do the opposite, to keep only the materials you need, and never, never to show off.” He calls this approach the new luxury.
Technology is also altering the design process. Engineers at Azimut-Benetti no longer make test models, instead using Oculus virtual-reality glasses to “walk” around the boat, making adjustments in real time. “The ability to do large, technical, structural glass has evolved enormously,” says Marshall, whose studio produced the Artefact superyacht, which may lay claim to more glass than any other yacht on the water and won two major awards at the 2021 World Superyacht Awards. Technological advances engender new ideas, he says. “You start to think, ‘Well, if the glass is actually stronger than my aluminium structure, why would I make it out of aluminium and not glass?’ ”
Sustainability is another driver of change. For the interiors of Azimut’s Seadeck, Rodriguez says he selected exclusively recycled or recyclable materials, including a carpet made from discarded fishing nets, which Vitelli describes as “pleasant to touch”. She adds, “You don’t have that cold plastic effect—it’s like silk.”
“We were trying to push the boundaries and create a better experience for the guests, rather than make it easy to tie up when you’re trying to bring it into shore.”
Change isn’t always welcomed by the technical teams who have to turn outsiders’ nautical fantasies into seaworthy vessels. “I’ve seen a lot of examples of yachts which have been controlled by the interior designer, and in the end [it] does not hang together,” says Philippe Briand, the naval architect, who prefers to work only with marine-specific interior designers.
He particularly abhors the proliferation of unrealistic concepts on social media: “They’re all fake, to be honest, because they’re not representing any existing boat—they’re only the dream or the marketing of a young designer.” Moreover, these renderings are “polluting the market”, he says, because they give clients improbable expectations. “The client says, ‘You’re creative, you’re inventive, so I’m going to order a boat from you [only] if you’re able to do the same design I saw’. Which puts us in a very difficult situation.” Briand cites the trend for ultra-low beach clubs, which he calls unfeasible in even slightly choppy water. “To make an attractive image in a magazine,” he says, the rendering needs to be “flat, all open, two feet above the water—and, of course, on the rendering, the water is [also] flat. It’s not corresponding to any real functionality. I mean, it’s basically fashion.”
Antonio Rodriguez / Matteo Thun
The first in the Azimut Seadeck series by this Milanese partnership, which debuted in April at Salone del Mobile, features all recycled or recyclable materials.
Marshall, the Artefact’s architect, agrees that clients often bring concepts that are impractical but usually finds that, with “some minor adjustments”, the designs are “buildable without losing the aesthetic inspiration”. He says it largely depends on the purpose of the yacht, with an oceangoing vessel requiring more serious engineering than a Monaco posing platform—not every model needs to be able to “survive a hurricane in the middle of the Atlantic”.
Marshall likewise welcomes the creative tension inherent in a meeting between external creatives and in-house engineers. “We look at it like a war,” he says, cheerfully. “Because the reality is each discipline is in conflict with the other disciplines. You may love the styling, but the structural people go, ‘Thanks, how do I build that?’ The way he manages the mediation process is to “start with the concept, go to a certain point and stop, then do a structural pass, then do a mechanical pass, [then] go back to styling—and the stylists of course look at it and go, ‘Oh, my gosh, all these engineers just slaughtered my brilliant design. And we go round and round.” The conflict is the point, he says. “When you get the balance right, then it’s a good design.”
Baloumis agrees but admits to “frustrations on both sides”. Outsiders lack “the technical understanding of naval architecture”, at which point “we have to really guide [them] to understand why certain things are not possible. But on the other hand, it also pushes us to see how we can make it work. And that is a nice interaction.” This Darwinian-esque struggle is necessary, he says, “because the yachting industry is quite confined, quite closed”.
Palomba and Bonetti both encountered resistance to their initial ideas for Amer and Benetti, respectively. According to the former, he had to “force the producer to create big windows”, while Bonetti recalls continually clashing with what he refers to as “the rules”, such as having an elaborately set but unused dining table in the main salon. “For us, not knowing the rules [made it] easier to do things a little bit differently.”
That often-fruitful tension between outsiders and insiders can tip out of balance in the presence of what Marshall calls a forceful stylist. He’s happy to incorporate “round windows, triangular windows, giant staircases”, as long as the vessel operates as more than a stage set.
One veteran yacht designer, asking not to be named, points to Foster’s YachtPlus as an example of form outweighing function. “It just didn’t function as a boat that well, in terms of the normal day-to-day things, like simply tying it up. A lot of the aesthetic inspiration that non-boat people come up with is very clever, but if it doesn’t meet the core usage, it doesn’t last very well.” Campbell, of Foster + Partners, says that their brief was innovation and readily admits that they prioritised eye-catching radicalism over the nitty-gritty of nautical functionality. “We were trying to push the boundaries and create a better experience for the guests,” he says, “rather than make it easy to tie up when you’re trying to bring it into shore.” Those choices, he says, are often in direct contradiction, adding, “I think what happens with a lot of yachts is that the crew take a lot of the key spaces. And the fact is that the guests who’ve paid for the yacht get all the spaces that are left over. We did question a lot of those items to try and push it because, you know, how [else] do you get innovation?”
Maritime regulations often curtail the ambitions of owners and designers. A client’s desire for double-height ceilings is hard to square with fire regulations, which limit the number of open spaces. “A boat is not a bag, it’s not a dress,” says Vitelli. “There’s a lot of substance—you’re buying a floating object full of technology, so [safety] has to remain the priority.”
In terms of interiors, most still agree that the nautical nature of a yacht should be reflected in its fixtures and fittings. “A boat should remain a boat and should remain marine,” says Vitelli, adding that she rejected some architect proposals that were too close to “a New York loft”. Bonetti also cautions against mimicking residential styles too closely. “We’re seeing some boats that if you [replaced] the view from the windows with a street, it could be an apartment in the centre of Berlin,” he says, adding that vessels can reflect their authentic purpose “without going back to the old mahogany interiors”.
But exactly how should a yacht’s design convey its marine essence? It’s partly a matter of safety, says Vitelli: it must have “rounded shapes”, because no one wants to encounter a sharp corner in a storm; handrails and non-slip floors are also crucial. But for a superyacht, it’s also a matter of luxury aesthetics—which means bespoke built-in furniture. Anything off-the-peg “is not perceived as top luxury by certain customers, it’s luxury that we can more or less all afford to buy—Poltrona Frau or Minotti.” In other words: mass luxury.
Bonetti agrees. “The majority of the furniture and the millwork should be specifically designed for that boat,” he says. “It shouldn’t be something from a showroom.” Palomba, however, prefers “movable pieces from brands like B&B and Talenti”, specifically to get away from “integrated fixed furnishings,” which for him are too redolent of the moulded-fibreglass fixtures of yesteryear.
When is a boat not a boat? When it is, in Armani’s words, “a moving house, with particular characteristics”. Today’s owners employ residential architects precisely in order to create the feel of a floating home. Such personal designs will inevitably conflict with the mathematical certainties of naval engineering. But the best shipyards welcome outsiders who bring the friction that sparks creativity—such open-mindedness is especially necessary as technology continues to expand what’s possible. Yacht design is not “an ever-fixed mark / That looks on tempests and is never shaken,” as Shakespeare might have it, but instead it must trim its sails to the prevailing wind. ●
THE NEW DELIVERABLES
Thanks to the influence of big-name designers and the growing owner demand for increased space and superior views, superyachts are undergoing a style evolution. Three areas in particular are coming into sharper focus for builders
Active Beach Clubs
The leisure space at a yacht’s stern has become an essential part of the superyacht blueprint. Owners’ emphasis on the water’s edge has given rise to active beach clubs, which might feature enclosed lounges, drop-down transoms for watersports access, or multi-decked havens where relaxation meets wellness meets seaside living. Most beach clubs come into their own when the yacht is at anchor, but aboard Oceanco’s Aquijo, the world’s largest high-performance ketch, watertight doors mean guests can still use the jacuzzi, spa pool, hammam and sauna when sailing at top speeds.
Glass-bottomed jacuzzis and glass-encased pools on the main deck, as seen on Golden Yachts’ 88 m Project X, shine natural light on a beach club below, mitigating a lack of windows. Other solutions include side terraces that extend the footprint, a trick used by Bilgin’s 80 m Leona. The third hull of the Bilgin 263 series, meanwhile, takes enclosed beach clubs to a new dimension: marble runs across the walls and floor, while a ceiling decorated in twinkling LEDs illuminates a tiled pool and statues recalling Ancient Greece. On the starboard side sits a bar embellished with amethyst and agate; on the port side, a hookah room with fold-down sea terraces.
Rounded Interiors
Several design firms, including Burdifilek of Toronto, are employing curvaceous hull shapes to form new fluid interiors. “I believe very strongly that you should feel like you’re on a boat, with bulkheads that hug the curve of the hull,” says Burdifilek cofounder Diego Burdi, who went with a more rounded feel for the 61 m Damen Entourage.
It’s a sentiment echoed by Rome-based Lazzarini Pickering Architetti, whose interiors for Benetti’s Motopanfilo series are framed by curved, structural “ribs” and integrated panels that mimic the shapely nautical doors and smaller portholes of vessels from the ’60s. Others, such as the Maiora 35 Exuma and the WallyWhy150, feature domed ceilings that don’t compromise structural integrity. “You have to be brave enough to push the boundaries and shift existing design parameters,” says Luca Bassani, Wally’s founder and chief designer.
Virtual Pilothouses
A mere fantasy five years ago, the virtual pilothouse is close to reality now. Some builders are doing away with the main-deck bridge altogether, as seen with Sunseeker’s new Ocean 182, which has only a single helm on the flybridge, as well as Feadship’s concept, Pure. Instead of being perched at the front of the yacht, the captain and VR “command centre” are discreetly ensconced in a windowless deck below the waterline. Team Italia’s virtual bridge isn’t, as the name suggests, virtual but trades its traditional territory for a less prominent position of the owner’s choice.
Placing the pilothouses in out-of-the-way corners allows owners to appropriate the best forward views for their own main-deck suites. The days when practical, nautical concerns necessitated that captains occupy such prime real estate are in the past: “Considering the data and virtual reconstruction sensors we now have,” says Massimo Minnella, CEO and founder of Team Italia, “a virtual bridge will be just as safe and capable as the current one.” The Grecian-inflected pool of the Bilgin 80 m Leona’s beach club; the “command centre” aboard Feadship’s design concept Pure; Benetti’s Motopanfilo 37M’s main salon, featuring structural curved “ribs”. Photography: Daniele Venturelli/Getty Images (Giorgio Armani photo); Enrico Costantini; Ludovica and Roberto Palomba.
Photography: Nigel Young
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28/10/2024
