Amazing few days in Miami which went a little something like this...
Nightmare journey involving broken down coach, C R-B in her pajamas, too many stressed out cigarettes, not enough coffee, a wrong terminal and the lack of knowledge that I needed an ESTA to get into the States. One gin 'n' tonic on the flight to steady the racing heartbeat gained from sprinting through Terminal 5 in my All Saints stilettos. A couple more gin 'n' tonics. Two hours in Miami customs, loss of sense of humour. Quick regain of sense of humour by remembering I'm in Miami bitch!
Rockin' up at the St Regis Bal Harbour and the lovely Carlos, my butler taking me up to my AMAZING suite overlooking the ocean. Screaming in delight at my three balconies. Trying to act all nonchalant in front of Carlos.
No sleep. Beautiful sunrise from all three of my balconies. Being ridiculously spoilt by Michelle, the PR Director of the hotel. Polo on the beach in the sun and the heat. Wondering if it's too early for a crisp cool vodka at 11.30am. Delighted that my interviewee from Maserati reaches for the bottle first. Noticing that all the lady players look like models. Jesus. (Obviously not the actual one). Dressing for party number one and realising how annoying it is traveling alone as dress zips are impossible. Fireworks at the Raleigh Hotel. Champagne at the Satai. Concerns over the length of my skirt when dancing.
No sleep. Losing the aches and pains and slight hangover in the spa. Walking around South Beach armed with the SLR and the biggest 'Bans. Quick drink at the Clevelander where the music is so loud it reverberates through my chest. Getting chatted up by everyone over hearing the English accent. Talking Art Deco architecture with torcedores. Buying cheap rosary beads off street vendors. Heading to Little Havana to cafe Versailles for Cuban coffee. Eating the largest but best sandwich ever. Talking with the pork-pie hat wearing, cigar smoking Dons at the booth. Having a philosophical chat with Emilio the taxi driver back to Bal Harbour. "Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment."
Waking to rain, but not being disappointed. Opening the laptop. Being distracted. Interviewing the gorgeous Nic Roldan who kept on discussing taking his shirt off. Fortunately/unfortunately not doing so. Hearing "Charlie pulled my finger" for the first time. Watching polo in the rain. Feeling like I'm home. Driving a GranTurismo MC around Miami Beach. Feeling like a rockstar. Falling in love with Rafael Espitia's 3D art at Avant Gallery. Champagne and early 90s music at Villa Azura. Grey Goose at the Delano. Escaping the rain and squeezing 20 people into a poolside cabana. Using the poor hangers-on to hold glasses up to catch the rain coming through the light fixtures. Dancing to a lot of rap and dealing with innuendos.
Very little sleep. Discovering polo is cancelled. Being interviewed for CNBC and Luxe World. Settling down for more drinking at the Raleigh. Looking like a drowned rat. Worrying about it. Getting over it by having a Patron. Eating a delicious supper at Mr Chow's at the W Hotel. Hitting up Set. Dancing with new and beautiful friends. Being almost tempted to reschedule the flight by a certain person. Realising I have a ridiculous deadline to meet.
Embarrassingly almost crying when I left my hotel. Chauffeur driven to the airport in a Bentley. Wishing I had more time. Thinking I could so get used to this.
Friends, I'm His Girl
Charlie Bit My Finger. Is it really just me who has never heard of this?!
Credit where credit's due: St Regis Bal Harbour, The Delano, Set, Rafael Espirita, Polo Life