Sticker wars

So the parties are over, the clubs (excluding Pacha of course) are closed and the hordes of workers who’d been employed as street promotion teams are onto the next destination (or missed their flights and are still partying at the Circo Loco after-after party). But a quick scout around Ibiza town or Playa d’en Bossa shows plenty of evidence of their valiant efforts throughout the summer, via the thousands and thousands of promo stickers still adorning the back of cars. The island’s residents are quite divided over the car sticker issue. I have to say, I kind of like it.

It’s a guerrilla marketing technique I have never seen used so… well… aggressively anywhere else in the world and it’s a genius way to get your brand seen all over the island, without having to invest in billboards or newspaper advertisements. On the other hand, it is also illegal. I should know – once, when I was a PR girl for We Love at Space, I got caught by an undercover policeman as I was foolishly doing it in the light of day, thinking anyone and everyone would be thrilled to come back to their car and receive my little ‘gift’. He let me off with a warning – but he did take all my stickers.

This is probably why you never actually see the sticker crews out on the streets, plastering their brands on vehicles. It’s done in the dead of night, under the cover of darkness. Or it’s done on the private property of the club’s car park – where the assumption would be, if you’ve driven there on any given night, you’re interested in the product they’re promoting. While clubbers and ex-clubbers aren’t all that bothered to find a new sticker or six on their coche when they head out to work in the morning (if it’s a party or DJ you don’t like, simply peel it off – if it’s someone you like, bonus!), it’s local business owners, parents and those with shiny new cars who have a problem with the sticker mafia.

They want their property to be respected – especially if it is not in a ‘club zone’ like Playa d’en Bossa or Marina Botafoch – and while they are within their rights to feel this way, there’s not much they can do about it. Some say you are more likely to be pulled over by the Guardia Civil if your car is covered in stickers – I say if you’re getting behind the wheel, what have you got to hide? Others say they don’t want their peers (or other mums on the school run) to think they’ve come straight from a nightclub – I say who cares what anyone else thinks? And yet then there are those for whom stickers are like badges of honour. The more you have, the more you want. Your car is like a battlezone, each sticker a medal, a testament to your party spirit.

There is an unwritten rule that promo teams don’t put stickers on hire cars – most likely because the companies would denounce them each time they got a vehicle back from a rental and had to spend the extra 30 seconds peeling off a sticker. Such is the work ethic here in Ibiza at times. There’s also an urban myth that if you park your car the wrong way round in the street, it’s the local symbol for not wanting to be stickered. Seems like an awful lot of effort to go to (have you ever tried to do a 180-degree turn in Ibiza town in August for a parking spot?) just to avoid a little round promo button! Promo team members will tell you people on the streets beg them for stickers on their cars. Crafty club owners definitely know people want them – you’ll see the same stickers in the shops for a fiver (and no fear of excess luggage charges with those kinds of souvenirs or gifts)!

There are countless Ibiza lovers who collect as many as they can and then go back to their home country and sticker up their cars trying to capture a little bit of that Ibiza magic in their daily lives. Love them or hate them, in 2015, promotional car stickers are a fact of Ibiza life – just like the vibrant clubbing billboards on the way out of the airport, the bumpy caminos with pink rock markers to help you find an after party at a villa, the 15€ spirits and 12€ beers and the inflated club entry prices. Most people would never tolerate any of that stuff in their normal lives… but here, it becomes part of a beloved memory. And who wants to be ‘normal’ anyway? Given that we residents are lucky enough to be able to call Ibiza home on a daily basis, I think we should embrace these little round sticky emblems of clubland as part of our culture. We don’t have to get up at 5am in the dark and freezing cold to catch the tube every day or come home to eat frozen dinners-for-one in front of the advertising-laden telly every night. We live in paradise, and if the price to pay is stashing a little tea tree oil or acetone in your glovebox for if or when you need to remove an offending sticker, well aren’t we lucky?

Ibiza – The psychic environment

“There was a small electric generator down in a corner near the port that provided electricity for the whole town of Ibiza. At night the town was so silent that all you could hear was the muffled thump-thump of the generator. After supper there was hardly enough power to make the filament in the lamp glow orange. An orange wiggly line. A light bulb gave off as much as the tip of a burning cigarette. Then, as people went to bed, turning off their lamps, ritualistic lamps, the light of those who did not go to bed gradually got brighter, so that by midnight it was possible to read a book. Then the generator was turned off for the night. For some reason, probably habit, there were shortages of bread, or charcoal, or other staples. One lived with few and simple things. There were shortages even of those things. Yet it all seemed normal and not especially inconvenient, something to joke about with your neighbours.

One evening the generator was not working, for some reason there was no bread in the shops, the upper town was dark. I stood across the road from a broad doorway. The doorway showed darkness within darkness. As I stared into this special darkness a whitish cloud, not of light but of some sort of energy, filled the space within the door area. I felt but could not see the stairs beyond the doorway leading upwards. I can remember so clearly about the bread and the malfunction of the generator because of the strangeness of this experience. Ibiza was having an unusual effect on my mental process. The vision of a ghostly rectangle of whitish light hovering in a darkened doorway was the first of a continuing series of experiences. It was as if my eyes had gained a tactile ability in space.

In the case of the stairs, I could feel them with a kind of radar even if I could not see them. The stairs themselves became a symbolic language as if to tell me that, in the darkness beyond thought, there is a way leading to other states of consciousness. The atmosphere of the island I can only describe as being psychically pungent. It was as if I could taste, feel, smell the cumulative effects of the events of centuries in the very cobblestones of the streets. As if the material environment itself retained, contained magnetically recorded all the influences that it had been subject to; from the sun, wind and rain to the sun of human emotions that had passed in its proximity. I could not unscramble, play back what precisely these events had been, but the overall effect I could feel. It is what is called the ‘mood’ of a place, but something stronger, with the effect on the emotions as strong as music.

This mood could be sensed to change perceptibly from street to street in the town, and from farm to farm in the countryside. As an animal can sense if an unfamiliar pool is safe to drink from, I became aware that some places are more benign than others, and that this benignity was a kind of nutriment to the mind, giving me a sense of fulfilment that I had been searching for. In Arab countries this nutriment is called Baraka. One’s relationship to it is relative. In addition to a heightened sensitivity to the mood of a place, certain experience, encounters, took on the quality of waking dreams, with the exception that these experiences seemed more real and the waking state of the dream. By merging my own psyche with the mood of a place, ordinary events took o a symbolic significance. Seen from the perspective of this state, a crowd of people appears to be a crowd of sleepwalkers moving slowly in a communal dream, unaware of each other, their minds clouded, self-dreaming, blind, unaware of the vibrant beauty of the world they are passing through.

In the upper town, women used to gather around the public fountains to fill earthenware amphorae for the household supplies of water. One afternoon as I was walking towards the western gate, the Portal Nou, in a little square I saw a pregnant woman standing at the fountain filling an amphora. She had one hand resting on her belly, the other resting on the amphora. The expression in her eyes was distant, lost in a dream. The amphora had filled and was running over. I too became lost in the contemplation of her. She had that strange quality of women painted by Giorgione. The moment became intensely real. I saw that the water of the fountain was eternal life, endless, flowing. But the water in the amphora was a single mortal life, just as the child in her belly.

One night, in the middle of the night, I awoke, strangely, my mind fresh, awake. I dressed and wet out into the street. The town was empty, silent, bright with moonlight. I walked though the narrow tunnel that leads from the square of the Ayuntamiento out under the great walls by the cliffs that tumbledown to the sea below the cathedral. There was a light breeze coming off the sea. I walked over the rocks at the base of the fortress walls. There were tiny fragments of glass strewn everywhere over the rocks, fragments of bottles thrown from the tops of the walls by the soldiers garrisoned in the fort. Each fragment shone in the moonlight like a star, so that once again I had the impression that was walking in the dark sky filled with stars.

The moonlight shining on the waters of the bay made a path of light leading to Playa d’en Bossa, then a lonely deserted beach. The salt marshes of Salinas were ghostly in the distance, the mountains ethereal, transparent. I became aware of someone sitting in he shadows near me, resting at the base of the wall. I moved closer and saw that it was Toni Ribas, the Ibizan painter. We nodded and sat together, silent and filled with peace. On another occasion, before dawn, just as the first touch of red tinges the deeper blue of the eastern horizon, I came upon Toni Ribas again, gazing across the harbour towards Talamanca towards the dawn. He was the only person I met on those solitary wanderings through the sleeping city. Toni died a couple of years ago. I can see him still, his back towards me, gazing across the sea, waiting for the dawn. Continue reading about Rolph and Mary’s new life in Ibiza and of Rolph’s explorations of an island steeped in history and mythology in the White Ibiza Living Guide next month.

Wake me up when September ends

157 newsletters, 316 blog posts, 5 full-length magazines, six location fashion shoots, 15 studio shoots, 46 closing parties, roughly 50 shots of mezcal, six bottles of tequila, around 60 ibuprofen, three sausage and egg drive-thru McMuffins, countless missed yoga classes, two new pairs of boots, one celebrity best friend, a flock of flamingos and about a million guest list requests… and the Ibiza summer is STILL going strong! Wowsers. I remember the days when September was the quiet time. The time businesses started shutting up shop, workers started letting their hair down, friends started reuniting after busy summers spent working, and the island slowed down to a more relaxing pace.

But in 2015… September is busy, busy, busy! Restaurants are still booked out every night, there are massive queues to get into all the clubs and there are still hundreds of boats moored at Es Palmador every day. And – dammit – there’s still that infernal traffic on the Santa Eulalia road. It seems the secret’s out – Ibiza at the end of the season is absolutely magical and everyone wants to be a part of it. Now on one hand that makes me super happy, because I love seeing our island thrive and win the hearts of even more people with each passing year. And it also means there are plenty MORE parties and places to go before the summer is officially over rather than the end-of-season wind down of previous years.

On the other hand… when is it going to be MY turn to kick back and enjoy the island properly? This extended season business means my friends are all still working like crazy, and here at White Ibiza we’re still producing plenty of blog and magazine content to keep our readers up to date with what’s going on at this time of year. My treasured end-of-season stay-cation in Ibiza is being pushed back to the end of next month in order to keep the momentum going just that little bit longer. Does this mean October is becoming the new September? Thankfully for me (and the lingering, clued-up tourist crowds), the weather in October is still pretty amazing and it usually warms up again after the September rains, so much so that you can still swim and sunbathe all the way up until the end of the month.

In fact, Formentera have even introduced a new tourism initiative to attract more visitors to our sister isle in the autumn months, with restaurants and hotels staying open longer than ever… you know where I’ll be headed come October. I’ve never been the type to get nostalgic at the end of the Ibiza summer. I love the contrast of seasons. Each one has its merits, and provide the perfect yin to the other’s yang. In Ibiza autumn signifies the beginning of the tranquil time of year, the time when you start taking stock of the summer just gone and making plans for the months ahead – whether they include business, travel, celebrations, lifestyle changes, detoxes, new homes or anything else that takes your fancy. Before you know it, the summer kicks in again (starting even earlier than ever before with each year) and we’re on the Ibiza rollercoaster once again. So wake me up when September ends (eek! That’s tomorrow!) because the best is yet to come! It’s time for me to hit the beach. I was more tanned in October than I had been throughout the entire summer season, and I can’t wait to reach the same shade of golden brown this year. Autumn in Ibiza rocks!

Hiring & firing

This is also true in Ibiza. In fact, some might say it’s even more difficult on the white isle for a number of reasons, ranging from people who come to party rather than work, the transient nature of people who relocate here seasonally or the fact that the beach is much more appealing than an office between May and October. And also the fact that wages in Ibiza aren’t the equivalent of city jobs – but hey, it’s the price we pay for living in paradise. Here at White Ibiza we have a core team of dedicated staff who (and I am crossing my fingers as I say this) seem to be both dedicated to their work and in love with the island lifestyle. The perfect fit! But we’re on the lookout for some newbies… It hasn’t always been this way.

There have been times when we’ve been understaffed and over-stressed, and over the years we’ve had a bit of a revolving door of team members in different departments. There were times when I had to ask myself, am I so difficult to work with? Do I not make it easy for new team members to assimilate, learn how to do their jobs and (ahem) get them on any guest list they want throughout the summer? Maybe it’s just that my standards are too high. And I’m a control freak. It’s understandable. Before my life in Ibiza began – yes, there was a Miss W before Ibiza, even though I do seem to be part of the furniture right now – I was in the very thick of the ‘Devil Wears Prada’ world of glossy women’s magazines. And for that, you’ve got to have a thick skin – mind you, smooth, flawless skin, not to mention all the right clothes, hair, make-up and contacts.

Forget New York – if you can make it in magazines, you can make it anywhere. While I eventually tired of that lifestyle – free perfume, make-up, clothes, haircuts and champagne don’t pay the rent (though I do miss them at times) – and felt a strong calling to move to Ibiza, what I can say about my tenure in magazines is that I learnt from the very best. From interview techniques and small talk tactics to the rules of engaging writing, juggling multiple deadlines and a busy social schedule under pressure, what readers want and how to find beauty in absolutely anything. And along with my three pink suitcases full of free beauty products, clothes and shoes, plus my beloved cat Buffy, I brought all that experience here with me to the white isle, and apply it, in theory, to what we do at White Ibiza. Which brings me to the matter at hand (yes, I hear you – get to the point).

I need a mini-me. Well, they can be taller than me of course (it’s not hard – I’m not very big) but I need someone who can swoop into our stylish all-white offices and be my right hand person. First and foremost, that person needs to be a damn good copywriter. The primary responsibilities are researching, interviewing and writing the content on White Ibiza. You’ll be writing to brief, so I can teach you the ways of the force, but the must-have skills needed for this role are a natural affinity with words, good spelling, grammar and OCD attention to detail. English must be your first language and Spanish would be a great asset. The ability to pun (or make really bad ‘dad jokes’), while not essential, always wins brownie points with me. Initiative, ideas, enthusiasm and self-motivation are all key to nailing this job.

You should be a social media whizz – because you love it and are all over it in your spare time – and be hungry to seek out new information or sniff out a story. Where are people going, what are they saying, who are they buzzing about? You know, because you’re there, you’re saying it and you’re buzzing about it too. And this might be obvious, but you need to LOVE Ibiza. Ibiza is your place. Presumably, you already know and love our website, our magazines and our online shop. You’re probably going over it with a fine tooth comb as I type… The role is quite junior, though I’m open to discussing opportunities with anyone more experienced who thinks they’d be perfect for the job (see first paragraph relating to salaries – remember, this isn’t London). If you’ve been thinking about moving to Ibiza but were worried there weren’t enough career opportunities, now’s your chance to give it a try.

If you’re living here already and it sounds right up your alley, get in touch. Send an email to [email protected] – and here’s where you’ve really got to pay attention, which the right candidate will of course do – with Attention: Miss W – Junior copywriter as the subject line. Please include a copy of your CV, three varied examples of your writing work, plus a cover letter detailing why you think being my mini-me would be your dream job. And please remember, I’m allergic to spelling mistakes and typos, especially in an application for a position as a writer. It’s not just me who is looking for assistance at White Ibiza. Our brand has expanded rapidly over the past year and we’re recruiting for a number of different roles for the season ahead (yes, we plan this far ahead in advance). We’re looking for a graphic designer. We’re looking for an office manager and a webmaster. There are a lot of shiny new chairs to fill in our office and rather than rush to fill the positions at the beginning of summer, we’re happy to spend time now searching for the people who are j-u-u-s-t right to join our team. If you’re interested in knowing more about current availabilities visit http://www.white-ibiza.com/careers and follow the application process on the site. That’s the hiring covered. As for the firing… well, let’s hope there won’t be any need to do any! I just liked the catchy rhyme.

First world solutions

We’ve all probably muttered or hashtagged the phrase first world problems at some point this summer – off the top of my head, I can think of the Santa Eulalia road traffic congestion, too much rain (although for me there’s never enough!), not enough sleep, bad parking, overpriced restaurants in Formentera, not enough time to do yoga in between shopping and lunch, no high-end designer boutiques in Ibiza, getting the 2000€ VIP table in Pacha instead of the 6000€ one you’d requested, mojitos being pre-mixed at parties rather than muddled on the spot, not being able to think of a blog topic for the week… #firstworldproblems indeed.

The list could go on, and on, and on. However this this week, rather than bitch and moan about irrelevant problems, a small group of residents have put their brains and resources together to contribute towards a first world solution to a problem that is very real – delivering much needed aid to refugees in Calais, France. The temporary camps housing asylum seekers from war-torn countries such as Syria have been nicknamed ‘The Jungle’ so dire are their conditions. In most parts of the world the situation is all over the media, but here on the island we have a tendency to be shielded from some of the less-than-beautiful aspects of the real world, so it’s not as in your face (or on your Facebook as the case may be).

We live in the Ibiza bubble. It might be glorious sunshine (finally!) here in Ibiza right now, but winter has already crept in at these camps. By day it is bleak. By night it is freezing. You choose to be educated or you choose to be ignorant. You can turn a blind eye or you can act. If you’ve read this far, my hope is that you’re interested in contributing towards the solution. In less than one week, Love From Ibiza has raised over 2800€ in cash and have received a huge number of donations in the way of clothes, blankets and shoes. But there’s always room for more. As mentioned earlier, to some people in Ibiza 2800€ is a drop in the champagne ice bucket at your VIP table in one of the clubs. To others, the island’s worker community, this could be two or even three months wages.

Whatever you can spare, be it small change, one night’s tips, a nice crisp 100€ or the old clothes stashed at the back of your wardrobe collecting dust, every little donation is appreciated and will go to good use. There are a number of collection points across the island, accepting donations – visit this page to find out where and how to dinate, or to attend one of the planned fundraising events. If you’re not in Ibiza but would still like to contribute, you can donate via the group’s Gofundme page, or you can order something physical – like sleeping bags for winter conditions or personal hygiene items – from Amazon or Decathlon and have them delivered directly to a drop off point.

If you’re in the UK and prefer to donate locally, you can find the nearest charity points near you by visiting this link. If you’re an island resident and want to feel good while you’re doing good, you can take part in this Saturday’s fundraising spa day – held at a secret villa location – for a donation of just 40€ per person, which includes a welcome cava, lunch and a treatment from one of six therapists, plus the chance to enter raffles to win some amazing prizes donated by local businesses. No one’s asking you to give up your VIP daybed in the beach club. No one’s suggesting you shouldn’t go on holiday to Ibiza. No one’s intimating you shouldn’t buy that sparkly new dress or sassy new bikini to wear while you’re here. All we’re asking is that you think of the human beings who are SO MUCH less fortunate than those of us in the Ibiza bubble, those who have never heard of Pacha or Ushuaia, and those who don’t have a nice cosy bed to climb into at night and where the term VIP certainly does not exist. Love From Ibiza will drive to Calais from the white isle with all donations on October 3, 2015.

The playa vs ‘The Playa’

It’s that time of year again. All the local arts and crafts stores are totally out of sequins, stick-on diamonds and feathers, Decathlon has sold out of goggles and Luciano and his Vagabundos are no longer kings of the top hats. Perhaps most noticeably, my Facebook feed is mysteriously quiet – no one upselling their lives, no forced trout pouting selfies, no ridiculous hashtags and no DJs spamming our walls with flyers promoting their Ibiza gigs. Only one thing can explain this freakish phenomenon, that occurs around this time each and every year. Burning Man has come around again. The festival that steals my friends and turns them into fancy-dress fetishists for a week before spitting them out of the desert and sending them back home to Ibiza, declaring their lives have been forever changed. I don’t doubt they’ve changed.

That amount of dust in your brain has got to do something! As you may have guessed, I’ve never been to Burning Man, not because it doesn’t interest me (I would LOVE to go!) but because for me, it falls at THE WORST POSSIBLE time of year in terms of workload. Plus I can’t bear the thought of missing such a big chunk of the Ibiza summer season. The thought of that plane journey, the traffic, a week on the playa, the decompression sessions – not to mention all the hours spent planning, shopping and gluing together Pocahontas style headdresses beforehand – and then another long journey home… just think of all the things I’d miss here! Oh, but you must come, say the ‘Burners’. OK sure – how about you take my place at work for three weeks? And pay my expenses? It will totally open your mind. It’s next level. My mind is pretty open. I’ve lived in Ibiza a v-e-r-y long time. There’s music everywhere, all your favourite DJs will be playing there somewhere.

Why would I travel halfway across the world to see those who I already see regularly here on the island? Give me something new! And the festival itself seems to shun Ibiza style advertising. ‘Burning Man doesn’t have ‘headliners,’ says a blog post on their website. ‘We pride ourselves on that. Burners don’t follow anyone else to Black Rock City, they go for themselves.’ So how do I know what music I’ll get to experience then? You’ll meet so many amazing characters. With 60,000 people on the ground in Black Rock City, I don’t doubt there are some interesting characters. I envision nerds and geeks surrounded by models and dancers, hippies and hipsters fusing wellness and hedonism, plus kooky, out-there OTT peeps who use the festival to unleash a different side of themselves in regular life. But we have all those characters here in Ibiza, you just have to dig a little deeper to find them, and digging is all part of the fun. You’ll have so many amazing experiences.

But the thing is, I like my creature comforts. I like running water and functioning toilets. I like being able to buy things as and when I want them. I don’t want to have my amazing experiences marred by un-amazing experiences. ‘Do not go to Burning Man ever expecting to get eight hours sleep,’ says the official website. What kind of a vacation is that? You’ll see the most amazing things. But I’ve already seen them all. Thanks YouTube, Facebook, Instagram and the live feed from the Burning Man website for spoiling the suprises. It will change your life. But here you are, back in Ibiza, year after year doing the same thing after your Burning Man buzz has worn off. You never know where each day is going to end up. But I like having a plan and sticking to it. Spontaneity is not my strong point. What happens on the playa, stays on the playa. So what can I brag about when I get back? Plus – and now, I don’t want to get into a ‘my playa is better than your playa’ scenario here BUT – on your playa, you can’t go barefoot for fear of ‘Playa foot’ (Google it – it’s a thing), a chemical burn due to the alkaline dust.

On my playa, it’s all about dancing with your feet in the sand. On your playa, it’s boiling hot and searing sunshine, but windy so you can’t sunbathe (‘The sun is not your friend on the Playa,’ says the Burning Man website) and then it’s freezing at night. On my playa, you get hot, you cool down in the sea, then you buy a beer or a frozen daiquiri! And this one is the killer. Ibiza will always be there, Burning Man is never the same. Don’t get me started. Of course, I must say right now, as the rain beats down outside (and is forecast to continue for the next week – it appears we are in the middle of Ibiza’s wet season), I do kind of sort of wish I was at Burning Man with everyone else I know. While our playas are soggy and flooded, Burning Man’s Playa is full of friends and folk from all over the world getting their freak – and fancy dress – on, meanwhile for me, watching the DVD of Mad Max Fury Road with a feather headband leftover from an old fashion shoot (pictured) is about as close as I’m going to get to the Burn. Perhaps next year the organisers will be more considerate and move the festival dates to some time in October?

Ibiza – A different time reference

In 1956, 26-year old Canadian history buff, painter, architect and filmmaker Rolph Blakstad, along with his wife Mary, ventured to the Mediterranean for what was supposed to be a ‘leave of absence’ from their lives to paint. Upon discovering Ibiza, they found a place – a world forgotten – in which they wanted to live. The famed architect tells his story (as yet unpublished in English) foreward to his book, La Casa Eivissenca… “Upon returning to Ibiza from Mallorca, we quickly assimilated into the small group of foreigners, nearly all writers or painters, who then lived on the island. It was simple to know all the expatriates as the group was not large. There were so few Spaniards, as distinct from native islanders, that the mainlanders were called foreigners equally with those of us who came from further afield.

We were fortunate to rent two floors of on of the large houses belonging to the Tur de Monti family in the upper town. Our landlady was Doña Lupé Tur de Monti, whose husband was mayor of Ibiza at that time. Doña Lupé’s brother Mariao who later became mayor, lived on the floor below us, and her brothers Juan and Mariano lived in their large houses across the street. The house of Mariano was a veritable palazzo filled with antique furniture, silk brocades and porcelain. The atmosphere in this corner of the island was not typical of the island as a whole, it was rather like that described by the Count of Lampedusa in his novel The Leopard. This atmosphere too has vanished.

We would sit on our balcony gazing across the bay into the distance, to the strains of Chopin drifting up from below as Mario’s daughter practised on the piano. I fitted out one of the large rooms as a studio and set to work preparing canvases. On the balcony I had a pair of binoculars mounted on a tripod so that I could study the life of the harbour and all the surrounding countryside. There was a perfection about the scene as viewed from the balcony. There was nothing which I could call ugly anywhere. Over centuries of slow evolution, of natural growth and change, the functional, the economic needs of the city found their expression in the relationship of farmland to harbour to city. Everything had a distinct place, logical, clear.

The walled city was compact, contained, it did not sprawl into the countryside wasting valuable farmland. True, the commercial part of the town had now grown outside the town walls since attacks from the Barbary pirates were no longer a threat. But the market and shops were confined to the port. The fishermen and their families lived in a village-like quarter, the Peña, at the far end of the port. The quay was broad, paved with stone, giving ample space for the fishermen to spread and mend their nest after the morning’s catch had been brought to market. Supplies from the mainland came to the island in wooden schooners. These had motors but used full sail to save on fuel. The schooners complete with bowsprits and carved sterns lined the quay.

These ships were still being built in the shipyard in the corner of the port. Beyond stretched a broad green plain, all farmland. In the pale gold morning mist shrouding the bay, shrimp fishermen in rowing boats loitered in the shallows. The scene each morning, so still, reminded me of the landscapes of Van Eyck. Every detail redolent with loving care, nothing blurred or insignificant, a microcosm. All life was breathing quietly in peace, shining, no distortion, nothing out of place. One morning, looking through the binoculars across the bay into the marshland of the further shore, I noticed groups of isolated gateways somehow reminiscent of Stonehenge, scattered here and there in the thickets of cane. They had a strange haunting quality about them.

That afternoon, I walked around the bay towards Talamanca to examine them. As I walked into the countryside on the far side of the bay, I felt I was entering a different time reference. If Ibiza town seemed medieval and in some respects nineteenth century, the countryside seemed pre-classical, Homeric, primordially Mediterranean. The marshland was cut through with shallow canals, which acted both as drainage of the land and boundaries of personal property. These canals were crossed here and there with little stone bridges which were closed on the other side by the gates which I had seen through my binoculars that morning. The gates had a strong Egyptian look about them. There were a number of Egyptian things on the island. The dogs, podencos, which in those days were about the only kind one saw, and also all the little carved scarabs and other things in the museum up by the cathedral.”

Paris Hilton – Making people happy

Ever since she launched her Foam & Diamonds residency in Ibiza in 2013, everyone in Ibiza has had an opinion about Paris Hilton. Love her or not, there’s no denying her love for the island is authentic, her enthusiasm for music is genuine and her desire to have a good time is infectious. It’s practically impossible not to feel happy when you arrive at Amnesia on a Saturday night, surrounded by fluorescent glow-sticks, blown-up portraits of her dog Peter Pan on the walls, pink carpets, chandeliers, and bubbles blasting out of a giant foam cannon onto the dancefloor! Sure, the serious techno-fest that is Carola’s Music On it is not, but this is a girl who has created a persona and knows exactly what her fans want. Making people happy makes Paris happy. You can see it in her eyes, and in the way she reacts to the crowd from her DJ booth (from where we can officially report, yes she does mix for herself) and when you meet her, she exudes a warmth that many other overly media trained celebrities lack.

What may surprise people however, is that this is also a girl who knows her music, technically, and figuratively. When asked her favourite artists she is quick to reel off Carola, Nicole Moudaber, Hawtin and Adriatique and when speaking about her own music and DJ sets, software and equipment like Native Instruments, Traktor and Ableton roll off her tongue like designer labels would have in the past. Having been trolled by ‘haters’ since day one of her DJ career, it’s never been easy for Paris to be taken seriously in the music world – a fact she blames herself for. “You know, it is hard,” she says. “But in the beginning, that was my fault. About five years ago, I was asked to perform my new single at a festival in Brazil to 30,000 people. J.Lo was performing, I was supposed to be closing the show and then the producer I was working with didn’t get me the finished song on time. Literally two days before the show, the promoters wouldn’t let me cancel and they said I had to do something else, like DJ. So I had two days of training, flew to Brazil and did the show…” She shrugs sheepishly – it was clearly an experience she learned from.

She may not have been the most technically perfect artist at the festival – hence the trolling – however Paris was exhilarated by the overall experience. This was a girl who was used to being on television, on red carpets, at photo shoots or at parties, but being up in front of such a huge crowd was a new inspiration for her. “Being up there in front of all those people was such an incredible feeling,” she says. “When I got home, I hired two of the best teachers in the business, and I trained and studied, for eight hours every single day. I can understand why people didn’t ‘get it’, but it all happened by chance. It was supposed to be one performance, I ended up loving it, and so I learned it. I think I’ve proven myself now and I’ve come really far. I’m producing my own music, making my own remixes, I’m loving Traktor, I’m working on Ableton, and now I’m learning to use Stems on Native Instruments. I love it, it’s a lot of fun.” In her third year as a resident DJ at Amnesia (“It’s always been my favourite club in Ibiza.”), Paris says she never plays the same set twice. “I tailor everything to the crowd, and my sets are really energetic. I find a lot of amazing hits, like old songs you wouldn’t expect to hear and I’ll do remixes of those and add them in when I see what the crowd is like.” While you may expect the booth to be packed with Hollywood A-listers, in fact, it’s quite the opposite – Dubfire, Richie Hawtin, Adriatique and Skrillex have all popped in to the party. Does that make her nervous? “I love to surprise people and prove people wrong,” she says with a mischievous glint in her eye. “So many people have misconceptions about me, that when they come behind the booth they can be like, ‘Oh my God, you’re playing live!’ Yeah, I am!”

Music is clearly a huge passion in her life – one that started with playing violin and piano as a little girl – and no matter where she is in the world, Paris likes to immerse herself in it. “I’m always researching, at every festival or club I go to, I’m shazaming or talking to my friends who are DJs, or at home I’m always on Beatport Pro finding certain remixes or new artists.” It’s not all electronic – she admits her guilty pleasures are old Michael Jackson and Madonna tunes at home. Home, in summer 2015, is Ibiza, where she resides full-time with her new boyfriend (or her “love” as she prefers to call him), Swiss businessman Thomas Gross. “I first came here about 15 years ago,” the loved-up heiress says of her Ibiza history. “I just totally fell in love with the island, I thought it was the most incredible place in the world. I’d always loved going to St Tropez, but Ibiza just blew everything else away. I came back every year, and now I live here with my boyfriend.”

In previous years, it was all about jetting in and out on private jets, playing in different countries every night but this year sees Paris experience a more authentic Ibiza lifestyle. “I was always doing a lot of travelling, but now I am with my boyfriend, and he has a house here, we mostly stay in, or go out on the boat. He knows a lot of the locals and we go to places they tell us about – I am experiencing a whole new Ibiza, it’s so different to what I am used to, but I love it.” She also spends a lot of her time on the island working – yes, really. “With technology, I can do my job from anywhere in the world, it’s amazing. During the day I’m handling my business – I have 17 product lines, so I might be promoting one of my stores or a new product. Then at night, it’s like my alter ego comes out – I practice my DJing and work on my music for hours. My boyfriend has a club set up in the house, with lasers and smoke machines, and the sickest system ever.” She’s also been spotted – looking super low-key in black jeans, tank top, trainers and a baseball cap – doing her musical homework at places like Music On and DC10.

As opposed to her hometown of New York, or Hollywood where she has previously spent a lot of time, Paris finds the laid-back ‘live and let live’ attitude of Ibiza locals refreshing. “There’s so much good energy here. People know I go out, and I like to have a good time but I never get bothered. It’s not like Hollywood where TMZ are everywhere you go. In Ibiza, people respect people. Everyone just wants everyone else to have a good time too, and experience this magical party island. Sure, people ask for pictures with me, but why not? It’s nice to make someone smile and give them a memory, if that’s what they want. I could never be mean to anyone.” Foam & Diamonds with Paris Hilton continues at Amnesia until September 12, 2015.

Lost for words…

I know. It sounds ridiculous. I can basically hear all of my friends scoffing as they read this. But it’s true. There are times in my life when I get lost for words, and today is one of them. For the very first time in my seven years and five months years of blogging (yes, I just went back through the entries and counted – time flies when you’re writing all the time), I just don’t know what to write about. Is this writer’s block? Or have I just finally, well and truly, run out of ideas for good? What is WRONG with me? There have been times when my inspiration levels have been a little low in the past, but a quick scroll through my Facebook feed usually provides me with enough inspiration to fill a column or two.

There have been weeks where I have been so ridiculously busy with clients, photoshoots and other pieces to write that I’d worry I wouldn’t have time to finish a blog, but there’s always a way – even if it means writing on your iPhone in the car on the way to a meeting (not while driving I might add – I’m not THAT good… yet!). And there have been weeks where I’ve been too tired or sick or hungover to write, but usually a good old fashioned Red Bull does the trick, and perks me up for about 500 words or so. Sure it’s not healthy, but it works. But today doesn’t fit any of the above criteria. I just flat out have nothing to say. It’s weird. I mean, I’ve had a great week. I’ve had a busy week. A lot of cool things have happened in Ibiza.

There are celebrities, A-listers, superyachts, villa parties, after parties and after-after parties to gawk at everywhere. In fact, just last Saturday night I was hanging out with Paris Hilton – not that I’m one to name drop – in the DJ booth at Amnesia, where we bonded over our cat ears accessories (her: a headband, me: a ring), pink hairdryers and a mutual love for Marco Carola and DC10. I definitely wasn’t at a loss for words that night… but that doesn’t really warrant a whole blog now, does it? One of my photographer friends was working with George Clooney the other day, while another hair and make-up artist buddy was busy beautifying his wife. According to both of them, when Cindy Crawford floated past them she smelt amazing… again, not really blog worthy now, is it?

Quite a few hangovers were served up thanks to George’s new Casamigos tequila launch… but that’s not what’s leaving me speechless today. Speaking of tequila, even the patron saint of the modern world, Oprah Winfrey was here last week sipping the stuff aboard global music magnate mate David Geffen’s yacht, when Princess Beatrice yacht-hopped across from her own boat to say hi. Apparently, they were all hanging out watching Straight Outta Compton. Where was my invite O? As always, the celeb roll call is just endless. Anne Hathaway and her orange-hued buddy Valentino rocked out at Flower Power at Pacha, the perennially stylish Domenico Dolce and Steffano Gabbana joined the throes of Italians on the dance floor at Circo Loco, Mariah Carey’s been trotting around the Marina area in her sky-high heels with her little tots between jaunts on James Packer’s yacht and Mario Testino has jetted in for his annual visit. It was good to know some celebs are on a more normal tip, as my friend Miss S spotted Dutch supermodel Doutzen Kroes cruising the aisles of the Sant Jordi Hipercentro! But I digress. Despite all these places to go and people to see (and stalk), I’ve got absolutely nothing to say in my blog today. Oh… look. 600 words already. I guess I’ll be going then. See you next week!

Time-saving treatment combinations

At times it feels as though life goes faster in Ibiza, more than anywhere else in the world. There are always places to go, people to see, and there’s music to dance to, cocktails to drink and parties to be at… Or, of course, if you’re an island resident, there’s work to do, clients to meet, family to take care of and much more. But no matter how busy you are, with work, home or play, it’s important to remember to take time out for your personal wellbeing and health. And this is where Ibiza’s hottest new wellness clinic MedSpa Ibiza can help. Understanding their clients’ needs to maximise their time, while also maximising their quality of life and health, MedSpa Ibiza offer a variety of health and beauty enhancing treatment combinations that can be taken together, meaning you get twice the service in half the time. This way, you can get straight back to your busy life, or valuable holiday time, fast – without having to compromise on quality.

Starting with a customised VitaminDrip® Intravenous Micronutrient Therapy – exclusive to MedSpa Ibiza here on the island – clients then select additional beauty and medical-grade treatments that can be administered while the IV drip is busy delivering replenishing vitamins, minerals, antioxidants and amino acids directly into the blood stream, for fast and optimum results. The experienced team of health, wellness and medical professionals can best advice on the right VitaminDrip® treatment to suit your needs. Whether you are looking for vital rehydration, a specific vitamin, mineral or antioxidant boost, to burn fat and boost your metabolism, enhance your moods, boost your immune system or rejuvenate your skin and achieve a healthy glow, there is a drip for everyone. As the team at MedSpa Ibiza say, it’s so easy, you can do it lying down.

Suggested treatment combinations with a VitaminDrip® infusion include lymphatic drainage massage, or reflexology foot treatments for complete detoxification while also infusing the body with vital nutrients. For the ultimate in relaxation, MedSpa Ibiza’s experienced therapists offer a variety of massage styles in conjunction with your rejuvenating drip, meaning you float out of the clinic on cloud nine after the duration of your therapies. Skin-boosting combinations can include the application of hot cosmoceutical treatment, Mesoestetic Crystal Fiber Mask or the A-list favourite (and exclusive to MedSpa Ibiza) award-winning HydraFacial®, a revolutionary, non-invasive skin technology hailing from Los Angeles with instant results. In combination with skin boosting VitaminDrip® concoctions, you can fight fine lines and wrinkles, elasticity and firmness, skin tone and vibrancy, texture, hyper pigmentation, congested skin, enlarged pores and advanced signs of ageing, from the comfort of your salon bed.

If it’s a quick beauty boost you’re after, team an eyebrow threading session with your VitaminDrip® – you can walk out of the sleek and stylish Botafoch clinic and straight to sunset cocktails on the Marina! Most treatment combinations (excluding HydraFacial®, which requires the use of high tech equipment that is based solely in the clinic) can also be done in the comfort of your own villa, hotel or yacht, saving you even more valuable time on travelling to and from appointments and waiting in busy summer traffic. MedSpa Ibiza’s philosophy is to make their clients beautiful from the inside out, and also from the outside in – an easy-to-achieve reality with these clever combinations.