Posted on 10th May 2017 at 14:12
Whilst the winter winds were still blowing in England, I was sitting in the almost warm coffee shop, newly named 1911, at the magnificent Hotel Imperial in New Delhi waiting for inspiration to arrive. I have sat here, many times, over many years. My home away from home.
The waiters, in fact, most of the reception staff and I, are growing old together, even though, for most of the year we are continents apart we have a closeness and fondness of each other, which I treasure. As a hugely successful clothes designer for decades, creating collections for High Street stores, many a late night I would sit here unwinding after a long, typical designer’s day, having dealt with success or disaster putting collections together in the factories. The restaurant was then called the Garden Party, and the grass-green uniforms of the fabulously turbaned waiters always brought a calming mood to my mind. These waiters have seen me furiously sketch when an idea suddenly took hold, even fetching me Hotel letterheads from reception when I need more paper to draw on. They have seen my face tear stained, when that days collection looked as close to the end of the world as I could bear.