From the familiarity of my Elvis throne in full view of the bank of TV’s in the BA lounge at Heathrow’s T5, with the prospect of an 11 hour Hong Kong flight ahead of me, I figured there was no excuse, I really should put finger to touch pad and knock out a blog. I’m not misguided enough to believe that the world has been waiting with bated breath in anticipation of my next outpouring but you know what it’s like, once you’ve started you feel obliged to carry on.

My team who are already in HK and my wife who is travelling with me have put in a lot of effort into the upcoming week of events we have planned. Our retail partner Lane Crawford have dedicated a large area of the fine Jewellery department to SW, allowing us to showcase the new collections recently launched in Basel alongside “Enter the Dragon”; a unique collection we have created exclusively for this event.

Why “Enter the Dragon” you may ask?  A couple of reasons really, the most obvious being that it’s the year of the dragon which is a very lucky year to be born in if you’re Chinese. If you’re not then that’s just unlucky I guess. The other reason is that in the 70’s, like so many other small weak early teens used to having sand kicked in their faces, I found inspiration to kick back after watching the gratuitously violent Kung Fu movies of the late Bruce Lee. The most famous being “Enter the Dragon”.

This collection has unashamedly referenced more Chinese imagery than the Fat Fuk restaurant on Gerrard Street in Soho during the Chinese New Year celebrations.

Landing mid afternoon we had no time to loose, the first event being a dinner that evening, hosted by our bank Coutts. I don’t know about you but I don’t expect a lot from my bank, not even interest. So when Coutts offered not only to host a dinner for us but also to bring a group of high net worth individuals who reside in Hong Kong, we didn’t hesitate and collectively just said “yes”.  (The SW company motto is ‘just say yes’) which always reminds me of a John Cooper Clark gag referencing the government slogan; ” just say no” to drugs which coincidently had been devised during a particularly prolific period of horse doping scandals. As a result the campaign became known as “just say neigh”.  

The dinner was delicious and the jewels looked fabulous thanks to the SW sales and visual teams.

The next day (which actually was only an afternoon due to far eastern jet lag) I did some press, while the rest prepared for an evening event in association with Quintessentially magazine. This time the venue was an art gallery; 10 Chancery Lane. The plan was to only focus on pieces that could be presented as art work. In order to achieve this we printed some of the beautiful sketches we generate but rarely get seen, onto large canvases. The final instillation, consisting of 10 prints and no more than 25 pieces of our most creative jewellery, helped to communicate our thinking.

By the third day the participants and guests of a cultural exchange event known as Liberatum were starting to arrive in the city. Co hosted by the pianist Rosie Chan, the speakers from diverse cultural disciplines included musicians such as William Orbit and Pharrell Williams, film directors; Paul Schroeder and John Bricis and many more. Oh and of course me. Never one to miss an opportunity to get me in front of a crowd, Assia told the organisers how much Stephen enjoys to hear the sound of his own voice hence securing me the much coveted Saturday prime time evening slot. I hope I made up for my lack of producing a block buster or a no 1 hit by introducing some humour.

Coinciding with this ego stroking weekender was the official SW launch event at Lane Crawford. Anxious that our core look may not be immediately accepted by the locals was less of a concern after the first sale of the event; an exuberant bracelet from the brand new “Forget me Knot” collection, featuring a bow of black opal crystal haze. Should be plain sailing from there on in, even if that is on the slow boat to China.   

Friday 17th February 2012 marked the unveiling of the much anticipated Rock Vault. A purpose built structure on the terrace at Somerset House, the centre of London Fashion Week, creating a new destination housing exclusively designer jewellers.

The concept of creating a proper platform where the many talented emerging jewellers in the UK could be best represented, originated during a conversation after a dinner hosted by Coutts bank. Caroline Rush , the head of the British Fashion Council and I were discussing the fact that more and more fashion stores including concept and department stores are stocking contemporary fine jewellery, yet the jewellery showcased at LFW was fragmented and to be honest not at all representative of the quality of talent in the industry.

Being my usual vocal self, Caroline agreed that this needed to be addressed and challenged me to be the curator of a group of jewellers who would show at LFW. Liking the idea but feeling unable to take on another role I replied that I would love to but maybe in a couple of year’s time. However, Caroline can be very persuasive and I left the dinner that night as the newly appointed curator of a dedicated jewellery area at Somerset House.

The next step was to find a home within Somerset House which, for those who don’t know, stretches from the Strand over to the Thames Embankment next to Waterloo Bridge. The two options on offer were an underground labyrinth-like space or a room in the main building itself. We all know the action is centered around the courtyard and the temporary structures housing the catwalk shows so Rock Vault needed to be a smaller but similar concept. There was one possibility, to erect a custom built iconic and unavoidable structure on the terrace overlooking the River Thames.

The next step was to find funding. Easy! I don’t think. In fact my two year plan became a reality purely down to the difficulty in finding a major sponsor. Just as the reality of the times appeared to be closing the door on the Vault, relegating it to one of those good at the time, after-dinner non starters, the cavalry came in the shape of the International Palladium Board.

Palladium you ask (just as Suzy Menkes did) what’s that got to do with LFW and jewellery? I’ll tell you what. The white, light and strong metal has reached the giddy heights of becoming precious and I’m not talking diva like behaviour, no it’s because it now carries a hall mark. Rubbing shoulders with the likes of Silver, Gold and Platinum. Palladium will be walking the red carpet, clipped to the ears, waved on the hands and wrists and gracing the necks of the rich and famous just like its more established cousin platinum.

Anxious to introduce their metal to the right crowd, The International Palladium Board (IPB) stepped up to the table and sponsored the Vault. All that was left to do was to invite potential exhibitors. The response was amazing, endorsing the fact that such a platform was long overdue. Spending the whole of Boxing Day and the following day ploughing through the proposals, I sent my short list to the BFC panel for approval. With a little negotiation (unfortunately there is always a little negotiation) we ended up with the first 10 jewellers who would form the Rock Vault. The aim was to demonstrate the extraordinary depth and variety of jewellery being created in the UK today. 

Friday 17th February marked the opening of the venue along with the announcement of the winners of a Palladium design competition, participated in by students from a cross section of design disciplines at Central St Martin’s College of Art.

I believe this unique platform is so important as the next stage for the jewellery industry. Due to the nature of the business it’s hard for emerging jewellers to be noticed when surrounded by fashion. Fashion demands attention while jewellery is small and can easily be overlooked. Jewellery needs its own special place in the heart of fashion; after all it’s a key ingredient in a fashionable look and finally the Rock Vault offers such a place.

The Azerbaijan leg of the Stephen Webster “Murder She Wrote” world tour was our biggest spectacle yet.

We have secured the talents of Mr Ferry and his band on many occasions. Roxy Music have been a staple on the soundtrack of my life since I was about 15 years old. Bryan is really the perfect act for us and our clients. After much negotiation, rider management, visa and travel arrangements conducted by Mrs Webster and the bands manager, we found ourselves Baku bound.

The first thing you notice about Baku is that it appears to be brand new and everything is illuminated to a point that rivals Las Vegas. “Our president likes things to be lit up” we were told by the driver.

I had already read about a couple of the ambitious architectural projects under construction in the city. Zaha Hadid has designed an organic soft wave of a building to house the new concert hall and library (interesting stable mates).

The second thing we noticed was that we were in the middle of a blizzard, which we were assured by our hosts this was “a freak”.  Baku does have a winter but a very mild one, this became evident later in the day as the temperature really dropped, roads froze and these fair weather drivers attempted to negotiate the unfamiliar treacherous conditions. We got lucky; our amazing host Mahmud had access to a land cruiser. We simply watched as the slow motion destruction derby took place all around us. It was an extraordinary site, cars literally broad siding each other or gliding crab like off the road taking unfortunates in their path with them. That night our hosts had planned a typical Azerbaijan welcome dinner, complete with at least 50 dishes including flavoured rice, sour cherries and fruits and an incredible selection of meats. And much to Mr. Ferry’s delight a few jars of premium Caspian Sea caviar.

The following day we spent preparing for our big event. Although the Blizzard was easing there was a general concern whether guests would cancel. We arrived at the venue to catch the end of the band’s sound check. The space, a vast and very impressive, night club called Hezz.  It was becoming clear that Baku is a town where things are not done in half measure.

Before anything of course was hair and makeup. The style was to be pure Azerbaijani style! Smokey Kohl eyes and high hair. There was a lot of giggling from my girls but I could tell they really liked the theatre of it. After all when in Baku! The jewellery was being displayed in the bar area where people were to enter.  It looked amazing, the showcases and environment adding to the spectacle that the ‘Murder She Wrote’ couture rings create when shown together.

My cast of femme fatales were in costume and looking deadly. My victim, the unfortunate Mr Mamedov was acting convincingly dead on the Chesterfield sofa. And most importantly, my detective was on hand to help the guests identify the girl who had killed her boss with what appeared to be none other than a Christian Louboutin stiletto shoe in his heart. An altogether grim affair.

This was to be my twelfth Murder She Wrote event this season. The plot remains the same but each city has a slightly different twist in order to entertain the culturally diverse crowds. This crowd was probably the most glamorous so far. It was very apparent that the women of Baku like to dress for an occasion. Once the president’s daughters turned up we knew we were the place to be seen that night along with 450 guests who had not been deterred by the Blizzard, our largest gathering by far.

After identifying Ms Raven as the murderess, Bryan and the band took to the stage. The reason we use his band is that whether you know their music or not, the show is exactly that, a show. The tunes; ‘Love is the drug’, ‘let’s stick together’, ‘Tokyo Joe’ etc are brilliant. Combined with the high energy and sexy dancers and backing singers; the female sax and keyboard players and the iconic style of Bryan out front makes for something with a wide but cool appeal. Something very unique. Trust me I’ve tried to replicate it many times.

Once the band had finished our hosts whisked us all away to an amazing villa called ‘Nobel Brothers’ villa in honour of the Nobel peace prize founders. Entertainment continued with the Azerbaijani favourites of throat singing and belly dancing. The band joined in, unfortunately so did I. The cruel pictorial evidence of which is now on our wall of shame. It was a great night and was the end to an amazing 3 day trip. Our hosts at Royal Collection really made the trip, from the extraordinary warm welcome we all received from start to finish to the expertly organized event. Our sincere gratitude and thanks to all at Royal Collection for this.

Baku is preparing itself to host the Eurovision song contest in May this year. In the UK we have long treated this extravaganza as somewhat of a joke. Nothing could be further from the way the competition is viewed in the ex Soviet Union, eastern European and Scandinavian countries. The tradition being that the country from which the winner represents becomes the host the following year. Baku is building 4 major hotels and has ordered 3000 London style taxis along with everything else needed to accommodate the anticipated 25,000 visitors for the occasion. I have a confession to make. My wife and I will be among that number. I wouldn’t miss this event of the year for anything.

Let Stephen guide you on a personal journey through the world of Stephen Webster.

Explore the collections and hear the inspiration behind them, as told by the designer himself.

Last night marked the launch of “The Garden of Good and Evil”.

A month long exhibition of the collective works of jewellery designer, Tomasz Donocik at the Garrard flagship store on Albemarle Street London. 

Ever since becoming the Creative Director of Garrard, I hoped at some point to be able to offer a platform for new and outstanding talent in the jewellery industry.

I come across many young jewellers and designers, either through giving talks at colleges, Goldsmiths Hall or judging competitions amd felt that there was never an easy time for the up and coming to gain exposure to potential luxury consumers. The exception being Goldsmiths Fair, now well and truly on the jewellery collectors calender.

On the whole, shelf space in the true luxury capital of London’s West end is premium real estate. While making a song and dance about fine art, music and prestigious cultural events, jewellery brand’s never knowingly support young named talent within the industry. This leaves  retail jewellers  or galleries  which is a problem. With the exception of the Electrum on South Molton Street, jewellery galleries in the west end don’t really exist. As for good quality retail jewellers who actively promote emerging talent the pickin’s are slim. Department stores being the best bet; Selfridges, Liberty and Harrods all have areas for creative lesser known designers but  outside of those the independent options which are few and far between and  tend to fall into the neighbourhoods such as EC1 in Notting Hill.

Back to Garrard. Because Garrard was not a brand built from the work of a single source, such as Cartier, Boucheron, Bulgari etc but more a destination offering an extraordinary selection of treasures, covering all the related trades and crafts surrounding the jewellery and silversmithing industries. This meant it always had the potential to excite its clients who included Royalty when they conspicuously consumed or rock Royalty once they had a platinum selling album, by showcasing or commissioning works by creative people from all over the UK. There was however always strict criteria to be met. This included the materials used, craftsmanship, original design and star quality.

Having benefited from this facility earlier in my career, I planned to revive the tradition as soon as the time was right and the candidates identified.        

In 2006 while on the judging panel for the Goldsmiths award at the New Designers exhibition  I came across Tomasz. He was graduating from the RCA and unlike many of his fellow graduates, Tomasz was showing work that was creative, non-derivative, beautifully made and instantly recognisable as luxurious jewellery and accessories. I say unlike the others because to cover so many basic codes these days from a person essentially still at art school is a very rare quality.

Ever since that time I have encouraged, engaged and in some ways mentored the natural talent that Tomasz has. The work shown at the opening last night, complete with the amazing environment Tomasz generated and installed himself (with a little help from his long suffering girlfriend Kate) was a real spectacle. The reaction from customers proved to us and those who were seeing his work for the first time that he has a great future ahead of him.

We feel fortunate to be in a position where through Garrard, we can once again be seen as a destination for excitement.

SW

The Garden of Good and Evil will run from October 25th through November 24th at the Garrard Flagship Store

Mobile hasn’t much to offer so we felt obliged to visit the one thing it did have; USS Alabama. The ship and the sky were the same colour - battle ship grey. Something biblical was on its way weather wise that was for sure.

The first thing on show at Battleship Park is a B52 bomber. The sign informed us that “Calamity Jane” had seen a lot of action wreaking havoc over Vietnam in the 60’s. For those like me who had never seen a B52 (other than the Rock Lobster variety), let me tell you, they are bloody massive. It was quite amazing to be able to walk underneath and put our head up inside the bomb hatch and ponder for a minute about bomb hatches in general.

I have no intention of giving a blow by blow of the whole military hardware park, but to mention a couple of things:

 1. There was a car with “Just Married” written over it in the car park. I wondered if visiting a battle ship on your honeymoon was just cutting to the chase and going straight to the inevitable. 

2. Inside the souvenir shop was an old war veteran Col. Glenn D. Frazier sat at a table piled books of which he had written about being a prisoner of war in Japan and the hell of war in general. We chatted and I bought a book, and as he was signing it he told me about an English guy who had also been a POW with him, his thick Alabama drawl gave way to almost pitch perfect Dick Van Dyke English. I thanked him and moved on worried that we may end up in a duet of ‘Chim Chimney, Chim Chimney’.

The battle ship, the submarine and the planes many of which were still baring the scars of not war but hurricane Katrina are well worth the trip if you need to kill a couple of hours in Mobile Alabama on your honeymoon.

A soon as we hit the road the storm started. Monsoon quality with almost zero visibility. Thankful that we were in a modern car and not the Jag or T’Bird, both of which no matter how much has been spent on restoration would be letting in more water than the 70 year old rusty sub we had just toured. 

 Desperate not to be forced to eat in another truck stop we left at Moss Point looking for food. I guess not too many folks are foolish enough to drive across the swamp at Moss Point in search of fine dining. However the Mexican restaurant we came across bore all the signs of what we were looking for.

 Crawfish quesadilla’s “drizzled” with at least a pound of white cheese weren’t perfect but did change our focus by killing all conversation and blood flow for a couple of hours. Nothing that a dose of liquid plumber couldn’t fix.

We were then on our final drive into New Orleans - 1598 miles and 5 days from NY.

 Our friend Trish Summerville a famous LA stylist who is from N.O. had put us in touch with a couple of her old family friends. They own Mulates Cajun restaurant and we’ve been invited round for cocktails. It would be rude not to really wouldn’t it?

That will be “Hurricanes” all round please, also I’ve been told by Jeff that blackened alligator is to die for….

We had been invited by Bertis, REM’s original manager who now looks after everything REM, to come over to the office and take a look around. After an old school breakfast in the Mayflower diner, who have been “putting the south in your mouth since 1948” (their slogan not mine), we paid a visit to Bertis and the team at REM HQ.

It was extraordinary. Every square inch of wall space, shelf space and apart from a narrow walk way, the floor space had been utilised to tell the story of the band. From a young hairy beat combo playing the 40 watt in Athens, to the stadium filling three piece that played at the inauguration of President Clinton. A wall dedicated to Rolling Stone covers alone, an illustration from the REM Simpson’s episode, more awards than shelves and a mountain of back stage passes piled next to Bertis’s desk. (He’s been pondering getting an artist to do some kind of installation with them for sometime). It was like being in a fantastic rock n roll museum.

Just a few days prior to our visit the band had announced that they were to split after 31 years together. It always provokes an emotional reaction when such a massive band who have effected so many people call time, but looking at all the things they had achieved along the way we could only think that the guys and the team in the office must have had three brilliant decades together.

Back on the road heading south, making for Montgomery Alabama. God knows why but I felt the need to get there in a hurry. Apparently in a little too much of a hurry for a Georgia state trooper.  At 95mph I caught him in my rear view mirror. A futile attempt to slow to the 65 speed limit was, well futile. The show was complete with siren and disco lighting and I was getting a police escort to the cold shoulder all the while being given a crash course on how to behave in the presence of the law by Jeff (He knows about things like this because so he says his brother in-law is an ex cop).

There is ritual drama about anything involving the police in the US. All that coming up from behind and keeping your hands visible at all times etc all adds to the intimidation I guess. The officer asked me why I was in such a hurry and to be honest I didn’t have an answer for him. I explained that I had only just taken over at the wheel, the car was very fast and before I knew it we were doing 95 (he said 90, I wasn’t going to dispute it), I then attempted to slow to a more leisurely pace conducive to the state but it was all a little too late.

Baffled he took my license to his car. Jeff said “I bet he’ll do nothing. A British license in Georgia equals a big pain in the arse.” He came back and sure enough said that I was to slow down because due to my speed if he wrote me a ticket it would have to be at the jail. We thanked him and proceeded in an orderly fashion.

Montgomery, our next stop was memorable for three things. The downtown has a beautiful old confederate capital building and no restaurants, there are, however, bail bonds men on every corner. We got out before we needed to employ one and found luncheon ballast in a TA truck stop. I’m in danger of repeating myself but I have to say it, the smallest things moving around the buffet were the trucks. It was morbid but in a Victorian curiosity kind of way, entertaining.

The road started to cut a path through a new terrain. Swamp. We were approaching our overnight stop; Mobile Alabama, home to battle ship USS Alabama and a lot of shrimp.

I had a brain wave. I thought it had been indigestion at first, “Let’s not go to Atlanta”. I’d heard Athens, GA was a cooler town. To be honest I knew nothing about it other than Michael Stipe was either from there or grew up there and had told me once that it was a nice place. Throwing caution to the wind we headed there.

After leaving the great un-groomed of Asheville we headed out in the direction of South Carolina. Passed a town called Bat Cave, didn’t stop but looked it up and yes it’s a small town with a cave, home to a lot of bats. I love bats - funny little things, I actually have a dried one at home.

Found a perfect driving road; SC route 11. This followed a Cherokee trail, didn’t see any Cherokee but the signs were there, smoke signals etc. It was pretty evident that SC has a lot of poverty, lots of trailer parks and closed business.

If Virginia and NC are in the tobacco business then SC seems to be in the fireworks business with signs advertising them everywhere. This is only interesting in that in most US states it’s illegal to buy or sell fireworks. You can often buy a gun but not a banger; after all you wouldn’t want to frighten folk! We passed through Greenville. A town which had found latter day prosperity after winning the lottery when BMW opened a manufacturing plant there about 20 years ago.

The reality was that Monday’s drive was becoming a little dull. In fact I commented to Jeff that if nothing more happened then I was seriously thinking of cancelling the day due to lack of interest. Of course I was bluffing, everyone knows it’s only the Queen or Pippa Middleton who can actually cancel days.   

Then a funny thing happened. To be polite, even though I hadn’t seen him for two years I thought I would mail Michael Stipe to say “guess where I am? Driving toward your home town.” (He now lives in NYC) I received a message straight back saying that he had just landed in Athens. This meant most of the guess work was going to be taken out of our evening.

We had dinner in Michael’s favourite restaurant: The National, a brilliant spot mixing the best of southern culture with a little Mediterranean. After that we walked over to 40 Watt, a music venue started in 1978 and a foster home to Athens bands REM and B52’s amongst many others. It was closed - I guess the Queen had made the call.

The remainder of the evening was spent cruising the many, many drinking establishments in downtown Athens with almost, but not quite, as many bars as there were of Baptist Church’s we had passed on the drive in.

Quote of the day taken from a Vegas style sign outside a Baptist church; “There is only the cross”. Thankfully there is also cable otherwise David Yurman wouldn’t have a business.

Over the last 5 years, I have been fortunate enough to be able to ring fence a week in September and take a road trip in the 1959 Thunderbird that I bought at the side of the road in Newport Beach, CA after my excitingly successful first year exhibiting as the Stephen Webster brand in the USA.

The car always had beautiful lines but the condition could only be described, at best, as faded. Many years later and fully restored, I drove with my friend Jeff from the East coast to the West coast. We limped onto the beach at Santa Monica after an incredible 10 day adventure.

One of the major breakdown spots on route was in Nashville. A mechanic called JD spent 5 hours replacing all the hydraulic cables and got us back on the road.  In the back of his workshop was an old body shell, a 1961 MK 8 Jaguar saloon. That body played on Jeff’s mind for over a year, those curves drove him crazy! Unable to resist any longer – ‘car struck’ - he called up JD and secured it. 

Four years and more dollars than Jeff wants to admit to the car is finally restored.

It’s Saturday morning, September 25th 2011 and I’m on the Croton trail on a train out of NYC to meet Jeff and see the car for the first time. I’ve seen photos, it looks amazing but I’ve also been told the inside smells like a polo players Hermes saddle in a forest of burled walnut trees… Jeff would have come into NY to get me, but unfortunately, the roads between his home and the city are flooded. Yesterday was one more monsoon, par for the course for this is the wettest month in NY ever. Once we clear the rivers of Upstate NY we have a self indulgent week to get to New Orleans in the slow lane.

More ‘Driving Miss Daisy’ than ‘The Fast and the Furious’, this will be an education for me. The part of the South we will drive through will show me a side of America that I’m least familiar with. Steamy, both metaphorically and literally. I can’t wait to find out what’s in store for the three of us.

With a collective age of 154 (including the car) we intend to travel at a pace that shouldn’t attract too many speeding tickets and, hopefully, allow us maximum exposure The plan was to get to the South and out of the North as fast as possible while respecting the age of our wheel.

This would mean I-95 most of the way to Virginia. Not pretty but efficient.

First we head back toward NYC, take the George Washington bridge across the Hudson into New Jersey, then due South. My journey began at Grand Central station. Jeff was waiting for me at Croton station, “You can’t miss me” he assured me. He wasn’t kidding; the car was just so beautiful. Two tone purple and dark blue. Chrome everywhere. And an interior worthy of a Riva: Walnut picnic tables (far more practical than cup holders, I’m seriously considering one for my Ural sidecar).

After much detail spotting such as the elaborate twin chrome handles to open the boot; twin petrol tanks and the toggle switch labelled “speed hold”, we rolled out.

On the freeway to NYC cruising at 75MPH, Jeff reached for the large chrome handle and pulled the oversized sun roof closed. The wind caught under the roof, ripping it from his grasp. I turned round to see it spinning like a huge sheet metal frisbee and slam into the front of the small Honda behind. Everything screeched and smoke, rubber and panic is all I can remember.

Miraculously, the audible smash never came. We pulled over and a hundred meters back was the recipient of our debris, an old Honda, still wrapped on one side by our sunroof. I reached the driver first, a very buff African American who I was expecting to chin me, not for any other reason than had the impact been a few inches higher we would have decapitated the poor fellow.

Fortunately, Dwayne Long was shaken but not stirred. With some colour back in our cheeks we extracted the sun roof (now contoured to the classic lines of an 95 Honda Civic drivers side headlight and fender assembly).

Like Michael Flatly verses Jesus, Jeff and I performed the river dance on the hard shoulder in a vain attempt to flatten the roof to a point where we could slide it over the luggage and Opec quantity of spare oil we had on board. The $100K worth of restoration now broken, JD had a lot to answer for.

It was once again looking like rain as we sat back in the now permanent convertible to ponder our next move.

Option 1. We could drive three hours the wrong way and pick up the 59 T-bird.

Or Option 2. We go back to Jeff’s and swap the Jaguar for his brand new Fast and Furious, 5.7 litre Dodge Challenger. The Dodge won.

The journey had been turned on its head. We headed South not in the slow lane but in a piece of pure Detroit Muscle.

Those confederates had better watch out - we weren’t in the mood for taking prisoners.

NY - Philadelphia - Baltimore - Washington DC - Richmond Virginia.

Thank you for Smoking. I haven’t seen a cigarette girl in a restaurant for ages.

Packed my summer outfit which consists of one pair of shorts and a pair of canvas shoes with a sort of rubber and string sole. We’re off to Ibiza this weekend to celebrate Pete Tong’s wife, Carolina’s 40th birthday. I want to say this will be a relaxing break but we land at midnight and head straight for Pacha to catch Pete’s Friday night set, ‘It’s all gone Pete Tong’. Which for those who don’t know has entered the British rhyming slag vocabulary, it means;’ it’s all gone wrong’. Those not familiar with London cockney rhyming slang then this column is far too short for me to explain. Google it.

Last weekend turned out to be one of those magical musical moments. Oh god that sounds so naff!

I forced my two daughters to camp with me at the Hop Farm festival. Just 4 years old, the festival was started by Vince Power, a veteran, who amongst other festivals ran Glastonbury for years. The spirit of Hop Farm is to get back to the music. The overblown, over sponsored, corporate lump that is Glastonbury has become about as far from the music as the people in the back row of yet another Coldplay headline act there. Boring. 

Tempted by the line-up we skipped Glasto and opted for the Hop. We arrived in a borrowed Land Rover defender complete with African spec camper trailer, drove over a couple of tents and VW camper vans full of part time hippies and joined in the spirit of the VIP camp site.

Between Human league, Morrisey, The Eagles, Iggy, Lou Reed, Patti Smith, Tinie Temph and Labyrinth etc we saw them all and had brilliant outdoor family time. However nothing, not even the excellent Moroccan chicken, came close to the Sunday night headliner which was Prince. This was his first ever festival and only UK gig this year and he blew our socks off. From the “Let’s Go Crazy” opener to “Purple rain”. Camper than all us campers put together’ the pint sized Hendrix/Brown hybrid delivered a spellbinding high energy set of crowd pleasing hits. And so many hits, they just kept coming. After an hour and a half he disappeared. All the lights went out but the crowd were going nowhere, he came back saying “Did you think we were finished? We have enough hits to last until next year’s festival”.

It may have been the best magical musical experience I have ever had. I recommend you look out for next year’s Hop.

As it always will, it started with a murder. This time round the scene of the crime was that pillar of Scottish establishments; Hamilton & Inches of George St, Edinburgh. The victim was none other than the playboy of the high and the lowlands; Mr Hugh McHeffer. He was already dead when we got there, a Stephen Webster designed Sgian Dubh (that knife men in kilts wear down their sock) protruding from his throat. Early indications were that this was a Scottish crime. This was a good thing as the bevy of beauties from whom we would eventually identify the murderer were all local.

The crowd of over 100 guests really entered into the spirit of the evening especially after our new character “The Hack” announced that SW  were offering a reward of a SW diamond bracelet from our new Murder She Wrote collection for the person who could correctly identify the killer.

After the crowd had enjoyed several sherries and murderous themed hors d’oeuvres, I performed my Poirot routine, revealing the many red herrings and finally the murderess. This time round it was Miss Raven, the chauffeur AKA the fairly innocent Debbie of Hamilton & Inches.

The new collection went down well with lots of the clients securing their next pieces. It was actually amazing how many clients we have acquired over the twelve years that we have had a presence in the magnificent H&I.  After the crowd had dispersed it was back to Steve and Alison’s with the complete cast for some good old fashioned Scottish cuisine which rather disappointingly didn’t include the classic fried Mars bar or haggis but it was warm enough to enjoy a couple of wee drams in Steve’s bothy.

If variety is the spice of life then life over the last few weeks has been at jalapeño levels.  Moscow - St Petersburg – London – LA - Las Vegas - LA – London. Finally coming to land in my garden in Kent by helicopter, (I will expand on that later). 

Following very brief visits to Moscow and St Petersburg it was back to London for a flying visit then over to LA for a meeting. Our shop on Rodeo Dr was in the middle of installing the next show; a collaboration between celebrity stylist David Thomas and Brit musician/artist; Will Blanchard. The pieces are very large boxes in which there are celebrities names depicted in neon, mannequins dressed in the actual outfits that David dressed that celebrity in and the occasion where they were worn. The glass front has a sweet spot indicated along with the words; “In Emergency Break Glass”. This will also be the name of the installation.

From LA it was over the desert to Vegas to help set up our very large booth as part of the Couture jewellery show held in the very fancy Wynn Hotel and Casino. After a couple of days it was apparent that the mood was buoyant amongst the retailers and after several lean years this was a welcome change. Earlier in the year a group called Zultanite had approached me to work with a newly mined stone coincidently called Zutanite. The stone has a natural colour change depending on the light source, in the daylight it’s a leafy green and indoors a pinky/brown. Always up for something new I agreed to design and make a collection incorporating this phenomenal newcomer.

With a name like a superhero I felt that the unveiling of our Zultanite could not take place in a counter at a trade show, no this has to be a fuss like most things we do. We hired the hottest Las Vegas nightclub; Haze (could have been named for us), brought the excellent rock trio; The Band of Skulls over from England and threw the best party in Vegas that night. That’s the way to launch a million dollar suite of jewellery featuring Zultanite.

After a week in Vegas most folk would vegetate for a bit. We’re not most people so we flew back to LA for the party to launch the new instillation in our LA store. These events have become so cool we’re having trouble keeping the numbers in check, almost everyone invited actually comes. So 350 people passed through (most stayed till the end) and enjoyed the booze, art, jewellery and excellent music from Brit, DJ David Hume.

The next day, flew back to London, landed at 4pm, changed at the airport and made it to Goldsmiths Hall to give a talk at 6pm as part of London Jewellery Week. So far so good - the adrenalin had kicked in a long time ago. The following day, wearing my posh Garrard hat we launched to the press the $200k each bottles that we had designed and made for the Royal Salute Tribute to Honour whisky of which only 21 exist. Obviously with such a small quantity of product; the folk at Chivas Regal wanted to make a big deal about it. Day started with lunch at the Ritz with 50 international press which included a tale about the Scottish Honours (these being the equivalent of the crown jewels). The delivery was such that one could sense a little north south divide still lingering in there. After lunch, unveiled the amazing bejewelled bottles of scotch, gave a little speech about craftsmanship and carried out 3 hours of interviews. 

With my tour of duty now over, I headed to Battersea heliport boarded the chopper with my eldest daughter Amy and headed toward the blue skies of Kent. The pilot thought he would be fine to land in the garden but a strong wind lead to plan B; he just landed on the strip of National Trust Land between mine and the White Cliffs. The commotion certainly had the net curtains of St Margaret’s twitching. Whatever are the Webster’s up to now? The question on everyone’s lips. If only they knew the half of it!

TTFN

There was quite the celeb crowd at the first night of Crazy Horse cabaret last night and those girls can put on a show. The very clever lighting raised the bar for pole dancing & stripping for a while.

Up at 6am to get to Heathrow where it’s on to Moscow. The C gates have just opened at T5 so of course nothing works but it smells nice and new.

The first time I landed in Moscow 16 years ago I was met off the plane by a man with a gun and a fragrant woman holding a bunch of flowers. They don’t bother with the flowers any longer, just two thick set men. Something was different about Moscow on the approach, it was the blue sky! I realised that after 16 years I’ve never been here when it’s warm and boy it’s warm. I then discovered I didn’t know the Russian word for hot, only cold. This of course is usually more useful.

We’re staying at the Hyatt which was the first real luxury hotel when it opened 9 years or so ago. Also, incidentally, the location of the first Stephen Webster boutique in Russia 8 years ago.

Tonight marks the official launch of the Stephen Webster concession in TSUM department store, the Moscow equivalent of Selfridges. We’ll be hosting a party to which hoards of the glamorous Moscow elite will attend. I say that as they always do.

Apparently they’ve created a tattoo parlour as part of the party, inspired by the seven deadly sins party we held in the Old Vic Tunnels in London last year. One of the side shows was a real tattoo artist at work sponsored by Absinthe. That particular event got very messy so let’s see if we can keep this one a little more wholesome!

The boutique opening was everything we wanted it to be, lots of glamorous women, photographers and vodka called Veda, which means “To Know” in antique Russian. After several shots with clients to be polite, I was starting “To know” in modern English. The night was rounded out in a private room in the new Moscow Nobu with 10 of our best clients and friends including Russia’s most famous fashion designer, Chapurin who dresses my wife. Russians are very extravagant people and no matter what is done it’s never done by half. Even with the eye watering prices concocted by Nobu, the dishes and the Sake (spelt Cake in Cyrillic) just kept on coming. On another note; no matter what the drink it has to be shot. No sipping allowed here!

Today is a train travelling day. I love the train and there is a brand new high speed link between Moscow and St Petersburg, my wife’s home town. It’s all very DR Zhivago, even to the point that we are going to spend the whole journey in the Bistro carriage. There’s a note saying “no games or falling asleep at the tables” which is a shame as I was thinking of a round of golf and forty winks.

Despite Russia’s meteoric rise from the dark ages to the dynamic country it is today some things are still embedded in the past. Within 10 minutes of the start of the 4 hour trip we were told “all soup is finished” and the sandwich was of a particular combination that was hard to put my finger on.

In St Petersburg we are to be VIP guests at Aurora fashion week and at some point there will be work shown by students from art schools across the country entitled 7 Deadly Sins all inspired by the SW collection of the same name launched last year. There is a substantial cash prize.

May 27th is the birthday of the City of St Petersburg.  It celebrates the laying of the first stone in 1703, realising the dream of Peter the Great to create a city so beautiful that it would compete with all the great cities of Europe. Walking around today in the glorious sunshine I have to say, he really did build the Venice/Paris of the north on what was basically a swamp.

Today there are lots of folk in 18th century costume and the police have nice white shirts. Tonight Sting is performing free at Hermitage square as a gift to the city. I don’t want to spoil the party but that could set back Anglo-Russian relations by decades.

Last night’s event was one of those where I get told I have to attend with a very little brief, just whisked along, stood in front of a branded board, photographed next to some dodgy looking men and some beautiful girls, ushered to a stage with a microphone in front of the press and asked what I think about Aurora fashion week. I tell you, it’s only because I find myself in such potentially compromised positions so often, that like a politician put on the spot, the words just spew from my mouth. If I had anyone by my side people would swear it’s ventriloquism.

After that it was the front row of a fashion show which was fine until one model hit the runway in what can only be described as a Chewbacca hat. Admittedly this was an Autumn/Winter collection by a Russian designer but really…. I mentioned this to my wife who sat next to me and she managed to turn what should have been a giggle into a side splitting tear jerking spectacle. This is obviously unacceptable behaviour in the front row of any fashion show and the cameras on the opposite didn’t miss the gift. At the first opportunity we tried to make our exit only to be stopped and told it was time to inspect the finalists in the Stephen Webster inspired 7 Deadly Sins competition and award the winning student the 50K Ruble prize (about a £1,000).

Finally made it out the door and on to my next commitment as guest DJ at a cool small night club; Dom Byta. It was free and my gift to St Pete on its birthday.

I can’t believe we are facing the prospect of another Icelandic, volcanic dust cloud. The upcoming week sees me flying to Moscow - St Petersburg – London - LA and finally Las Vegas, where I stay put for a bit to exhibit at the largest US jewellery show. The last cloud of dust, of course, had a lot of us stranded in one place or another. My family were considerably displaced; Wife in Russia, eldest daughter in Venice, youngest in Vienna and myself in Kansas City. Gnasher the poodle and Rosie the tortoise thankfully weren’t affected.

Every trip I make to Kansas City I am accompanied by an off duty State trooper. Who of course has a small armory at his disposal. (They don’t muck about with truncheons in Kansas City). A couple of years back while making conversation with said state trooper about his police issue Glock, he offered to take me to the Police range for a lesson. As usual I never found time, however, last year due to volcanic activity 4000 miles away I found myself kicking my heels in Kansas City and plenty of time to take the Cop up on his offer and had a great day shooting at paper bodies with targets on the hearts and heads.

I have a shot gun in the UK which I have mastered to such a level that my shooting companions have cruelly labeled me “The Conservationist”. Well that’s as, but that day in Kansas City with a 9mm Glock in my hand and my own cloud of dust, I was Dirty Harry.

Before I attempt to start travelling this week I still have a couple of days in the office addressing the jewellery casualties that always happen prior to the Vegas show. At this late date I just hope there is nothing terminal.      

First work thing I had to do was to judge the Platinum Innovation Awards. I’ve been on the jury for 9 years and this year I declined due to family commitments. Not letting me get away that easily they brought all the entrants work to me. I found the winners pretty sharpish - no time to muck about.

Next I signed on the dotted line to borrow enough money to bail out Greece, which is apparently about the same sum as a 3 bed flat in W2. After this I met with Guy, the architect, (who incidentally couldn’t find parking on Mount St for his Boris bicycle so therefore brought it into my shop) who was equipped with a pencil and fag packet with which he redesigned the inside of the newly acquired flat.

Then it was back to the studio for the new men’s collection review and then straight into the Couture women’s design meeting for the autumn.

Then its off to meet Ian Callum, the head designer for Jaguar, of which I am an ambassador.  Finally off to Crazy Horse, a burlesque show from Paris. Still haven’t packed for Moscow. Hope the dancers aren’t too distracting…