1
In the normal routine after The Monocle Quality of Life Conference finishes, the team disperse and, as the adrenalin fades, a silence sets in. After the Athens edition, a few of us went to see the Acropolis but ended up having a long lunch in the most random of restaurants – everyone a little ruined. Post the Vienna conference, I recall having a sunny team beer and barely a word being uttered. This past weekend, however, after the close of the Istanbul edition, we took a squad of our Patron subscribers on a side trip to the Maçakızı resort in Bodrum (I know Tyler is going to talk about this pit stop tomorrow, so I won’t say too much here regarding our great hosts).
Despite the flight from Istanbul to Bodrum being delayed, and everyone still recovering from a late night, it was, from the start, a tight and jolly team. Our group spanned the ages and hailed from Switzerland, Brazil, Dubai, the Philippines, the US, the Netherlands and Italy via China. On paper, all we had in common was Monocle but, over the next 36 hours, life stories were shared and connections established that will endure.
On Sunday afternoon we went out on the hotel’s sleek boat and, in a tranquil bay, dropped anchor. People dived into the sea. There was even an attempt at synchronised swimming. It was perfection (and better than a quiet beer for restoring your energy). Every brand talks about “building a community” and often it’s just empty rhetoric – but here, in Bodrum’s azure waters, there was proof of what that word can mean if you trust your audience, drop anchor with them and perhaps also drop your guard as well.
2
There were no obvious Turkish hair-transplant patients on the flight back to London but there were two passengers returning with new nose profiles. A handsome man with a strapped-in-position hooter and a woman, similarly bandaged, travelling with her husband and children. Turkey’s medical-tourism play has been exemplary and while many UK newspapers focus on the few cases where things go wrong, it’s clearly not diminishing the trade (just the size of the snouts and love handles).
There’s a good makeover-show format here to be exploited. Indeed, I suggested as much to Dr Erdogan, the hair-transplant specialist who spoke at the conference. The show would be called “Turkish Hairways” and each week we would follow three follically challenged gentlemen as they make their way to the clinic. There would be emotional tales charged with tonsorial anxiety and hirsute envy, plus some lovely city backdrops. It would all build up to the final shot, where each transplant patient would pull off their bobble hats to reveal their new flowing locks.
3
Talking of makeovers. This week we had a photoshoot involving all of our radio staff and our editors. The pictures will be used in the magazine and we need a new set as there have been so many recent hires. Anyway, there was a hair and make-up artist on hand to ensure that no under-eye bags would spoil the visuals. When it was my turn, I suggested that she conceal a small mark on my cheek. “The camera will never spot that,” she said kindly and reassuringly, before spoiling it all by adding, “But I will cover up all the blotchy bits.” She had a point. Damn that Bodrum rosé.