BAFTA president Prince William skipped last Sunday’s BAFTAs. He skipped because he and his family flew to Mustique for a luxurious vacation, and apparently they couldn’t fly to Mustique AFTER the BAFTAs. The fact that the vacation was announced by the Mail ahead of the BAFTAs was fascinating to me, because the British media rarely calls out William and Kate for their disappearing acts and extensive vacation schedules. It’s also interesting that the British press keeps talking about it too – they’re publishing stories about how Will and Kate are likely staying in a ritzy rental villa at exorbitant cost, and they’re running stories about Mustique itself and the vibe on the private island. The Times of London published a first-hand account of what the island is really like for the elite. Some highlights:

How Mustique started: Colin Tennant, who would later become the 3rd Baron Glenconner, purchased the island in 1958 — the thinking being that it would be cheaper to fly out here in the winter than heat his Scottish stately home. His best idea was to give a four-acre plot to Princess Margaret as a wedding present in 1960 — Glenconner’s wife, Anne, was one of Margaret’s ladies-in-waiting. The princess completed her villa, Les Jolies Eaux, in 1973 and was a frequent visitor, often with her lover Roddy Llewellyn, spending her days bobbing in the lush turquoise foams of Gelliceaux Bay and her evenings holding court at Basil’s Bar.

The royal vibe in Mustique: Princess Margaret once claimed that Mustique was “the only place I can relax”. There were no pressures, no paparazzi, just other wealthy and famous homeowners — Mick Jagger, David Bowie, various South American potentates — and their guests. Everyone knew everyone, parties were had, privacy was respected, and a sort of sunburnt English gentility presided. Queen Elizabeth herself visited in 1966, while on a tour of the West Indies. The place remains a home away from home for the royals, although Princess Margaret’s son, David Linley, sold Les Jolies Eaux in 1999. Prince George celebrated his sixth birthday here in 2019, and Prince Harry, in his twenties, apparently once wandered into the wrong house for a dinner party, but was nonetheless treated to nibbles and an aperitif, such is the vibe — laid-back while also being reassuringly exclusive.

No traffic lights? Still, there is something a bit special about the place. It’s fancy while also being eccentric, like a mad posh granny. The island’s airstrip can only accommodate small propeller planes, there are no ATMs and no traffic lights. Most guests bop around the island in golf buggies and pretty much everyone you pass will say hello. Every Tuesday night there is an open evening at Cotton House, the central clubhouse that was Tennant’s first building project in 1968, when he commissioned the theatre designer Oliver Messel to convert a cotton warehouse into a glamorous location for stiff gin and tonics and games of backgammon.

Day drinking & no bills: During the day the social hub is the Beach Café and bar in Endeavour Bay. No money ever changes hands, everything is signed for and settled at the end of the trip. The villas all have their own chefs, but owners still come to the Beach Café for lunch (prawn tempura, hamburgers, pizza).

No private beaches: There are no high-security fences here and no private beaches, so some low-level snooping can be done. Which is perhaps why Jagger has built two rather forbidding stone “groins” (no pun) on either side of the portion of beach in front of his home. While in theory these are to prevent further erosion of the northerly L’Ansecoy Bay, which is now so worn away it is barely walkable — even the beaches of billionaires are subject to the ravages of climate change.

The one nightspot: The only real nightspot is the aforementioned Basil’s, a glorified seafront shack where bands perform and DJs play party tunes while guests enjoy tacos and tequila. On the night we went there was quite an odd mix. It was a bit like an uneasy transatlantic wedding. Posh middle-aged women, cheeks pink from a day of sunshine and champagne, were bopping about to Sade on the dancefloor, entirely unselfconscious, barefooted and with hair unbrushed.

The Americans: And then the Americans arrived. A group of about eight of them, immaculate in matching flowing white garments, like something from a D:Ream video. They surveyed the scene, the shoddy British orthodontics and the Boden leisurewear, the people just having fun and not really caring what they looked like, and they left. Because, you see, these days there are far ritzier resorts than Mustique for the super-rich. But nonetheless it is a beautiful destination that has not been overdeveloped, with a compelling history of dressed-down decadence.

Why the Waleses went to Mustique: The Waleses have had an incredibly tough time and Mustique is a familiar feelgood escape when life has become a bit too much — I went just before I had to put my mum in a care home in South Croydon. And if someone gave me the option, a night at the Baftas or a week on Mustique, I would be on that propeller plane in a flash.

[From The Times]

“If someone gave me the option, a night at the Baftas or a week on Mustique, I would be on that propeller plane in a flash.” Again, it’s not either-or?? William could have attended the BAFTAs and hopped on a plane later that night? He would have only missed a couple of days of “vacation.” Plus he would have avoided traveling with HIS heirs, which is what is supposed to happen anyway, William and George should not travel on the same plane anymore. As for this summary of Mustique’s vibe… it feels like people are paying an exorbitant amount of money to shuffle around a private island and day-drink with the same people you party with in London? That’s the English for you.

Photos courtesy of Avalon Red, Instar.