Ducati has just taken its idea of a road bike and stretched it to somewhere near breaking point with the Superleggera V4 Centenario, a machine that feels less like a celebration model and more like a thinly disguised race bike that somehow slipped past the authorities.

It’s built to mark 100 years, sure, but there’s nothing nostalgic about the way it goes about its business. This is Ducati doing what it always does when it wants to remind everyone who’s in charge—make something outrageously fast, strip out anything that isn’t essential, and then somehow make it road legal.

You look at it and immediately clock the carbon. Everywhere. Not just the obvious bits, but the sort of obsessive, almost unnecessary carbon fibre use that tells you cost was never part of the conversation. Frame, subframe, swingarm, bodywork—if it could be lighter, it is lighter. And the end result is properly startling: 368 pounds. For context, that’s absurd. That’s “did someone forget to bolt something on?” territory.

Even compared to the already ferocious Ducati Panigale V4 R, it’s about 50 pounds down. You don’t shave that kind of weight without going slightly mad in the process.

Then there’s the hardware. Öhlins NPX 25/30 forks—pressurized, carbon-shelled, straight out of a race paddock. A carbon-ceramic braking system, which sounds like something that should come with a warning label and a small team of engineers. And a DID ERV7 chain, which, unless you’re the sort of person who reads MotoGP tech sheets for fun, is far more serious than anything you’d normally find on a bike with mirrors and a number plate.

The engine, though, is where it really gets a bit silly. Ducati’s new 1,103cc Desmosedici Stradale R unit is lighter than before—by about eight pounds—and pushes out 228 horsepower in standard form. That’s already enough to make most riders question their life choices.

Fit the Akrapovič exhaust and the Corse oil, though, and suddenly you’re looking at 247 horsepower. On something that weighs about as much as a mid-sized scooter with delusions of grandeur. There’s a moment where you stop reading the numbers and just think: who is this actually for?

Because on paper, it sounds borderline unmanageable. And yet Ducati has thrown the entire electronics suite at it—traction control, wheelie control, ABS, launch control—everything you’d expect, and probably a few layers deeper than you’ll ever fully understand. It’s there to keep things vaguely civil, to give you a fighting chance when you inevitably get curious with the throttle.

Still, you can’t help but imagine what it feels like the first time you open it up properly. That split second where the front goes light, the engine hardens its tone, and your brain tries to catch up with what your right hand just did. That’s the sort of moment this bike is built for.

Visually, it leans into the occasion. Dark red racing livery, a bit of retro flair, and a signed plaque to remind you that this isn’t just another fast Ducati—it’s one of the special ones. The kind you don’t leave outside a café unless you’re feeling particularly brave or particularly wealthy.

And you’ll need to be the latter, because Ducati is only making 500 of these. There are also 100 Tricolore variants for those who feel the standard version isn’t exclusive enough, which is a sentence that says quite a lot about this whole project.

Pricing starts at $165,000. Which, in the world of motorcycles, is firmly in “you could have bought a house once” territory. You do get a limited-edition helmet and jacket thrown in, which feels almost quaint given what you’ve just spent.

Deliveries are set to begin in the first quarter of next year. If you can get one. And if you do, the real question isn’t whether you’ll ride it. It’s whether you’ll ever actually dare to use all of it.

The post Meet the Most Insane Street-Legal Motorcycle Ducati Has Ever Built appeared first on Luxatic.

Leak Audio just introduced the Sandwich 100, and the strategy couldn’t be clearer: take its most recognizable speaker design, shrink it, price it aggressively, and pull a whole new crowd into the fold.

It’s a smart move. Not flashy. Just smart.

A Familiar Playbook, This Time With Better Timing

Leak has been quietly rebuilding itself since around 2020, leaning hard into its mid-century DNA. Walnut cabinets. Clean lines. No nonsense. The kind of gear that doesn’t beg for attention but somehow gets it anyway.

The Stereo 130 and 230 amps were the first signal. They looked like they belonged in a different era, but they worked like modern hardware should. No friction. No learning curve. Just plug in, play, and move on with your life.

Then came the Sandwich speakers—the 250 and the 150—both pulling directly from the company’s 1961 design. They weren’t exactly entry-level, but they felt justified. You could see where the money went.

Now Leak is tightening the loop.

The Sandwich 100, Stripped Down Just Enough

The Sandwich 100 lands exactly where you’d expect: smaller, simpler, cheaper. But not cheap in the way that makes you question your decisions five minutes after unboxing.

At roughly 13 inches tall, these are true bookshelf speakers. They don’t dominate a room. They sit where you put them and do their job. There’s something refreshing about that, especially now, when everything else seems designed to demand attention.

The design is predictable—in a good way. Black front baffle. Walnut cabinet. That slightly nostalgic grille that you’ll probably remove after a day, just to look at the drivers. Everyone does.

And honestly, it works. It still feels intentional, not gimmicky.

The Hardware Choices That Actually Matter

Leak didn’t gut the internals to hit the price point, which is where this gets interesting.

You still get a two-way passive setup. The 1.2-inch coated textile dome tweeter carries over from the Sandwich 150, which tells you exactly where they decided to hold the line. High frequencies are usually where things fall apart in cheaper speakers. Leak didn’t let that happen here.

The mid-bass driver is slightly smaller, sure, but it still uses the company’s signature Sandwich cone diaphragm. That’s not marketing fluff—it’s been part of their identity for decades, and they’re clearly not interested in walking away from it now.

The usual claims are here—clarity, speed, transparency. Every brand says that. Still, Leak has the benefit of history. They’re not inventing a story on the fly.

Built for Real Spaces, Not Fantasy Setups

This is where the Sandwich 100 makes the most sense.

Leak is aiming these at small to medium rooms, which is another way of saying: actual homes. Apartments. Offices. Corners of a living room where you’ve carved out just enough space to listen to music without distractions.

No one’s pretending these are reference monitors for a studio. They’re not trying to be.

They’re the kind of speakers you put on a shelf, connect to a decent amp, and forget about—until something in a track catches your ear and you stop what you’re doing for a second. That moment. That’s the point.

The Price Shift Is the Whole Story

The Sandwich 100 exists for one reason: to lower the barrier.

At $795 per pair, they come in at almost exactly half the price of the Sandwich 150. That’s not subtle. That’s deliberate positioning.

It opens the door for buyers who’ve been circling the idea of “better audio” but haven’t committed yet. People who stream everything, who’ve maybe bought a turntable during one of those late-night browsing sessions, who are starting to notice that not all speakers sound the same.

And suddenly, this feels like an easy yes.

No overthinking. No spreadsheet comparisons. Just a clean entry point into something that feels a bit more considered.

Availability and Pricing

The Leak Sandwich 100 bookshelf speakers are available now, priced at $795 per pair—placing them squarely as the most accessible option in the brand’s current Sandwich lineup.

The post This New $795 Speaker From Leak Might Be the Only Home Upgrade You Need appeared first on Luxatic.

Delta is going all-in on premium again, and this time it’s stretching the bed and calling it innovation. Delta Air Lines just unveiled its next-generation Delta One suites, arriving in 2027 on its new Airbus A350-1000 jets, and the pitch is simple: more space, better tech, fewer reasons to complain.

This isn’t a cosmetic refresh. It’s a clear signal. Airlines have realized something obvious but expensive: if you want loyalty at the high end, you build a better bed and then build everything else around it.

Delta says it spent a decade listening to passengers before landing here. That sounds like corporate mythology, but the data point they’re leaning on is hard to ignore – 97 percent of Delta One flyers say the lie-flat bed is the whole reason they pay up. So Delta made it longer. Just over three inches more, now stretching to about six and a half feet.

Three inches doesn’t sound like much until you’re 35,000 feet in the air, trying to sleep while someone two rows back insists on watching an action movie at full brightness. Suddenly, it matters.

The new suite leans into comfort in ways that feel more considered than flashy. There’s a pillow-top cushion now, which sounds like something you’d see in a hotel brochure, but here it’s doing real work. Storage gets smarter too – shoe cubby, eyeglass holder, the kind of small fixes that make you wonder why they weren’t always there.

And yes, Missoni is still involved. The layout sticks with a reverse herringbone configuration, which means better window views for those outer seats and fewer awkward angles when you’re trying to pretend you’re not staring at your seatmate. Delta also says it borrowed cues from automotive design for the seat controls. That usually translates to sleeker interfaces and fewer moments of “why is this button here?”

Tech gets a noticeable bump. The new 24-inch screen is the largest Delta has installed so far, and that’s not a small claim in an era where airlines quietly compete on screen size like it’s a living room arms race. It’s brighter, sharper, more saturated—basically everything your OLED TV at home trained you to expect.

Bluetooth connectivity finally makes the cut, so you can ditch the airline headphones and use your own. About time.

Charging is handled through a wireless pad built into the console, which sounds elegant, though we’ll see how it holds up when people start tossing phones on it mid-turbulence. There’s also a new onboard refreshment station for in-between snacking—less about luxury, more about control. People want options when they fly, even if it’s just grabbing something without pressing a call button.

Delta’s VP of customer experience design, Mauricio Parise, framed the update as part of the airline’s “next century” vision. That’s a nice line, but what matters is the execution. Premium flyers don’t care about vision statements. They care about whether they can sleep, charge their phone, and arrive without feeling wrecked.

This rollout isn’t limited to new aircraft. Delta is also upgrading parts of its existing wide-body fleet, including the A330-200 and A330-300. One key addition there: privacy doors. It’s a first for those planes, and honestly, it’s becoming table stakes at this level.

The bigger picture is the spending. Delta is putting more than $1 billion into these upgrades. That’s not incremental. That’s a repositioning.

And they’re not alone. United Airlines is already pushing its next-gen Polaris suites. Air France has been refining its long-haul cabins with a distinctly European sense of polish. Etihad Airways continues to treat premium cabins like a branding exercise in excess.

Everyone sees the same thing: the front of the plane is where the margin lives.

What’s interesting is how quickly expectations have shifted. A few years ago, lie-flat was enough. Then came doors, bigger screens, better bedding. Now it’s about creating something that feels closer to a private space than a seat. Not fully there yet, but getting closer with every iteration.

Delta’s latest move fits right into that trajectory. It doesn’t reinvent the category, but it sharpens it in the ways that matter. More space, better sleep, cleaner tech, fewer annoyances.

And in this part of aviation, that’s exactly how you win.

The post Delta’s New Delta One Suites Come With Longer Beds and Massive Screens appeared first on Luxatic.

The Village at Lyons has landed on the market with a price tag of $23.5 million – and yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like: an entire Irish village, intact, atmospheric, and quietly extraordinary.

Set on 20 acres in County Kildare, roughly 30 minutes from Dublin, the property doesn’t present itself like a typical estate. You don’t really “arrive” at a main house. You drift into it—past trees, stone, a sequence of buildings that feel collected rather than imposed.

It helps that the land comes with real history, the kind that isn’t overly packaged for effect. Lyons Hill sits nearby, once tied to the kings of Leinster, which already sets a tone. By the 19th century, the area had settled into village life, complete with a flour mill run by a relative of Ernest Shackleton, a detail that feels almost too on-the-nose Irish, but is apparently true.

The current version of the village owes a lot to Tony Ryan, who restored it in the 1990s. And crucially, he didn’t overcorrect. There’s restraint in the way the place was brought back – yes, that word applies here in the best sense—so it never tips into theme-park territory.

Now listed through Lisney Sotheby’s International Realty, with David Byrne handling the sale, the village sits in that rare category of properties that feel more like a concept than a home.

There are 47 bedrooms scattered across rose-covered cottages, which immediately raises the question: who exactly is this for? A very large family with a strong sense of togetherness? Possibly. A buyer who wants to create a retreat, something hospitality-adjacent but still intimate? That feels more likely.

Inside, the buildings walk a careful line. Fireplaces, detailed ceilings, the sort of architectural touches that signal age without trying too hard. Then you’ll hit a bathroom wrapped in unapologetically cozy wallpaper, or a kitchen that’s been updated just enough to avoid inconvenience.

The grounds lean into a kind of gentle eccentricity. Gardens, orchards, water features—expected, yes—but also a life-size chess set that somehow works in context. It gives the whole place a slightly surreal edge, like it’s aware of its own storybook qualities but not embarrassed by them.

There are newer additions, too, though they don’t feel intrusive. A wood-framed outdoor lounge with a calmer, almost retreat-like energy. A spa setup with outdoor soaking tubs. Yoga space. A home theater, because of course there is.

Ireland’s countryside isn’t short on dramatic listings—castles, estates, sprawling acreage that often comes in well below this price point. But those tend to follow a clearer script. This doesn’t.

Because what’s being sold at the Village at Lyons isn’t just scale or even history. It’s coherence. The sense that everything here, however layered, somehow belongs together.

And that’s harder to price than the acreage.

The post You Can Buy an Entire Village in Ireland for $23.5 Million! appeared first on Luxatic.

Bianchet and Maserati just unveiled the UltraFino Maserati watch, a limited-run, 100-piece, ultra-thin flying tourbillon tied directly – very directly – to the Maserati MCPURA.

Now, right away, if you’re looking at this watch – imagine it in hand – the first thing you notice is how open everything is. And I mean genuinely open. Not skeletonized for the sake of aesthetics, but structured in a way where you can actually read the architecture of this watch. You’ll see those triple split-spoke elements on the dial… and yes, they’re referencing the wheel design of the MCPURA, but more importantly, they anchor the entire layout.

And I’ll say this early: the Trident motif is there, but it doesn’t jump at you. You kind of discover it. Spend a few seconds with the dial and it resolves itself. That’s usually a good sign.

A Limited Run That Actually Makes Sense

The 100-piece production – this is tied to Maserati’s centenary Trident. You’ll hear that a lot, but in this case, it’s actually grounded in something real. The Tipo 26, early racing success, the Targa Florio… it’s not just a number pulled out of thin air.

Collectors tend to care about that, even if they don’t say it outright. A limitation tied to history tends to age better than one tied to marketing cycles.

The MCPURA Link – And It’s Not Superficial

Now, the MCPURA itself… 630 horsepower, twin-turbo Nettuno V6, carbon monocoque. Yes, it’s fast – very fast – but that’s not really the interesting part.

What matters is how controlled the car is. Composure is the word that comes to mind. And I know that sounds vague, but when you translate that into watchmaking, it actually becomes quite specific.

Because here, the watch doesn’t feel aggressive. It feels… deliberate.

Look at the color – this AI Aqua Rainbow treatment. It shifts, but it doesn’t shout. It moves with the light in a way that feels almost restrained, which is unusual given how easily this could have turned into something loud.

Case and Wear: This Is Where It Gets Interesting

Pick it up (again, imagine it) and the weight, or lack of it, is what stands out next. Thirty-six grams without the strap. That’s extremely light for a tourbillon, let alone one with this kind of visual presence.

And I should mention – the case construction is tighter than you’d expect. High-density carbon fiber, grade 5 titanium, rubber elements… it could have looked fragmented. It doesn’t. It reads as one piece.

From the side – and this is important – you really start to appreciate just how thin it is. Ultra-thin gets thrown around a lot, but 3.85 millimeters for the movement is… serious. That’s not just thin for a tourbillon. That’s thin, full stop.

The Movement – Where You Spend Your Time

Now, if you’re the kind of collector who flips the watch over immediately, you’re going to stay there for a while. The Bianchet UT01 calibre is the core of this watch, and it’s worth taking a second—actually more than a second—to look at it.

You’ve got sandblasted surfaces, satin brushing, polished bevels. And I’ll say this: the finishing isn’t trying to overwhelm you. It’s layered. You notice different things at different angles.

The flying tourbillon—no upper bridge—is doing exactly what it should. It opens the view. The cage is slim, the rotation is clean, and the balance wheel is relatively large, which helps with stability. Especially in something this thin.

And then there’s the 5,000 G shock resistance. I’ll be honest—that’s not something you typically associate with ultra-thin tourbillons. Usually, you get one or the other: refinement or resilience. Here, they’re clearly aiming for both.

Power reserve is 60 hours. Solid. Not extreme, but you’re not worrying about winding it every day.

Strap Choices – Practical, Actually

You’ve got the carbon-fiber bracelet or the rubber strap with a titanium clasp. Both integrate well, which is important.

The bracelet leans technical. The rubber… I suspect most owners will go that route if they actually plan to wear the watch regularly. And I think they will.

Now, the obvious comparison point is the ultra-thin, high-tech segment. Think Richard Mille, think modern performance-driven watchmaking.

But this doesn’t sit entirely in that camp. It pulls some of that lightweight, technical philosophy, but it keeps a more traditional approach to finishing. It’s not trying to shock you visually. It’s trying to hold your attention over time.

And that’s a different proposition.

The Experience – And Why It Changes Things

The driving experience with the MCPURA… this is where it all comes together. Because once you’ve felt that level of precision – how the car responds, how it settles into corners – you start to understand what the watch is aiming for.

Balance. Control. Mechanical clarity.

And I’ll say this – because it’s worth saying – once you make that connection, the watch becomes easier to appreciate. Not simpler. Just… clearer.

And in a space where collaborations can feel a bit surface-level, this one has enough depth to keep you engaged. Even after that first look.

Pricing is expected to be around CHF 70,000 (to be confirmed).

The post Bianchet and Maserati Reveal the UltraFino Tourbillon Inspired by the MCPURA appeared first on Luxatic.

There is a type of premium object that announces itself without trying. No explanation of where it came from. No list of what it can do. You simply see it — parked outside a good hotel, cresting a dune, moving through city traffic — and you know immediately. The person behind the wheel has made a very specific decision about how they want to move through the world.

The G700 is becoming that kind of object.

What makes this worth paying attention to is not the three locking differentials, though those matter. It is not the Rolls-Royce–partnered audio system, or the fact that it reaches one hundred kilometers per hour in 4.6 seconds. It is the fact that before any of those credentials were made visible to the world, JETOUR did something no premium off-road manufacturer had thought to do: they called Paula Scher.

The designer who said yes to a car

For five decades, Scher has been one of the most consequential forces in global graphic design — not because she chases recognition, but because her work carries an uncommon quality of inevitability. Described as the “master conjurer of the instantly familiar,” she has spent a career straddling the line between pop culture and fine art, with results that feel obvious the moment you encounter them — as if they had always existed and you simply hadn’t noticed until now. The Citibank identity that became a case study in American brand regeneration. The Public Theater’s typographic language that fused high and low culture into a wholly new symbology for cultural institutions. The visual worlds of Coca-Cola, Microsoft, the Museum of Modern Art, the Metropolitan Opera, the New York City Ballet, and the Walt Disney Company.

These are not styling jobs. They are arguments about what something fundamentally is, made visible with such precision that they feel like they could not have been any other way.

She had never done this for a car. Then she went to Dubai.

The G700’s global debut was where Scher first encountered the vehicle in person — its commanding proportions, the deliberate confidence of its interior, the particular sense of a car that already knew exactly what it was. “The exterior of the G700 is sculpted,” she said. “When you see it, particularly up close, and you begin to touch it and feel it, it feels like a piece of sculpture. It’s been modeled.” For someone whose entire career has been built on reading the essential character of a thing and making it legible to the world, that is not a passing remark.

It is a brief.

What she built from it

Scher’s commission was the G Series visual identity — and what emerged was “Ridge of Steel”: a concept rooted in Himalayan geology and the conviction that the most powerful structures in the natural world are simultaneously immovable and alive. “The terrain is not just rugged, it’s gorgeous,” she reflected. “It represents a challenge. It’s part of what makes life exciting.”

That sensibility became a complete visual language — the kind of holistic identity work Scher has spent a career perfecting. A custom typeface pulled directly from the car’s own body lines — “sleek, not fussy or overly decorative, and it looks like it’s in motion,” in her words — sitting alongside a red-orange brand signature that reads, even at distance, less like a color choice and more like a statement of intent. The same instinct that made the Public Theater’s identity impossible to walk past on a New York street is at work here — scaled to terrain rather than to pavement.

Yan Jun, Executive Vice President of JETOUR International, recognized exactly what Scher had produced: “She can even let the visual speak. That’s why she is a true master. The Ridge of Steel really fits the product. It’s highly recognized and easy to be remembered.”

Worth being clear about: Paula Scher did not design the G700. She designed what the G700 means. Any manufacturer can specify torque figures. Very few can bring in a Pentagram partner to build the cultural world their vehicle inhabits — and have the result feel deserved rather than decorative. As Scher herself put it: “The G Series disrupts the conventional premium off-road sector.” From someone who has spent five decades doing exactly that to every category she has touched, that is not a marketing line. It is a professional verdict.

The vehicle, which has opinions of its own

It would be a mistake to treat the Scher collaboration as the whole story. The G700 was already making an argument before she arrived. She gave it a voice. The vehicle provided the conviction.

Built on JETOUR’s GAIA All-Terrain Intelligent Architecture, this is a machine that earns its off-road credentials the only way that counts — through engineering decisions, not brochure language. Three locking differentials. Magnetic Ride Control paired with air suspension. A high-strength body-on-frame structure built for the kind of terrain where most premium SUVs start quietly reconsidering their options. When the ground gets difficult — a dune face, a mountain track, somewhere roads have no interest in going — the G700 keeps moving. No hesitation. No reconsideration.

Then you get inside and forget you were ever anywhere rough.

“The whole dichotomy,” Scher observed — “the inside of the car is very luxurious. The outside is powerful and it’s got some sleek lines to it, but the inside is a limousine almost. You know, suddenly you’re really in some exquisite situation while you’re going up some incredibly rock-ridden road.” Six seats with the kind of space that belongs in a first-class cabin. Multi-function seating with massage, leg rest, and a built-in table — not listed here as features, but as answers to a very reasonable question about what long-distance travel should actually feel like for people who have a genuine choice in the matter. Audio from a Rolls-Royce supplier. Tri-zone climate control. An air purification system, because the air inside deserves as much consideration as everything else.

The 6.6-kilowatt V2L power export can run an entire campsite directly from the vehicle — what JETOUR calls, with some justification, a mobile home. Towing capacity hits 2.5 tons. Zero to one hundred in 4.6 seconds. Not to make a point. Simply because it can.

“The G700 makes something possible that would have been impossible without it,” Scher said. “You can go there in this car. Mostly you can’t go there. That’s the difference — it makes that possible.”

What 13,913 buyers already worked out

Thirteen thousand, nine hundred and thirteen people bought one within six months of launch. That number is worth sitting with — not as a sales result, but as a verdict. These are design-literate, comfort-conscious buyers who looked at everything the premium off-road segment had to offer and made a deliberate choice. Not because of the badge. Because of what the badge has come to mean.

Ke Chuandeng, President of JETOUR International, was clear about the intention from the start: “Our original intention of creating the G-Series is to have a place in the world’s top off-road field. A place that has both strong technology and a real soul. We not only want to make excellent cars, but also want to build a premium hybrid off-road brand of a new era.”

That soul needed a visual language worthy of the machine underneath it. Paula Scher — who made Citibank feel inevitable, who made New York’s cultural institutions impossible to ignore, who has spent five decades making complex things beautifully legible — provided it.

The G700 is not reaching for Range Rover’s history or Land Cruiser’s legend. It arrived without either and without apology — and found one of the world’s great designers not to decorate it, but to say clearly what it already was. Its buyers are global travelers, equally comfortable at altitude and at a good table. People who can hold two ideas at once: that a vehicle should handle serious terrain, and that it should feel like a considered expression of who they are while doing it.

The G700 is one of the most coherent answers to that idea yet built.

Premium adventure has a new language. The G700 is fluent in it from the first mile.

The post “A Limousine on a Rock-Ridden Road.” G700, and the Designer Who Gave It a Voice. appeared first on Luxatic.

Mandarin Oriental The Landmark Hong Kong is reopening on June 1, 2026, and it’s doing so with the sort of quiet confidence that suggests someone has spent a long time getting things exactly right. This isn’t a polite dusting-off exercise. It’s a proper rethink, tied neatly into the wider reshaping of Central under the Tomorrow’s CENTRAL project.

The hotel now sits more deliberately within the city, which is a polite way of saying it feels less like a building you enter and more like one you arrive at. There’s a new entrance on Queen’s Road Central, and it matters. Hong Kong moves quickly, often too quickly, so having a gentler transition into a hotel feels like someone has finally noticed.

Inside, the first impression has shifted completely. Joyce Wang has designed the arrival space to resemble something closer to a private residence than a grand hotel lobby, and everything seems to work together beautifully. Terracotta tones, deep greens, a sweeping staircase that seems to invite you upwards without making a fuss – it all feels considered rather than theatrical.

You notice the details after a moment. Small alcoves with commissioned artworks, subtle references to Hong Kong’s skyline tucked into carpets and reflective surfaces. It doesn’t shout about place, which is precisely why it feels rooted in it.

Rooms That Invite You to Stay Longer

The rooms – 109 of them – have been completely reworked, and there’s a clear idea behind them: make them feel like somewhere you’d actually want to live, not just pass through. Even the entry-level rooms start at 42 square meters, which, in Hong Kong terms, borders on indulgent.

There’s a layered quality to the materials. Light timber floors, textured walls, silk finishes, rugs that quietly reference the city’s older brickwork. You don’t notice everything at once, which is probably the point. It reveals itself slowly, like a place you begin to understand rather than immediately admire.

The beds deserve a mention. Quilted leather headboards, proper linens—the sort that make you briefly consider staying in for the day. And then there are the bathrooms. The curved glass design returns in the higher categories, anchored by a rather dramatic seven-foot circular bathtub that feels faintly excessive in the best possible way.

If you’re after something more expansive, the Entertainment Suite leans fully into the idea of a private residence. There’s a dining area for eight, a Gaggenau kitchen, and a FreshBed system that controls temperature while you sleep. Slightly futuristic, yes, but also quite sensible once you think about it.

A Culinary Lineup That Carries Weight

Food, though, is where this hotel has always had a bit of a reputation, and it hasn’t eased off. The collection of restaurants now holds seven Michelin stars and one Green Star, which is the sort of number that makes you wonder if they’re collecting them deliberately.

At the centre is Amber, led by Richard Ekkebus, and still operating at a level that suggests he’s not particularly interested in playing it safe. Classical French technique is there, but it’s been nudged into something more modern, more aware of sustainability, without turning it into a lecture.

There’s also something new called The Cellar Immersion, which sounds slightly theatrical but turns out to be a curated experience through wine and craftsmanship inside the restaurant’s cellar. Done well, that sort of thing can be memorable. Done badly, it becomes a guided tour with snacks. This feels closer to the former.

Elsewhere, Sushi Shikon continues to operate at its own precise standard, while Kappo Rin and SOMM fill in the Japanese and contemporary French corners without any sense of filler. Then there’s BLANC DE NOIRS, a champagne bar dedicated to serious cuvées, and COMMUNE, a coffee space that doubles as a social hub. Sensible additions. People do like coffee, after all.

Wellness, Thought Through Properly

Wellness is next, though it doesn’t fully arrive until July. The new spa and wellness concept leans into the idea of an urban retreat, which can sometimes feel like marketing language but here seems to have actual substance. Yoga, Pilates, Gyrotonic studios, a proper gym, a lap pool, and thermal facilities that include Hammam and Rasul treatments.

It’s designed for both discipline and indulgence, which is a tricky balance. Some people want to sweat; others want to lie down and be wrapped in steam. This appears to accommodate both without making either feel secondary.

A Reopening Worth Experiencing

To mark the reopening, the hotel is offering something called “A Taste of the Next” for any stays between June and November 2026. It includes rather generous dining credits – HKD 3,000 ($383 USD) per day for rooms, HKD 5,000 ($638 USD) for suites – which is a clever way of encouraging guests to explore what is, frankly, one of the hotel’s strongest selling points .

Rates start at HKD 7,200 per night ($919 USD) for an L600 room. Not insignificant, but then again, Hong Kong rarely is.

The post Mandarin Oriental The Landmark Hong Kong Reopens With a Fresh Take on Luxury appeared first on Luxatic.

Itama just introduced the Itama 70, a sleek yacht that lands exactly where this segment has been drifting for years: somewhere between raw speed toy and something you can actually live on without feeling like you’re camping with better upholstery.

At 20.93 meters, this is where expectations change. Speed and looks still matter, but usability starts to win arguments. That shift shows up all over this boat.

The debut at boot Düsseldorf comes as part of a broader refresh inside Ferretti Group, with Piero Ferrari overseeing strategy. That combination usually leans conservative. Here, it leans practical, which is the better choice.

The profile sticks to what works. Low, stretched, and unmistakably Itama. The updates are more precise than dramatic. The extended side glazing runs deeper along the hull, pulling daylight into the lower deck in a way older models never quite managed. It’s a small shift with real impact once you’re below.

The foredeck sunpad also gets proper attention. Larger, cleaner, and integrated into the deck instead of sitting on top of it. It changes the visual balance immediately and makes the front of the yacht usable throughout the day, not just when someone claims it early.

The main deck is where the real progress shows up.

The aft sunpad still anchors the space, now with a clearer role as the social center. A dedicated starboard walkway makes movement around the boat straightforward, even with a full group onboard. That sounds basic. It isn’t. Plenty of yachts this size still get that wrong.

The cockpit leans into flexibility without overcomplicating things. There’s an U-shaped dining area with a teak table which faces a fully equipped wet bar, with a sink, refrigerator and everything else where they should be.

But this bar also comes with a smart adjustment, as it converts into a chaise lounge. It takes about a minute to switch modes, and suddenly the space works just as well for lounging as it does for lunch.

At the helm, Itama keeps it clean. Two seats, strong visibility, minimal distractions. This remains a boat for owners who want to drive. The setup supports that without adding unnecessary layers of tech or design noise.

Below deck, the layout carries more weight than usual for this category.

Three cabins, each with an en-suite bathroom, bring a level of comfort that supports longer stays. The owner’s cabin sits aft, giving it separation from guest traffic. The VIP takes the bow, while a third cabin on the port side uses a French-style bed arranged lengthwise. It’s a slightly unconventional move, but it makes efficient use of the space.

The flow is noticeably better. Fewer steps, cleaner transitions between areas. You move through the space without thinking about it, which is exactly the point.

Light does most of the heavy lifting inside the cockpit. The large hull windows bring in enough daylight to keep the interiors open and usable throughout the day. IdeaeItalia worked its magic on the interior design, with a modern and chic look, built to hold up over time instead of chasing trends.

For owners who want crew onboard, there’s also an optional cabin with its own bathroom, accessed directly from the aft sunpad. It stays out of the way and keeps guest areas uninterrupted.

Performance still sits at the core of the Itama identity.

The boat is powered by twin MAN V12 engines at 1,400 mhp each, which push the yacht to a top speed of around 37 knots. But you can also step up to a 1,550 mhp configuration and top speed reaches 39 knots, with cruising speeds in the mid-30s. That’s more than enough to keep things interesting when the water opens up.

The Itama 70 doesn’t chase novelty. It fixes friction. Better movement, smarter layout, more usable space across a full day onboard. And that’s where it wins.

The post Itama 70 Sets a New Standard for Modern Open Yachts appeared first on Luxatic.

Jane Berg, the jewelry designer behind the Jane Berg Collection, just listed her extraordinary Aspen residence for sale at $35 million. Berg, who founded her eponymous label back in 2012 and built a following among high-profile clients, has brought a similar sense of form and detail into her real estate.

Her Aspen home, completed in recent years after an extended search for the right site, reflects that crossover between design disciplines, where precision and visual impact carry equal weight.

Berg built the house after a prolonged search for a site within Aspen Highlands, a process that reportedly took years – a reminder that in Aspen, location and land is often the more elusive commodity than design.

The result is a 6,919-square-foot residence set on a private acre, with direct ski-in/ski-out access to Aspen Snowmass via the Thunderbowl Lane underpass. The house has a wedge-shaped form that appears to cut into the terrain rather than rest upon it.

In a landscape that’s increasingly crowded with oversized glass pavilions and nostalgic timber pastiche, this home avoids the more aggressive excesses typical of high-end mountain construction. Its planes of wood, steel, and glass are arranged with a certain discipline.

The wood cladding provides a necessary weight and continuity with the site, while steel introduces a sharper, more exacting line. Glass, predictably abundant, is used to frame rather than dissolve, directing views toward forest and ridgeline without reducing the house to a transparent object.

The building tries to blend within the landscape, yet its clear shape makes sure it still stands out. It’s a familiar tension in contemporary alpine design, belonging and standing apart, but here it’s kept in balance.

The ski-in/ski-out access is presented as a primary feature for the listing, though it functions more accurately as an organizing principle.

The house is designed around movement, between interior and mountain, between enclosure and exposure. It acknowledges Aspen Highlands as an active environment rather than a passive view, integrating the rhythms of skiing into the daily use of the building.

Inside, the property has five bedrooms with the option for a sixth, six full bathrooms, and an elevator connecting multiple levels. Circulation is straightforward, and the spatial hierarchy is legible. The house does not attempt to impress through complexity; it relies instead on clarity of organization.

The exterior amenities follow a similar logic. A fully enclosed outdoor area, kitchen, and wood-fired oven suggest a space intended for gathering, though without the overstatement that often accompanies such features.

Fire pits and a private spa are positioned as responses to climate rather than indulgence. Even the snowmelt driveway, a practical inclusion, reinforces the sense that the house has been designed for continuous occupation rather than seasonal display.

Offered furnished, with some exclusions, the property arrives as a complete environment. Yet its significance lies less in its turnkey convenience than in its architectural ambition. It attempts to impose order, proportion, and a degree of restraint on a setting that has too often encouraged the opposite.

Aspen’s real estate market continues to reward spectacle, but it has also begun to expose its limitations.

Berg’s residence meets those criteria, though its longer-term value will depend less on its amenities than on how well its design endures in a landscape already crowded with statements.

The property is listed for sale at $35 million, with Susan Hershey and Blake Greiner of Douglas Elliman.

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Rolls-Royce Phantom Arabesque is what happens when Rolls-Royce decides that a flat bonnet simply isn’t ambitious enough and spends five years figuring out how to engrave it with lasers instead.

It’s a one-off project, commissioned through the Dubai Private Office, and yes, it leans into mashrabiya – the intricate latticework you find across historic Middle Eastern architecture. Properly beautiful stuff, but also functional. It cools, filters light, gives privacy. Here, it’s been dragged into the 21st century and stretched across a Phantom.

The interesting bit isn’t that Rolls has found another cultural reference to reinterpret. They do that all the time. It’s that they’ve chosen to embed it into the car at a material level, not just lay it on top like expensive wallpaper.

The bonnet is the headline of this Phantom Arabesque, of course. Fully laser-engraved. First time they’ve done it. And crucially, it doesn’t look like a gimmick.

The process is borderline obsessive. It starts with a dark base coat, with a few layers of clear, lighter paint on top, and then a laser cuts through to reveal the darker tone beneath. It’s actually inspired by old Italian sgraffito techniques, which sounds like the sort of thing you’d usually ignore until you see the final result.

Because it’s simply beautiful. And it works. Properly works.

The engraving is only 145 to 190 microns deep, which is basically nothing, but the surface ends up looking sculptural. Walk around it and the light plays tricks: sometimes it’s bold and graphic, other times it fades into the paint like it was never there.

Each section gets hand-finished, because Rolls-Royce would rather stop production entirely than leave something like that to chance. And the key detail is that the pattern sits within the paint, not on it. It feels built in, not applied. Big difference.

The rest of the exterior doesn’t try to fight for attention, which is wise. Diamond Black body, Silver upper surfaces, and a single coachline with a tiny mashrabiya detail tucked in. You won’t notice it immediately, but then again, you’re not really the target audience here.

Up front, you get the illuminated Pantheon grille and a softly lit Spirit of Ecstasy. Normally I’d roll my eyes at that sort of thing, but here it’s done with just enough subtlety to get away with it. The 22-inch wheels sit nicely as well, everyone will notice them, but they’re not shouting.

Inside is where it all calms down a notch. The interior is still very detailed, still intricate, but less in-your-face.

The Gallery—the big glass fascia across the dash—houses a marquetry piece made from Blackwood and Black Bolivar. The geometry mirrors the exterior pattern, but it’s softer, more fluid. There’s an offset clock in there as well, which sounds like a minor flourish, but it changes how you read the whole dashboard.

The cabin is trimmed in Selby Grey and Black leather. Clean, modern, slightly moody. Black piping, dark carpets, and just enough contrast stitching to remind you someone obsessed over this for far too long.

Look closer and the details start stacking up. Embroidered headrests with the mashrabiya motif. Starlight Doors glowing gently at night. Even the treadplates carry the same pattern as the bonnet, which is the sort of thing that feels unnecessary until you realise that’s exactly the point.

What’s impressive is that it never quite tips over into excess. And it really could have. There’s a version of this car that feels like a design department let off the leash after too much coffee. This isn’t that.

It’s disciplined. Cohesive. And quietly quite clever.

Underneath it all, it’s still a Phantom. Vast, silent, completely detached from anything resembling normal motoring. You don’t drive one so much as exist within it while the world gets out of your way.

Would I have it? Probably not. It’s a very specific taste, aimed at a very specific kind of buyer. But I can admire the commitment. And the engineering behind that bonnet alone is enough to make even the most cynical enthusiast stop and have a proper look.

Which, for something this unapologetically extravagant, is actually quite an achievement.

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