{"id":159,"date":"1995-12-18T21:46:04","date_gmt":"1995-12-18T21:46:04","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/doylelogan.com\/anywherebuthere\/?p=159"},"modified":"2022-07-12T00:44:01","modified_gmt":"2022-07-12T00:44:01","slug":"inedit-on-the-orient-express","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sunsetdrivestudio.com\/travel\/?p=159","title":{"rendered":"Inedit on the Orient-Express"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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\u00a0<\/p>\n

When the nineteen cars of the Venice Simplon Orient-Express pull into Verona\u2019s Porta Nuova Station, heads turn. The gold trim glistens on the beautifully restored sixty year-old navy blue carriages. Improbably, the cars look as if they have been freshly washed en route to the station. Stewards leap from the cars to help us aboard. Unencumbered by luggage (our preposterously over packed bags have been collected at our hotel), we saunter stylishly to our cabin, just like in the movies.<\/p>\n

Few things as fabled, and as hyped, as the Orient Express are able to live up to one\u2019s inflated expectations. But if you can live without a murder, the experience is much as fans of Agatha Christie might hope. We settle into our cabin, its rich paneling inlaid with a tiger-lily design, as the train leaves Verona.<\/p>\n

The train races through the Dolomite mountains, past vineyards ablaze with the deep reds and golds of late fall. Philip, our steward, cheerfully wrestles our bulging luggage into overhead racks as we watch apologetically. We are given a card with our table assignment for luncheon, seating at 2:00, allowing us an hour to explore the train. While each car is subtly different, owing to different manufacturers in Belgium, England and France, all were built in the 1920\u2019s for the Orient Express or first class trains plying other European routes. Our car, No. 3555 was built in France in 1929, and in-between stints as a luxury carriage, was used as a hotel in Lyon during World War II. After years of neglect, the cars were rescued from various ignoble fates for this lates incarnation of the Legendary Orient-Express, begun in 1982 by James B. Sherwood, Chairman of Orient-Express hotels.<\/p>\n

We make our way to the elegant bar car where a baby grand piano and saxophone serenade the train\u2019s well-coifed and well-heeled passengers, who seem to be a mix of elderly Americans and moneyed Japanese tourists. We sip our Campari-sodas as the rushing scenery becomes increasingly alpine. Those brilliantly hued vineyards climb straight up the mountainsides as we plunge in and out of dark tunnels.<\/p>\n

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Attired in fashionable suits and ties we never have occasion to wear in Los Angeles (\u201cYou can never be overdressed on the Venice-Simplon Orient Express,\u201d the English-language information booklet issued to us prior to our trip advises, emphasizing \u201cplease do not wear jeans.\u201d), it is possible to believe that it is 1930. In travel today, speed and economy have replaced service and luxury, and the actual transit portion of any trip is now mostly something to be endured for as little time as possible. But traveling like this erases all desire for journey\u2019s end, even when the final destination is Paris.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Luncheon is three courses, complemented by appropriately brilliant wines, and set with sterling silver fish knives and dessert spoons. The late afternoon vistas continue to dazzle as our meal finally ends in a glass of Courvoisier XO Imperial; the crystal snifter engraved, like nearly everything else aboard, with the cursive initials of the Venice Simplon Orient-Express. The cognac is wonderful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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****<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We are not in the habit of drinking Cognac after luncheon, but it is after all, the cognac that has brought us here. Not an alcohol-induced delusion, but something close; an invitation from Courvoisier to participate in the launch of In\u00e9dit, a special limited edition cognac in a bottle designed by the late Art Deco master Ert\u00e9. We have been chosen as liaisons to the gay community\u2014whether it is the well-known gay enthusiasm for cocktails, for Ert\u00e9\u2019s work, or both, we can only guess. Accompanying us on this trip are a suitably mystery novel-like set of international characters, which include dashing French cognac executives, international liquor distributors, and journalists from all over the world who write for publications with names like Decanter. We meet over cocktails, the night before at the Hotel Due Torri, in Verona.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Finishing our post-lunch cognac as we whisk through Austrian mountain passes, we realize that it is nearly 4 o\u2019clock\u2014and we must hurry back to our cabin to await the arrival of afternoon tea at 4:30. Returning to our cabin, we hear it rumored that our hosts have a special surprise in store for us as part of the unveiling of the new cognac\u2014but no one has any idea what it might be.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The schedule given us by Courvoisier is quite rigorous\u2014even if it does consist almost entirely of eating and drinking. It does set aside 90 minutes for dressing for dinner after tea, a suggestion we ignore in favor of lying about our cabin resting our stuffed and besotted stomachs. This we regret when we find to our embarrassment that two people cannot get into black tie, dressing out of suitcases, in a tiny room (no matter how lovingly detailed), on a moving train in anything less than an hour!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As a final complication we seem able to get only one of our two bow ties knotted in a presentable fashion. In desperation, but also secretly eager to leave no service untested, we ring our steward for help.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you have any luck tying these?\u201d we query we he appears. Unfazed and grinning, Philip responds, \u201cI\u2019m afraid not. My mother always ties mine.\u201d But all is not lost. As a testament to his preparedness, he produces a selection pre-tied clip-around bow-ties. Moments later we\u2019re decked out and rushing down the narrow corridors to the conference car for our pre-dinner special presentation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As we join the other guests in the leather paneled conference car that\u2019s been added to the end of the train for this occasion, we realize that the train has stopped. Our host informs us that in order to power the generator to run the VCR for our presentation, they\u2019ve had to stop the whole train! The video begins, and we learn more about Courvoisier, Ert\u00e9, and the aging and blending of cognac. We view the previous limited-edition bottles Ert\u00e9 has created for Courvoisier\u2014sleek, teardrop shaped decanters like giant perfume bottles, with Ert\u00e9\u2019s trademark deco illustrations depicting the cognac making process. But it isn\u2019t yet time for the official unveiling of his ultimate creation. We adjourn our meeting and are treated to a pre-supper cocktail party where the champagne pours most generously. We\u2019re all too dashing \u2014the men handsome in their tuxedos, and the women looking like Bond girls in their sleek cocktail dresses.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Next comes dinner, served in the restaurant car (built in 1927, with black lacquer panels depicting scenes of sporting animals). Place cards reveal our dinner companions to be Roger and Diana Capstick-Dale (hyphenated\u2014we are delighted with the perfect Britishness of it), a charming couple from London. He moves in art circles and was an associate of Ert\u00e9\u2019s; she is a theatrical set designer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Our appetizer consists of rolled fillet of sole and scampi with spicy cuttle-fish ink. It\u2019s gorgeous and Mrs. Capstick-Dale insists we take a photo of its brilliant orange and black swirled sauce for our magazine article. We don\u2019t tell her that we\u2019re shooting in black and white and it will end up looking like a biology dissection.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By the time coffee is served it\u2019s well after midnight and there\u2019s only one thing left\u2014the very reason we\u2019re here\u2014the unveiling (and imbibing!) of the new cognac, Courvoisier In\u00e9dit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Courvoisier\u2019s Master Blender stands and tells a little about the cognac were are about to experience. Among the vintages of cognac combined to create this particular product, one dates back to 1892, the year Ert\u00e9 was born. As he speaks, we begin to notice the train\u2019s staff, including the chefs, gather in the hallway outside the restaurant car door. Evidently our surprise is near at hand, and they too don\u2019t want to miss the event.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Master Blender passes the cordless microphone he\u2019s been speaking into to Courvoisier\u2019s director of PR, who thanks us all for coming, then gives a signal, which suddenly throws the entire room into darkness. \u201cLadies and gentlemen,\u201d he announces, \u201cCourvoisier presents In\u00e9dit!\u201d With that music begins swelling through the car, and after a second we realize it\u2019s the Dionne Warwick recording of Burt Bacharach\u2019s \u201cI Say a Little Prayer.\u201d The lights come up a bit, and into the car strides a tall, lithe woman with cascading blonde hair, carrying a bottle of cognac\u2014and completely nude. Nude, that is, except for a few strategically placed gold-leafed grapes over her more personal parts. She is the \u201cliving embodiment\u201d of In\u00e9dit, a living, breathing version of the Ert\u00e9 gal on the front of the bottle. The gay waiters exchange incredulous looks. The model brings the bottle around to each table, stopping for photographs, allowing us to examine her and the cognac. There\u2019s something just so deliriously fabulous about this all, so surreal and so European. Soon there are legions of waiters carting out more bottles of In\u00e9dit, filling our snifters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This bottle, featuring the nude woman, was actually Ert\u00e9\u2019s first ever design for Courvoisier. Unbelievably, this restrained drawing was deemed obscene by U.S. regulators under the Reagan administration and, denied access to the American market, Courvoisier canceled production. Following Ert\u00e9\u2019s death, the company decided to revive his original, unreleased (Ined\u00edt is French for unpublished) design\u2014and the less censorious Clinton administration cleared its importation to America. We savor several glasses of the rare and expensive blend. Only 4000 bottles of this cognac will be made; most of those will be collected, like expensive marbles, and never consumed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We retire to the club car\u2014it\u2019s now about 2:00 a.m.\u2014to find a few of our fellow travelers still eager for more festivities, and, inconceivably, for more cocktails. Leading this charge is the In\u00e9dit model, who, after being closed up in a train compartment all day (so as not to spoil our surprise), is ready to rhumba. She insists the pianist and the saxophonist (who seemingly never sleep) to play something danceable, and soon we find ourselves gyrating to \u201cRock Around the Clock\u201d. This proves to be our undoing, and finally, exhausted, we retire to our cabin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We slip into pajamas, and into our perfectly turned down berths. Giddy with exhaustion and fullness, we settle down to the rollicking motion of the train. A glance at my watch tells me it\u2019s now almost 3 a.m. We\u2019ve been eating and drinking for approximately 14 hours.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We sleep four hours and awaken heading into Paris\u2014a very agreeable way to begin any day. Our 20 hours aboard the Orient Express have come to an end\u2014save one last treat. Philip raps lightly on our door and enters briskly. \u201cBreakfast, sirs,\u201d he grins.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Article by John Polly and Clay Doyle. Photographs by Clay Doyle.
My First Travel Article!
{Published in Genre magazine, 1995}<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u00a0 When the nineteen cars of the Venice Simplon Orient-Express pull into Verona\u2019s Porta Nuova Station, heads turn. The gold trim glistens on the beautifully restored sixty year-old navy blue carriages. Improbably, the cars look as if they have been freshly washed en route to the station. Stewards leap from the cars to help us … <\/p>\n

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