How to not feel like a ‘swamp creature’ after a long-haul flight

At Bloomberg Pursuits, we love to travel. And we always want to make sure we’re doing it right. So we’re talking to globe-trotters in all of our luxury fields — food, wine, sports, cars, real estate — to learn about their high-end hacks, tips, and off-the-wall experiences. These are the  Distinguished Travel Hackers.

Luc Goidadin, 46, is the creative director of Smythson, the vaunted UK stationer and luxury leather goods maker with multiple Royal Warrants. Having arrived from Burberry four years ago, where he steered design direction for 15 years, Goidadin has added a bit of modern panache to the somewhat fusty brand, with items such as the new $565 Organizer Tech Pouch, a cross-grain calf leather zippered holdall for everything from your passport to your cellphone and essential cables.

When not at home in either Somerset or London with his partner, longtime literary agent Nick Quinn, he’s on the road for work. Goidadin uses trains for short-haul trips within Europe, so his annual travel tally is hard to quantify in air miles, but if he had to choose: “Swiss, that’s my airline — I have the biggest emotional attachment to it, because I used to live in the Geneva area and it reminds me of visiting my grandparents,” he says. 

But lately it’s been all about South Korea. “I take Eurostar at least one a month, and six flights to Seoul,” he says. “Flying Korean Air — my tip is to order the spicy noodles when everyone’s sleeping. I’m not normally a big stuff-your-face-during-a-flight person, but I pig out on those spicy noodles. It’s very comforting and the moment one person has it, everyone else starts ordering it on the flight.” 

Wet wipes are the trick to feeling more professional at the end of a long flight

That feeling of shop-soiled grubbiness I associate with long-haul flying makes me inordinately grumpy: You’ve got all that rigmarole at the airport, so you know you’re not going to get the hotel room for hours to come. I saw people using wet wipes on children and thought, “Oh, God, those are brilliant things.” And you can get good ones that don’t contain plastic. I find they’re invaluable for an invigorating full-body once-over. A good two hours before landing time, when people are still finishing their movies — it’s infuriating for whoever’s behind you waiting for the bathroom — I get up and do the whole shebang, my whole body. It just marks a huge change of mood.

I usually buy some at the airport, at Boots at Heathrow mostly. It’s particularly good when you’re travelling with colleagues, and you’re permanently having to function. It makes for a way of being switched on from the moment you step off the plane, as opposed to feeling like a swamp creature.

Insider tips for enjoying Venice

I’ve spent quite a lot of time in Italy, and someone who knew I was going to Venice to buy glass — on Murano, which can be quite depressing, I find, quite grim — gave me some advice: You want to find people there who are truly crafting and manufacturing stuff, like at Salviati. And for a meal, Busa alle Torre de Lele. It’s not the most polished or anything like that, but it’s got this really big character of a bearded owner, who sits at your table for a few minutes and asks you how you’re doing. The dishes are really simple Venetian with fish and all that. Always go to Venice in November or December. The light is incredible in those winter skies, and it feels like you’re in a Turner painting.

Where to shop for antiques in Seoul — and how to get them home safely

I love antiques, and discovering them in Korea, which is such a hi-tech everything-new-new-new sort of place, was incredible. Go to the side streets of Insa-dong in Seoul for antique ceramics; you can get Song dynasty, museum-grade stuff in a very unassuming shop or two. It feels like it can’t possibly be the real thing — it’s like in an Indiana Jones movie, with all these side alleys where really old shops stack everything high. You can have a real proper rummage.

And I carry them back in my  Rimowa carry-on, which is like having your own little bank vault that you can pack with fragile things and they won’t get damaged. So if you’re someone who buys ceramics when you travel, you need a hard-sided suitcase. Surround your purchases with underwear, and hey, presto, everything comes back in one piece.

Skip the shrink wrap and consider this trick from Goidadin’s grandmother to protect your luggage

Growing up in France, my English grandmother, who died when she was just short of 100, would fly over to see us with suitcases bedecked with gold Christmas tinsel, knotted at the handles.  She was a real character, incredibly stylish but very, very quirky. There was never any chance of mistaking her bags on the carousel. I remember in my early teens thinking, “Oh, God, it’s so embarrassing travelling with her” because it looked like she was lugging a slightly desiccated Christmas tree when we went to the airport with her. But it was a really good way of spotting her luggage, and a great decoy: It tells you I don’t care, so what this contains is purely functional and not worth rifling through. I follow her example to this day, though I use colourful tapes instead, because I’m not quite brave enough yet to try tinsel. I’m working towards that, with age and wisdom.

If you want to cut down your carbon footprint but still travel, follow this maxim

I use a simple rule of thumb: If you’re travelling for pleasure, try not to fly, but if you’re travelling for work, it’s OK. Unless, maybe, to see family if I’m in a location that doesn’t allow me to take the train. And even then, you can try to tread a bit more lightly. It’s basically thinking twice about flying somewhere. The rail network throughout Europe is amazing. For vacation, I do maybe one trip every three years — taking a plane and going somewhere special, I mean.

Moving out of London has helped Goidadin discover the British countryside

The pandemic forced me to discover hundreds of miles of public footpaths across the breathtaking Somerset countryside. Hiking up hills dotted with prehistoric burial mounds, Roman hillforts and wild orchids has become incredibly important to me. I love a luxury getaway, but the alchemy of walking, observing and breathing in your surroundings is pretty much unbeatable.

There is the Newt, of course, which is an agriturismo-type thing in the middle of Somerset, towards Bruton; you can traipse through the fields and then arrive in this super deluxe setting. That’s where the yummy mummies go. It’s a popular area for caving, too. The Hunter’s Lodge in Wincanton is a pub that looks like they have bodies in the freezer, but it’s where all the cavers go — it’s no photographs inside, stuff like that — and almost like one of the private clubs of London, but in a very frugal setting. It’s all very tribal.

Or you can traipse into some farm in the middle of the countryside where some guy basically doesn’t have a license to sell you his homemade hooch. He sells bits of cheese, which is how he makes money officially — Cheddar Gorge is local — but it’s with a wink and a nudge. Then he comes in with this mind-blowing cider that basically burns the roof of your mouth. It’s so strong that underneath the barrels where there’s been some spillage it burned through the stone.

How to find great restaurants on a road trip

I always remember my parents saying you should go to where the truck drivers go — maybe when we were driving to Italy. If you saw a lot of lorries parked outside a little restaurant or something, they tended to be really good, because obviously those guys would’ve tried all of the other places. It’d always be very simple but very good food.

When planning your own travel, follow Goidadin’s rule of thumb for Google

When you’re doing some research online about a place before you go, the rule is, if it’s on the first page of Google search, maybe that’s not a good idea. The harder it is to find out about it, probably the more interesting it will be. It’s like sculpture: You have a massive piece of stone that you narrow down, narrow down, narrow down. And I don’t like to use a travel agent because I’m just worried I’ll get shunted into a place where they’ve simply got a good deal on commission. My extreme paranoia makes me want to control the whole search, so I’ve only got myself to blame if it’s a disaster.

Take these tips on Paris from someone who used to live there

Paris is one of those places that’s like Jekyll and Hyde: I hated it when I lived there, but visiting is just delightful. I never tire of going back — I’m half-French, so it feels like fulfilling my national duty. I love Patisserie Stohrer, on rue Montorgeuil. They do canelé, those amazing little crispy, caramelised and gooey-inside pastries. And there’s this cheese shop; cheese is my other love — Barthélémy at 51 rue de Grenelle in the seventh. The woman there told me she used to provide cheese for the prime minister’s house, Hôtel Matignon and the Elysée.

I stay on the Left Bank. Walk around rue Bonaparte, rue du Bac, Invalides — I love that area. Paris isn’t a place known for its convenience industry, but the tabacs around the mosque there, the little corner shops, they used to do couscous for takeaway. You’d be able to pick up a little bit of warm couscous on your way back home from work. The one closest to me, Place des Victoires, is where I first noticed it because I could smell it. It was a real discovery. 

Europe’s best road trip starts in the  Italian alps and heads down to the sea

When you go over the Val d’Aosta and into the Ligurian coast and the Cinque Terre, those drives are incredible, including through the mountains and the weird little villages that take you through the alpine territory and down. As a child I used to love going to the Cinque Terre and the fun  fishing villages around there; they were always delightful and just felt like an adventure. You’ve got the tunnel under the Mont Blanc, and when you emerge from that terrifying tunnel and suddenly you’ve crossed this huge chunk of rock ... it’s gorgeous. Italy is so special because almost every town and village is its own place. That I remember as a child, it struck me, it just felt like a multiplicity of little countries side by side.

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