Top yacht designers pick their favourite piece of design

Words by Donald Starkey

I had a very modest upbringing so it was not until my mid-teens, having started my first job as an architect’s office junior, that I first tasted a decent bottle of wine. Fortunately, I developed a taste for it and have been drinking wine ever since — it has fuelled my creative juices on many occasions.

Good wines need a corkscrew; it can be so frustrating when you do not have a decent one. I have had success with the cheap, old fashioned penknife type — bottle between the knees and pull. There have been many versions designed since — mechanical, electrically operated and elaborate, such as the amazing bottle opening sculpture designed by Rob Higgs in 2006. But the one that has become my favourite is the Screwpull LM-400. It is a simple, cast engineered aluminium tubular device presented in an elegant, velvet lined black leather case.

It was some 10 years ago, after we had made a successful client presentation on a 60 metre yacht project, celebrating with a glass of wine with my friend and business colleague Kevin Glancy, that the subject of corkscrews came up. We each gave our ideas of what the perfect one should be. On my next birthday Kevin presented me with a Screwpull LM-400, which has been cherished and used ever since.

Practical, functional and so very simple to use, it appeals to me as good design. Placed over a standing bottle, held around the bottle top with the left hand, the lever is pulled over the top of the bottle as far as it can go with the right hand, then swung back over and the cork is free. It works every time, even through capped corks. Life would just not be the same without it.

Words by Andre Hoek

Design is valuable when it stands the test of time. Few manufactured items retain their design appeal for more than a few years and many quickly become outdated. Not so the Porsche 911, a genuine style icon that not only has survived for more than 50 years but is still being built to virtually the same design. For me, this is a car that looks right from all angles, is beautiful in its own right and still turns heads young and old. I have owned a Porsche Targa and presently own a 911 4S, a car that is 15 years old, but still looks like new — it could have taken shape on the drawing board yesterday.

The combination of sheer power and beauty is intoxicating. Just setting eyes on these cars is always a joy and to drive them is one of the most exhilarating experiences on wheels. Performance is virtually unmatched. The Porsche 911 was for many years one of the most powerful sports cars on the road. It possesses phenomenal acceleration; it can take a corner at very high speeds and holds the road like a limpet. The combination of brilliant styling and engineering to produce an adrenalin-pumping performance is worthy of considerable respect. Few 54-year-old designs have achieved that.

I am not a car fanatic but I do appreciate design that is timeless and works for the end user. I like to think that the design work emanating from Hoek Design produces yachts with genuinely appealing looks that will still melt the heart in 50 years’ time. The pleasure derived from owning a thing of beauty is something upon which one cannot put a price. But it is fair to say that brilliant design will always hold its value. The Porsche 911 is evidence of that.

Words by Mark Tucker, founder of Design Unlimited

As a poverty-stricken art student, I paid silly money, borrowed from my dad, to get my hands on the Olympus OM-1n. It was my absolute dream purchase.

I loved everything about this single lens reflex camera, and still do. It had everything: the looks, the textured finish, the perfect weight, the right balance in my hands and ergonomic functional controls. And the Leica lenses were interchangeable, making it extremely flexible. It felt so good to use – and use it I did, extensively.

But how photography has changed 30 years on. Then it was all about looking through the lens, playing with the aperture, exposure, shutter speed and making a deeply considered decision as to whether it was the right shot to take or not. Developing the film in a dark room and seeing the image so caringly captured come to life was pure alchemy. Now luxury smartphones, throwaway shots and Photoshop editing have changed this art form in its entirety.

I’m no Luddite, but there was a certain romance associated with “real” photography. There’s a feeling evoked using the old methods that cannot be captured with the latest technology. It’s the understanding of the space around you; making something that elicits a unique feeling in the viewer, both of which I have tried to harness during my many years of yacht design. And the ease of use of the OM-1n, with all its innovative features, is something else that’s reflected in our studio’s design process.

Earlier this year, I vowed to put my old OM-1n to good use. It took two months just to track down the batteries – from the US. Now it’s time to set up the dark room once again.

Words by Martin Francis

When I first visited Venice with my parents in the mid-1950s I took a photo of a fórcola, the rowlock of a gondola. I still have the picture in my archives. Perhaps my interest in the shape, which then appeared completely abstract, stemmed from the fact that my mother, having moved from the stuffy Royal College of Art to the more dynamic Chelsea School of Art, had studied sculpture with a bright young teacher called Henry Moore.

On returning to Venice many years later, I met the master craftsman Saverio Pastor, who makes oars and fórcole for all the traditional boats on the Venetian Lagoon. I acquired the first fórcola in my now bountiful collection and made a new friend.

This example is a stern fórcola da puparìn. The puparìn is the most elegant of the sandoli (work boats) originally designed to transport rich Venetian families. It is the perfect combination of function and form, every part has a purpose – high gear, low gear, reverse – and the whole piece puts even Henry Moore in the shade. It is carved from a single piece of walnut using traditional hand-tools like the adze and draw knife.

Having started my career as a cabinetmaker I am filled with nostalgia every time I make my pilgrimage to Pastor in his small workshop on the canal in the Dorsoduro district. He is a passionate supporter of traditional craftsmanship and has one apprentice – I’m often tempted to ask him if he would like another. Since every type of vessel has two fórcole, and there are at least nine boat types, I have many more visits in store, whether or not I’m on the payroll.

_Words by _Marnix Hoekstra, co-creative director at Vripack

Both I and Bart, my co-creative director at Vripack, owned the Sony Sports Walkman when we were teenagers. We didn’t know this about each other until we met years later. But it shows our tastes were aligned even then!

It finally allowed you to bring your tunes to the water. That was amazing for guys like us, who loved sailing and surfing. It was splash-proof, so you didn’t need to wrap it in plastic bags (something we both did with previous Walkmans).

And, of course, it was super cool in the late 1980s because it was bright yellow. It was chunky, tough, with this big clip on the side that you had to lift over the rubber seal that kept it waterproof. We loved it. You really wanted to wear it on your belt where everyone could see it.

I got my Sports Walkman when I was 15, in 1991. I was earning some money cleaning boats. In my little village there was one store where you could buy electronics and I remember going week after week. Finally, after a few weeks, I had enough to buy it.

I took it on my first major crossing, a tall ships race from Aberdeen to Helgoland, an island north of Germany. On the night-watch I listened to my Walkman, looking over the sea. I felt very wise and mature.

It brings back memories just looking at it, but also makes you realise how fast we move to new technologies. It is a great symbol of how a good design can be super successful when the timing is right, and how swift that moment is gone.

Words by Mario Pedol

Five years ago we bought Eames aluminium chairs for our new office in Milan and I added to the order an Eames lounge chair (shown here with ottoman) for my house. They were all delivered to the office, and the lounge chair is still there! I can’t bring myself to take it home - I love to see it when I’m working.

The chair is an absolute icon of industrial design and was created by Americans Charles and Ray Eames in 1956. I love it for its combination of innovation, technology and style, while its timeless elegance means it fits proudly in any environment, from a traditional gentlemen’s club to a contemporary Milan design office, and from a yacht club lounge to a chalet in the Dolomites. The three materials chosen by the Eameses - wood, leather and aluminium - evoke nature and modernity at the same time.

The chair is made with three separate shells (seat, backrest and headrest) of cold-moulded wood “filled” with comfortable leather cushions that are connected to the shells by an almost-invisible zip. The shells are connected to the aluminium frame through flexible joints that enhance ergonomics and comfort, allowing the chair to adapt to the sitter. Behind its apparent simplicity lies a hidden depth of sophisticated design and a study of detail both in the production process and in the product itself.

The lounge chair perfectly embodies a motto that is framed and hangs on a wall in our office and that we always keep in mind in our design practice: “Simplicity is the essence of good design”.

Words by Andrew Winch, founder of Winch Design

Four years ago, I decided to improve my attire. I had had a few suits made in the past, by no one in particular, but I wanted to treat myself because we were about to celebrate 25 years of Winch Design.

I did my research, looked at the options, and thought that Richard James was the best fit for me. His cut was comfy, the suits were not too flamboyant but, at the same time, they were individual: I did want to stand out.

The first suit I had made was a black-tie outfit for the anniversary party itself, which we held in Mayfair. When the tailor came to measure me, a wonderfully old-school character, I realised what my clients must feel like when I design them a yacht.

When he said that I needed a slightly longer cuff, I trusted him and found that I really loved having something custom-made to me. When I wear that suit I stand straighter, I feel like I have a better physique and I feel empowered. No one has the perfect body, but it is a wonderful feeling when you put something on and feel proud.

I have now had four suits made by Richard James. The next one was for presentation meetings, in a Prince of Wales check, and I wore it recently to pitch for my biggest project yet. When I met the owner, the first thing he said was: “That’s a lovely suit.” It made him feel that he was talking to someone who cared about aesthetics.

I got the job and I like to think that when I finish it next year and he sees his yacht in the yard, he will feel like I do when I wear one of my bespoke suits.