Madeira: Cocktails, Cliffs, and a Pair of Louboutins
Views from the Savoy Saccharum Resort & Spa pool - Calheta.
A guest edit from a stylish Madeiran, whose world moves between London and Madeira.
Living in London, I’ve mastered the art of the fast-paced commute and the grey-sky hustle. But the moment I touch down on home soil in Madeira, everything shifts, even if my heels don’t get any shorter.
While guidebooks may usher you towards the must-see peaks, my Madeira is a far more curated affair. I’m not here for the beaten path; I’m here for the perfect esplanada by the sea.
There is no better theatre than Funchal for people-watching. I’ll sit with a crisp glass of Portuguese sparkling wine , or a perfectly mixed cocktail , and observe the gentle contrast of island life: locals moving with purpose, tourists drifting at a sun-dazed pace. It’s a study in movement, in mood, in style, and I have a front-row seat.
But beyond the cosmopolitan veneer, my heart belongs to the spirited gatherings of family and friends.
There’s an unmatched energy when Madeirans come together. You’ll find me in a circle of relatives, some in their nineties, sipping homemade drinks that could probably power a small jet. Their energy is infectious. You sit with them and suddenly feel invincible. We don’t simply grow old here; we become more seasoned.
When it’s time for the mountains, I do it with a certain… flair.
I love the drive through the peaks, windows down, eucalyptus in the air. But make no mistake, I’m a Louboutin girl, not a walking-boot girl. Packing light has never been part of the plan.
I travel with my very own Ambrósio (the husband), a cheeky nod to the iconic Ferrero Rocher advert, though naturally, we’ve elevated the offering. On winding mountain roads, when hunger strikes, he knows exactly what I need: a box of Uaucacau. There’s nothing quite like artisanal Madeiran chocolate to make a mountain drive feel like a red-carpet moment.
When it’s time to indulge, you’ll find me at Reid’s Bar or the Avista terrace, working my way through the cocktail menu (purely for research, of course), with the cliffs falling away beneath me and Funchal stretching out beyond. Or somewhere a little more local, Revolution in Funchal, or Pukiki in Calheta, where the island’s social scene feels vibrant, effortless, alive.
And of course, dressing for the occasion is part of the ritual. Madeira is home to some truly exceptional hairstylists and makeup artists, the kind who understand exactly how to prepare you for an evening that might turn into something more.
And when the Atlantic air calls for something slower?
The Saccharum Spa in Calheta is my sanctuary.
Because my Madeira isn’t about endurance or hiking boots. It’s about glamour. It’s about the sensory pleasure of a sunset with a glass in hand. It’s about feeling completely at ease in a place that is both rugged and refined.
So if you’re a city girl who prefers a terrace to a trail, and a cocktail to a canteen, take it from a Madeirense who knows:
This island is absolutely for you, too.
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