7th February 2016
The wealth on display this weekend in Dubai was truly insane. Every precious jewel in the developed world seemed to be here, draped on slender arms and swan necks. Catching the sun were Hûblot watches sitting snug on hairy male wrists. Current colleziöne Hermés IPhone covers made me blush at my antiquated Nokia phone ashamedly still in use (blame Kingsley: he hides/chucks my phones and I can’t be buying new ones each month, the rascal).
But nothing prepared me for sheer number of prestigious racing cars lined up at the Dubai Fountains parking valet station overlooking the Burj Khalifa, today. The number plates alone would cost a small fortune (all single digits and hailing from KSA – the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia). And by the look of the well dressed bodies stepping from the drivers’ seats, the Kingdom’s young princes have stopped by Dubai to play/shop.
Everyday punters still halt to attention, mouths hanging open, marveling at this sight. Over seven years living among this ostentatious spectacle of dripping affluence has not dented my awe of just how rich really rich people actually are.