THE MYSTERY OF MUSTIQUE
How royals and revelry created the world’s most notorious ‘fantasy island’, writes Nigel Tisdall
Full agreement if plenty of water,” stated the telegram. It was sent in spring 1958 by Christopher Tennant, 2nd Baron Glenconner, to his son, Colin. The 32-year-old Scot, who dressed with a dandyish flair and had a quick temper, was proposing to buy a tiny, beach-scalloped island in The Grenadines for $88,000 without even stepping ashore.
Only four kilometres by two-and-ahalf, its name made blunt reference to the prolific mosquitoes and there were neither roads nor jetty. Needless to say, Mustique had no water supply beyond the rain that occasionally fell on its palm-dotted shores.
From such a whim-fuelled stab at adventure, one of the world’s most exclusive and enchanting holiday islands was born. Just 160 kilometres west of Barbados, Mustique is today home to around 100 fabulous villas, along with two charming boutique hotels, immaculately kept white-sand beaches, a sweet little library and thriving equestrian centre, plus a large number of red-footed tortoises who manifest zero interest in the cavalcade of rock stars, royalty and dismayingly young self-made rich who come to relax in this minuscule paradise. How did this come about? “People, press and princess,” was Tennant’s typically well-turned answer.
A flamboyant and wealthy showman with top-drawer connections, his masterstroke in developing Mustique came two years later, in 1960, when he asked the recently engaged Princess Margaret and Antony Armstrong-Jones (later Lord Snowdon) if they would prefer “something in a small box from Asprey, or a piece of Mustique as a wedding present”.
Later that year, honeymooning in the Caribbean on the Royal Yacht Britannia, Her Royal Highness duly checked out her gift. Mustique reminded her of Kenya — and she was “burnt to a frazzle” — while her husband christened it “Mustake”.
Tennant’s next triumph was — at Princess Margaret’s suggestion — to engage the effervescent theatre designer-turned-architect Oliver Messel to design the first properties on the island.
These included The Cotton House (now a 17-room hotel), the villas Clonsilla and Phibblestown (named after Irish villages and owned by the Guinness family), and Les Jolies Eaux, Margaret’s happy hideaway set on a panoramic 10-acre plot at the island’s southern end.
Today, the Mustique Company — which was created in 1968 to develop and administer the island and is now zestfully celebrating its 50th anniversary — offers 10 Messel Masterpiece villas for rent.
For many, they are a key reason to visit, with their graceful indoor-outdoor vistas and trademark use of sage green or canary yellow. Clonsilla is particularly rich in original features, but others of note include Samambaia and Blue Waters.
For the first two decades, life was enjoyed a la Robinson Crusoe. “Nothing worked,” Princess Margaret recalled. “We didn’t care.”
At 6pm, when the ladies turned on their hairdryers, all the lights would blow. How wonderful this was in reality is hard to gauge, but Mustique is now immeasurably improved, its villas a bedazzling swirl of infinity pools, media rooms and longserving uniformed staff.
Today, the “mules” (heavy-duty golf carts) traditionally used to get around have been joined by Smart cars and electric Hummers. The island now has 630 vehicles — a far cry from when Tennant imported a self-assembly jeep from Neiman Marcus that took three days to put together, only to find the key was missing. In frustration, he kicked it so hard he broke his toe.
To its credit, the Mustique Company has, like the chatelain of a stately home, done its best to keep the charm while moving with the times.
“The flight in is a great leveller,” explains its managing director, Roger Pritchard, referring to the fleet of smartly liveried, 18-seater Twin Otters that bring homeowners and visitors to the island’s tiny bamboo-and-thatch airport. “You really do only need flip-flops and a sarong”, pipe the guidelines, a subtle hint