Go Spain:Shops or museums? Dining or clubbing? Tough choices, but try to do it all in the Spanish capital – writes Rosemary Mac Cabe
WALKING THE streets of Madrid on a bright Saturday in September, the absence of velour, towelling terrycloth and the triple stripe is a balm to eyes damaged by repeated exposure to Ugg boots, Abercrombie sweats and jeggings. Instead, Spanish women favour tailoring: crisp cotton trousers from Zara; silk blouses from Massimo Dutti; basics from Bershka and Sfera; with touches from labels such as Hoss Intropia, Ana Locking and Paco Rabanne.
If “foreigners”, as every good Irish mammy likes to call them, have preconceptions about us Irish, it can hardly be said that we don’t reciprocate; the most common stereotype, of course, being that “they” – blessed with warmer weather and greater sartorial choice – “dress very well”.
The sad fact of the matter is, those non-Irish people – Americans excluded, being as they are a particular breed, especially when it comes to fashion – don’t dress particularly well. What they do manage to achieve, day in, day out, is a certain look, a look at which we are not at all adept: casual chic. Crucially, they achieve this with the striking, glaring, conscious omission of that Irish favourite: the tracksuit.
Madrid is the capital of Spain, and signs on it. Bustling streets, an amazingly functional and effective bus system (who knew such things could exist?) and an underground that rivals London’s mean navigating the city is a doddle, and with a weekend at your disposal, there’s little that can’t be achieved.
First things first: there's no point in visiting without going to at least one museum, for no other reason than when you come home, one of your colleagues will say something irritating and ill-timed along the lines of: "Did you see the amazingmuseum of decorative arts on Calle de Montalbán?", and you'll have to mumble something about Goya and Reina Sofia.
The Museo Nacional del Prado on Paseo del Prado is, arguably, one of the world’s greatest galleries. It’s set in a former market garden and allegedly erected as a Spanish rival to Paris’s Louvre. It can be overwhelming, so my tip would be to arrive after breakfast, head to the museum cafe for elevenses (when abroad, hourly coffee breaks are a must) and stay until siesta time (around 2pm), at which point you can skip off for lunch at a nearby bar.
While you’re there, check out the extensive Goya collection, one of my personal highlights. Though his art can be melancholy, dark and not necessarily the uplifting watercolour so loved by Impressionist fans, there’s no better insight into the dark history of the Spanish capital than through his lens. There are also works by Velasquez, Titian and Hieronymous Bosch, to name but a few.
If that hasn't sated your appetite for museum-going, the nearby Centro de Arte Reina Sofia is another great choice. A former hospital, the museum is now almost entirely dedicated to Spanish art, showcasing amazing collections from Salvador Dali and Pablo Picasso – and is home to the Spanish master's Guernica, his statement during the second World War about the deaths of thousands of Spanish civilians.
HISTORY ISeverywhere in Madrid, and if you have a few hours to spare, take a walk. Any decent guidebook will have a list of recommended city walks, and most hotels and guesthouses will have contacts for walking guides. On the blindingly sunny Saturday I was there, we took a tour from the Puerta del Sol, from which you can walk four entirely different Madrids: the commercial district to the north; the authentic Madrid of Lavapiés to the south; to the east, along Calle Mayor, the heart of the city; and the Madrid of the well-to-do, in the west.
The Royal Palace, residence of the kings of Spain for centuries, is a short walk away, and the former Arab fortress is definitely worth a visit, with €9 admission including a guided tour.
For dinner, we headed to Dassa Bassa on the outskirts of the trendy Salamanca district. Chef Dario Barrio is, according to the New York Times, one of Madrid's rising culinary stars – although what they neglected to mention is that he is also incredibly easy on the eye. We dined to a chilled soundtrack on potato foam with fresh truffles and beef with a chocolate sauce, to name just two of the surprising but delicious courses included in the tasting menu. Anyone familiar with Buddha Bar in Paris, London, New York, Kiev (and so on) will be familiar with this well-worn line in chic dining. Recommendation? Book a late dinner to avoid the early eating so uncool to Madrid natives.
There is no shortage of trendy bars in Madrid, either, which makes deciding where to go after dinner a bit tricky. My tack was to spot the best-dressed crowd and follow them. Tailored harem pants and a sheer silk blouse? Surely she knows where she’s going. Top tip: stay 10 feet or so behind and don’t try to act stealthy. That leads only to accusations of stalking and possible arrest by Spanish police whose frantic shouting you will not understand. Or so I hear.
On day two, museums can happily be abandoned in favour of shopping – of the precise, military kind. There are endless options in fashionable Madrid, and one would be wise to approach this exercise with a small degree of caution and a large degree of budgetary discretion.
The initial temptation is to ignore stores that are familiar to the Irish high street, but that would be a folly of the highest order, and I will tell you why: buyers in Spanish Zara, for example, order items with its Spanish customer in mind, while buyers in Irish Zara . . . well, you see where I’m going. What this really means is that Zara in Madrid is full of clothes to suit the stylish, tailoring lover who wears her hair in a long side plait and wears low heels to the supermarket, while Zara in Ireland caters for the girl with her hair in an undone pile at the nape of her neck, who wears Uggs to dinner at Pichet.
Aside from Zara, which has stores everywhere and a much larger selection than most Irish stores, check out H&M – because, as well as the teen-driven sweats and neons much loved by Irish HM buyers, there are silks, tailored dresses and chic blazers aplenty – and Sfera, the little-known Spanish stores which is a little like Zara-lite, with an even lower price point. Prices are another thing worth bearing in mind; purchases made from any of the indigenous Inditex stores (Zara, Bershka, Massimo Dutti) will show a marked difference in price.
OFF THE BEATENtrack, there are the obvious and not-so-obvious surprises, in the form of handmade leather handbags and shoes, Arab-influenced decorations and sculptures, and blankets, throws and cushion covers in all manner of fabrics and colours.
If you’re in Madrid on a Sunday, be sure to check out el Rastro, a Sunday market running the length of la Ribera de Curtidores, selling everything from bric-a-brac to antique books and coins.
Dinner on day two? Total Room seemed like another fashionable option – the Michelin-starred restaurant is, after all, located in an art gallery and fashion space that showcases up-and-coming Spanish designers and juxtaposes art, fashion, lifestyle and gastronomy in the cool, relaxed environs of an enormous formerly residential building.
Another big must-see in Madrid is flamenco, for which the city is famous the world over. We went to Casa Patas on Calle Canizares, in the Huertas area, which combines traditional cooking with flamenco performed live in the intimate but spacious back room – and with the flamenco not finishing up until 2am, you could be forgiven for thinking that the night was over. Not so! Nightlife in Spain is notoriously decadent, carrying on into the wee small hours with not a thought for the day ahead.
Following my previous sheep mentality, we followed the stylish set into the winding streets of Chueca, Madrid’s gay district, and ended up in Mito, a disco-bar to rival the glitziest, tackiest disco-bars of my misspent Mallorca youth. Shakira? Yes, please. Lady Gaga? Sure, why not? Madonna? If you say so. After all, hadn’t I put on my best tailoring and my highest heels – all bought in Madrid that very day? Sure, I was practically a local.