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GLOBETROTTING
26
JULY 2012
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HEMISPHERESMAGAZINE.COM
WAIKIKI, HAWAII
STORMING THE BEACH
A fashion phenom has
designs on Hawaii
Si ing between dri wood lamps and
a rack of 1950s mod swimsuits, Tory
Burch inhales deeply from the white
ginger-blossom lei around her neck.
Behind her, a formidable line of well-
dressed women stretches all the way
down an ikat-accented stairway before
spilling onto Kalakaua Avenue, in the
heart of Waikiki. They’ve assembled
for the grand opening of Burch’s
first Hawaiian boutique and, if their
perseverance prevails, a photo op with
the designer herself.
Eight years ago, a then-unknown
Burch launched her first store on
another, chillier island: Manha an.
Today marks the opening of her
68th store worldwide, with Tory Burch
now a household name synonymous
with bohemian chic. “I never could
have dreamed it would have launched
to this extent,” Burch says. “My
original five-year plan was to have
three stores.”
There’s a Hawaiian expression,
ha’aha’a
, that means “dignity in
humility,” and Burch, who appears
almost embarrassed by the traffic jam
of fans, has it. A single momwith three
sons (including 14-year-old twins), the
designer speaks with her clamoring
customers more o en about the dif-
ficulties and joys of motherhood than
about her upcoming collection. “My
boys complain all the time that I only
make women’s clothes,” Burch says—
but their biggest complaint is that their
jet-se ing mom doesn’t always take
themwith her on business trips.
“They are so jealous. They wish
they could be here to surf,” she says.
“And they would kill me if they found
out I spent my entire time in Hawaii
without ge ing in the ocean.” Lucky
for her, the new boutique is just a block
from the beach.
—AARON KENDALL
LÆSØ, DENMARK
KILN TIME
REVIVING A SALTY OLD INDUSTRY
Poul Christensen, former mayor of Læsø (population
2,000), a tiny Danish island in Kattegat Bay, stands in a
humid wooden hut stirring a vat of steaming brine with
a large rake. A few flakes of salt fall from the rafters into
his curly hair. Unfazed, he continues his demonstration
of a recently revived sea-salt extraction technique, a
weeklong simmering process that produces chunky,
delicious crystals. “You cannot boil the water,” he says.
“If you do, the salt will turn gray and bitter.”
Læsø’s briny groundwater, combined with the region’s dry summers, made it a salt production center during
the Middle Ages. But with the expansion of this timber-reliant industry came deforestation, and after sandstorms
whipped across the subsequently unprotected island and almost destroyed it, the process was banned for nearly a
century. Many unemployed islanders found work on freighters, and some resorted to scavenging shipwrecks.
Skip ahead to the late 1980s, when Christensen was working as an instructor for at-risk youth. Looking for a
way to create jobs for idle teens,
he hit upon the idea of reviving
the island’s salt industry—but
this time on a smaller scale, so it
wouldn’t have the same negative
consequences.
There was just one problem: No
written record of the salt-making
process existed. So Christensen
headed to Luisenhall in Germany,
the nearest similar salt facility,
where he was shown traditional
methods by seventh-generation
salt makers. The first Læsø kiln
was raised in 1991; today, Læsø
salt retails for $20 a pound.
Demonstration concluded,
Christensen offers a nugget to one
of his guests. She tastes it, licks
her lips thoughtfully—and hurries
off to the gift shop to stock up.
—BRITTANY SHOOT
GOAT
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DRAGON
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SNAKE
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