My Chinese week with Elle Macpherson, the Prince of Wales and Tony Blair

Peking

In Peking, I took Elle Macpherson to dinner at the ridiculous Lan Club — ridiculous because it is entered from the fluorescent lobby of a nondescript office block, and its owner, a very rich Chinese woman, had spent US$23 million on it — paying Philippe Starck for his signature designs. It is also ridiculous because the massive space is so ostentatiously and extravagantly decked out that it jars in communist China. And lest any Kissingeresque character should repeat his canard that China is no longer communist, they should try standing at Tiananmen Square and just mumbling something derogatory about the Chinese leadership, or loving about the Falun Gong gang. Then they will see if China is still communist or not. The likelihood, or certainty, is that they would be arrested within three seconds and chucked into a Yellow Maria. Let’s not forget that in China, the Communist Party owns everything, and the Party ranks above the State. Even though only 4 per cent of the entire Chinese population are Communist Party members, this amounts to around 60 million Commies — no small number.

But back to Elle, whom I have known for as long as her legendary body. It was her first time in China, and she happily stayed at the China Club, a 400-year-old courtyard mini-palace that stands in defiance of all the ghastly and mindless skyscrapers that have sprouted up and are still feverishly springing up all over Peking. Those descending on the capital for the Olympics will not fail to notice the sorrowful architecture. My heart aches, not for the nightingale, but for the wanton destruction of old Chinese buildings, especially courtyard houses, and all the magical hutongs, the traditional alleyways, that had for millennia defined the ancient city, 75 per cent of which have now been destroyed.