Brace yourselves, there’s a whole load of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (and a bit of poop, for that dose of unprofessionalism that I know you secretly love) references coming your way, because I’m about to take you behind scenes to where Pierre Marcolini chocolates – also known as dreams – are made. Now, if you’re not familiar with the Pierre Marcolini magic, first of all, let me book a crane to lift that rock you’ve been living under (do Uber do cranes?), and secondly you need to up your dessert game, son.

I’m not necessarily one to say, of course – we all know that anything brown makes its way into my mouth (this is not where the poop jokes happen, people.) and if it looks like a half-decent éclair, it has full potential to rock my world. But what I admire about Maison Pierre Marcolini, aside from outstanding practice of traditional Belgian artisan skills with matched innovation and creativity, is the respect for the bean. Meaning, an appreciation not only of the chemistry and the taste, but the people and community around the bean. Fairtrade is Marcolini’s norm, anything less is not accepted – and this is one of the decisive factors that I personally find validates the Maison an haute chocolaterie. So you try not comparing this to Willy Wonka and the cocoa-loving Oompa Loompas. (I do stand to believe that we should be seeing more of this type of approach in the fashion industry but perhaps this is a topic for another time.)

The factory is an unpretentious block of a building that exudes a smell that some would consider an aphrodisiac – a somewhat spicy, earthy scent that piques curiosity yet makes your knees weak at the same time. This scent is directly traced to the first room where the cocoa beans are roasted in a giant contraption – the smell is most pungent here. With every following room, the aroma changes, and we taste each process with our noses – a whiff of vanilla and chilli in the mixing room, a dash of cream in the churning chamber… This is also where I chant to myself Don’t go Augustus Gloop, don’t go Augustus Gloop watching the chocolate swirl, until our guide hands over a small plastic spoonful of freshly churned liquid chocolate, and I melt at the spot.

In the main hall we are given permission to pick up and eat anything off the assembly line and I ask myself this is some kind of heaven yes/no? If there were grass I’d have eaten it. The candied orange covered in dark chocolate (long poop-looking bits below) is especially scrumdidiyumptious. I am genuinely contemplating on moving to Brussels. Into a chocolate factory. Maybe build a pillow fortress behind a stack of cocoa bean burlap sacks and come out only when all the lights are shut. A bit like a raccoon, yes.

Candied orange things covered in dark chocolate

Eclairs in the making

Raspberry Cœers (‘hearts’)

The Marcolini residence

Much like grapes or coffee, cocoa beans are also identified the geographical factors of the source, so the outcome is vastly different depending on which passports the beans hold. Pierre Marcolini is not about creating ‘Belgian chocolate’, but in maintaining the native character whether it’s from Ecuador, Cuba, or Peru – a celebration of origins. This is apparent from his private residence, in central Brussels – ceiling as high as it comes, walls and corners littered with art and souvenirs from South America, Africa and Asia. After poking your head into his room for whiskey and cigars you realise, that for Marcolini this is not just a job, but a passion, this everlasting search for a voyage of the senses.

Finally, I am henceforth doomed with any diet whatsoever, as Pierre Marcolini have just opened the first standalone London store, on 37 Marylebone High Street W1U 4EQ, which also sells (fully-decent) éclairs, therefore guaranteed to rock my world at least 200%. I’ll build my pillow fortress there for now.

Park & Cube was the guest of Pierre Marcolini; All views and opinion mine.

Dress & Tray – House of Hackney

If you look closely, this bottle literally has my name on it. See? If that doesn’t make it entirely mine, I’m not sure what does. Wow, sorry – there is a reason why I’m getting so dibs-y with a bottle of vodka, hear me out…this is actually my very first time mixing a cocktail at home! (Unless you count the cocktail of burritos and cheap beer I mix inside my digestive system, then I’ve done it every Friday night.) I’ve always been intrigued by the art and science of cocktails, and still consider it as wondrous as the Patronus charm. This is probably why I’ve fallen in love with every single bartender. (And also probably why I’m banned from bars.) Turns out, all you really need is a few simple ingredients and a shot glass to become your own sexy witch.

So I’ve decided to put down Learn more cocktails on my to-do list this summer, at least the classics. Speaking of which, Cîroc are hosting Mixology masterclasses every Wednesday throughout the summer at Southbank. In fact, they’ve taken the London riverside by (tropical) storm since June 1 and transformed the entire Tower Bridge area into a summer-long boutique festival dubbed Cîroc at London Riviera. Last time I checked it was overflowing with pineapples, palm trees, and Eastern Mediterranean street food (created by celeb chef John Quilter and chef Tom Kime). So, guess where I will be after work every day until the end of summer? I’ll most likely be wearing a light palm-tree print dress with matching sandals and a straw hat – you’ll know it’s me from across the river. If not, I’ll be in one of the Cîroc day-beds with a Pineapple-y drink in hand. Wake me up when September ends…

Art direction and photography by Shini Park. Shoot assitance by Simon Schmidt. In collaboration with Cîroc Vodka

Sandals & tray – House of Hackney. Jewellery – byAlona. Sunnies – Vintage.

Scarf – Nazanin Rose Matin

It’s difficult to write an account of an experience in the Maldives without an introductory flailing of the arms and a bit of gurgling, followed by something that’s spelt a little bit like this. It’s all very professional, really. In fact, the world should celebrate that I’m not on Youtube because it all looks and sounds like Tom Hanks in Cast Away with a bit of spirit fingers sprinkled in the mix. (I am on Snapchat however, making the same noises at brownies and puppies on Broadway Market: Sparkncube) Even re-living the Maldives through these photos puts me on a high.

As mentioned in Part 1, the main attraction at Conrad Maldives – once you’ve gotten over (warning: this may take forever) the milky-white beach, azure skies and the most translucent water since bottled Fiji – is the sense of privacy and isolation. I’d fully embraced this inside my Water villa (with thumping rap music on the first night), with a tinge of suspicion that perhaps it was to be expected given the nature of architecture, but was promptly proven otherwise as we moved into a Deluxe Beach villa two nights later. In theory, your neighbours are close by, but the minute the gates click shut, you feel like a homeowner. And it’s a big home – larger in fact, than most of my previous London flats, and I don’t recall ever having an outdoors bath-pavilion (unless you count the one where water leaked from the ceiling). So there, yet another reason to move to the Indian Ocean.

Lingerie – Triangl. Serum – Estee Lauder. Sandals – Pour la Victoire. Watch – Daniel Wellington. Sunnies – Westweard Leaning

Romper – ASOS. Necklace – EFFRA

Speaking of reasons to move, add these too – ten restaurants where one is 5m (16 ft) under water, and another inside a wine cellar; an extensive list of DVDs and snacks that can be ordered through room service for rainy afternoons after lunch; and a spa that is set on stilts with glass floors so that you can drift off counting the stripes of a family of clownfish (“three”) while your back gets some much-needed TLC. So yes, I would jump ship and go Tom Hanks for/at Conrad Maldives any day, as long as Wilson can pour me some bubbly at pink sunset, I’d be happily cast away for ever.

Park & Cube was a guest of Conrad Maldives, all views and opinions are my own. Shots of me with the help of Mr Tripod.

Caudalie Beauty Elixir. Sabon Body Lotion. Estee Lauder Advanced Night Repair Cream. Skyn Eye cooling gel. Kiehls Avocado Eye cream. Pai Avocado & Jojoba Day cream

Watch – Daniel Wellington. Ring – Elizabeth & James

The over-water spa

Bag – Mansur Gavriel. Sunnies – Karen Walker. Swimsuit – ASOS.

Now, let me just preface this by saying that when it comes to sailing, or any somesuch art of being at sea, I know jack-poop. There’s really no better way of putting it. I perhaps vaguely know what a boat is because it sounds like ‘butt’ and Nemo touched it, but other than that all sailing/watercraft terminology goes straight over my head. Regatta still sounds like cheese to me. What I do know however, is that summer on a boat – or simply at sea – is infinitely more fun than not. I mean, you’re basically riding a mobile beach that is most times stocked with food and drinks that mysteriously taste better than on solid ground. You’re also surrounded by what is essentially a colossal pool, where you can play Marco Polo until the captain fishes you out of the water with a rod out of sheer annoyance. And suure, your body is in a hilarious state of ‘what is actually going on with the floor’, but the sun and water combination is glorious, refreshing, even humbling.

Peasant Top – Mango. Sunnies – Karen Walker.

Triangl swimwear

For the better part of the past decade, Mallorca – the largest Spanish Balearic Island in the Mediterranean – had been a chip-as-chips destination, popular amongst the European hen/stag party crowd and bored pensioners, but gems like Port Adriano help shake off this notoriety. Designed by Philippe Starck, think of it as a parking-lot for floating Mustangs and Maserati’s. Think Grace Kelly, or Bond villain – at least those with private superyachts as extension to their evil lair. So, if there’s something you tick off this summer, make it sailing in Mallorca. If only for the excuse of going out to sea and then letting your instructor do all the work, or making friend with someone that happens to own a hot boat (butt?). Flights are still cheap, so it’s really the best of both worlds. Also, be sure to do Hotel Port Adriano for an early-morning spa appointment and then brunch on the terrace – exactly in that order. The view is so spectacular you’ll be digesting banana peels while counting faraway islands. Plus, the hotel runs on an adult-only concept so you may need to hand in your Gameboys at the door, like I had to.

Park & Cube was a guest of Port Adriano. As usual, views and opinion my own. Snaps of me with the help of Abimarvel.

Top – Topshop (similar). White trousers – Zara. Shoes – Birkenstock. Bag – Neri Karra.