The Pavilion
Thirteen events a year, and the private rooms we open inside them. A villa, a terrace, a berth or a suite, staffed by us, with our own chef and our own suppliers. No stands, no branding walls, no badge queues.
A room goes ahead when it reaches eighty percent of what it costs to hold. Until then the gap is shown as it is.
Each bar is a room, its height how far it has got. Gold means it has cleared eighty percent and goes ahead. A small mark is an event with no room open around it yet.
The year's first Grand Slam, played through the Melbourne summer. Three weeks of tennis in a city that treats it as a festival, and the one major where the southern hemisphere sets the calendar.
Tennis on the Paris clay in early summer, slower and more theatrical than the grass. A fortnight gated by tradition, where the crowd settles in from lunch through the last match of the day.
Grass-court tennis, strawberries and the quiet of Centre Court between points. Two weeks that are gated and tradition-bound, and one of the few places an establishment crowd stays put for days.
No rooms are open yet. The season is the calendar we build them around. How patronage works.
