Latest news with #Prost
Yahoo
09-05-2025
- Yahoo
We're having sex inside Moby Dick! The wild architectural world of Japan's love hotels
Do whales make you horny? How about UFOs? Maybe you've always dreamed of having a tryst in a fairytale castle, or making love inside a gigantic biscuit tin? Whatever your weird fantasy may be, it can probably be catered for on a roadside somewhere in Japan, if a new book on the curious phenomenon of love hotels is anything to go by. French photographer François Prost has been on a 3,000km pilgrimage of passion, driving from Utsunomiya, north of Tokyo, to the island of Shikoku in the south, to document Japan's unique architecture of furtive liaisons. What he found spans from manga-embellished motels and Christmas-themed love nests to pastel-hued stage sets worthy of Wes Anderson. And some things stranger than your most eccentric kinks could dream of. Some of the reviews don't inspire confidence. 'I found a pillow with dried semen,' reads one 'I find love hotels culturally fascinating,' says Prost, whose previous projects have included photographing the facades of strip clubs in the US and nightclubs in Ivory Coast. 'Japan is generally a fairly conservative society, but these are places of escapism, fantasy and almost childlike wonder. And you find them everywhere.' Estimates vary, but some put the number of love hotels – or rabu hoteru – in the country as high as 37,000. They pop up in city centres and rural villages, at busy highway junctions and secluded among fields in the middle of nowhere. As Prost's photographs show vividly, they come in all shapes, sizes and stylistic genres. Some are modelled on castles, topped with pink crenelations and turquoise turrets. Some look like alpine chalets, others like tiki huts, while plenty are modelled on cruise ships, promising to take you on a voyage to love paradise. Whether French chateaux get your juices flowing or you have a penchant for Arabian onion domes, there's a place waiting for you to be greeted by an anonymous receptionist, pay for a kyukei, or 'rest', and live out your carnal dreams. While most of the buildings in Prost's book date from the 1960s onwards, the Japanese love hotel has its origins as far back as the 1600s. They began to emerge during the Edo period, in the form of discreet establishments known as deai chaya, or lovers' teahouses, where couples could meet away from the prying family gaze. They looked like regular teahouses from the outside, but were designed with secretive entrances and multiple exits, and – crucially, for a shoes-off-at-the-door society – somewhere for customers to hide their footwear so as not to be identified. By the early 20th-century Shōwa era, these teahouses had transformed into themed, colourful places that offered a sense of escape from the daily routine. Japan's postwar economic boom saw love hotels blossom into elaborate sexual amusement parks in the 1970s and 80s, with themes ranging from fairytale to sci-fi to medieval cosplay. The country's high population density, small apartment sizes and tradition of living at home until marriage helped fuel the appetite for places for people to meet in private. Some have also put love hotels' continuing success down to the sexual liberation of women in Japan, sometimes highlighting the cute, cartoonish nature of the decor – designed to feel safe and inviting, rather than tacky and sordid. Quite different from seedy pay-by-the-hour motels elsewhere in the world, love hotels aim to cater to everyone. In his 2005 book, Law in Everyday Japan, legal scholar Mark D West estimated that Japanese couples make more than half a billion trips to love hotels each year, suggesting that as much as half of all sexual intercourse in Japan could be taking place in these establishments. In turn, that would mean that a good deal of the country's population were conceived on a rotating bed, in a beshackled boudoir, or inside a fantastical tropical grotto surrounded by model dinosaurs. Prost's photographs don't take you inside the bedrooms (there are other books for that), but instead focus on the exterior iconography of the hotels. Far from fading into the background, they stand as loud roadside billboards, designed to be easily identifiable by libidinous couples at a glance from a moving vehicle. Who could miss the Hotel Artia Dinosaur, which rises on the corner of a highway intersection in Machida city near Tokyo, crowned with a huge T rex? A tableau of a Jeep being crushed by a velociraptor at the entrance sets the tone. Online reviews warn that the bedroom doors lock automatically once you're inside, and you have to call reception to be let out – a feature common to love hotels, but here adding an extra frisson of danger, in tune with the Jurassic Park-inspired theme. Or might you live out your Moby-Dick fantasy at the huge pink concrete whale of Hotel Festa Qugiela, in Okayama, which waits ready to swallow you inside its grinning mouth? Or embrace the kinky King Kong spirit at the LaLa Resort in Kobe? It features a massive gorilla climbing up its bright red and orange-striped facade, and a model tiger keeping watch over the underground car park (a common feature so punters can be shuttled directly to their rooms). 'The hotels are often designed so you don't have to cross paths with anyone else,' says Prost. 'You can go straight from your car into a lift going up, and there is always a separate lift to go back down, to avoid bumping into people. A lot of the hotels don't even have receptionists any more – you book online, or choose your room from an automatic vending machine.' The faded decor and tatty appearance of many of the establishments makes you wonder if love hotels are becoming a thing of the past. A lot of them have the forlorn look of semi-abandoned amusement parks, with flaking paintwork and sun-bleached signage. And some of the online reviews don't inspire much confidence. Who could resist the lure of Shibuya's Sweets Hotel, a pink battenberg fantasy dripping with huge slices of cake, cookies and plastic icing? It turns out those aren't the only treats on offer. 'I found a pillow with dried semen,' reads one review. 'The walls and doors were covered in scratch marks,' says another, 'more fitting for a murder hotel than a love hotel.' 'This place is gone now,' adds the most recent entry. 'Too bad.' Despite some seedy failures, Prost says that love hotels are still just as popular as ever, and they are evolving to keep up with changing habits. 'Nowadays, many young people go to love hotels to have parties,' he says. 'They have karaoke machines, big TVs, massage chairs and hot tubs – people rent them in groups for a few hours.' The Bali An group, for example, offers big rooms for joshi-kai, or girls' nights out, complete with bars, 75in TVs and eight-person beds. The rooms also come with hammocks and camping equipment. After castles, cruise ships and cartoons, glamping appears to be the latest love hotel design trend, so you can sample the romance of the great outdoors without venturing outside. Love Hotel is out now. The Love Hotel exhibition is at Galerie du jour Agnès B, Paris, until 18 May
The Guardian
05-05-2025
- The Guardian
We're having sex inside Moby Dick! The wild architectural world of Japan's love hotels
Do whales make you horny? How about UFOs? Maybe you've always dreamed of having a tryst in a fairytale castle, or making love inside a gigantic biscuit tin? Whatever your weird fantasy may be, it can probably be catered for on a roadside somewhere in Japan, if a new book on the curious phenomenon of love hotels is anything to go by. French photographer François Prost has been on a 3,000km pilgrimage of passion, driving from Utsunomiya, north of Tokyo, to the island of Shikoku in the south, to document Japan's unique architecture of furtive liaisons. What he found spans from manga-embellished motels and Christmas-themed love nests to pastel-hued stage sets worthy of Wes Anderson. And some things stranger than your most eccentric kinks could dream of. 'I find love hotels culturally fascinating,' says Prost, whose previous projects have included photographing the facades of strip clubs in the US and nightclubs in Ivory Coast. 'Japan is generally a fairly conservative society, but these are places of escapism, fantasy and almost childlike wonder. And you find them everywhere.' Estimates vary, but some put the number of love hotels – or rabu hoteru – in the country as high as 37,000. They pop up in city centres and rural villages, at busy highway junctions and secluded among fields in the middle of nowhere. As Prost's photographs show vividly, they come in all shapes, sizes and stylistic genres. Some are modelled on castles, topped with pink crenelations and turquoise turrets. Some look like alpine chalets, others like tiki huts, while plenty are modelled on cruise ships, promising to take you on a voyage to love paradise. Whether French chateaux get your juices flowing or you have a penchant for Arabian onion domes, there's a place waiting for you to be greeted by an anonymous receptionist, pay for a kyukei, or 'rest', and live out your carnal dreams. While most of the buildings in Prost's book date from the 1960s onwards, the Japanese love hotel has its origins as far back as the 1600s. They began to emerge during the Edo period, in the form of discreet establishments known as deai chaya, or lovers' teahouses, where couples could meet away from the prying family gaze. They looked like regular teahouses from the outside, but were designed with secretive entrances and multiple exits, and – crucially, for a shoes-off-at-the-door society – somewhere for customers to hide their footwear so as not to be identified. By the early 20th-century Shōwa era, these teahouses had transformed into themed, colourful places that offered a sense of escape from the daily routine. Japan's postwar economic boom saw love hotels blossom into elaborate sexual amusement parks in the 1970s and 80s, with themes ranging from fairytale to sci-fi to medieval cosplay. The country's high population density, small apartment sizes and tradition of living at home until marriage helped fuel the appetite for places for people to meet in private. Some have also put love hotels' continuing success down to the sexual liberation of women in Japan, sometimes highlighting the cute, cartoonish nature of the decor – designed to feel safe and inviting, rather than tacky and sordid. Quite different from seedy pay-by-the-hour motels elsewhere in the world, love hotels aim to cater to everyone. In his 2005 book, Law in Everyday Japan, legal scholar Mark D West estimated that Japanese couples make more than half a billion trips to love hotels each year, suggesting that as much as half of all sexual intercourse in Japan could be taking place in these establishments. In turn, that would mean that a good deal of the country's population were conceived on a rotating bed, in a beshackled boudoir, or inside a fantastical tropical grotto surrounded by model dinosaurs. Prost's photographs don't take you inside the bedrooms (there are other books for that), but instead focus on the exterior iconography of the hotels. Far from fading into the background, they stand as loud roadside billboards, designed to be easily identifiable by libidinous couples at a glance from a moving vehicle. Who could miss the Hotel Artia Dinosaur, which rises on the corner of a highway intersection in Machida city near Tokyo, crowned with a huge T rex? A tableau of a Jeep being crushed by a velociraptor at the entrance sets the tone. Online reviews warn that the bedroom doors lock automatically once you're inside, and you have to call reception to be let out – a feature common to love hotels, but here adding an extra frisson of danger, in tune with the Jurassic Park-inspired theme. Or might you live out your Moby-Dick fantasy at the huge pink concrete whale of Hotel Festa Qugiela, in Okayama, which waits ready to swallow you inside its grinning mouth? Or embrace the kinky King Kong spirit at the LaLa Resort in Kobe? It features a massive gorilla climbing up its bright red and orange-striped facade, and a model tiger keeping watch over the underground car park (a common feature so punters can be shuttled directly to their rooms). 'The hotels are often designed so you don't have to cross paths with anyone else,' says Prost. 'You can go straight from your car into a lift going up, and there is always a separate lift to go back down, to avoid bumping into people. A lot of the hotels don't even have receptionists any more – you book online, or choose your room from an automatic vending machine.' The faded decor and tatty appearance of many of the establishments makes you wonder if love hotels are becoming a thing of the past. A lot of them have the forlorn look of semi-abandoned amusement parks, with flaking paintwork and sun-bleached signage. And some of the online reviews don't inspire much confidence. Who could resist the lure of Shibuya's Sweets Hotel, a pink battenberg fantasy dripping with huge slices of cake, cookies and plastic icing? It turns out those aren't the only treats on offer. 'I found a pillow with dried semen,' reads one review. 'The walls and doors were covered in scratch marks,' says another, 'more fitting for a murder hotel than a love hotel.' 'This place is gone now,' adds the most recent entry. 'Too bad.' Despite some seedy failures, Prost says that love hotels are still just as popular as ever, and they are evolving to keep up with changing habits. 'Nowadays, many young people go to love hotels to have parties,' he says. 'They have karaoke machines, big TVs, massage chairs and hot tubs – people rent them in groups for a few hours.' The Bali An group, for example, offers big rooms for joshi-kai, or girls' nights out, complete with bars, 75in TVs and eight-person beds. The rooms also come with hammocks and camping equipment. After castles, cruise ships and cartoons, glamping appears to be the latest love hotel design trend, so you can sample the romance of the great outdoors without venturing outside. Love Hotel is out now. The Love Hotel exhibition is at Galerie du jour Agnès B, Paris, until 18 May
TimesLIVE
24-04-2025
- Automotive
- TimesLIVE
Pioneering Isack Hadjar flies two flags as the only Arab in Formula One
Marko referred to Hadjar long ago as 'Petit Prost', a seemingly impressive nod to France's four times world champion Alain. Hadjar, who was at the time a bigger fan of Prost's late teammate and rival Ayrton Senna, grimaced and said the reason was more mundane. 'I was just chewing my fingernails and he said 'Yeah, like Prost',' he recalled. 'He told me this. Like Prost. That's all. It's that simple.' 'I don't mind. Prost is a legend. It was Ayrton as a kid but the more I'm growing up, the more I appreciate Alain actually. When you are a kid you just think about speed and bright colours. You see Ayrton Senna and it's like 'Oh, amazing'. And then later on Lewis (Hamilton).' Hadjar felt Prost, the tactically astute 'Professor' who retired in 1993 after winning titles with McLaren and Williams, deserved more recognition. 'I just think that his career is really underrated,' he said. 'I'm not going to self-proclaim myself as a smart guy but definitely I have the approach that my dad always wanted me to use my head first ... just thinking when you drive and making the difference outside the car.' Growing up, Hadjar's interest was pricked by the movie Cars and watching F1 with father Yassine, a senior researcher in quantum mechanics. He started karting at seven and was runner-up in Formula Two last season, a frustrating campaign in which he sounded like an angry young man venting over the radio. Hadjar said that was then. 'You play with the limits of what's allowed,' he said. 'In Formula Two you are a client to the team and you're playing your life here. You want to go to Formula One, the team messes up, you're mad at them on the radio and you say what you think. 'Here, it's completely different. You get paid to drive. It's the coolest job on earth, you don't shout at people. It's not possible. 'If I want to shout, I shout in my helmet. That's what I do. I don't press the radio button to say nonsense.'
The Star
24-04-2025
- Automotive
- The Star
Motor racing-Pioneer Hadjar flies two flags as an Arab in F1
FILE PHOTO: Formula One F1 - Saudi Arabian Grand Prix - Jeddah Corniche Circuit, Jeddah, Saudi Arabia - April 20, 2025 RB's Isack Hadjar on the grid ahead of the race REUTERS/Hamad I Mohammed/File Photo LONDON (Reuters) -Formula One rookie Isack Hadjar has two flags in his room, the French tricolore and Algeria's red star and crescent on green and white. Born in Paris to Algerian scientist parents and competing with a French licence, the Racing Bulls driver stands out at the top level of the sport for his North African heritage as well as results. "I feel I am representing two countries," the dual-national told Reuters in Saudi Arabia last weekend. "I am the first Arab driver on the planet to make it to Formula One. It's huge but it went under the radar, no-one cares, but it's huge." The record books show one other North African driver since the world championship started in 1950, French-born Robert La Caze who competed as a Moroccan in 1958 when that country hosted a race. Since then, Brazilian Felipe Nasr -- who raced in F1 in 2015-16 and whose grandfather emigrated from Lebanon to South America in the 1960s -- was the closest Formula One had to a driver from the Arab world. There are now four races in the Middle East, and none with a home driver. Africa is not even on the calendar. Hadjar's debut in Melbourne left him crying in frustration after crashing out on the formation lap but the 20-year-old redeemed himself with five points from two races. "Hadjar is the surprise of the season," proclaimed Red Bull motorsport consultant Helmut Marko after Japan. "He's calm and always there... he's a really big guy coming up for the future." 'PETIT PROST' Marko referred to Hadjar long ago as 'Petit Prost' -- a seemingly impressive nod to France's four times world champion Alain. Hadjar, who was at the time a bigger fan of Prost's late teammate and rival Ayrton Senna, grimaced and said the reason was more mundane. "I was just chewing my fingernails and he said 'Yeah, like Prost'," he recalled. "He told me this. Like Prost. That's all. It's that simple." "I don't mind. Prost is a legend. It was Ayrton as a kid but the more I'm growing up, the more I appreciate Alain actually. When you are a kid you just think about speed and bright colours. You see Ayrton Senna and it's like 'Oh, amazing'. And then later on Lewis (Hamilton)." Hadjar felt Prost, the tactically astute 'Professor' who retired in 1993 after winning titles with McLaren and Williams, deserved more recognition. "I just think that his career is really under-rated," he said. "I'm not going to self-proclaim myself as a smart guy but definitely I have the approach that my dad always wanted me to use my head first... just thinking when you drive and making the difference outside the car." Growing up, Hadjar's interest was pricked by the movie 'Cars' and watching F1 with father Yassine, a senior researcher in quantum mechanics. He started karting at seven and was runner-up in Formula Two last season, a frustrating campaign in which he sounded like an angry young man venting over the radio. Hadjar said that was then. "You play with the limits of what's allowed," he said. "In Formula Two you are a client to the team and you're playing your life here. You want to go to Formula One, the team messes up, you're mad at them on the radio and you say what you think. "Here, it's completely different. You get paid to drive. It's the coolest job on earth, you don't shout at people. It's not possible. "If I want to shout, I shout in my helmet. That's what I do. I don't press the radio button to say nonsense." (Reporting by Alan Baldwin, editing by Toby Davis)
Straits Times
24-04-2025
- Sport
- Straits Times
Pioneer Hadjar flies two flags as an Arab in F1
FILE PHOTO: Formula One F1 - Saudi Arabian Grand Prix - Jeddah Corniche Circuit, Jeddah, Saudi Arabia - April 20, 2025 RB's Isack Hadjar on the grid ahead of the race REUTERS/Hamad I Mohammed/File Photo Pioneer Hadjar flies two flags as an Arab in F1 LONDON - Formula One rookie Isack Hadjar has two flags in his room, the French tricolore and Algeria's red star and crescent on green and white. Born in Paris to Algerian scientist parents and competing with a French licence, the Racing Bulls driver stands out at the top level of the sport for his North African heritage as well as results. "I feel I am representing two countries," the dual-national told Reuters in Saudi Arabia last weekend. "I am the first Arab driver on the planet to make it to Formula One. It's huge but it went under the radar, no-one cares, but it's huge." The record books show one other North African driver since the world championship started in 1950, French-born Robert La Caze who competed as a Moroccan in 1958 when that country hosted a race. Since then, Brazilian Felipe Nasr -- who raced in F1 in 2015-16 and whose grandfather emigrated from Lebanon to South America in the 1960s -- was the closest Formula One had to a driver from the Arab world. There are now four races in the Middle East, and none with a home driver. Africa is not even on the calendar. Hadjar's debut in Melbourne left him crying in frustration after crashing out on the formation lap but the 20-year-old redeemed himself with five points from two races. "Hadjar is the surprise of the season," proclaimed Red Bull motorsport consultant Helmut Marko after Japan. "He's calm and always there... he's a really big guy coming up for the future." 'PETIT PROST' Marko referred to Hadjar long ago as 'Petit Prost' -- a seemingly impressive nod to France's four times world champion Alain. Hadjar, who was at the time a bigger fan of Prost's late teammate and rival Ayrton Senna, grimaced and said the reason was more mundane. "I was just chewing my fingernails and he said 'Yeah, like Prost'," he recalled. "He told me this. Like Prost. That's all. It's that simple." "I don't mind. Prost is a legend. It was Ayrton as a kid but the more I'm growing up, the more I appreciate Alain actually. When you are a kid you just think about speed and bright colours. You see Ayrton Senna and it's like 'Oh, amazing'. And then later on Lewis (Hamilton)." Hadjar felt Prost, the tactically astute 'Professor' who retired in 1993 after winning titles with McLaren and Williams, deserved more recognition. "I just think that his career is really under-rated," he said. "I'm not going to self-proclaim myself as a smart guy but definitely I have the approach that my dad always wanted me to use my head first... just thinking when you drive and making the difference outside the car." Growing up, Hadjar's interest was pricked by the movie 'Cars' and watching F1 with father Yassine, a senior researcher in quantum mechanics. He started karting at seven and was runner-up in Formula Two last season, a frustrating campaign in which he sounded like an angry young man venting over the radio. Hadjar said that was then. "You play with the limits of what's allowed," he said. "In Formula Two you are a client to the team and you're playing your life here. You want to go to Formula One, the team messes up, you're mad at them on the radio and you say what you think. "Here, it's completely different. You get paid to drive. It's the coolest job on earth, you don't shout at people. It's not possible. "If I want to shout, I shout in my helmet. That's what I do. I don't press the radio button to say nonsense." REUTERS Join ST's Telegram channel and get the latest breaking news delivered to you.
