John Gregory-Smith won’t look back now he has flown on a Jetfly private jet.
Soaring high above the clouds with a glass of fizz in ones hand, after marching onto the private jet straight from a taxi, is now the only way I will ever fly.
I’m on a Jetfly private jet, an elite collection of privately owned jets used by members as posh cabs to take them to party pads in Ibiza, chalets in Verbier and detox centres in Switzerland.
They are beautiful things, vintage looking on the outside and uber luxurious inside. Their size means that they can’t be chartered. Instead you must own them, so Jetfly has a small group of high net worth individuals who co-own them. You buy in for 5 years, and before you think of whipping out your Amex, prices are on request. I leave that thought with you.
Inside our PC12, which is designed by Philippe Starck, we have a choice 6 plush seats, which can be moved around so that you can fully recline if one needs: And there is plenty of room to sling in skis, golf clubs surf boards and your Louis Vuitton holdall.
We are flying to Frankfurt to dine at a new restaurant. The flight time in a private Jet is only 2 hours. Perhaps the best thing is landing. We touch down in a small private airfield that has a gleaming blacked out car waiting for us. All we have to do is make like RiRi with shades on and a mobile or two clamped to our ears – no monorail to T2 or long queues for us. Sadly this is instagram gold, so we all take a flurry of selfies before bundling into the waiting car.