Several years ago, Anne Elizabeth McIntosh and I chatted on a sunny Florida beach. Ours was the polite conversation people have when neighboring umbrellas and beach chairs are close to one another. What book are you reading? Where are you from? We ran into each other again at the airport as we boarded the same flight back to Nashville. And once more on the parking lot shuttle bus.
Since then—via Instagram—I’ve watched Anne Elizabeth’s luxury concierge business sprout, grow, and flourish. What I’ve learned—if you want to know anything about Nashville, Anne Elizabeth is the one to call.
“You can’t spend a weekend with someone seriously ill and grasp what they’re going through,” says Brett Swayn. “I never understood the depths of despair homeless men face….until I was homeless myself.”
I’m hooked on HBO’s The Gilded Age. I adore peeking into the late 1800s and the opulent lives of America’s shipping, railroad, and coal mining magnates. I love the history, fashion, architecture, and those over-the-top homes.
Many of the industrial tycoons and their families lived in New York City. But for the summer season—all six weeks of it—they packed up their trunks and gowns and escaped to their “cottages” in Newport, Rhode Island.
Recently, my husband and I slipped away for a few days to celebrate our anniversary. Our first getaway in a long while with no traveling partners, business calls, or grandchildren. Just us.
We began in Boston (although Providence is a good starting point also) and meandered our way down to Newport—a 1 ½- to 2-hour drive through quaint towns and seaside villages. Newport makes for the perfect couples’ or girls’ trip, and it’s easy to explore on your own too. Another bonus? In summer, the hydrangeas are in full bloom.
For lovers of history, architecture, good food, and beautiful scenery, Newport offers something for all…
I love Boston. The city is small-ish, walkable, clean, and loaded with interesting sights, great food, and history. Recently, I tagged along with my husband on a work trip. It was a perfect time of the year to visit—sunny spring weather, blooming tulips, flowering trees. I cannot wait to go back! Here are a few fun things I discovered…
Years ago, as I lounged on the beach, I watched a handful of silver-haired women make their way down the wooden stairs to the sand. Clad in white pants, pastel tops, and big smiles, they asked if I’d mind taking a few photos of their group. As they put their arms around each other, laughed, and admired the sunset, they told me they had attended college together. And now, in their late seventies, they meet at the beach every year.
A girls’ trip is the best, whether driving or flying, traveling with a friend, mom, daughter, or daughter-in-law.
On a recent getaway with a girlfriend, a stay at the luxurious Breakers Palm Beach resort didn’t fall within our budget. Instead, one afternoon, we popped into the Italian Renaissance-style hotel to grab a drink and marvel at its majestic architecture. Lucky for us, we met Maria Ospina.
I’d love to see the mass of penguins and Antarctica’s pristine, rugged landscape. But, I know myself. For various reasons, I won’t make the rigorous trip to the coldest, highest, driest, windiest continent on earth. And so, I must live vicariously through Lynne Warne.
At Solbar, inside the stunning Solage Resort in Napa Valley, bartender Kelly Dallas placed a concoction in front of me, unlike anything I’d ever seen in a cocktail glass. With swirling bubbles and black specks and basil leaves, it reminded me of the lava lamp my teenage friend had on her bedroom nightstand.
Beaver Creek consistently ranks as one of the top ten ski resorts in the United States. But those who don’t savor the cold and snow will find much to love in this Rocky Mountain community two hours west of the Denver airport. As luck would have it, my son and our new bonus daughter chose the charming resort for their early October wedding. With the aspens greeting us in their
To celebrate our nation’s birthday, I asked Julianne Buonocore to take us on a tour of Philadelphia.
At 5 am, Susan Martin dragged herself out of the cozy hotel bed. She stuffed the final supplies into her bulging backpack–snacks, a lunch, extra tops and bottoms for the next two days and nights. She tugged a jacket over her other four clothing layers and poured a cup of coffee.
And then she pulled back the drapes to look out the window.
When I look around, I’m beginning to see hope. I had my second vaccine last week, I’m visiting my parents next month, and I’ve booked a trip to California’s wine country. Life—and travel—is revving back up again. But a recent article in the Wall Street Journal stopped me in my airport-racing, museum-trotting, city-sightseeing tracks. It seems I’m a bit of a dinosaur. Donna Bulseco writes of the obsolete fashion faux-pax
To cut costs and recoup expenses, many property owners rent out their city apartment or lake house or condo at the beach. Although some balk at the idea of other people sleeping and lounging in their vacation home, the rental process can work and offset the cost of a second residence. Nancy Fox, property manager extraordinaire, knows how to make the rental process a good experience for owners and guests.
Amy Marsalis usually celebrates Valentine’s Day at home. She sets a beautiful table, while Keith, her husband of 20 years, prepares a delicious meal. If not for COVID, the couple, who love to welcome guests to their home, had debated a red-themed dinner for the holiday. They pictured bolognese, perhaps, maybe a red velvet cake, a tomato appetizer, and, of course, red wine.
I’m sure you’ve spotted Christine Han’s stunning photographs. You’ll see her work in glossy magazines, delectable cookbooks, and advertisements for Pepsi and Starbucks and Bose. Scroll through the pages of Cup of Jo or Apartment Therapy, and Christine’s photos will tell the story of a person or space.
On March 18, 1990, around 2 am, two police officers knocked at the employee entrance of the Isabella Stewart Gardner museum. A security guard, breaking protocol, opened the door and allowed them to enter. The fake police officers handcuffed and bound two guards and made off with thirteen pieces of art from the beloved museum in Boston’s Fenway neighborhood. The crime remains unsolved, and none of the nine paintings or
I can’t think of anything I enjoy more than walking the beaches of 30A, the pristine stretch of coastline in Northwest Florida’s Walton County. When surrounded by waves and sandpipers and the rising sun, I’m in my happy place. If I’m lucky, as I sip my morning coffee, a dolphin or two will swim by to greet me. And then, I know, it will be a good day. Besides soft
In a world with disturbing news coming at us from every angle, Evelyn Henson’s art makes me smile. And don’t we all need a little happy these days? Loaded with bright colors, delightful animals, and spirited landscapes, her colorful art is “meant to brighten your day and bring sunshine to your home for years to come.” Mission accomplished. As I browse the splashy paintings and mugs and beach towels and
I tugged on my thigh-high waders, lacquered my skin with mosquito spray, and tiptoed into the murky water. Serge Krouglikoff maneuvered me into position—a spot where the light and shadows were just right and I wouldn’t sink into the squishy marsh floor. And then I saw them—tiny specks off in the distance—led by a gardian on horseback. Serge (even his name is cool) is what I’ve imagined an esteemed London