Address book: romantic hotels
Because Valentine's Day is fast approaching.
Valentine’s Day has to be one of my favourite days of the year. Although, I’m not entirely sure why. It’s rarely an accurate reflection of love and romance. More a reminder that certain things ought to be performed, preferably over a set menu.
Still, it’s an excellent excuse to hole up in a beautiful hotel and watch a film from a bed far superior to your own. Bridget Jones is back this February, after all.
Hotels, by nature, are romantic. Not so much in the rose petals, swan towels sense (though one does occasionally have to endure those), but in their ability to make real life feel temporarily irrelevant.
No emails, no laundry, no disruptions. For the most part.
The question, of course, is where?
I’ve learnt that America does romance in its own way. It’s rarely subtle, mostly scenic. And I love that.
However, in the spirit of romance without an itinerary, here’s a list of hotels that get it right. You won’t have to worry about the maître d’ appearing with a single long-stemmed rose.
For easy reference, here’s a Google Maps link.
Sea Ranch
There’s nothing overly ornamental about this stretch of Northern California coast. The Pacific is untamed and the landscape doesn’t bother with theatrics. It doesn’t need to.
Sea Ranch makes you want to disappear for a while, ideally with a very good book and very little else, which is why there’s only one real place to stay.
STAY
Napa Valley
There’s a reason people escape to Napa. Time slows to a socially acceptable drinking pace, and the most pressing decision of the day is which winery to head to. Here, relaxing is less of an activity and more of a mandate.
The romance is indulgent, but never ostentatious. Nothing garish, just the quiet hum of conversation over a great glass of wine.
STAY
Solage, Auberge Resorts Collection
San Francisco
There’s a lot about San Francisco that’s questionable. But there’s just as much that’s romantic. The city is all angles. Streets that rise at an incline best suited for an Olympic sport, pastel-hued Victorians that glow under the fog, and sudden, cinematic views that appear just when you least expect them.
It’s romance with texture. And there’s always the reward of a moody little cocktail bar or an oceanfront walk—just enough to make all the cons worth it.
STAY
Santa Barbara
Santa Barbara is the kind of place that makes you wonder if you should take up tennis. Not because you particularly want to, but because it just seems like the done thing—right after a morning spent hiking through the foothills and before slipping into a white linen dress for dinner.
It’s the American Riviera, which means you get the Mediterranean fantasy. Well, almost. Point being: romance doesn’t feel complicated.
STAY
Savannah
I imagine romance in Savannah comes with a gothic undertone—the kind that comes with a scandal and a slight sense of intrigue. The city moves at its own pace, wrapped in Spanish moss and the faint scent of magnolia.
You don’t walk here. You stroll. You admire the perfectly preserved mansions and squares that seem to exist purely for effect.
STAY
The Catskills
The Catskills are for those who like the idea of the outdoors but also want very nice sheets. It’s rustic. But not too rustic. It’s where you can spend the morning outside and the afternoon in a clawfoot tub, convincing yourself that a weekend in nature counts as personal growth.
Romance here is cosy, all fireplaces and wool blankets, best enjoyed with someone who also enjoys a well-designed cabin.
STAY
Wildflower Farms, Auberge Resorts Collection
Newport
Newport is where cashmere meets salt air. The ‘cottages’ (mansions, really) sit behind hedges just high enough to suggest privacy but not secrecy, and the Atlantic looks its best when the sky is moody, as if aware of its own gravitas.
Romance here is slow and steady.
STAY
The Vanderbilt, Auberge Resorts Collection
Cape Cod
Cape Cod has the sort of romance that doesn’t need dressing up. The houses are shingled, the ocean never quite warms up, and it doesn’t ask to be admired, but it wouldn’t mind.
Even in winter—perhaps especially in winter—it has a solitude that feels deliberate rather than desolate.