A little bit of Greece in the California Desert
If you told me a week ago that I would end up obsessed with Palm Springs, I would have looked at you like you showed up to work in your underpants. But after a recent weekend getaway, obsessed I am.
Save for a quick downtown burger stop on our way back from Joshua Tree a couple of years ago, neither Ryan nor I had ever been to the desert oasis that wooed Clark Gable and Carole Lombard on their honeymoon.
I’ve always had this idea of old-Hollywood glamour mixed with mid-century kitsch that intrigued me about Palm Springs, and put it on my list of places to check out. Which is why I nearly did cartwheels in the car when Ryan announced he was surprising me with a weekend retreat there, to celebrate the anniversary of the first night we made out. Maybe not a milestone for most, but it took us over a decade to get together–and a good few weeks of insecure self-sabotage following that–so we figure Aug. 17 is deserving of a little fanfare.
I pictured us staying in a swinging motel with a kidney-shaped pool, decorated with Eames-inspired furniture and orange and avocado-green formica. I anticipated faded signage in repetitive geometric patterns, and maybe even a young Rat-Pack holdover serving us cocktails by the pool. While I reveled in my daydream of swinging Palm Springs, I bemoaned the fact that I hadn’t packed my Go-Go boots and mini-skirts for our weekend getaway.
Instead of a swinging motel resplendent in swank, we arrived at a gorgeous Grecian pensione (No, I’m serious. No, really.)–with a very cool arts-colony history–in the middle of the California desert late Friday night. We were greeted by a gleaming crescent moon, a night sky so full of stars it looked like it was in bloom, bonfires by the pool, and North-by-Northwest projected on an outdoor movie screen.
Soon after arriving, we dropped our bags, poured some wine, reclined on an outdoor yoga platform and relaxation commenced.
I regretfully forgot my camera, but here are some stock photos from our pensione to give you some idea of the rejuvenating weekend we had, soaking in the pool and sipping cocktails. No Go-Go boots or beehive bouffant required.