|
Condé Nast Traveler picks
 Best of Palm Beach
The idea of the high-end tropical American resort was invented here in the 1920s. Palm Beach lies at the latitude in Florida where, technically, the climate becomes tropical savanna. The city's distinctive style was the architectural creation of one man, Addison Mizner, whose neo-Spanish mansions were designed to order for the super-rich of their day. Today the super-rich still covet some of those same mansions, and Palm Beach's strict zoning and building codes ensure that the place remains very swank. But on the other side of the Inland Waterway, West Palm Beach—originally a dormitory for the laborers who built the mansions—is a rapidly upscaling twin city. (The next comer will likely be Lake Worth, to the south.)
Attractions & Activities A lot of Florida seems to have no history. Palm Beach, though, has history as well as a story: how a wilderness was colonized and how men with bottomless pockets sought to redefine luxury living on a quintessentially American model. Two men were enduringly effective in that process: the architect Mizner and Henry Flagler, the railroad and oil baron who drove a railroad the length of Florida and, along the way, built a chain of resort hotels. In 1894, he opened the Royal Poinciana Hotel in Palm Beach and put the place on the map. A decade later, he built Whitehall, a 55-room palace, as a wedding present for his wife and used it as his winter retreat until 1913. Today it's the Henry Morrison Flagler Museum—an immaculately preserved monument to plutocracy that's part Scottish castle, part French château, and totally incongruous in the tropics (561-655-2833; flagler.org). It was left to Mizner, in the 1920s, to design for the climate. Mizner's influence shaped Worth Avenue, one of the world's great shopping boulevards, stretching three long blocks west from the Atlantic. The hacienda-style buildings, with inner courtyards, include more than 200 ritzy retailers, from designer jewelry to European antiques. For those who want it now, no luxury is overlooked. For deeper culture you have to cross the water to West Palm Beach. The Norton Museum of Art, in a splendid pink building with large, cool galleries, has a permanent collection of 19th- and 20th-century European and American painting and sculpture as well as contemporary art and photography (561-832-5196; norton.org). Having thus seen the fruits of the wealth that built Palm Beach and is driving the growth of West Palm Beach, it's time to pay homage to the remarkable ecological treasure that existed in South Florida before Flagler's railroad opened the way to developers—the Everglades. As an introduction to the Everglades, it's hard to beat the Arthur R. Marshall-Loxahatchee National Wildlife Refuge, a 30-minute drive southwest from Palm Beach. After World War II, Marshall was a pioneer campaigner for preserving what was left of Florida's natural world. Today, a foundation named for him is dedicated to restoring ancient forests, returning the vast Everglades wetlands system to its original water flows, and educating the public about Florida's precarious environment. The 221-square-mile refuge is a stunning habitat for everything from alligators to brilliantly colored tropical birds. In summer, it can be fiercely hot, so early-morning visits are recommended (561-734-8303; fws.gov/loxahatchee). Lodging Beachfront comes at a cost. Palm Beach, on a slender barrier island, has some of the world's most expensive real estate. The Breakers, the resort town's sole entry on Condé Nast Traveler's Gold List of the very best places to stay the world over, got there first. A 1920s classic, it retains more than 140 acres that include golf, tennis, a spa, a pool, and a famed 500-foot driveway leading to a Florentine fountain and twin belvederes (modeled on Rome's Villa Medici). For the experience, which includes slightly fussy rooms with Italian armoires and wool carpeting, it's worth every buck. Several miles farther south, in a beachside condo belt, is the Four Seasons, and it offers everything you would expect of this impeccable brand. Watch for the 2007 reopening of the Ritz-Carlton, on which $45 million has been lavished; a gigantic spa will be added this summer. More modestly priced, with a prime beach spot next to the Four Seasons, is the Ocean Club Beach Resort, a pink-and-green complex with 132 guest rooms and suites, most of which have private terraces with water views. Nearby but not on the beach, a good budget choice is the Gulfstream, a simple and attractive 1920s-era stucco hotel near the water in Lake Worth. In downtown Palm Beach, The Colony, a 1947 British Colonial-style landmark with 92 rooms turned out in discreet West Indies decor, and The Chesterfield, a white-stucco edifice with a soothing central courtyard, the upbeat Leopard Lounge, and 52 guest rooms and suites done up in chintz, are both good value. In West Palm Beach, the Hotel Biba is an omen of the new wave of cheap chic—a vintage motor lodge restyled by the legendary 1960s London fashionista Barbara Hulanicki (Biba was her iconic boutique). Very hip and a good deal. Dining It's always a puzzle to figure out if there is a recognizable Florida cuisine—given the state's natural bounty of seafood, citrus fruits, and vegetables, it ought to join the vogue for "local and natural." Dream on. The nearest approximation could be at Tsunami, in West Palm Beach, an Asian creation with the stamp of high-end Hong Kong, where the sushi plates and seafood are definitely tropics-fresh but the tab is steep (651 Okeechobee Blvd.; 561-835-9696; entrées, $18–$44). Celebrity chef Daniel Boulud also honors local vendors with the likes of lobster salad with citrus vinaigrette at Café Boulud, his new southern outpost in the renovated 1920s Spanish-inspired Brazilian Court Hotel. The restaurant is luxe even by this town's opulent standards, with a warm but fairly formal main dining room that is haute New York, but the outdoor courtyard and airy conservatory charmingly convey South Florida's unique tropical lushness (entrées $16–$50). West Palm Beach's answer to Worth Avenue, the ersatz-Spanish shopping hub City Place has, in a branch of the Cheesecake Factory chain, a decent replica of a big-sized New York diner, ideal for a salad lunch (701 S. Rosemary Ave.; 561-802-3838; entrées, $12–$22). Authentic Italian is hard to find, but Rustico, in the revitalized downtown of Lake Worth, is the real thing, with prime imported ingredients and good-value wines (701 Lucerne Ave.; 561-547-2782; entrées, $12–$26). Truth in Travel is the guiding principle for all content published in Condé Nast Traveler. Other travel publications often accept free travel and accommodations. Condé Nast Traveler does not. It is independent of the travel industry. The magazine always pays its way, and, as far as possible, its correspondents travel anonymously. By doing so, they experience the world—both the good and the bad—as other travelers do, and their reports and recommendations are fair, impartial, and authoritative.
|
||
 |
