In the June issue of Vogue, McDermott captures what is in my mind the most perfect fantasy luxe getaway in 250 words or less, and with an incredibly sharp eye for the details that make her St. Barth's vacation seem so luxe. Needless to say, her St. Barth's experience is waaaay out of my reach! I will never be the girl who eats foie gras and drinks rosé while lounging in a daybed poolside, but hopefully in the near future I will once again be the girl who eats ceviche and drinks ice-cold Coronas while lying in a hammock beachside.
Every year for the past 20 years, my husband, Jeff, and I have returned to this Paris by the sea, driving a Mini Moke to David Matthew's Eden Rock Hotel, a jewel box teetering atop an enormous rock formation in the ocean. Unpacking's a breeze--I take only Eres string bikinis, Oscar de la Renta sandals, my favorite Tom Ford sunglasses, and a sarong or two. While Jeff goes for a morning run, I wake up with a swim at Lorient and croissants at La Petit Colombe. We'll meet for lunch in the gardens at Le Tamarin, where the Balinese daybeds are dreamy for lazy afternoons. Then it's the hotel bar for post-sunset cocktails before a late dinner at Le Ti--our nights typically end with dancing on the tabletops! On our last trip, Nicole Miller organized an impromptu dinner party one night. We also sat next to Jim and Elizatbeth Wiatt at La Plage, which serves the island's best foie gras, and we ate with our toes in the sand, drank rosé all afternoon, and watched windsurfers tear up the waves at St. Jean Beach. I swam the crescent bay back to the hotel, savoring each stroke and plotting my return.