The Colony Hotel: Palm Beach’s Pink Paradise

Florida’s Gold Coast is a place I know well. I’ve probably taken 30-40 trips there over the years. My grandparents, like so many New York City Jews, retired there – in their case to Tamarac, a working-middle class suburb in Broward County. Later, my parents followed, landing in Boca. Writing this piece, I was surprised to realize that over the course of the 175 days (plus or minus) I’ve spent visiting South Florida, not a single one of them was spent in Palm Beach. 

Driving along intracoastal highway A1A, I began to understand why my mother had rolled her eyes in a sort of feigned, playful contempt when I told her where we were going. Palm Beach was as unimaginable and seemingly unattainable as a Slim Aarons photo; it was rich, alive, and saturated with color, while Boca Raton, was, well, if Palm Beach is a Bentley (which it is), then you might say that Boca was an Audi; a slightly less exclusive version of the pastel pink, Palm Beach paradise I encountered as A1A gave way to South Country Road. In the distance, I saw the British Colonial structure that houses the Colony Hotel. It’s so pink (a shoppable collaboration with Farrow & Ball) that I could hardly control myself. 

We were invited here to celebrate the 75th anniversary of the historically landmarked property, marked by an unveiling of  the recently completed renovation which included redesigning the interiors of the hotel's 89 rooms and suites along with a freshening-up of and the building’s aforementioned – and unmissable – pink exterior.

A tour allowed a chance to peek into the impeccably reimagined rooms designed by Kemble Interiors. Industry norms would compel me to mention the numerous bespoke design elements, including but not limited to screen-printed fabrics by renowned textile house F. Schumacher, one-off murals by deGournay, a project specific furniture collection by Society Social, Colony-exclusive art from local Palm Beach photographer Nick Mele (all of which are expected to be shoppable via The Colony website). This shouldn’t detract from the brilliantly obsessive thoughtfulness that went into this renovation, but I’d rather focus on what it felt like to spend the night at this enchantingly pink paradise.

We were escorted across the street to Villa Lantana, a two bedroom, 2 bath, fully equipped, generously appointed 1450 square foot home with a semi-private pool. The space was enormous, but also cozy. We definitely could have brought the kids (but I was very glad we hadn’t).

After a short ‘nap’ (and omg, the mattress!!), I took a few notes (all of which were useless), and made my way back across the street to the restaurant, which was none other than the newly revived, former Upper East side society stalwart, Swifty’s.

We ordered a lot of food, and spent some time talking to our server. An employee of the hotel for over thirty years, he was clearly just as enamored with the property, the food, the culture, and the guests today as he had ever been. I truly wanted him to sit down and join us (I may have offered him a bite of my food…?). He was a local, lifelong resident of Palm Beach, but the details of how he came to be here today, talking to me, were different from most of the pastel colored patrons milling about. Nonetheless, he recognized that he was an integral piece of the intricate and immeasurable fabric of the experience, which he indeed was. 

I’m including this because it’s how I try to experience a stay like this. I allow myself to be transported, not to somewhere else, but rather wholly to the place I find myself in. I try to fully integrate the meticulously curated environment as it is today, while simultaneously imagining what it may have been like yesterday. I enjoy considering potential narratives the guests may have created about who I am, as I am equally fond of conjuring theirs. This sort of socio-cognitive freedom, is solely attributable to the intentional fantasy elicited by this storied environment.

While I am in  no stretch from the other side of the tracks, I’m definitely not from here. Fortunately, like our server, I’m able to recognize that I’m here now. This arm’s-length relationship facilities a degree of detachment that allows me to experience a place like The Colony without expectations. Alternatively, one could posit that my overzealous report is a direct result of my outgroup status, which renders my account unreliable. Perhaps, but I’d like to think, insider or otherwise, anyone who’s not overwhelmingly enamored with this experience, the modern yet traditional aesthetic, the staff’s thoughtful and engaging commitment, the food, the pool, the history, the weather, the beach, the green, the pink…the mattress (other-worldly), is maybe just someone having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. 

My mom says some days are like that…but only in the absence of pink.