


10. Wentworth Mansion. I stayed in this hotel a decade ago, when I went to Charleston with my mom. Loved it then, love it now. I'm not saying it's decorated the way I might like it to be; it is, however, rich with amazing details. The cupola has gorgeous views—note the framed Fortune blurb about the hotel below the staircase—and the staff is gracious without being uptight. When we went to check out, and they pointed out that I had actually reserved for four nights, not three, they let it slide. (I will say that I was annoyed not to have received a response when I pointed out twice—while reserving and in an online comment card—that if you're going to have a bunch of salutation options on the reservation form, including versions with Rev. and Dr., you could throw in a Mr. and Mr. You don't have to give in to my complaint, but you do have to acknowledge it.)
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••



9. Walking. Wentworth Mansion's location beyond the tourist scrum might be a bummer to some, but for us it was perfect—and we were able to walk most everywhere. To my mind, Charleston's traditional tourist attractions are not at all the point; in fact, I didn't take Adam to any of them. Instead we walked and walked and walked. We walked so much that by our last night, Adam chose to wear sneakers for the walk to McCrady's, changing into his loafers when he got there like someone out of Working Girl.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••




8. The architecture. The main reason you want to walk is because of the architecture. Charleston is the ne plus ultra of housepeeking. While there is a Charleston style—with a door leading to a side-facing façade of exposed porches, which are always pointed the same direction from house to house—the sheer variety of architecture is what makes the city so appealing. One of the photos above is of a postcard I bought at Mac & Murphy (more on that later).
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

7. The gardens. The other reason you want to walk is that Charleston is so lush with palm trees, rose bushes, Spanish moss, you name it. Vines climb wires and embrace street signs. More than once, Adam and I stood and inhaled the star jasmine.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••





6. Savannah. My mom and I drove to Savannah on our trip, and then we turned right around, put off by the tourists and buses and traffic and sweltering heat. But Adam and I agreed that this was probably the only time we'd be near there, so we made the drive. It was so different: not crowded and not hot, and as a result, we had a lovely day. We walked amid the squares and houses, and when we were admiring one, a passerby told us that all four floors were an antique store, so we could go inside. It was called Alex Raskin Antiques. I can't speak to the quality of the merchandise, but the building—falling apart in a way that seemed just right—was a treat. (We should've bought that lilac chair....) Maybe because so much of it was so antique-y, I was pleased to find this era-inappropriate bus stop sign.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••


5. Sitting outside. We planned the trip because we wanted to be somewhere warm, not knowing spring would come so early to New York City. But it was still utterly wonderful to sit outside whenever possible—drinking gin and its at Circa 1886 and wine at Husk, which had what we subsequently learned were called joggling boards on its porch (you rock side-to-side on them).
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••



4. Details. As indicated by the bus stop photo, one of my main joys of traveling is looking for the odd details that make a place unique. Charleston, for instance, has shapely arrows painted on its streets and gas meter (?) signage that looks like electrical outlets. And on our first afternoon, we came across a little block with a flag in it. I wanted to take it as a souvenir, but Adam said I shouldn't, that it could be marking someone's parking palce. We later learned (I asked a grocer) that they're left behind by carriage drivers whenever a horse does its business, so the clean-up crew can take care of it. Obviously, I only wanted one more.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••


3. Silliness. Probably the very best moment of the trip was when we went to Macaroon Boutique. Michael (more on him below) had warned us that the hours were kooky, so when I pushed on the door and found it locked, I wasn't totally surprised. But the sign said the bakery opened at 11 a.m., and it was past 1 p.m. I pushed and pushed. The lights were on! And then I realized that two feet away was another door, wide open. The Frenchwoman working there did not find it amusing, but we thought it was hysterical. That kind of thing—like when Adam thought one building was a cardiologist's office because of the plaque by its door—is, and probably always will be, the primary reason I travel. It just doesn't happen as much at home.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••




2. Cool neighborhood. Adam likes to mock me for thinking that there's always a cool neighborhood nearby, filled with cool shops and restaurants. Especially when we're in a touristy destination—like Charleston—I'm convinced that there's an alternate universe that's not shitty and fake. I knew that Charleston had a Brooklyn, if you will, but Adam teased me nonetheless, insisting that it was all in my mind. So I was doubly pleased to discover the neighborhood(s?) of Elliotborough/Cannonborough. There were two good men's clothing stores (Rogue Wave Surf Shop and Indigo & Cotton), the Wild Flour Bakery (more on that in a sec), Hope & Union Coffee Co. (where I'd like to move in), Mac & Murphy paper shop, and no doubt more. It was also the one area we saw people of color; in downtown Charleston, they weren't even working in the shops and restaurants.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••



1. The food. Damn, we ate well! The only lame meal was breakfast at Wentworth Mansion, which was fine, because it freed us up to go elsewhere (and in the South, breakfast is a priority). I did the food research on this trip, so I was pleased it worked out. I started with a GQ article about the recommendations of chef Jeremiah Bacon, poked around online, and in Charleston, I chatted up Michael, the owner of Butcher & Bee (a fantastic sandwich shop where we got a grilled cheese and four superb vegetable sides, including the most delicious roasted baby turnips in sesame and lemon). Adam was tickled at how I had approached Michael, which struck me as strange because that's what I do when I'm reporting on a place, but I guess I hadn't done it in a long time. Anyway, we had great dinners at Husk, Fig, and McCrady's (taking Michael's advice to eat in the less fussy bar area); a good breakfast at the reliable Hominy Grill; the most delicious scone I have ever had—with blueberries and lemon curd—at Wild Flour Bakery (it was so good that I forgave them for saying I look like Tom Hanks); a nice wine-bar experience at Bin 152 (an older couple stood up at one point and started slow-dancing); and a blow-out lunch at the Glass Onion, which is in some part of town that tourists don't go to. I seriously over-ordered: fried green tomatoes with pimiento cheese and eggs over easy, trout salad, deviled eggs, and a shrimp po' boy. We ate it all. Ironically, however, I canceled the reservation at Macintosh, where Jeremiah Bacon is chef, because when we walked by I didn't like the look of it. When it comes to meals, I'm looking out for number one.