Visit Your Aging Parents in Palm Beach and Actually Enjoy It
Never dread your family vacation again. (Photo: Getty Images)
Bob Morris is the author of one of this summer’s top reads, the memoir Bobby Wonderful. His mother’s last word was his name. His father’s was “wonderful.” Together they inspired the title for Morris’s at times heart-wrenching, but still laugh-out-loud-funny, story of love and redemption.
Are your parents in Florida? Mine were for years, and while at first I dreaded having to fly down to see them in Palm Beach — actually, South Palm Beach, land of high rises and guilty visiting children — I came to love the place.
In my new memoir, Bobby Wonderful, I devote a chapter to being my father’s recalcitrant aide-de-camp for his last beloved snowbird winter. My best intentions at one point were derailed when I veered from buying him a birthday present to buying myself several crystal chandeliers in one of the area’s many fabulous consignment stores. Well, what can I say? The look I was going for in my new, all-white Manhattan apartment was Palm Beach Grandma. I needed the bling to bring home.
Bob Morris and his father at his dad’s 80th birthday party. (Photo: Bob Morris)
Compared to Miami, Palm Beach is manageable — La La Land, as my upright Aunt Sylvia used to call it. The manicured, palm-fringed lanes of the historic downtown — populated by well-coiffed elders, their spawn, their grand-spawn, and foofy little dogs — is a hallucinogenic postcard heavy on the pinks and greens. Very little is wrong or out of place except for some misguided Republicanism and the occasional eyelift or Botox overindulgence. And while it isn’t overwhelming, there’s just enough to do to keep you amused while being a good son or daughter.
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The point, I think, with our aging parents is to find the fun around them however you can. Show them a good time by having one yourself!
Here’s a list of some of my happy-making Palm Beach places.
Score vintage Fendi luggage at the Church Mouse. (Photo: Facebook)
The Church Mouse: I never miss a chance to pillage this consignment shop in the middle of town. If you need a pair of two-toned Ferragamo loafers, this is the place. (Sunset Avenue nearby has a killer Goodwill, too.) My favorite find here was with a friend who emerged with a Bill Blass ballgown-sized calico-striped skirt. Perfect for cocktails that evening.
Does this Hawaiian burger and sweet potato fries tempt you? (Photo: Facebook)
Surfside Diner: The replacement to the beloved Hamburger Heaven is an old-school, upbeat place that is as egalitarian as it is eccentric. Everyone from magnates to fanny-packing tourists are here, and in a pricey town, the prices are right — especially for the cottage cheese and cantaloupe.
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Champagne, anyone? (Photo: HFM/Instagram)
HMF: Palm Beach has no lack of bars, including beauties at the Brazilian Court Hotel and the Chesterfield, which has its Leopard Lounge for witnessing turbo-charged Friday night courtship rituals. But HFM, named for Henry Morrison Flagler, the railroad tycoon and developer of The Breakers Resort, is the new crown jewel. It is housed in the grand lobby of the esteemed hotel. You can have a Gilded Age moment with a younger crowd here — and pay dearly for it, of course — but it’s worth it.
You’ll want to bring along some reading material. (Photo: Bob Morris)
Antique Row: In a land of beveled glass mirrors, white rattan, and Lucite, it only makes sense that the furniture on consignment here is dreamy. Everything from finicky French provincial to psychotic postmodern can be found on this utilitarian shopping strip not far from the wonderful Norton Museum of Art (for more elevated viewing). And if you are a midcentury obsessive, you will find your nirvana here — along with a Nelson bench or two.
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Of course this hotel is pink. (Photo: Colony Hotel)
Colony Hotel: By far the loveliest place for breakfast in town. You can eat poolside (pets welcome, human or otherwise) among an international crowd of visitors in very dark glasses. The Colony also has a world-class cabaret series to rival the Carlyle in New York. And on Thursday evenings, it goes gay. Ascots not required!
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