FINALLY, FLORIDA
All my life I’d heard people in Michigan singing the praises of road-tripping to Florida, even though it’s a whopping 24 hours away via U.S. 75. (Michigan people love to drive—even if they’re not from Motor City.) My snowbird grandparents went annually and sent back navel oranges upon arrival. At the start of my high school spring breaks, a few teachers who were good friends and fellow golfers would burst out the doors the second the bell rang and rush to the icy parking lot, hooting about nine irons and key lime pie.

Last October I finally got to experience my own adventure in the Sunshine State. I flew from New York to West Palm Beach and rented a car, which became my traveling office. For three days I drove up and down the coastline, describing the trip into a digital recorder while admiring the broad skies, warm air, palm trees and the open road. This, I thought, is what it’s all about.

NEARLY NEW
On Halloween I found myself visiting friends in South Beach. I stood out among the tan lovelies not only for my fair Northerner skin, but also because I was one of the few women not gussied up that night as a sexy diavolina (little devil). “Guys,” I joked, “why didn’t you tell me?” But I didn’t really mind. That day, while researching South Beach’s furniture and design district, I’d found a slew of great vintage shops selling the kind of offbeat but practical everyday pieces I love. Compared to my haul, a red-satin pitchfork didn’t make the cut.

One of my top picks was Fly Boutique on Lincoln Road, where I fell for the dresses made from vintage fabrics. And everyone told me to hit up C. Madeleine’s, the vintage-clothing emporium in a North Miami strip mall where items are organized by color-coded eras: The blue tent is bohemian, the pink wall 1950s, the silver lamé wall 1970s. Over the buzz, multilingual saleswomen can be heard exclaiming “Bijoux!” “Fantastico!” “With necklace azul?”
 
I hit the jackpot in another strip mall, this time in West Palm Beach. I was intrigued by the colorful window of Glam! Vintage as I cruised by it on a less-popular block of South Dixie Highway. Inside, sparkling baubles and vintage beads mixed with funky jumpsuits and 1980s batwing leather jackets. I scored a 1970s pink-and-green Pucci dress—so Palm Beach retro!—for only $125. It made its grand debut that night in my hotel room, as I transcribed notes and tallied business expenses in high style.

PLOTTING A RETURN
Hip, hippies, hip replacement—these are just a few of the words that come to mind when I think of Florida and the diverse lifestyles it offers. All I know is that I plan on heading back soon to enjoy the hip scene in my Pucci dress, before I retire—in Coral Gables? or Boca?—to prepare, perhaps, for the hip replacement. And who knows? Maybe somewhere along the line, a satin pitchfork could have its moment. 

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