I wish I were a summer person, given how much everyone around me seems to live, eat, and breathe all things summertime. I am really more of a fall guy. If I could flee New York entirely during the summer months, I might feel differently. But work and a slate of demanding creative projects have kept me mostly tethered in place this year, so I white-knuckle through the heat, trying to make the best of it by indulging in my favorite activities and passing my free time in some of the most beautiful, air-conditioned spaces on offer, each making its own case for spending the season in the city.
        Take NoMad Diner. I’d had the cozy restaurant — tucked into the Arlo Nomad hotel — on my list for weeks. Specializing in “modernized American classics,” it serves the type of comfort food I’m obsessed with (deviled eggs!) with a high-end twist. It’s possibly the only restaurant in the city where you can get oysters, a perfect pork chop, a side of ham spread (served on Ritz crackers, just as my grandma Wanda does it), finished off with a banana split. Also worth noting, Arlo Hotels sell a signature Deep Wood candle that I buy every time I pass by a property. 
        I experienced another similarly dreamy meal a few nights later at Circo, a restaurant and performance space in Times Square that serves Latin cuisine. It’s the only place I’ve had tuna ceviche presented in a coconut, and it serves the best tres leches cake I’ve ever eaten. The cool confines of the space actually make you forget that you’re dining in the middle of one of Earth’s most chaotic neighborhoods.  

       To remind myself why, even in the doggiest dog days of summer, New York is still the best, I spent a weekend at the Park Lane Hotel New York, where I took in amazing views — my suite offered a panoramic overlook of Central Park — and enjoyed dinner at its rooftop bar, Darling. While there is no shortage of classic hotels with amazing park views in Midtown, the Park Lane, with its lush, art deco interiors and chic floral bars, feels slightly cooler than many of its staider neighbors. Even though I’d booked the room to serve as a weekend writing retreat a few subway stops from my home desk, it still felt transportive to plop down on a velvet chaise and snack on a room-service cheese plate, pretending I was on holiday somewhere other than my city of residence.
        In an effort to balance out the extravagant dinners and late-night finery, I’ve also been doing two other things I love: roller skating and riding roller-coasters. Recently opened in the far reaches of Brooklyn, Xanadu is a combination roller rink and music venue that truly lives up to its name. As a child, I watched the movie Xanadu like it was my full-time job, fantasizing about doing a couple’s skate with Olivia Newton-John, and this place is a disco roller-rink fantasy come true. (Additionally, it hosts a regular goth skate night, which dovetails perfectly with my teen years.)
        Finally, no New York summer is complete without at least one (or many) visits to Coney Island. I prefer to go on weeknights, when you don’t need to wait in line to have your teeth rattled while riding the Cyclone. It may not be fancy, but few things make me more joyful than taking a stroll down the Coney Island boardwalk, eating some suspect fried clams, and taking a spin on the Spook-a-Rama, a kitschy haunted-house ride that’s been in operation since 1955.

        I find the jungle to be a magical place. Before I spent two years living in Sayulita, Mexico, I was the citiest of city-people.  But living so close to nature changed me — I think, for the better. It slowed me down and taught me to pay closer attention to the world around me.
        It also taught me that one of my favorite times to be in the Mexican jungle is during the rainy season. It's intensely green and uncontrollably alive. The storms, far from being something to avoid, are another beautiful thing to experience. The days are hot and heavy; at night, powerful thunderstorms whip up from the ocean, pounding the coast with rain. They are a humbling reminder of how small we humans are compared to the enormity of nature.
        It’s my love for both these storms and the summertime jungle that led me to plan a visit to One&Only Mandarina smack in the middle of August, which is low travel season and peak storm season. What I didn’t plan was that the trip would fall not long after my father suddenly passed away. I almost canceled.

        Instead, I headed an hour north of Puerto Vallarta and 30 minutes from Sayulita, where Mandarina is carved into the beautiful, wild jungle where the Sierra Madre mountains meet the ocean. Each of the resort’s 105 accommodations is housed in its own freestanding building, varying in design from multi-bedroom villas (larger than any place I’ve ever lived) to the world’s chicest treehouses.
        The sprawling property is serviced by golf carts, which zip guests between their rooms and Mandarina’s extensive facilities: three restaurants — my favorite was Carao by Enrique Olvera, which offers a high-end take on traditional Mexican cuisine, prepared by Jesús Durón, formerly of Mexico City’s Pujol — a spa, multiple pools (although the villas also have private ones), horse stables, two beaches, and an extensive KidsOnly club (the staffed facilities include treehouses, a climbing wall, and a butterfly sanctuary — all huge hits with my children). 
        You can also choose to explore the property by foot, along its miles of dedicated walking trails. At dawn and dusk, wildlife emerges. I saw numerous birds, including several species of hawk, chachalacas (a wild relative of the chicken that possesses possibly the funniest cry of any bird I’ve ever encountered), and, around every turn, coatis. These adorable and mischievous creatures look like a cross between a monkey and a raccoon. They are indigenous to the area and roam the property freely. Guests are cautioned against leaving food out or doors unlocked, because the sneaky coatis can open them with their cute little fingers. 
        Over the days I was on property, I let Mexico put me back together, in just the way it has done for me before. I got an outdoor massage in the jungle, the tree canopy rising around me – my kind of cathedral, the sounds of everything alive ringing as clearly as a choir. And I sat in our villa, with a 180-degree view of the massive thunderstorms that rolled in across the Pacific. The lightning illuminated the sky, instantly followed by thunder so strong the walls shook; the electricity flickered a few times before the generators kicked in. I was reminded again, in this resort that showcases the most incredible spaces humans can create, of the amazing, superlative power of nature.

        Andee Hess, founder of award-winning design studio Osmose, travels the world for both pleasure and inspiration — she’s renowned for creating highly conceptual, heavily custom, and occasionally trippy (yet always functional) interiors for commercial and residential clients spanning Seoul and New York, Los Angeles and Miami. Which helps explain why Hess is unusually preoccupied with lobbies (she makes special pilgrimages just to visit them) and why we asked her to share a few of her favorites. 
        She did, with a caveat: “I love hotel lobbies, but I want too much from them: They should hide all functionality, weave a story of intrigue, bridge the gap between temporary dwelling and residence, joining their guests in a shared experience. A lobby should be a microcosm of a place … but not give too much away, leaving the mystery and anticipation of what’s beyond, just out of reach.”

 

Les Bains Paris.

        Situated in the center of the Marais, Les Bains is haunting and evocative. Its entry’s first layer is a dark, moody lounge, full of hints at the hotel’s past as a turn-of-the-century private bathhouse (hence its name) and meeting place for the likes of Édouard Manet, Claude Monet, and Marcel Proust, which was then converted into a destination nightclub in the ’80s by a young Philippe Starck. Just beyond the lounge’s vestibule lies an immense sculptural burgundy ceiling that caps the hotel’s restaurant and bar. It’s a delightfully bold juxtaposition, begging for exploration.

 

Vermelho Melides.

        This 13-room hotel in the tiny fishing village of Melides, Portugal, just under two hours south of Lisbon, is a real surprise. Opened just last year, it’s passionately and personally appointed by Christian Louboutin (yes, the shoe designer), who has had a home in the area since the ’90s and has filled the hotel with a collection of his own treasures that I was told he continually moves and changes. Upon entry, you step through a wooden gate into a tiled courtyard, where you’re welcomed and ushered into a lounge layered with velvet upholstery, filled with Louboutin's own objects, and lined with a collection of books, again curated by the designer. Functionally, it’s a lobby; emotionally, it’s like having access to an eclectic, enthralling private home that makes you want to while away an afternoon — even if, like me, you’re not particularly comfortable with relaxing.  

Ett Hem.

        Speaking of homes, Ett Hem in Stockholm, Sweden, is my imaginary one — and not only because its name is Swedish for “home,” though a feeling a feeling of “home” does underpin the entire experience. Guests are encouraged to circulate from the library and sitting rooms into the kitchen, just as you would when visiting friends. Furnishings and artwork possess a similar engaged elegance, selected by designer (and true comfort-maker) Ilse Crawford. These common spaces are, in fact, very anti-lobby by any formal definition — they are simply rooms of a house that encourage relaxed, mindful living. 

 

The Bowery Hotel.

        This New York lobby possesses a sense of place particularly attuned to fall. It’s dark and moody, capturing the subdued but theatrical feeling of downtown Manhattan’s bygone days. Worn Turkish rugs and cozy, weathered leather seating frame a fireplace — with a hint of the season visible through the window overlooking the back patio. In reality, this property was built in 2007, but its intentional, inviting nostalgia is so well done, it places you within a warm, dynamic past and present. I linger, looking to catch an eye of someone who is someone, then try to put my head down and get some work done.

 

Faena Hotel Miami Beach.

        As soon as you enter this Miami Beach lobby, it’s clear why it’s called “the cathedral.” Massive gold columns and a recessed, sculptural ceiling define the passage, while eight allegorical, surreal, extravagant murals by the maximalist graphic designer Juan Gatti (known as the “Michelangelo of Miami Beach”) populate the walls. Long benches invite you to revel in their detail, including 23-karat gold elements, and the space’s scale. The lobby's grandeur is somewhat unparalleled and completely devoid of the usual communal tables, or anything that might hint at productivity. 

        The opportunity to visit the Waldorf Astoria Pedregal Los Cabos for a wellness retreat came to me amid an apartment move and New York heat wave. It was too hot to do anything besides lay inside my cramped apartment and stress about how I had to pack it all up, so I happily jumped on a plane.
        Landing at the Los Cabos Airport is a notoriously bumpy affair, and the drive from there is long, through a barren, mountainous landscape. The Waldorf Astoria is the light at the end of the tunnel, literally. Its entrance is a long, dark underpass illuminated only by the glimmer of the ocean peeking out at the end, which seemed like a mirage at the end of my journey.
        As a California girl, I’m not truly comfortable unless I’m near the ocean, so that first glimpse, followed by a room with an unobstructed view of aquamarine waves, provided a very welcome promise of the ease to come.
        During my visit, the resort was hosting its first wellness retreat in partnership with Alo Moves. The collaboration is an organic evolution for the property, which is already well-known for its spa, and the weekend-long itinerary featured a holistic range of offerings. From yoga classes taught by Alo Moves instructors to reiki and sound healing experiences to a skincare masterclass, it served up something for all types, as well as all wellness (or stress) levels.  
        I didn’t realize just how stressed I was until I began to unwind that first night with a bedtime soaking ritual. Laced with juniper, rosemary, and honey, the bath reflected the spa’s overall menu of organic treatments, which draw upon “the ancient and innate intelligence of traditional Mexican Folk Healing — known as curanderismo.” This approach incorporates time-honored rituals, herbs, and energetic healing. Its results, in my case, were nearly instantaneous. Usually my mind is racing before bed, but the scent of juniper and the equalizing salts cleared my thoughts, nearly causing me to fall asleep in the bath. 
        As for the treatments, I opted for The Restoring Moon, a 110-minute signature treatment comprising full-body exfoliation, a mud wrap, and a lymphatic massage. The tensions and toxins that seemed permanently embedded in my muscles disappeared. Following my treatment, I alternated between the sauna and ice room, where I was mesmerized by the flakes falling from the ceiling. I woke the next morning more energized than ever, shockingly ready for yoga.
        While not officially part of the wellness agenda, the hotel’s considered cuisine also played its part. Travesía at Su Cocina, an eight-course tasting menu, showcases Mexico’s vibrant, varying flavors in the form of tacos, with the jicama taco with fried oyster and aguachile remaining fixed in my memory. But El Farallon is the hotel’s crown jewel, tucked into the cliffs and offering a specialty of freshly caught seafood with champagne. 
        My visit reminded me of the not new, but always true notion that wellness is about more than just healthy food and exercise; it’s about taking care of the mind, too. But dedicating time to your body also does do wonders for the mind. Feeling reset, I returned to the city with the intention of remaining in that balanced state. I now, truly, begin my morning with a virtual Alo Moves class and dedicate time to unwind when I feel the stress amplify. And if things get too far out of balance, I know that there’s a place out West where I can begin my day with sunrise yoga and end it watching the sun set over the ocean.

        “Let’s get started!” Ackley Eaton said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm behind vibrant cat-eye glasses as she unpacks a cache of fitting equipment. I was visiting Morgenthal Frederics in Beverly Hills, curious about their buffalo horn eyewear. Eaton, their resident optician, was fitting me for a pair. 
        Handmade in Germany, each Morgenthal Frederics frame requires more than 200 hours of meticulous construction. The horn, derived from ethically sourced water buffalo, is layered in thin veneers then shaped by hand, organically revealing the sheets underneath.
        I was drawn to the Ward, a classic design inspired by TV dads of the 1950s. Handling the frames, I was reminded of a vintage camera — precise tolerances, a mix of polished and matte surfaces, and the faintest of sanding marks unique to each pair of glasses. The more time I spend with my specs, the more details emerge, and, like most exquisitely crafted objects, they’re hard to put down. The Sunday following my visit to the boutique, I donned my pair, flicked open the paper, and channeled my inner TV dad. 

        For the past three years, I have been traveling to the Ligurian coast to gather photographic material for a personal project. I love returning to this part of Italy because it evokes a sense of safety and sentimentality, reminding me of my childhood, even though I only began visiting as an adult. It’s as if time has stood still here: the children’s lifestyle of today closely resembles my own when I was young, allowing me to reconnect with how life was before I left the country.
        When I am here, I usually begin and end my day with a swim, timing it for when the beach is deserted and the sun is tucked behind the hills. The water is invigorating, and being alone in the sea is a special experience. Swimming while admiring the coast’s pastel-colored facades is like being on a Wes Anderson movie set.
        My days are spent wandering, seeking authentic scenes of everyday life — teenagers diving off rocks or sunbathers precariously perched on cliffs, searching for solitude. The rocks have a distinctive grayish tone with white streaks. Unique to this area, they remind me of a Luigi Ghirri photograph.
        Hours are also infused with sensory pleasures: the smell of home cooking wafting through the air, the sound of cicadas, and the sundry aromas of wild plants growing on the cliffs, such as fig leaves, sea fennel, and wild fennel. I love picking them, rubbing them between my fingers, and inhaling their scents.
        On my most recent visit, I unexpectedly ran into a friend from Los Angeles, which made me realize that this once-hidden gem has gained global popularity. But I hope it remains as I remember it, preserved in a nostalgic bubble.
 
Located in northwest Italy, Liguria is an enigma, alternatively associated with Cinque Terre’s overrun beauty and Genoa’s (once) industrial grit. Within this spectrum lie endless cliffs and towns ripe for exploration. Our favorite home bases include the Renzo Piano-designed NH Collection Genova Marina, which welcomes guests with a brass-trimmed bar and wood-paneled rooms, which add a cinematic quality to its nautical setting. Similarly maritime, but located in Portofino, Splendido Mare, a Belmond Hotel is an intimate, 14-room guesthouse located on the town’s scenic cobblestoned wharf, bordering the town’s main (charming) piazzetta. Royal Hotel SanRemo, in its namesake town, is a 126-room hotel within an unapologetically gilded palace. It’s surrounded by a subtropical garden with a beach club, three restaurants, and spa, but its idiosyncratic Gio Ponti-designed saltwater pool is reason enough to visit. Finally, Grand Hotel Miramare, an iconic 120-year-old, family-owned property in San Margherita, offers intoxicating Felliniesque grandeur along with those distinct Ligurian Sea views.