“My daily routine in Palm Springs, the queer and sunny desert oasis just two hours from Los Angeles, always goes something like this: I rise and shine at one of the city’s gay resorts early enough to watch the first rays of sunlight stream across the pool where I’m sitting not far away with coffee in hand.
Mornings usually involve an activity like a bike ride around town or a hike through Joshua Tree. Afternoons, meanwhile, are spent poolside swimming and sunbathing with a good book (and cocktail) nearby. A late afternoon nap leads to dinner and drinks on the town and a late night skinny dip in the hotel hot tub. I follow this pattern almost daily.
Despite the symmetry in this routine, what I also love about Palm Springs is that no two days ever look exactly alike. In a city that celebrates everything vintage, from the modular and low-slung Alexander homes scattered across the region to the Eames chairs, Platner dining tables and Slim Aarons prints that furnish them, the city is paradoxically obsessed with newness. I credit this newfound energy to the arrival 20 years ago of the playful Parker Palm Springs hotel and the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival, both of which upped the city’s cool factor and cemented the town’s status as a must-visit, mid-century oasis…”
