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Palm Beach Fantasies
Highbrow gone low-key

The mansions along Ocean Boulevard in Palm Beach pass me like a dream, as if these ornate castles overlooking a restless Atlantic are not really there.

Yet they are. Here’s El Salano, the former home of Jon Lennon and Yoko Ono. It’s impeccably restored, perfectly landscaped. Ready for the cover of Architectural Digest.

And there’s the “Ham and Cheese” house, named after its layers of coquina stone alternating with red brick.

And what’s this? A bright yellow Lamborghini Murciélago fills my rearview mirror. Am I driving too slowly in my Honda Civic, with my out-of-state license plates? The Italian sports car edges closer to us, as if to say, “quit gawking at the houses.”

Palm Beach is a resort town where any interloper can fantasize about a life of privilege – and where the locals sometimes imagine they’re just ordinary mortals.

To get an idea of how rich Palm Beach is, consider the average home price: an eye-popping $1.4 million, which makes it the sixteenth-richest town in the United States. But if you’re not in the right tax bracket, don’t fret. You can experience the opulence that defines this South Florida enclave of the superrich as a guest of one of its resort hotels or by shopping in its fashionable boutiques.

Take The Breakers, built in 1896 by railroad magnate Henry Flagler and modeled after the Villa Medici in Florence, Italy. A visit to this 560-room resort might make you think you owned your very own place along the water, but truth be told, you don’t even have to stay there to feel that way. Stroll through its tropical gardens or talk with one of polite-to-a-fault staff members, and you’ll walk away with the impression that this place is yours.

At the more modern Four Seasons Resort, located a short drive to the south along Ocean Boulevard, I sauntered through a lobby with more marble and hard edges than a quarry, and made my way to its poolside bar. The signature drink here is a Shark Bite – a frozen beverage with red and white swirls. My bartender cracked a joke about never losing a customer out there in the ocean, but that there’s a first time for everything. They may cater to the affluent here, but at least they haven’t lost their sense of humor.

Worth Avenue, which is the Palm Beach answer to Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, features some of the most upscale shops on earth: Cartier, Chanel, Louis Vuitton. I half expected to be charged for the privilege of strolling down this street. Maybe there’d be a toll collector on both ends? Here, too, I was surprised by the how unpretentious the people acted – almost apologetic about this city’s undeservedly snooty image. When I asked one woman if she knew a good pastry shop, she wholeheartedly recommended a Dunkin’ Donuts over in West Palm.

In the end, though, the fantasies are just what they are. I can marvel at magnificent historical mansions such as the $12 million Wrightsman Estate on North County Road, but the closest I’ll ever come to it is the driveway. The residents can talk about their lack of pretenses, but I’ll believe that when the guy in the Lamborghini asks if he’d like to trade it for my Honda.

That will also be the day the bartender at the Four Seasons stops fantasizing about the tourists being eaten by sharks.

-Christopher Elliott