If you asked me just a few months ago if I would rather circle the pit of hell for eternity or spend a weekend in Cape Cod, it would have been an easy choice. Hell for one please! But this summer my husband’s best man at our wedding got hitched himself, so off to the Cape we went.
For some reason, the Gods decided to smile on me (more likely the beautiful couple, but I will choose to ignore that) and blessed us with absolutely perfect weather – 70s, low humidity and not a cloud in the sky. When I do eventually make my way to hell, this is the weather I expect. As well as everyone to be wearing Chloé and drinking green juice. Basically I expect hell to be an issue of Goop.
Anyway, the Cape (specifically Harwich and Chatham) was infinitely more charming than I had remembered. As long as the area was more densely populated (and therefore devoid of those ugly shrubby trees that blanket the area), we were cool.
I absolutely loved where we stayed – the Winstead Inn (even though they couldn’t help but decorate in a nautical theme, ugh). We had an entire building – and more importantly a pool – to ourselves. I spent 90% of our stay napping in a lounge chair and the other 10% of the time eating candied cherries while being mad at my husband. (Spoiler: Eating candied cherries does not solve problems. It only makes you fat. Which gives you more problems.) We made up but I am still trying to burn off those damn cherries.
Did I mention that these cherries were preceded by a “Duck Infused Burger” from Mooncussers Tavern? Filled with foie gras and topped with a fried egg, it could easily be one of the most delicious burgers I have ever tasted. It could also be the reason why my ass looks like a tub of Breakstone’s.
After eating said burger and cherries, I stuffed my bloated self into a dress and headed to the wedding, which was at Wequassett Resort and Golf Club. I got married in Italy, but if I had to do it again and was forced to stay domestic, I would seriously consider this place (and possibly a much richer and much MUCH older husband). It was beyond.
Everything was perfection. I hate flowers as much as I (formerly) hated Cape Cod, but these? Peonies?! Get. Out. And I won’t even start on the bride… Tall, thin, gorgeous and SO nice. Basically someone you never want to have to stand next to in pictures but just can’t help yourself.
I was about to call it a day and plan my permanent move there when I saw this. A Lilly Pulitzer-print Jeep that appeared not to be a joke, but a vehicle owned by someone who actually chooses to fill their upscale boutique with Lilly Pulitzer apparel. Lilly Pulitzer: what Satan dresses his enemies in.