Seaside and her “sisters” pop up on the Florida Panhandle like plastic surgery on a formerly natural woman.
It’s not a bad thing. And Seaside and her imitators–the still-under-development Rosemary Beach to the east and Watercolor to the west–have certainly had work done by the best of them. They look good. They’re well maintained. They’ll age gracefully under the watchful eye of what must be the world’s strictest code-enforcement officers.
It just takes a little getting used to.
After all, you’ve just passed through Florida’s “nature coast” and “forgotten coast,” and here you are, looking up at a collection of $2- and $3-million-dollar pastel charmers designed to resemble the dwellings in some long-lost vacation town of your youth.
An ideal town and an ideal youth that, let’s face it, never really existed. (But, proof that Seaside gets its own joke: “The Truman Show”–the Jim Carrey movie about a fabricated life in a fabricated town–was filmed there.)
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We didn’t stay in Seaside, although some homeowners rent out their Victorian-inspired abodes for up to $8,000 a week, and there is an excellent B&B, Josephine’s, and a fun 1950s style motor-court motel. We spent two nights a mile east, down Scenic 30-A, at the Sugar Beach Inn B&B in Seagrove Beach.
Each morning, though, we jogged to Seaside and down its bricked streets, past the white picket fences and wrap-around porches, past the tow-headed youngsters piling into polished German SUVs, past the minuscule picture-perfect post office and old-fashioned book store and gourmet grocery.
Were we charmed? Alarmed?
A little of both. Seaside is a facade, to be sure, but it’s a nicer way to develop beachfront property than the endless walls of condos that line South Florida’s shores. On the other hand, it’s so Disneyesque that real appreciation of the town is hard to drum up.
Still, it’s well worth a stop–as are the newer communities–if you’re heading that way on the Panhandle. There are fun shops to explore–the aforementioned gourmet grocery, the Modica Market, sells the yuppie victuals you’ll crave after a week in what is essentially the Deep South. Restaurants are more upscale here, and not limited to fried seafood.
And the Sugar Beach Inn is a great B&B, with a laid-back host–he doesn’t even live on the premises–as well as cheerful rooms, private baths and beach access.
Of course, it’s those legendary beaches that the area is known for–enormous expanses of finely ground white sand that squeaks under your feet when you walk. The nearby Grayton Beach State Recreation Area regularly ranks as one of the nation’s top beaches.
A continuous bike path–well-used by families walking, biking or in-line skating–connects Rosemary Beach to the east to Grayton Beach to the west, making for a very pleasant 5-mile ride. Pedal east to Rosemary Beach, where you can grab a beverage and a bite to eat at the charming “mainstreet.”
Then, turn around and head west to Grayton Beach. If Seaside, Watercolor and Rosemary Beach are fraternal triplets, Grayton Beach is the black sheep of the family, the granola-crunching hippie with a more artistic bent. There’s the Hibiscus Coffee & Guesthouse, with its Old Florida motif. And there are art and gift shops.
The area makes a pleasant pit-stop on a Panhandle tour. Just don’t mistake it for real life. Then again, you’re on vacation, so what’s wrong with a little make-believe?
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For information on Seaside, Fla., go to www.lfoa.com/seaside/default.htm.