originally published Aug. 30, 2018
Sunday Afternoons in Montauk is the first in a new line of travel-inspired candles I like to call #smellyplaces. I've spent quite a bit of time in Montauk over the years and it began to feel like a second home to me while I was living in New York City. This candle is an ode to that. To those delightful summer days spent DJing by the lake at Surf Lodge or by the pool at the The Montauk Beach House or on the beach at Gurney's. To those magnum bottles of rosé that seemed never ending and the laughter that lasted long into the night. To the people you saw everywhere you went and that feeling of community and warmth. To that cool breeze and weathered wood. To the comfortable and familiar. Sunday Afternoons in Montauk❂❂❂❂❂I arrived early afternoon. I got off the train with a big smile on my face and pushed my way through the cab drivers lined up at the end of the platform, soliciting their services. I took out my iPhone to determine which direction I needed to start walking. Most people drove everywhere in the Hamptons but I preferred to walk. And besides, according to Google Maps, it was only 15 minutes away. I walked on the road because there are no sidewalks. When a car drives by, you move into the tall grasses. Stand roadside waiting for traffic to pass. It’s still a bit rugged there. Even with all the money and magnum bottles of rosé, there’s still a glimpse of untamed nature, which sets Montauk apart from other parts of the Hamptons. This was five years ago - with each passing year the land has become increasingly manicured. But last time I was there, which was about a year ago now, this bit of road from the train station to Surf Lodge was still the same slightly neglected path that it was the first time I walked it. I had butterflies in my stomach as I approached the building. I had heard wonderful things about Surf Lodge and was excited for my DJ set. When I arrived it was not the larger-than-life, hugely glamorous place I had imagined. In fact, it was quite the opposite. A bit worn looking, made of white weathered wood, sand and solitutde. I soon realized why it was such a beloved destination for downtown city-dwellers like me. The surf-inspired simplicity of the place was the much-needed relief from the chaos of the city that the commercial clubs of East Hampton couldn’t provide. I was shown to my room – it was bright and airy with a big comfy bed in the center and a small pot of surf wax perched atop the pillow, where you might find a chocolate at a more conventional hotel. I dropped my bags and plugged my phone into the small Marshall speaker in the corner, probably putting on some Beach Boys song that I intended to play in my set later. I stretched out in the rainbow hammock, taking in the warm sun and feeling nothing but gratitude.
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