Clever how a negative has turned into a cash cow positive in the resort world.

An article appeared in the June 15, 2014 Sunday New York Times to tell of the new trend to create spaces for spa treatments outside the box, or in this case, outside spa treatment rooms.  Traditionally, treatment rooms, with few exceptions, do not have views and are remarkably alike.  Mostly all have variations on the degree of soft lighting replete with candles and a hint of Native American flute music echoing in the canyons of the American West. But all pretty much possess a cushy table, the cleanest, largest white linen coverings ever created, and the donut- shaped place for your face that leaves a large ring from your nose to your jaw.  But who cares about that after you have experienced a honey, lavender and almond exfoliation?

So, spa treatments can now be experienced for an additional fee in the privacy of your own room at a resort. Ironically, "in room spa treatments" used to be offered when a hotel could not afford to create a 20,000 sq ft spa, just didn't have the land to build one, the builder or owner's ego to create one, or the number of guest rooms to justify even a small "spa."  What is truly amazing is that forward thinking approach has put an additional financial onus on the guest, with a minimum of approximately $50.00 to boot.  And this, for the privilege of setting up a massage table between the king size bed and the ubiquitous single chair with one lamp.

And then there is the St. Regis Bahia Beach in Puerto Rico, which charges $75 for its Spa Without Walls offering.  It allows guests to have a treatment at certain locations on its grounds, in addition to the bedroom option. That's a fine, creative marketing ploy. Ocean breeze, sound of soft waves in the distance, and a canopy protection from the sun. Just one thing.  If I choose a spot outside, I just need to know if children are allowed within a three mile radius of my treatment table, or it's back to the flute-filled, dark rectangular room where church-like whispers are serenely heard.

Swept Up in the Glamour of the Toronto Film Festival

I have discovered a wonderful new way to combine business with pleasure, which was evidenced quite by accident when I visited Toronto last week.  As I was setting up sales presentations for my resort marketing of our portfolio, I learned that the Toronto Film Festival was unfolding at the same time as my visit. Voila!

It seemed that I would be joining Brad Pitt, Julia Roberts, Ewan McGregor, Scarlett Johansson, Taylor Swift and a host of other A-list actors and producers for their red carpet arrivals, except mine would be minus the red carpet and more of a stand in line approach.

I did get one precious ticket to the best movie I have seen in a long time, and which held the buzz the entire week, "August: Osage County".  Meryl Streep, Julia Roberts, and a ton of terrific character actors.  What a beautifully written script and how exquisitely acted!   Meryl Streep will win an academy award for this film. That is my prediction.  She is the best actress we have known in my lifetime and yours, and we never think she can outdo herself in her next role, but she does.

 This was the first time the performance was given before an audience.  The director, John Wells introduced the film to us and said he and the editing team had just finished the final cut a few days before it was shipped to Toronto.  He expressed his amazement that it was actually done in time, and was pleased with the outcome. The film was shown to a sold out audience in an exquisite theater, the Elgin, which dates back to 1914.  The glamour and nostalgia that it represents was not lost on me, a lover of all Hollywood-related glitterati when movies and theaters were gilded, grand, and gorgeous.  The Elgin ceiling is just part of the stunning details that were lovingly preserved in this theater that usually houses the opera and ballet.

Also, my dear friend and colleague, Ellie MacPherson from Sunquest Meetings & Incentives, secured two tickets for us to an obscure film named "Tracks."  It turned out to be not about drug addicts, but about a woman who plays the Australian, Robyn Davidson, who treks across the Australian desert in 1977 with her dog and four,often ill-tempered camels.  She does this for the most part alone, especially since we sense at the beginning that her Black Lab will be having a foreshortened life during this 1,700 mile pilgrimage.  She does have an intermittent encounter with the disbelieving Aborigine natives, the kind and irritating National Geographic photographer, and the annoying tourists wanting to take her picture as she became famous as "The Camel Woman," etc.  She completes the journey and makes it clear across the desert to the sea without a hat or sunblock.  Whew! Riveting and fascinating story.

After the film was shown, we were thrilled to meet the real Robyn Davidson and the actress who played Ms. Davidson in the movie, Ms. Wasikowska. During a brief Q & A, Ms. Davidson shared with us that the camels were terrific companions and the Black Lab was a real pain in the hump, as far as I could tell.

TIFF (as we in the know call it) is one of the most dynamic events in the movie industry because obscure films are shown as well as the celebrity films and deals are done there.  The fans are amazingly loyal, dedicated and supportive.  And we got to VOTE for the films that should "go wide" (as we in the know call it). See you at the movies!

The Long and Short of Bermuda Shorts

Tucker's Point in Bermuda has a quietly seductive aura of elegance and sophistication. Since it is what you would expect from a Rosewood resort like others of its caliber, it does not pretend to appeal to the tourist masses. But then, neither does Bermuda. The island conjures up all those images of former British Colonialism, impeccable pastel cottages, and those elegant gentlemen dressed for business in Hamilton in their uniquely Bermudian shorts, jackets and ties. This sartorial splendor helps them do all those offshore banking transactions in style.

The island is not pretentious, just rich in culture and finances. Tucker's Point is equal to the task of accommodating, entertaining even Queen Elizabeth and her entourage, providing an impeccable golf course that rolls its greens to the azure sea, and just providing an amazing indulgence of spirit.

We were greeted by Ray, the doorman clad in a pink pith helmet with matching pink tie. Bermuda shorts, of course. The staff is genuinely gracious and responsive. The accommodations are quite spectacular, with views from the balcony that astound.

Our table at The Point was adjacent to the one where Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip dined when they visited Bermuda last year. We shared the same tea pot. That was enough for me.

It was a memorable escape from city life. I am sure the Queen felt the same.

The Gilded Age

I love the way New York City becomes the Escapism Capital of the World at this time of year.

It really is a tremendous relief to world-weary folks like me, who tire of Middle East mayhem and learning that David Petraeus's "moral compass" seemed to be always pointing South. Many of us blew through Sandy with our survival instincts of urban camping, too. And even more challenging than surviving a hurricane and Nor'easter in one week, we got through the media blowout with Obama vs. Romney.

Unabashedly, I welcome Escapism now as we head to the holidays, which everyone says are too soon upon us. Of course, I wonder myself how we got to another round of commercialism so fast. But I revel in the retreat to cocooning and planning recipes, in pre-Thanksgiving buying of Christmas cards that I will never send, and wondering how anyone can host a Thanksgiving dinner for 20 people when they work 60 hours a week and have a 5'x 5' kitchen.

So, I sallied forth on Saturday to Fifth Avenue to observe tourists laden with shopping bags. I swept into Henri Bendel, credit cardless and curious. Magically, I was transformed from fatigue to fantasy. More like a brownstone than an office building, Henri Bendel is stunning architecturally in any season, and now it was airbrushed with gold decoration creatively dangling from a central elevation, not diminishing the beauty of the domed skylight or the Lalique windows dating back to pre-World War I.

Somehow I straddled the two worlds of exquisite materialism and timeless elegance of the structure itself. I imagined how many shoppers did not even notice the etched Lalique poppies and vines that reach skyward from the second floor windows facing Fifth Avenue. They are enhanced by the sunlight that creates an explosive Art Nouveau design, which reveals the glass maker's affection for the natural world. It is a such a startling contrast between the artifice of holiday escapism, and the subtle beauty of the more enduring structure that brought a sense of peacefulness.

I left Bendel bagless, yet richer by far in more ways than one.

Room With a View

From the cozy confines of our 16th floor apartment last night overlooking Central Park South, the Nor'easter looked amazingly like a page from Jack Finney's Time and Again. As in the scene from the novel that takes place in New York City in 1882, the horses pulling a few carriages transcend time and weather forecasts. There is always silence that attends these unexpected snowfalls, and that is as welcome as the beauty that equally astonishes. For a few moments I forgot the relentless images of this past week of the sadness, frustration and despair that are affecting so many of the people who are suffering after Hurricane Sandy. Now came a storm with a folksy reference..."Nor'easter." This time, it was an anonymous reminder of the kinds of New England wallops that bring destruction, while at the same time creating resilience...a word well-known to New Yorkers. 

Electrified by Energy Glass

How is it that a simple idea can be so elusive? Then, suddenly, WHAM!-- there it is, the obvious solution! Energy from the sun-- NOT solar--from totally transparent glass. It is the patented creation held by one company--here in the United States--by a visionary inventor who is now partnered with a brilliant and incredibly nice guy.

What is truly mind-boggling is that the technology actually exists now in its nascent stage, and will surely revolutionize energy in years to come in the same way Apple reinvented technology. Not to mention job-creation here in the United States. So, in high rise office buildings now (and someday surely available at Home Depot for your home) you can have architecturally stunning buildings that can enjoy equally stunning views--minus ugly solar panels. By the way, did anyone ever answer the question as to what happens to solar panels years from now when they no longer work? Not allowed in landfills. Another problem for your children and grandchildren to deal with twenty years from now. Energy glass? Not a problem.

And now the best part. The collection of energy can keep working 24 hours a day, if you so chose to leave the lights on in your office (LED lighting, of course), because interior lighting also creates a "double shot" of energy production. So, the cleaning lady is actually helping you with the grid, while doing the vacuuming.

Most amazing of all is that the glass is laminated with energy producing nano particles that allow all this to happen. I will not get too technical here. Suffice it to say that I saw the process at the plant in Florida and stood in amazement as I watched the light coming in from the parking lot being transmitted to a battery, proving to the simplest mind (mine) that this actually works!

Since hotels and real estate are my worlds, this seemed like a natural extension of interest. With unbounded zeal, I am spreading the word to all hotels and real estate companies to take up the cry. And, by the way, the glass also meets certifications for hurricane, typhoon, tornado, forced-entry, bullet resistance, fire protection and terrorism-proof. I will keep you updated on these wonder-windows.

One last thing, for the moment. The owner of the company, Art, has a test case use for the glass to charge his cell phone. It is the only one of its kind right now, but I think, had he had time, Steve Jobs's next project would have been an I-Energy Apple.

Feeding Frenzy in New York Hotel Real Estate

Chinese, Indian and Russian buyers scouring the New York City hotel real estate market are as ubiquitous as bedbugs these days. And both have a tenacious presence that leaves me wondering how this phenomenon overtook us.

Of course, we are delighted that these foreigners have realized what a great investment is the New York City real estate market. We remember when Japan discovered Rockefeller Center and its environs, as well as many less familiar office buildings. Money is now being poured into our infrastructure with abandon again from Asia. Imbalance of the dollar is one thing. Ego-driven buyers are another.

Let's face it. Wouldn't you rather own a famous hotel in midtown rather than an office building in the garment district? Bragging rights at cocktail parties garner so much more awe-inspired looks and high-rise envy. Ask Donald Trump.

What is amazing to me as a real estate person is that there are still the "naysayers" who believe these hotel sales of lesser known and sometimes weirdly located properties are a "bad investment." Today I was told that the most recent statistics prove that there is overbulding in New York City. Occupancies in January and February 2011, I am told, were below 70% and hotels lost money. Imagine that!!!

My response to these numbers guys is, "Are you kidding me?" This was the most dreadful winter in my life, ever, since I began recording temperatures on my own Weather Channel. I, for one, did not venture outside my front door except to purchase provisions at Whole Foods. So, I do not expect tourists were planning to visit New York City to swan about in Central Park.

I have lived in New York City since 1975. Had I had foresight and money at that time, I would have bought a one bedroom apartment that was offered to me around the corner from Central Park on West 70th Street. It was a charming brownstone, with one bedroom, high ceilings, a built-in bookcase, a back garden access and a loft. Fireplace, of course. I did not have money for the deposit since these were lean days. My friend bought it for $72,000. Today, that same apartment would probably add a couple of more zeros and be done with it. Regrets, I have a few, in the words of Frank Sinatra. That is definitely one of them.

So, to all my colleagues who are predicting the overbuilding of the New York hotel real estate market and who feel it is "way overpriced" I say, "Look to the future." My colleague told me today that the J.P. Morgan Chase numbers guys are looking at those January/February occupancy rates as an ominous indicator of the future profitability of hotels. So, do the foreign investors not care? Are their numbers guys not analyzing the deals correctly? Of course they are. They just have lots of money to spend, which they need to get it out of their respective countries.

In fact, unless the Indian Power Plant melts down in the next few months, I believe we can safely bet on the insanity of these hotel sales continuing to rise at an ever more fevered pitch. There is virtually no hotel inventory left in New York City. We are now looking at converting office buildings to hotels, even in the garment district!

I think the bedbugs have it right, and they are going to remain entrenched in the expensive high rise apartments and newly bought hotels. They are equal opportunity critters, after all. I intend to follow their example and pledge my allegiance to this City, this Borough, this Island. For the sake of our budget deficit requiring new taxes and transfer fees to pull us New Yorkers out of a very deep financial hole, let us hope the Asians and Russians continue to have the same tenacity.

Bloomberg in Bermuda

I was assured by the Bermudian taxi driver that "my Mayor" slips unobtrusively into Bermuda at unexpected times throughout the year to stay in his exquisite and very private waterfront home in Tucker's Town. How he knows that is uncertain.

Of course, golf and the lack of the sirens that we fellow New Yorkers experience are the real reasons for taking a short, one and a half hour flight to the island of Bermuda from New York City. No one bothers Mike there, and no one cares that he is a billionaire in a land of immensely wealthy residents.

My recent trip there was filled with the usual amenities. Perfectly endless sunny days since early Spring. They are experiencing a drought that has not at all affected the exquisite oleander or hibiscus, which are exploding with vibrancy in sharp contrast to the pastel-colored buildings of the picturesque surroundings. The blue hue of the ocean is ridiculous. A painter would never attempt to copy that color to canvas for fear of being called a bad artist. It couldn't be--but it really is--that blue.

The greens of the best golf courses, Mid Ocean and Tucker's Point, are a tad beige in spots. Only slightly off, as thousands of gallons are pumped daily onto the courses. This is a challenge in itself, since the tray rooftops are structured to collect the rainwater from every house for purposes other than drinking. This is a charming necessity, as there are not simply not enough sources of water on the island.

So it is not surprising that my dream last night included both Bermuda and Mike Bloomberg in an exquisitely visual, multi-pixilated frame with Dolby sound. There I was, sitting at the pool deck of the exquisite Tucker's Point Hotel, sipping a tall Dark & Stormy, or as I would call this non-alcoholic version, a Dark & Rainy. There, coming from Mid Ocean from a rollickingly good day of golf was Michael Bloomberg. He approached. We exchanged smiles. He spoke.

"Good day," he said as he smiled. I wasn't sure if that was a formal salutation or a statement about his golf game. "Yes, yes. Of course." I struggled with small talk. But we warmed up to some genuine dialog when I threw in a New York reference or two to Derek Jeter and the Yankees. I shamelessly sought his approval. After all, I voted for Mike Bloomberg three times, term limits be damned. I would carry him to the White House, if I could.

In my dream, and over several cool beverages, we became great and intimate friends in the purest sense of the word. Mike and I were just not attracted to each other in that way. But on a deeper level, we were soul mates who shared the solution to all of New York, if not Life's problems.

As dreams go, this progressed nicely. So much so that he shared with me that he was supposed to meet with his lawyer that very day to write his will and decided NOT to leave his money to his family. No, he thought he would leave it to me instead! And then, he said, "In fact, I'm not even going to wait until I die. I'm going to give you money now."

Fast forward to my return home. I am at my ATM machine and discover my balance is $26 billion dollars! What a guy!!! So I withdrew $100, because somewhere in my subconscious I knew that Mike would KNOW what I was spending. But it really didn't matter how or why. There was plenty of room in my checkbook to donate to his inevitable run for the White House.

Gold Cup Races in Style, Like the Rest of Barbados

There is something irresistible about the pounding track, warm sun, cool drink and the viewing of the white-clad Queens Guard in full dress uniform mounted on horseback that sets the heart racing as well. For, after all, this is Barbados. The British influence is ubiquitous.

It is, however, quite different from say, Ascot, especially when swaying Caribbean music accompanies the Barbadian Police Band and Red Plastic Bag (yes, that is the famous Bajan Regae Rap singer's name) is on the parade grounds singing Ragga Ragga. Full throttle. Ecstatic fans singing with passionate enthusiasm along with him. Colorful dancers swaying sensuously beside him. All waiting for the most prestigious event of its kind in Barbados...the Gold Cup Races.

Name one other island in the Caribbean where you can find such a racetrack. Nope. None. This is an impressive course that is in the heart of an historic area of downtown Bridgetown, the capital of Barbados. People-watching is part of the fun. All the locals are ensconced in the private boxes on this occasion wearing Sunday church attire, especially with Eliza Doolittle hats.

I attempted to put $20 on the sixth horse in the sixth race, my husband's superstitious good luck thing. But, unlike Belmont, there was one ticket collector near the part of the special stands we were so graciously directed to as VIPs. The gentleman was overwhelmed by the queue, the enthusiasm of the bettors, and the heat. I never placed my bet. Got closed out just as "Border Secret," the sixth horse in the sixth race blew past all the others for the win.

My colleagues were an astute group of Canadian incentive buyers, who looked like professsional gamblers all. They were elegantly dresssed and speaking the parlance of worldly bettors, tossing around such words as "Trifecta" and "paramutuel" leaving me quite out of the loop. I decided to pool my money with theirs to increase the chances of a big win. We had about 60 different combinations for Win, Place and Show. I was, indeed, familiar with these terms, but had never personally known the joy of experiencing any part of the winning process.

Terry, a tall, gray-bearded fellow was the leader to whom we all entrusted our money. Smoothly and with meticulous care, he became the guru of the group. He advised us by not picking silly or cute names (we females seem to think "Preach to Me" or "Pure Temptation" had enough gravitas to surge ahead of all others). No, Terry carefully put together all the right combinations based on his reading of their past history. What a concept! With a wad of our cash, he placed the bet for the Gold Cup ultimate race for us all.

Keeping council with himself, Terry imagined what he would do with his win...possibly in the tens of thousands. Erika wanted new shoes with her winnings. Terry wanted to buy the swim up bar at the Colony Club and move to Barbados permanently. I was somewhere in between. A small, low-maintenance beach shack where I could write my blogs, perhaps.

The Gold Cup race was the culmination of hope, joy, apprehension and greed. I was in up to my picture hat. And lo and behold, the exhilaration was complete when we won...$97.00 out of all the possible configurations. We gave the money to a local charity for children with wheelchairs.

I know there was one moment when Terry looked crestfallen, but another surfaced when we realized that the fantasy had a life of its own for the fifteen minutes it lived. We had a blast. Probably would have gotten out of control if we had won big time. When I asked Terry if he would tell his wife about all this back home, he said, "What happens in Barbados stays in Barbados." That's about right, at least this year.

Summer Shortcuts

Today I am reminded of simpler times when the sun is seductively warming the streets of New York and the more informally attired workers are moving a bit slower than usual. I never grew up in New York City, but I am a native New Yorker by way of Staten Island. Not many people took us seriously in the "forgotten borough" even in those days. Or especially in those days.

I did work in New York City as a temporary secretary, moving from place to place throughout the Wall Street area. It was very exciting stuff between college semesters. I would take the venerable Staten Island Ferry every morning, and it really did seem like a cruise ship with accompanying balmy breezes on the outer deck where I invariably sat in the morning and evening.

There are a lot of tourists speaking multiple languages filling these decks now. I don't recall a single foreign accent when I joined my fellow commuters on the elegant mahogany boats painted red outside and that departed at 7:10 AM during my summer forays between semesters. I do remember the uniform of the day for men: seersucker suit, buttoned-down shirt, tie, and the Staten Island Advance or the New York Times tucked under one arm. For women, no navels were in sight. White gloves finished off my discrete dresses, but this was more my Catholic school discipline showing. I do remember my impeccable white gloves touching the pole in the stifling, un-air conditioned subway, where it was unthinkable to remove them, no matter how hot the temperature rose. Come to think of it, that was a good thing.

For the most part, we are happily beyond men wearing suits and ties in the hazy, hot and humid summer months, though Wall Streeters did seem to favor $4000 Armanis just until about a year ago. That would cause scornful looks today, as young executives refuse to wear anything approaching the Gordon Gecko look now. Either that, or they are unemployed and are wearing shorts and tee shirts on the way to the gym.

On a positive note, the Staten Island Ferry terminal has undergone a serious transformation recently. It is immaculately clean with stunning views of the downtown skyline of Manhattan, all soaring glass and sleek silver. The terminal also houses two beautiful 1000 ton aquariums with rare tropical fish. A playful touch. Nice.

It is very surprising to me that Staten Island remains financially independent enough to dismiss any need for visitors to subsidize the expense of the Ferry. If it were up to me, I would make every tourist pay at least $1.00 for the round trip fare. Whoever heard of a free boat ride anywhere in this world? It's not as if the tourists ever venture forth to see the Greenbelt hiking trails, the Tibetan Museum, or all the great restaurants. Nor do they go to my favorite, the Boardwalk. I always head there with my mom and Tess, her rescue dog, when I visit Staten Island as a Manhattanite who never quite lost her ties to this historical and cultural island.

After the Verrazano Bridge arrived and dominated the commuter scene, you couldn't play "Who Do You Know?". This involved mostly giving an Italian, Irish or Polish name to someone and finding out the six degrees of separation between you and them. I don't ever remember getting on the Staten Island Ferry without seeing someone I knew in those days. It was that kind of an island, and that kind of a nautical adventure.

So while Staten Island thrives in new and exciting developments, I am left with sweet memories of a simple childhood that smacked of sophistication just a boat ride away, but also provided a countrified aspect that has gone the way of the old red ferryboats.

I attended an evening seminar last week that featured a well-known economist who is often featured on CNBC. It was an impressive gathering of real estate moguls, bankers, captains of industry, and entrepreneurs in general. I was honored to be invited as one of the boys, since there was a disproportionate number of women present. Not to worry. I am not intimidated by this type of event that inevitably begins with a networking cocktail high above Manhattan with outstanding views of other, equally impressive skyscrapers which used to be filled with employees.

Which brings me to the tone of the evening. A bit of unease pervaded the room. Smiles that were a little less confident than one is used to, with a touch of wariness upon introduction. Though I didn't see any resumes, I did meet some well-dressed people who are out of work.

None of us wants to hear that someone has been laid off, especially if that person comes home to dinner in your house every night. Inevitably though, we all have heard of, or experienced someone close to us who has been "made redundant." Sounds like buying more than 10 items on an express line. Oops...sorry, you have to go to that other line.

There is an excellent book about this sort of thing by one of the best mystery writers of this generation (said by the WSJ). The book is called The Ax and it is by Donald Westlake. It was written in the 1990's last recession and concerns a middle management guy who is fired and decides the only way to get the job he really wants is to kill the competition...several layers of resumes stand in his way. Not an easy task. While the subject matter is macabre, the premise is brilliant and the writing is extremely amusing.

On a bright note and one to increase optimism for the ending of our current recession is a small article that appeared in the New York Times the other day. Ariston Florists, a high-end shop on West 17th Street, boasts a 10% increase in the sale of roses in this recession.

"My customers say a rose means reassurance," said Mr. Barbagianis, owner of the florist. "They are looking for basic beauty. They want something that expresses love and happiness, that reminds them of good times in the past--and, they hope, good times to come."

This is a sweet story, and shows how sensitive we tough-minded New Yorkers really are. I didn't see any roses at the economist's seminar, but there was a strange comfort in knowing that we are all in this together. People I know are reaching out to say they need help, and those of us who are still OK are sincerely trying to help with leads or referrals, or just trying to give moral support.

I intend to buy a rose from the Korean grocer on the corner from time to time. He needs to keep his job,too, and it will be a reminder to wait for the good times to come, one sniff at a time.

Chastened, but Not Bowed Luxury

The Resort at Pelican Hill on the Newport Beach Coast in California has been creating expectations that one could find very difficult to satisfy. Fantasy is a very private affair, thank you very much. This promise of "perfection" made me a bit skeptical throughout the process of the resort being built over the last two years. The pre-opening collateral material was awesome. No, sensational would be more accurate. It was the promise of something that was ego-driven by a multi-billionaire owner, and he obviously got there by himself being a perfectionist.

I can tell you that they weren't kidding. This is the most amazing resort built from scratch that I have seen in years, and it has all come together and opened in October 2008. Yes, just prior to the Great Depression of 2008.

So, what do you do when you have so much money sunk into a resort that would have been just perfect for AIG, Lehman Brothers and Merrill Lynch? You soldier on as if nothing is wrong. California with a touch of the flower child still.

I just wanted you to see this for yourself. Room rates are not astronomical, especially for groups. Tom Fazio has "perfected" the 18 hole course that was in existence prior to the resort being built. Ocean views and Catalina Island frame the course.

Intriguing, how these things have a life of their own. It is the best of times. It is the worst of times. I am betting that the Resort at Pelican Hill will flourish. The group market has already confirmed much more subdued meetings with lower rates than the hotel would have charged in good days. Astonishing how sometimes your imagination can actually work within a budget!

Escapism Never Felt this Good...Sanctuary Cap Cana, Dominican Republic

Mercifully, this past week I escaped both the battering winds of an untimely November plunge in temperature and the equally plummeting economic freefall. Things were looking up--how could they not?--when I arrived at the Sanctuary Cap Cana in the Dominican Republic to a gentle breeze and a sunny 86 degrees. A symbolic rise in temperature and spirits reversed my New York CNBC-inspired gloom. I was back!

The Internet has gleefully published articles lately about the challenge of real estate everywhere, notwithstanding the Caribbean. I do not know why there is such euphoria about distressed areas. I had read an article about the sorry state of tourism that was e-mailed to me by well-meaning colleagues recently about the Cap Cana area. None of this was in evidence at Sanctuary Cap Cana, which is as beautiful as ever, and poised on the brink of peak season to welcome very savvy guests. The Island Spa will be open this December, and a canopying zip line has been introduced from the Farallon cliff at Cap Cana. So much for "distressed." Maybe...de-stressed was what they meant.

True, there were few people in evidence as it is off-season, but the staff is as alert and gracious as ever. The resort is in pristine condition, and the beauty of the setting cannot be improved upon for anyone who knows the Caribbean and harbors expectations that all one needs is easily reachable from several major cities by direct flights.

My visit was brief, but I did manage to carve out some quality time at lunch at the Blue Marlin restaurant. It is truly one of the most natural and beautiful settings in which to experience the freshest seafood. The small fishing boats go out every morning a few yards from the restaurant and return with National Geographic-like picture-perfect fish that discretely wind up as the "special" at lunch and dinner.

The Chef in charge of the Blue Marlin has had experiences learning his craft world-wide at five star hotels from the Caribbean to the Middle East. Walim hails from Jakarta, and his creative touch is focused on the use of local ingredients, including the delicate grapefruit juice blend that includes capers and a touch of lemon and herbs. This Walim-secret-sauce is served on the side and enhanced the grilled grouper that day that made the dish "pop" or sing, or at least seduce the taste buds with a delicate aftertaste. Sabroso!

The waiters--Ortega and Luis--are natural emisseries of international good will by virtue of their training and gracious attention to service. This is not an act. Ortega said he practices his English every day with the guests because he wants to speak "perfect" English and make the meal a very special treat. The Blue Marlin protrudes over the sea, and service, setting and Walim's creations truly bring perfection within reach.

The Non-Hamptons

Shelter Island, off the north fork of Long Island, refuses to allow the twenty-first century to intrude on its sweet, summer lifestyle. Norman Rockwell at every turn. Jay Gatsby at others. The island can only be reached by a ferryboat from either Sag Harbor or Greenport, the latter being the final stop on the Long Island Railroad. Even before the small white ferry docks, your welcoming view is of majestic Victorians and gently sloping wooded shores in an area known as Shelter Island Heights. A park path leads through a garlanded area that leads to gingerbread houses with English gardens. Across from the church is a darling home with a wooden swing that really reminded me of my childhood, including the well-worn dirt beneath. The house is known as the "Churchmouse House."

If all this sounds too good to be true, or even a bit saccharine, it truly isn't. A few days on Shelter Island was the perfect antidote to "circuit overload" as I call it, caused by watching CNN, and my daily morning reading of both the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal. I was due for a lobotomy or a retreat. I chose the latter. For five days I managed not to engage in any of the above activities, and even included living without my IPOD and being BlackBerry-less. It was heavenly.

Shelter Island reminds me of Nantucket, but without the intrusion of modern mega-construction and a predominance of nouveau Wall Street money. In fact, the smell of old money pervades the landscape all around Shelter Island, and is especially potent in Dering Harbor. Exquisite homes built in the 20's have sprawling lawns that reach to the harbor and private docks that would have inspired F.Scott Fitzgerald to write The Great Gatsby. I suspect Dering Harbor is where the "other" Kennedy residents reside, but their whereabouts is a well-kept secret. Since the island is listed on the National Historic Register and was founded in 1872, there has been a concerted effort by the residents not to develop the landscape. It is truly amazing how much remains pristine and wooded throughout the entire island. Beaches lack the impressive impact of the Hamptons, but then that is just a minor trade-off for the peacefulness and lack of traffic and pretension.

We stayed at the Chequit Inn, which is a pleasant enough place with lovely gardens and good food served on the porch in the evening. We walked everywhere and read books. We talked, and found ourselves as a couple again, which is always the joy of being away from the very distracting and somewhat frenetic life we live in New York City.

The effect of Shelter Island lasts as long as you come back to your center, while preserving the simple pleasures that are found in this community that does not need to impress or talk about money.

I highly recommend the shelter from the world as a way of breathing in deeply and vacating the negatives of this way too complex world, of realizing that a perfect summer day has nothing to do with the Stock Market and has everything to do with how you used to feel on a gorgeous summer day on school break when the sun was not too hot and the water and sky were too blue to be real.

The Beach and The Bankers

The Association of Bankers who came from all over the United States were a sophisticated group. They arrived at the hotel with baggage that was not in suitcases, but were the expectations brought on by memories of all the exquisite hotels they had visited in the past. It was the first Board of Directors meeting for the newly opened hotel, and my prestigious bankers had booked the Sanctuary Cap Cana in the Dominican Republic solely based on my recommendation. I was about to deliver my first born. Just a bit apprehensive.

The hotel is in the newest "in" place--Cap Cana--whose name keeps surfacing in Elite Traveler magazine's full page glossy ad. Or the magnificent Punta Espada ocean-hugging golf course is prominently displayed on a billboard in Times Square suggesting that if you are not there during the PGA Champions Tour, you are nowhere. And here were the Bankers. Our first group, since the resort debuted in January 2008.

There is no way to know how things are going to evolve when Spanish and English meet on a beach, but the Dominican people are inherently upbeat, bright and eager to please. The staff at the Sanctuary Cap Cana also has an international aspect. The Maitre d' at CasaBella is Desmond, who is from Malaysia and had met me once in January, but remembered my favorite tea and my favorite drink, a cranberry juice cocktail.

The meeting went very well. Private dinners were set in dramatic settings with views of the sea. I really knew we were all in sync when one of the owners of Sanctuary Cap Cana, Felix Felipe, kept popping in to see how everyone was doing. He offered his private cell phone at one point for one of the attendees to return an urgent call, so he wouldn't have to go to his room. That kind of thing.

The Sanctuary Cap Cana is not just a lovely, five-star hotel. The setting is gorgeous. Three miles of pristine beach meet the striking aqua water with more sand beneath and not a pebble in sight. The eight restaurants provide a variety of phenomenal types of cuisine. The golf is exquisite. A magnificent spa will be opened in the Fall 2008, and will complement our already existing spa treatments with a new dimension.

When I asked the Chairman of the Board of the Bankers group what he thought of his stay, he was walking by the pool and it was a perfect day. He smiled, looked around, and said: "Of all the places I have stayed in five star hotels in the Caribbean and Mexico, this is the most spectacular."

The child is born.

A Tuscan Treat for All Five Senses, Sans Euros

Because telling a friend about a great movie creates unachievable expectations in the imagination of the listener, I will make a conscious effort not to gush about The Resort at Pelican Hill. Bear with me, though. It is very tempting, indeed.

Southern California conjures up images for me of insouciant wealth that is enjoyed by those who truly know how to extract the most out of every day. This is usually done by extremely good-looking blond people of either sex in yellow Lamborghini convertibles, or equally sexy, non-East Coast driven cars. Drivers are either on their way to the beach, to botox, or to "take" a meeting. The latter is probably a movie deal.

Southern California also conjures up a few noteworthy upscale hotels, like the Ritz Carlton Laguna Niguel, the Four Seasons Aviara, the St. Regis, and of course, Montage Resort. The latter was my favorite...until now. On the Newport Coast at Crystal Cove is a new arrival, and The Resort at Pelican Hill will shock all the competition into a new competitive awareness. There is simply nothing like this in the United States. No gushing. Just a fact.

The centerpiece of the resort is the Tom Fazio redesigned Ocean North and Ocean South which form the thirty-six hole golf course with breathtaking views of the Pacific. What is delightful is the visual pleasure from the 504 acres with no other modern day intrusions of civilization in sight.

Built into the rolling hillsides with views of the fairways and the Pacific Ocean, are the 204 bungalows and 128 villas. All have balconies or terraces from which to see the changing light on the ocean, or to view a distant Catalina Island. These oversized Tuscan-styled accommodations are too exquisite to spend just a night or two in, and I imagine myself easily taking up residence on a permanent basis. The fireplace in every room and a 16' wood ceiling are examples of amenities that add immeasurably to the details. An amazing amount of personal input has been given by the owner of The Resort at Pelican Hill, who is inspecting and consulting with the architects and the decorators for the official opening of the resort in October 2008.

And speaking of authenticity, The Resort at Pelican Hill has transplanted fully mature olive trees from their privately owned nearby Irvine Ranch to enhance the experience of a Tuscan village. Overlooking the orange tiled roofs of the bungalows that are interspersed with olive trees is to be transported across another ocean, to another time. The eucalyptus and sage grow naturally on these hills, and the scent of both perfectly confront the senses with a purity of purpose: to soothe and relax the senses.

More sensual delight will be apparent in the plethora of spa treatments in the 20,000 square foot Pelican Hill Spa , with amenities all specifically designed for the resort, and within keeping with the salubrious nature of the area.

Southern California with a touch of Tuscany, is how I see it. Best news of all: You don't have to spend a single Euro. Happily, we will be part of the team as an extended group sales office, so if you would like a special group rate for a meeting or incentive program, by all means, please call me at 800-255-GAIL.

The Cap Cana Championship

With the PGA Champions Tour set to start at the end of March, the buzz and excitement surrounding this event is palpable throughout Cap Cana. The Champions Tour will be the first Tour event celebrated in the Dominican Republic and will mark the Champions Tour return to the Caribbean.

For the first time in the history of the sport, the Dominican Republic will be home to the world’s professional golfers from various international destinations. Punta Espada Golf Course will be the hottest location in the golf world for this week as it hosts this important tournament and reaffirms the country’s distinction in being home to the greatest golf courses in the Caribbean.

Rick George, the President of the PGA Tour’s Champions Tour, shared “the emotion around The Cap Cana Championship excites us, not only by the fact that we have an official Champions Tour event in the Caribbean and more specifically the Dominican Republic, with its golfing history and passion which is a true privilege for us, but also because we trust that it will bring great emotion for fans of golf in the Caribbean. Our players know that they are going to compete on a high quality golf course when they play at the Jack Nicklaus signature course, Punta Espada.

Jack Nicklaus noted that “the fact that Cap Cana is able to host a Champions Tour event so fast after its inauguration, demonstrates the quality of the course and the growth of the Dominican Republic as a golf destination.” He goes on to say “We hope that at Punta Espada, the players of the Champions Tour find a golf course that allows them to enjoy the game while improving their ability. Without a doubt, it is visually spectacular. With the Caribbean Sea as a background along the course, and eight holes playing directly along the coast, Punta Espada will display all its beauty on television.”

The Cap Cana Championship will host the world’s highest skilled golfers aged 50 and upwards; legends including Jay Haas, Craig Stadler, Curtis Strange, Tom Watson, Tom Kite, Nick Price, Fred Funk, Eduardo Romero, Vicente Fernandez, Bernard Langer and Ian Woosnam, amongst many more.

Some of these players have already visited Cap Cana to experience all that Punta Espada has to offer. Each has expressed words of praise and admiration for the golf course and the Cap Cana project.

Jay Haas: “Having heard all the compliments about this place, I did not know what to expect upon arriving here, I have friends who have visited prior to me, telling me how amazing Cap Cana and the Punta Espada Golf Course are, being here now, I can say that this reality has surpassed all my expectations. This place is beautiful; and the golf course is challenging”.

Craig Stadler affirmed that: “This place is the most beautiful, wonderful golf course, which will be a great showdown of the Champions Tour”

The 54 hole, stroke-play match will have 78 players and an official purse of $2 million dollars; with $300,000 dollars awarded to the winner. This is one of the richest prize-pools of the 2008 calendar.

For those unable to see the course live at the Champions Tour, the Golf channel will televise all three rounds to the United States. The Cap Cana Championship will have a week-long agenda, full of both sporting and social activities, allowing players, press, family, friends and fans to experience the marvel, beauty and inimitableness of the entire Cap Can project.

Exquisite Beginnings, Thanks to Marc Anthony

Steps away from Marc Anthony's exuberant performance, I watched in awe as his compact body roamed the stage, making love with his music at the Caleton Beach Club at Cap Cana recently. Sometimes dulcet tones emanated from this fine performer, but mostly the place rocked with his compelling Spanish phrasing. The appreciative audience responded with spontaneous outbreaks of salsa, meringue or both by dancing barefoot in the sand under the 60 foot tented canopy that just covered the floodlit palms. What an evening!

JLo was nowhere to be seen. But the show didn't start until 10:30 PM, and the soon-to-be mother of twins was surely tucked in for the night. There were definite sightings of her on the beach earlier that day. That assured all the concertgoers who had hoped to see or hear from her that she was soaking up Marc's sweet performance in the privacy of their suite.

A sensual Dominican dance group performed following Anthony's ne plus ultra performance. What amazing choreography was displayed would have put Dancing with the Stars out of business for lack of imagination. I don't know what it is about the Dominican women, but they are incredibly beautiful, sexy, intelligent and utterly charming. The Dominican men are themselves gorgeous specimens, with equal charms. The extravaganza was followed by fireworks on the beach and more singing and dancing. The partying officially stopped at about 2:30 AM, but I suspect it continued in some circles until dawn.

All of this is about Cap Cana and what it is, and what it is becoming. Sanctuary Cap Cana is now open for business, with 176 ocean view suites in a spectaular colonial village setting. The magnificent Mandara Spa will make its debut in late Spring 2008. (Spa treatments are available to resort guests now, however). The Jack Nicklaus Signature golf course is a show stopper.

Celebrating Dominican style is so appropriate because Sanctuary Cap Cana is the most unique upscale resort ever to be built in the Caribbean, and has lots of facets that appeal to all. Marc Anthony was certainly the star that night, but so was Cap Cana.

Luxury with a Caribbean Accent - Sanctuary Cap Cana, Dominican Republic

For those of you who have waited patiently for its grand entrance into the market, the elegant golf resort, the Sanctuary Cap Cana, will debut on the east coast of the Dominican Republic on December 22, 2007...just in time for the holidays. More in a moment.


My first experience with the Domincan Republic was with Charlie Bludhorn, the founder and CEO of Gulf + Western back in the 1980's, when I was the Vice President of Sales & Marketing for his hotel division, reporting directly to him.

Mr. Bludhorn's vast corporate empire--especially Paramount Pictures--was enormously successful. But his true love was the sensual beauty of the Dominican Republic and the irrepressibly eager to please, hard-working Dominicans. No one else seemed to share his vision at the company affectionately known on Wall Street as "Engulf & Devour." No matter. Charlie and I had a mission. The challenge at that time was putting an unknown, Oscar de la Renta-designed golf resort, Casa de Campo, on the map.


Most corporate and incentive people are well beyond the geographical limitations of the average American, but in the 1980's, even they struggled with the concept of where, exactly, was the Dominican Republic. That was before "Pete Dye" became a household word with the Teeth of the Dog course, which now any serious golfer knows and can curse by name.


Well, years later with the success of marketing my beloved Dominican Republic, I am thrilled to be responsible for the U.S. group market for Cap Cana, and present at the birth of a new resort in the Dominican Republic that will eclipse Casa de Campo on all fronts. To begin with, Juanillo Beach around which the Sanctuary Cap Cana is surrounded, is one of the most stunning white sand/teal ocean combinations that any imagination can conjure up. Jack Nicklaus has created a Signature seaside golf course, Punta Espada. Golfers who have played the spectacular ocean-hugging holes gush about the course, yet still cannot find enough superlatives to describe its beauty. Caution: Play now before it becomes private, which it will do as soon as the second Jack Nicklaus course, Punta Iguana, comes on line. Fortunate will be the villa and condo owners who will then have Punta Espada all to themselves!


The Sanctuary Cap Cana has been lovingly designed and built by AltaBella Hotels, a Madrid-based company which has taken excruciating care to bring this five star property to its current state of luxury. All will soon be revealed when the all-suite resort(minimum of 650 square feet hotel rooms) is open next month. Not all of the hotel will be available on December 22, 2007, however. You must wait until March 2008 to experience the exquisite Mandara spa, though spa facilities will be available at the hotel before then. Half of the eight restaurants, and the conference center will be open also in March 2008. We are taking group reservations now, with several prestigious corporate groups already booked.



A final note by the way for those of you who don't know, Charlie Bluhdorn is in the Great Resort in the sky, having passed away in the Dominican Republic in 1985. He really would have loved SanctuaryCap Cana, though I suspect he would have wanted to make it part of his Gulf + Western empire, if it still existed. And that is, of course, the beauty of Sanctuary Cap Cana. It is small (176 suites) and independent, not part of a corporate chain of cookie-cut hotels you might find on this or another Caribbean island. So, I know I speak for Charlie Bluhdorn, if you haven't yet been to the Dominican Republic, you must come to Sanctuary Cap Cana. We challenge you NOT to fall in love with it!

WBENC Certification

A great endorsement has just come my way. The Women's Business Enterprise National Council has officially certified Gail Flannigan Associates as a Woman Business Enterprise. This enables increased access to business opportunities for WBEs from companies who wish to work with women entrepreneurs, and who are encouraged to do so by their corporate philosophies.

The process to become a WBE was lengthy and involved extensive forms, strict criteria, and ultimately being interviewed to make sure our 22 year old business was, indeed, owned by myself, a woman entrepreneur. Over the years, the business has changed, evolved and grown to include commercial and hotel-related real estate. The rewards and worries have come with the territory. Also, the thrill of knowing it is through my tenacity that it has continued to thrive, despite economic and personal challenges.

This award is to be shared especially by Terence Rufer, my husband, partner and Executive Vice President. Besides being an implacable support and calming influence, his judgment is spot on, and he has a wealth of experience in the hotel industry, upon which I draw constantly. And then there is my alter-ego who seems always to be one step ahead of me...my extremely talented Executive Assistant and invaluable support person, Sarah Coughlin.

Finally, due to the loyal clients who have followed me through the years, I am able to accept gratefully this acknowledgement by the Women Presidents Educational Organization (WPEO).

Thank you all.

Onward and upward.