Monday, February 15, 2010

Palm Springs

One of the things that originally brought Tim and me together was a shared love of Frank Sinatra. Not only do we think he’s one of the greatest singers of all time, but we remain fascinated by his glamorous Rat Pack lifestyle. Frank was and always will be the epitome of cool.

Not a surprise, then, that I bought tickets as soon as I heard our local PBS station, KCET, was holding a fundraiser at Frank’s former home in Palm Springs. The event kicked off Modernism Week, Palm Springs' annual ten-day celebration of mid-century living and architecture. Festivities, which continue till next weekend, include tours of architecturally-significant residences, author appearances, art exhibits, films, and a display of 1950s travel trailers.

To get into the spirit, I made reservations at the Desert Hills Resort, one of Palm Springs’ top “boutique hotels.” Nestled at the foot of the San Jacinto mountains, the resort is one of the town’s many 1950s motels renovated to mid-century perfection. It was quiet and cozy and reminded me very much of the places my family stayed when my sister and I were kids.

Frank Sinatra, of course, is no longer with us, but one of his contemporaries, Buddy Greco, is still going strong. So, in keeping with our 1950s theme, we got tickets for his show at the Spa Hotel and Casino, Friday night. At 83, his voice ain’t what it used to be, but he can still play a mean piano and render his own kitschy twist to standard song lyrics. We felt like we had been transported back to a small club in Las Vegas during the Rat Pack’s heyday.

Before leaving town on Saturday, we ran through the Modernism Show, where I bought a fabulous Nat Reed giclee print of the Capitol Records building. The perfect ending to a perfect three-day vacation.

More Palm Springs adventures below!

1 comment:

Mike said...

Envy, in the shape of some twisted misshapen monster with green eyes sits on this desk staring at me as I type this..

What a marvellous see, I'm kinda hopin that more things of this nature become shrines for the devoted to seek spiritual succour in. I want the phrase 'there's a succour born every minute' to become commonplace in California.