Bonjour Colorado

Mid-Atlantic Discoveries: Baltimore

Historic Fell's Point

When my boyfriend, Steve, asked me to accompany him to his brother’s wedding on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, I didn’t expect that the trip would grow into such a big travel week (actually more like ten days).  But I should have known that that would be the case since the travel writer in me itched for new experiences and, of course, it takes more doing than one flight to reach the Outer Banks from Telluride.  It’s rare that I can go to a place and just BE; instead I seek to live it fully, gathering all kinds of information along the way, jotting down notes, doing what I can to find the story.

We flew from Denver to Baltimore and since I had never visited this major hub, I decided it was a must-see.  It did not disappoint me in the slightest.  We stayed our first night together on the east coast at The Admiral Fell Inn, a historic property on Fell’s Point, Baltimore’s original port and Maryland’s first National Historic District.  (The area was spared destruction in the late sixties after a grassroots effort prevented construction of a highway plumb through this now happening neighborhood.  Can you imagine?)

Once dominated by ship building and commerce, today Fell’s Point is a charming harbor side district characterized by centuries-old buildings, eclectic shops, lively taverns and cobbled streets made from bricks of granite used for ship ballast.  Goods once flowed through the wharves and warehouses of Fell’s Point with as many as eighteen shipyards operating in the area, building hundreds of vessels.  Many of these structures have recently been converted into fun spaces for people to live and play; others, such as the taverns, have existed for ages.  

The Admiral Fell Inn

The Admiral Fell Inn, named after Edward Fell, one of Baltimore’s earliest developers, is comprised of eight adjoining buildings, some dating back as far as the 1760s.  Colonel Fell never was awarded the naval designation of Admiral but he did do much to gentrify this land from which sprung some of the most famous shipyards of the world.  His wife, Ann, brought British flavor to “The Point” by naming many of the streets after the most renowned in London including Bond, Fleet and Thames. 

Steve and I settled ourselves into our corner room at the inn, flew open the windows and breathed in the dewy, coastal air.  I had already commented several times by now how my skin and hair felt so incredibly soft, a refreshing change from the extreme dryness of the Rockies.  It was Friday night, dark by now and the streets were filling up below with locals and visitors alike.  We could have been two sailors on leave.  Steve brought up a couple of beers from the bar below and we toasted our arrival into the New World.  We already felt light years away from the mountains.  

The drizzle outside accentuated the distinctly Londonian feel of Fell’s Point.  We strolled hand and hand out along the wharf to take a look at the harbor, our first time together at the sea (well not exactly the sea, but close enough for two landlocked people such as ourselves).  The place and the spot couldn’t have felt more special to us.  It was delightful to see an historic area that so fully retained its charm, a highly attractive place of interest that hasn’t been all built out and marred with chain stores and sprawling food emporiums.  

We just needed to determine which one of Fell’s Point’s authentic taverns would be our best bet for our one night out in Baltimore.  Good crab cakes would, of course, be the determining factor, so we set out inquiring here and there, in search of the best recommendation.  Duda’s Tavern won out unanimously and although I didn’t much watch “Cheers,” I imagined it could easily be compared to this renowned Boston bar, only this sixty-year old establishment appeared smaller, more intimate and certainly far better known for its tasty eats.  It fit the low-ceilinged model of the surrounding taverns and like the others, proudly displayed its love of sports and beer, providing considerable options for the former, countless for the latter including close to one hundred kinds of bottled and draft beer.  ESPN competed with Bon Jovi and although I’m not much of a sports enthusiast, I embraced the scene like a Ravens fan on opening day.

Steve introduced me to steamed shrimp seasoned with Old Bay, another first for me and the perfect accompaniment to our frosty beers.  Crab cakes served with homemade potato salad and cold chunk crab presented in a martini glass with a side of drawn butter followed.  The combination of cold crab and warm melted butter did little for me, however, the meaty crab cakes were some of the best I ever tasted.  No breading here, just plump crab lightly seasoned and baked to a golden brown.

Afterward we strolled along Thames Street, poking our heads into more bars and checking out shops such as The Sound Garden where Steve picked up a bunch of hard-to-find CDs and where we both enjoyed rummaging around.  By now the bar scene was going off and all kinds of music emanated from within the neighborhood’s jumble of hangouts.  

Folded into the couches of the lounge at Meli, the newly installed restaurant/bar, downstairs from our hotel, we ordered one glass of bubbly and a fruit tart.  Our soirée was finished off en élégance, serenaded by a female jazz vocalist that would make Billy Holiday proud.  

We loved the fact that we could sleep with the windows wide open on this balmy night of mid September.  (The windows had long been shut at night back in the mountains where the thermometer was already flirting with the freezing point.)  We were lulled to sleep by the sound of cars rumbling on cobblestones and rock and roll resounding from the bar below.  Or was that the echo of passing carriages and bawdy sailors that rang in our ears?  The friendly folks at the front desk of the inn told us about the legendary spirits that reside within the premises the next day, but we had no encounters with them during our stay at the inn.  Or maybe we did after all?

The Inn's Lobby and Front Desk

Breakfast on Saturday couldn’t have been more enjoyable.  We returned to Meli and sat on stools perched within their bright, contemporary decor facing the brick facades along Thames Street.  Steve had a crab omelette dressed with beurre blanc that I’m still talking about, an exquisite creation modestly priced at $6.95.

After having shopped for rich and exotic honeys at the Meli boutique (meli means honey in Greek), I spent the next couple of hours exploring while Steve headed off to visit family.  My research lead me to Harbor East a few blocks from Fell’s Point where old industrial buildings are being converted into hip hangouts.  Spa Santé is one such place, and here I relished a rare treat:  a manicure.  I have pedicures a plenty but rarely manicures, mostly since I like to keep my nails filed down for quick and easy typing.  I do love to check out spas when I’m traveling though, so this bit of pampering seemed to make the most sense.  Richard, a longtime local and a skilled cosmetologist, took care of me and we chatted lots about the evolution of the neighborhoods in a town that he clearly loves.  “Harbor East has more of a West Village feel,” he said.  “Fell’s Point, too.”  And then I remembered what a friend from the West Village said about gay men gentrifying neighborhoods.  

“Yes, I thought I spotted some smartly dressed gay men around town last night,” I added.  Harbor East, like the West Village, was certainly benefiting from their creative flair.  

I met my brother, Frank, for lunch at Sabatino’s one of the better known restaurants in Little Italy, another neighborhood adjacent to Fell’s Point.  We feasted over homemade ravioli and Chianti in this large restaurant that seemed little changed since Frank Sinatra’s heydey.  The smell of garlic wafted in the air and although sparsely populated, the other diners dispersed throughout the various rooms of this old establishment seemed to be enjoying their meals as much as we delighted in ours.  

From here we drove to Federal Hill, another area punctuated by Baltimore’s famed row houses, only here they’re grander and far more historic than the ones in Little Italy.  “Lots of yuppies have moved into Federal Hill over the past thirty years,” Richard told me.  From atop the hill you have a great view of the inner harbor, yet most of the old homes at the base of the hill don’t benefit from such vistas.  

Frank lives in D.C., and like many residents of our nation’s Capitol, he spends a fair amount of leisure time museum going.  In Baltimore, he was eager to introduce me to the American Visionary Art Museum, one of the top-ranked museums in the country.  This is America’s official national museum and education center for the best in intuitive and original, self-taught artistry.  The over-sized, kinetic sculptures outside of the museum intrigued me and it only got better inside.  When I told someone I encountered in my travels that I was going to this museum, I found the commentary to be quite interesting.  “Lots of crazies have done the artwork there.”  Hmmmm.  Of course I thought of Van Gogh and other creative types that were considered mentally ill.  I think a certain amount of craziness does need to occur during the creative process. I’d go so far as to say that I can be pretty off kilter from time to time.  

But the nuttiness is really full on at the American Visionary Art Museum.  In most cases, the artist’s neuroses are openly revealed.  The day we were there they were showcasing an exhibition on OCD, called Obsessive Compulsive Delight.  Frank and I stood in awe before creations made from prolific doodling and collections of thrift (also known as hoarding) that had been assembled into masterful works.  When you’re a little out there, the mind gives free rein to the hand.  I’ll have to remember that the next time I begin a story.

The museum’s gift shop features an Ali Baba’s cave of collectibles of all kinds including books, games, jewelry, artwork and more.

I found this to be a wonderful way to wind up my stay in Baltimore, a traditional kind of town that also distinguishes itself by a multitude of innovative facets.  Frank and I had originally planned to take the water taxi from Fell’s Point to Harbor Place, but exploring a couple of other neighborhoods together provided much more of a local experience.  Plus it’s always nice to save something for next time, isn’t it?

The Admiral Fell Inn, 888 South Broadway, 410-539-2000, www.harbormagic.com/AdmiralFell

Duda’s Tavern, 1600 Thames Street, 410-276-9719

The Sound Garden, 1616 Thames Street, 410-563-9011, www.cdjoint.com

Meli, 1636 Thames Street, 410-534-6354, www.kalismeli.com

Spa Santé, 1429 Aliceanna Street, Suite 100, 410-534-0009, www.spasantebaltimore.com

Sabatino’s Italian Restaurant, 901 Fawn Street, 410-727-9414, www.sabatinos.com

American Visionary Art Museum, 800 Key Highway, 410-244-1900, www.avam.org

More Recommendations from My Charming Friends at Spa Santé

Pazo, 1425 Aliceanna Street, 410-534-7296, www.pazorestaurant.com; an immense, ultra-hip bar and restaurant done up in a nouveau Mediterranean decor.  You just might run into Michael Phelps here!

One-Eyed Mike’s, 708 South Bond Street, 410-327-0445, www.oneeyedmikes.com; a Grand Marnier Club in Fell’s Point, but of course!

Blue Moon Café, 1621 Aliceanna Street, 410-522-3940; a great place for breakfast but be prepared for a bit of a wait.

And One Great Venue that Frank and I Discovered

The 8 X 10, 10 E. Cross Street, 410-625-2000, www.the8×10.com; Baltimore’s hot spot for great music

Telluride’s Beauty Boutiques

Mountain Therapy at Mountain Lodge Telluride

I love the notion of a beauty boutique.  I frequented Beauté Boutique in the seventeenth arrondissement of Paris for many years.  It consisted of a sectioned off little space where (mostly) women had a variety of body parts attended to with the efficacy and regularity of a man’s visit to the barber shop.  It was a totally no frills operation but women maintained their monthly appointments for a short menu of treatments that included waxings, pedicures and facials.  “In France, all this is part of la hygiene personnelle,” la directrice once explained to me.

The approach in Telluride is not too unlike what I encountered in Paris.  Here the salons and spas are considerably more inviting than my neighborhood beauty boutique in Paris but these purveyors of poufing and pampering are indeed accustomed to meeting the needs of an equally demanding clientele.  In Telluride, many women remain just as committed to maintaining their beauté as the French.  This sort of fervent dedication to spas and salons is somewhat unusual in America but in my Rocky Mountain town where the air is often single-digit-humidity dry and the sun beams hard and bright most days of the year, personal upkeep is more of a necessity than a luxury.  

If you’ve ever had to deal with wiry, brittle hair, feet with fissures and cracks as impressive as a river canyon and skin as tight and thirsty as a stretch of sun-baked mountain road above tree line, than you have a sense of the ongoing battles fought by the people (especially women, needless-to-say!) of Telluride, locals and visitors alike.  No one is spared, no matter how much water you drink and how often you turn on your humidifier, we all duke it out.  No one wants to end up looking like a puckery old miner.  And, of course, we’re not about to curtail our outdoor activities.  Come wind, rain, snow, scorching sun or bitter cold, we ski, hike and bike to our heart’s content and there’s no quantity or quality of skin or hair care product that can completely protect us from what Mother Nature throws our way.

Most visitors land graciously in the luxury spas located in our grandest hotels (more on those later), but Telluride’s charming little beauty boutiques are not to be overlooked, especially since these gems are largely frequented by locals, the very people that need these services the most.  I’ve come to know and greatly appreciate a handful of estheticians, stylists and massage therapists that have made me feel whole, healthy and hydrated time and time again, so I thought I’d share a few of the names in my directory with you.

Magical Fingers Providing Expert Skin Care at Studio G.

For superb skin care, I recommend Studio G., a lovely little day spa that focuses on total skin wellness.  Ginger Medrick, the driving force behind this fresh-as-a-tropical-rainstorm boutique, has assembled a team of highly skilled women equally committed to superior quality skin care.  Signature treatments include The Wellness Facial and the Deluxe Clinic Facial which includes a Lactic Lift and Oxygen Blast.  Advanced skin peels, eyelash and brow tinting, UV-free airbrush tanning, make up applications and more round out Studio G’s menu of services.

I’ve frequented Atmosphere for years, mostly for regular waxings, and have found each one of this spa’s estheticians to be extremely well-trained and delightful company.  (Waxings are not the most relaxing treatments in the spa-osphere, so it’s essential to have someone adept enough to create a quick, pain-free and pleasant experience.  Girl talk is a must.)  I decided, however, to try out something different one day in an effort to break out of my routine waxings.  I always enjoyed the soothing, zen-like space of Atmosphere, but I hadn’t yet been introduced to their inner sanctum, a tiled treatment room that features a Vichy Shower, a wide sweeping wand with five shower hands that can soak and rinse you as you lie sleepily on the treatment table.  Cynda, a long-time therapist in Telluride, buffed, moisturized, massaged and polished me with all the quickness and skill of a magician.  (That’s exactly what you want when you’re bathed and pampered by a total stranger.)  First I was exfoliated, then slathered in mineral mud and wrapped cocoon-like in plastic “to cook.”  A heavenly scalp massage followed, until I was finally rinsed by the miraculous Vichy Shower wand and then dried with warm, crisp sheets.  All this transpired without me fulling realizing what had happened to me in my complete nakedness.  (Thank goodness for the Vichy and for Cynda’s expertise and discretion since I had achieved such a state of relaxation that I couldn’t imagine being any way but horizontal.)  End result:  deep relaxation and tingling, ultra-hydrated skin that made me feel brand new.

Great Shopping and More at Aromatherapy

I love how sexy it makes me feel to put pedicured toes into hiking or ski boots.  And in Telluride, most estheticians are sure to take this into account, trimming nails and filing calluses so that your feet shine in both sandals and outdoor footwear.  I enjoyed hanging out in the comfy, casual boutique of Aromatherapy, not minding a bit the time it takes for toes to dry.  Owner Michelle Davis first opened an aromatherapy store on Long Island and one look around this bright and breezy boutique confirms that this is a woman who knows her redolent products.  You’ll find them in the form of everything from perfumed pillows to scented candles.  Thankfully Michelle’s select offerings don’t stop there; she stocks a supply of fun and sensual loungewear and casual wear on a regular basis along with lots of other girly goods.  

For hair, I have remained loyal to Rosa Lea at Salon 7 ever since I moved here over six years ago.  A local’s and second home owner’s favorite, Rosa Lea regularly provides a great “cut and color” for women and men.  (Children love being in her chair as well.)  She’s sweet and caring and known to find just the right look for everyone that walks through her door.  Now if I could only make my hair as glossy-looking as she does.  (I think the secret is not to rush the blow dry and have lots of rich products at hand.)

I broke out of my hairstylist habits once recently to try out Shayla, another long-time Tellurider, that also boasts a strong local clientele.  She moved here from Hollywood where she worked in a salon in Melrose.  “Women in Telluride get their hair done to simplify their lives,” Shayla told me.  “In Hollywood, they’d have something done to their hair every two weeks to maintain their extensive colorings and highlights.”  I’m sure T-ride has been a delightful change for her even though her supply of conditioners likely dwindles as fast as a starlet’s success on the silver screen.

Hmmmm.  Massage.  Where else can you find so many sore muscles and aches and pains than in a mountain town?  I’m nearly convinced, too, that this wretched dryness must be making our bones brittle and hurting as well.  I don’t go for any froufrou massages here and I don’t know anyone else that does either.  We all need healing in this rugged environment and I’ve been lucky to find two healers that have hung out their shingles in quaint spaces both in the town of Telluride and in Telluride Mountain Village.  Lupe Eckenrod has been consistently voted the local’s favorite massage therapist for a number of years.  Her touch is firm, deliberate and a welcome relief to all ailments big and small.  Darren Miller works out of a few spaces including Mountain Lodge where he woos his clients with his healing hands and his array of essential oils.  Best to call in advance for both.

I’ve completed my tour of favorite Telluride beauty boutiques.  At least for now.  You can bet that this town keeps many people gainfully employed in the health and beauty sector.  We understand more than most what it means to take care of yourself, inside and out.  Our definition of beauty boutique might be slightly different from the norm.  But as my French beauty maven explained to me, it’s about personal hygiene.  Yes, of course, and lots of hydration, too.

Studio G., 226 W. Colorado Ave., 970-728-8700, www.studiogskin.com

Atmosphere, 250 W. San Juan Ave., 970-728-0630, www.telluridespa.com

Aromatherapy, 191 S. Pine St., 970-728-9515, www.aromatherapydayspa.com

Salon 7, 300 Mahoney Dr. (at the base of Lift 7), 970-369-0050 or 970-708-1266

Shayla,224 E. Colorado Ave. (2nd floor), 970-728-1558 or 970-708-2308

Lupe Eckenrod, 970-708-0692

Darren Miller, 970-369-5193 or 303-257-6070