Once a year, preferably in the heart of winter, I leave Connecticut for Florida, where 360-degree vistas of water and warm weather renew the eternal sunshine of my mind. Such was the case last week, when I headed out of New York’s Westchester County Airport for a direct flight to Palm Beach. This wonderfully efficient mode of transport is a mere thirty minutes drive from my house, with non-stop service to the very manageable West Palm Beach airport. This allows me to avoid the hassles of expensive overnight parking and airports crowded with the hustle of international travelers—all careening for attention—in languages not my own. But I understand that this service has a short shelf-life; the last direct flights will end in August, for lack of consumer demand. Such was noted all too well on my own flight down, which held only eight passengers, all of us asked to sit in first class, presumably so that the flight attendants had fewer steps to walk in order to serve us our very non-first class non-alcoholic beverage and potato chip dinner. artes fine arts magazine

This throwback mode of travel—easy access, few passengers and hassle-free service—is a metaphor for life in Palm Beach. Slower, quieter and more genteel than its wilder cousin in Miami Beach, with its Art Basel Art Fair, the contrasts could not be more striking. Where leggy models flirting in break-your-back Jimmy Choo’s enjoy mojitos poolside on Miami’s famous South Beach, or in art-filled multi-million dollar ocean-side guest rooms for sale by tri-lingual agents, I, at fifty-something and in comfortable Belgian ballerina flats, actually scored points, rather than had them deducted, for both age and wisdom, as I was amongst the youngest art show attendees at the Palm Beach Fair, and, as I intended to walk for several hours on end, was presumably amongst the wisest!

Where white-haired grand dames in neutral-toned orthopedics skirted through the Palm Beach Convention Center, walkers or canes and decades-long spouses on their arms (in order to support them), other guests gathered simply to enjoy art. Oh, sure, a Preview Party, held a couple nights before I arrived, held the glamour and the glitz (and the beautiful people) that one would expect in Palm Beach. But if Art Basel Miami Beach is a young person’s game, where the culture of the Art Fair is as important—if not more—than the art itself, the Palm Beach International Art Fair is a wise person’s game…where culture is practically a non-issue. While Miami’s art scene is dominated by new collectors just entering the game, this art-collecting set has long been in the money game; in the art game; in the game of life. By the time they got to the fair, they had literally seen it all: the Great Depression, two World Wars, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan. While patrons of Art Basel Miami Beach used iPhone apps to discover emerging artistic talent, patrons of the Palm Beach Art Fair used friends and companions to do the homework for them. They had little interest in emerging artists; for them it was blue chips all the way!

There was this stark contrast between these contrasting art worlds—both held in South Florida—that immediately caught my attention. Having frequented Art Basel Miami Beach on a number of occasions, this was my first foray in to the Palm Beach art scene. And it has captivated me by its magic—a quieter, gentler one—since I first traveled there, almost three decades earlier.

One cannot help but be intoxicated by Palm Beach. Henry Flagler, the Standard Oil tycoon, declared Palm Beach a “veritable paradise” in 1893, and it has sustained that status continually ever since. Crossing the bridge from West Palm into Palm, was once euphemistically described by a real estate broker as the “longest bridge in the world,” alluding to the per capita income up-tick that accompanies its traversal. Once in Palm Beach, one is smitten with the beauty of Royal Palm Way, or “Banker’s Row,” as the natives call it. A relatively short avenue, lined in royal palms, it stretches all the way from the mainland, across the island, to the Atlantic Ocean. This picturesque route transports you to the heartbeat of Palm Beach. As soon as I landed at the airport, collected my bags and got through rental car security, I too, enjoyed this lovely little ritual of driving across ‘the bridge,’ easing my way down Royal Palm Way and steering into the direction of historic Worth Avenue. It was Saturday evening, after all, and the show had closed; my plans were to walk the fair all day Sunday. I had time to kill before I found dinner and my room, and the warm air, Christmas-light-lined palms and sight of lovers strolling The Avenue proved too compelling a combination to keep me from doing anything else. I was in Neverland now, and I had no desire to leave.

For over one hundred years, Worth Avenue, in the very heart of Palm Beach, has charmed visitors with its art and antiques shops, couture houses (Chanel, Ferragamo, Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Dior and Hermes are popular stops for the well-heeled traveler and native alike), jewelry (think Tiffany’s) and leather goods, men’s shops and fine eateries. Even the dogs here are uber-pampered; their annual Pet Parade attracts hundreds of dogs in their finest attire, all vying for attention in what I would have dubbed Pucci & Gabana, if I were running the show! Sprawled across the three blocks of Mizner-designed Gothic structures, with the Via Mizner and Via Parigi, two of the nine Vias of Worth Avenue are amongst the most lovely side streets imaginable, with courtyards and fountains and hidden stairways whispering for exploration. These sequestered spots still ooze the same charm as they did when constructed in 1925. Its 200-or more shops boast barrel-tiled roofs and bougainvillea-lined archways that many consider the most extraordinary shopping strip in the country, if not the world! Anchored by Neiman-Marcus at one end and the Beach Club at the other, the non-bustle of this after-hours elite group of Worth Avenue shops, are highlighted by a scored ‘shell tabby’ treatment on the sidewalks underfoot, and above, by keystone-arched doorways, where ceilings are lined in cypress wood and sunlit corners are redolent with the smell of subtropical flowers. It is no wonder that Worth Avenue remains the first and last area that I visit whenever I go to Palm Beach.

A friend of mine lent me her condo in West Palm, and it was there that I set up my things for the four days and four nights of my art-scavenging visit. Right on the water, overlooking ‘the bridge’ and the mega-yachts which formed my backyard horizon, I slept with patio doors open; the only invaders to my sleep being gentle breezes, a couple of mosquitoes and the bright morning sun, which was my daily wake-up call.

Before I headed to the Art Fair, I went with a new friend to the Royal Poinciana Chapel for morning worship services. It was Sunday, and church has always been part of my weekly ritual. The experience was most lovely and again, genteel, as one would expect from this graying population of Palm Beacher’s, regaling clothing and shoes from The Avenue: women with handbags collectors like me have longed for; men sporting foldable Eric Javits straw hats, coveted by travelers everywhere. Later, a social break took place on the patio overlooking the bay for lunch. With its fountain spraying water onto the stone-lined terrace and children dancing in the sun, I felt a million miles from the New England I had left behind. From there, we went to Green’s Luncheonette, a hole-in-the-wall famous for its cheap, yet hearty, breakfasts. It is located directly across the street from St. Edward’s Catholic Church, where the Kennedy’s worshipped when they still lived on the island. Interestingly, I had a celebrity-sighting all my own, as we pulled out a non-descript, compact rental car, heading to the Art Fair. I spotted Regis Philbin and his wife crossing the street!

The drive to the Palm Beach Convention Center was a short one. On the way, I was treated to the Palm Beach eye candy of Breaker’s Row and the Episcopal Church of Bethesda-by-the-Sea, claimed by many as the most beautiful church in America. The breathtaking beauty of the natural and built environments of Palm Beach did not go unnoticed; to the contrary, I was ready to settle in for the entire winter, if not retire there on the spot. The views surrounding me from all angles were indescribably gorgeous.

But it was art that I was seeking, and art was certainly on display. So I headed to the fair with the ease to which I was becoming accustomed in Palm Beach: a no-hassle press entrance, no-hassle press room and no-hassle showroom filled with beautiful art. Unlike Art Basel Miami Beach, this event was not terribly crowded. But, the convention center was still buzzing with excitement. Carpeted showrooms and easy-on-the-eyes lighting helped those of us with both weak knees and progressive lenses. The art was placed in rooms spaced nicely apart from each other, so as not to overwhelm, yet in synchrony with the surroundings. Where Art Basel Miami Beach had more than 250 galleries from the U.S., Europe, Latin America, Asia, India and Africa, all showcasing paintings, drawings, sculpture, photography and prints by 2,000 of the world’s pre-eminent contemporary and modern artists, the Palm Beach Art Fair housed less than 70 galleries, mostly featuring old masters, modern and iconic contemporary artists, such as the recently-deceased John Chamberlain, or one of my favorites, Jim Dine.

Most enjoyable was the gallery featuring American flags and other iconic emblems of our nations’ heritage by Jeff R. Bridgman American Antiques of Historic York County, Pennsylvania. Massive flags, preserved behind glass and widely viewed by all passersby, his collection was nothing short of stunning. Across the hall was a large booth of estate and fine jewelry, but I walked right past it, as I still needed to see if I could find a Dufy, Chagall or Renoir before I got too tired. I should not have worried. At the Waterhouse & Dodd Fine Art booth, a wonderful Dufy struck my fancy, and their booth did not disappoint. From Saville Row in London, they, like many others, held classic pieces which fit the general spirit of the Fair. The Renoir was housed in the beautiful collection of W.H.Patterson Ltd., also from London, and from which I had the pleasure of filling my mind and spirit with the aesthetics for which I came. In the hallway, moving away from this booth, hung the oil-on-canvas by Mary Cassatt, Sara Holding a Cat, which charmed this audience, both by its provenance and their love of this wildly popular painter.

The corner of the Convention Center held other items typically of interest to men (and for pistol chicks like me). Antique weapons, including swords, rifles and pistols were on display and seemingly held in reverence by the Greatest Generation seen in good numbers at the fair. It was actually so crowded that I could not venture too far in. So, off I went, only to discover antique binoculars, dating from World War II, perched on a tripod and holding center court—with the proprietor all too happy for me to try them out. Indeed! I was drawn to the details of precious stones on the rings in the jewelry booth across the aisle…the very temptation I was earnestly trying to avoid! Its steel legs possessed the gravitas that seemed fitting for this fair, where folks seemed so solidly anchored in their own identity. Directly next door, in the Stapleton & Stapleton booth, traditional elements juxtaposed with humor—my favorite item being an antique helicopter whose ‘legs’ were constructed of golf club heads. Titled, Dragon Fly, it was priced at $8,000.

More contemporary art was found at KM Fine Arts of Chicago, where a Hans Hofmann (German 1880-1966) Untitled #1548, crayon on paper, struck my fancy. Colorful, with plenty of movement and priced at $24,000, it was the ‘happy art’ for which I had been looking. It looked right at home in this Lilly Pulitzer-sanctioned space. Not too far away, Peter Anton’s food sculptures were on display at Arcature Fine Art of Palm Beach. It was Anton’s cake and candy sculptures that drew a crowd. If these same works were at Art Basel Miami Beach, I suspect they would have been de rigueur, but here in Palm Beach, they possessed just enough edginess to catch this crowd off-guard.

The recently-deceased John Chamberlain was memorialized at the Gallerie Terminus booth with a number of his sculptures, incorporated his characteristic use of scrap metal from old cars. Exhibiting both massive and diminutive pieces, I confess to holding Chamberlain’s work in higher regard now than I did when he was alive. But ah! That is a common phenomenon with dead artists’ works. Other favorite sculptures were those constructed of Legos and glue, housed at the AVANT Gallery. Woman with Rose was priced at $18,400 and drew a steady crowd.

In one of the most exquisite collections of new and rare books, London dealer, Potterton Books brought subjects ranging from interior design to couture fashion. I was tempted to purchase the $100 book documenting men’s shoes, as I knew I would likely never see it again; it was delightful and beautifully photographed. Particularly fascinating to me were examples, mostly by Hermes, Gucci and Stubbs & Wootton, whose slippers are needle-pointed with dogs and flamingoes, for example. These slippers are in demand by the Palm Beach fashion cognoscenti, but are rarely seen on women—much less men—outside of Palm Beach and tradition-bound locales like Chatham, Mass., southern universities like Wake Forest or Vanderbilt, and island enclaves like The Cloisters. I was stunned to discover that Brad Pitt, for example, has his own specialty slipper, with ‘BP’ boldly monogrammed in gold on the front. Who knew?

My tour of the fair ended with a wonderfully-enlightening lecture, Modern Nature: Georgia O’Keeffe and Lake George, presented by the chief curator at the Hyde Museum, filling the lecture hall to capacity. Common misconceptions, including that O’Keeffe hated Lake George, for being “too green” and that it was her “annoyance” were soon dispelled. In fact, Lake George played a central role in her art. O’Keeffe was quoted as stating: “It is what I have done and where I have been that is of interest.” And images of Lake George (see left) contributed immensely to “where she had been.” Of particular note were O’Keeffe’s rarely-painted scenes of nature’s destruction, like fire, storms, or natural phenomenon. This rarity in her oeuvre was found in paintings done during her years at the lake, from 1918 to 1934.

I rounded out my four-day visit with a three-hour scavenger hunt on West Palm Beach’s Antique Row in the Art & Design District. More than fifty antique and specialty shops, art galleries and restaurants line one street, each filled to the brim with possibilities, as contents are generally throw-aways from the estates of the wealthiest of the island’s residents. English ceramics and majolica took over a light-filled space, where I was tempted to buy an asparagus tray and a pair of bunny lamps, but held back, given anticipated luggage constraints on my flight home. More tempting was a pair of Lucite swivel desk chairs, which I am still mulling over, given their rarity and unbelievably great retro-chic style. I settled for three pair of vintage shoe trees, which fit into my carry-on without added cost.

My visit would not have been complete without one last drive down Worth Avenue, and it was on this final excursion that I treated myself to a tiny souvenir of Palm Beach. C. J. Laing, a vibrant boutique on The Avenue, carries the ‘Palm Beach Bangle’ in a dozen colors, each at around $30. Swearing that they sell the same thing to Niemans and Bergdorf’s at far heftier prices, I broke down and purchased just one. And since Hermes makes these to perfection, I considered that even with its Asian provenance, mine would remain in style for at least a few years.

I am, at the end of the day, a financial advisor, primarily focused on capital markets, real estate, fine art, antiques, wine, or jewelry, But, I remain always on the prowl for two things: value and yield. In Palm Beach, I was delighted to have found both.

By Carolina Fernandez, Editor-at-Large

*In contrast to ‘A Random Walk down Art Basel Miami Beach.’ See Fernandez’s December, 2010 article: http://www.artesmagazine.com/2010/12/a-random-walk-down-art-basel-miami-beach-a-financial-advisor-considers-art-as-investment/