SP Road Trip: Charleston, South Carolina

Although technically not a road trip because this visit is an extended one as I get down to business on a project, but it feels like a holiday every time I hit this town.  Thanks in no small part to my generous hosts and old friends here. Yes, SP is house-guesting. Again. It has been a while since I visited Charleston and am comforted by sights both familiar and new. I have been coming to Charleston for a very long time; the city is Mecca for Southerners. Over the years I have visited old friends and family, come for many Spoleto Festivals, birthdays, holidays, graduations and weddings, but I never fail to feel that first-visit tingle whenever I have the privilege of passing through. There are guide books, websites, insider tours even a facebook page — not to mention the many magazine articles, novels, histories, garden and cook books — all proclaiming the glory of the Holy City, so there’s no need to waste time on my inferior knowledge or presume to tell you what to do when you visit.  Think of this as more of a snapshot or journal of observations by a long lost prodigal son returning to a place he loves and experiencing it as if for the first time.

Charleston is known far and wide for her gracious manners, architectural and natural beauty and above all welcoming and friendly natives. Living outside the South for half of my life I’ve grown accustomed to the practice of head-lowered, no-eye-contact interaction with people on the street.  It has come as something of a reverse culture shock to be assaulted by smiles and hellos from everyone I pass on foot or bicycle. Yes, I am re-learning the art of kindness to strangers as I return to my country.

This is the public face of Charleston, and one I truly enjoy, but that is not to say this city does not cherish its ancient rituals and guarded privacy. Being a house guest of one of my favorite families here has given me access to the inside lives and traditions, some of which I am afraid I am not allowed to share out of respect. I have already been reprimanded by a grand old dame here and I won’t be making that mistake again. I felt like a fourth grader at Cotillion class, all too-tight tie and shoes that pinch. As the photos will show I have obscured identities and employed willful obfuscation, but the beauty, the traditions, and most endearingly, the heart of this venerable great lady remains in tact.

Details, details – This grand old house now serves as the administrative office of one of the finest schools in the South. It would be commonplace, not to mention redundant, to publish pictures of the great houses and interiors found here as those are accessible anywhere, but these elements were calling out to me above all else that day. The color and textures here are mind-blowing. So with permission, I took these to share.

History & Gas Lights – Many writers of fiction and history use the existence of gas lights to set a story, usually inserting you and the characters into the turn of the twentieth century. In Charleston, these relics are in use at many houses and public buildings today. The light is a flickering faint moth of a glow that almost makes you want to propose…something.

The Arts & Tradition – Alive and kicking, a thriving art scene and serious preservation live peaceably on the peninsula. In one week in town I’ve seen Enrique Graf, The Charleston Men’s Chorus with the Ashley Hall Red Choir (both at the beautiful Sottile Theater), a gallery opening, and attended Charleston Fashion Week. I’ve banished the chill at a bon fire at Selkirk plantation on Wadmalaw Island, tasted low country caviar at an oyster roast on Mount Pleasant and swilled some mighty fine spirits at a bourbon tasting/custom-shirt party and while not technically considered “the arts”, were certainly thick slices of local culture. This week? Attending Cotillion at Hibernian Hall to watch the children of my host family waltz. Did I say it’s only been a week?

Good Time Ladies and Distinguished Gents – The good ladies of the Hat Society don their chapeux for the annual St. Patrick’s Day parade down King Street. The gents were a little less exuberant but nonetheless in the spirit.

Shave & a Hair Cut – The Old South Barber Spa on State Street is state of the art old school.  This place has all the amenities you come to expect from a day spa, facials, massage, man-icures and peds, the works. But it’s the shoe shine, the great hair cut, the leather chair and the hot towel and shave you’ll come back for.

Folly Beach – Fifteen minutes from downtown but a world away from all that civilized and seersuckered gentility, Folly Beach is a hippie/surfer dream. Defiantly unpretentious and fighting condo development valiantly, FB feels like a spring break from a 1960′s movie, maybe even one with Elvis.  I stopped in for the sweetest local shrimp at the Crab Shack and stayed for the live blue grass which happens every Thursday. Another treat, Tokyo Crepes opened this little stand right on the beach on Arctic Road serving up breakfast, lunch and dinner. Fresh and good, cheap and cheerful. That goes for the crepes and the island.

What a week. That’s all for now. If you don’t mind, I will keep a running journal on the facebook page of this sabbatical and when the occasion warrants, fire off a post or two that I think you’ll find interesting. I will definitely be posting soon on the superb men’s shops here. Valhalla!