For the seasoned traveller, California offers a wealth of known delights. Los Angeles, tick. San Francisco, tick. Palm Springs, Coachella, San Diego, yada yada yada. California is the state of least resistance, a dreamland that always delivers and yet rarely surprises. Which is obviously why we all like it so much.
On my first proper trip, I loaded up the rented Mustang’s cassette player with Beach Boys rarities, happy to drive along the Pacific Coast Highway imagining I was on the cusp of the 1960s, dreaming of a time and a land that was free of irony and complicated context, when the California beaches were full of two girls to every boy. On my second trip, when CDs had replaced the cassette tape, I hurtled along Sunset Boulevard listening to Surf’s Up, Till I Die and California Saga as though the experience was a birthright. Even at the time it felt like a cliché, not that I cared. I was carefree. And that’s one of the seductive things about California, as it’s a place that encourages you to forgo reality.
Since then, I’ve been back dozens of times, both for work and play, but up until last month I’d never been to Newport Beach, which is a different dream altogether.
I stayed at Pelican Hill, which as well as being voted one of the best golf courses in the country, is a proper respite from the beach, an Italian-style resort way up in the hills but only ten minutes from the sea. In this part of California, the coastline is unbelievably pristine, and this luxurious hideaway is equally splendid, a place where it’s impossible to feel rushed, or indeed poor. Like all good like this hotels, Pelican Hill makes you feel extraordinarily well-heeled, even if you’re on a budget. With breathtaking views of the Pacific Ocean, as well as the sumptuous real estate between you and the sea, you’ll feel as though you’re really rather special. Even if you’re not.
As you drive down into Newport itself, you start thinking you might never want to leave. California might be a haven of coastal paradises, but obviously some are more paradisiacal than others, while Newport Beach is a very particular kind of paradise. They say the sweet life comes calling from dawn to dusk here, and you only have to spend a few hours driving around it to understand why. It is gorgeous, the jewel of Orange County, and somehow quite un-Californian — an upscale Republican stronghold right in the middle of the most important Democratic state in the US. Every square mile bleeds luxury, and as you cut along the beach, amble through Balboa Bay Harbour, or drive hard along the Pacific Coast Highway, you’ll think you’re in some kind of parallel paradise — albeit a paradise festooned with MAGA flags and banners.
Gary Sherwin is the CEO of Visit Newport Beach, the man charged with moving the perception of Newport Beach from a residential party-land of the well-heeled to a genuine destination resort. Sherwin used to look after the marketing of Palm Springs, so he knows a thing or two about appealing not just to the rich and famous but also those who might want to paint themselves as such. “Newport Beach is like nowhere else in the United States,” he says, with a benevolent kind of pride. “It’s sunny all the year round, it’s unbelievably safe, and you can live your life as you want to. Plus, while it’s an unbelievably upscale place to live and vacation, you don’t have to shout about it.”
Sherwin markets Newport Beach against the likes of Beverly Hills and Santa Barbara. “We are an aspirational lifestyle,” he says, unapologetically, painting a picture of its allure. “When people come down from Los Angeles they realise we are different from other cities in Southern California — it’s manicured, it’s neat, there’s attention paid to signage, there’s just a greater refinement in terms of how the city is laid out. There is a not a lot of garishness in the community areas.”
He’s not wrong. Finding litter is impossible. There is no graffiti, no undue noise, no mess. Ugliness has been banned, probably by civic decree. It’s almost as though the underbelly of the city has been buried under the sand. There are quirky charms, and some fairly spectacular, splashy, show-off restaurants, but it’s basically your atypical low-key sophistication, without a hint of irony or spike. Life is edited here. To within an inch of its life.
“Luxury takes different forms these days,” says Sherwin, warming to his theme as though he were spread out on the sun loungers that line Pelican Hill’s pool. Luxury used to mean the Beverly Hills Hotel or The Dorchester. But it’s becoming more relaxed, yet still more refined. It’s all about a new generation who don’t want stuffy bit still want chic.”
Newport Beach might feel as though it’s an upscale residential enclave that turned itself into a vacation spot, but it was actually built as a visitor destination, an industrial port that — through investment — started to become a resort. What has changed, though, is that the area is no longer considered regional, but rather international. It’s now known as an escape zone globally.
Me, I loved it. It won’t be to everyone’s taste as it’s uber gentrified, with an aesthetic that’s almost clinical. Clinical luxury. Who knows, as a marketing campaign, it might even work.
Rates at the Pelican start from $1,000 (£786) per night. pelicanhill.com
Find out more at visitnewportbeach.com
