June 2025

COVER STORY

by Valda Yawn-White

I like to think I didn’t just grow up in Florida—I was raised by her, saltwater and all. Each city along the coast holds a different version of me, like chapters of a sun-faded scrapbook. This isn’t a guidebook. These are love letters—written in suntan lotion and sweat, scripted with sea breeze and the scent of hibiscus. It’s the places, the people, the unrepeatable moments that shaped my sense of style, of home, of how I want to live.

Key West: Where Whimsy Lives in Full Color

Adam and I booked the trip on a whim (fitting, right?), not realizing it was Key West Pride Week. We stayed in a B&B with a motion sensor so sensitive it nearly gave us a coronary at 2 a.m.

The clothing-optional rooftop party? Let’s just say we weren’t quite brave enough for that moment.

But the true star of the trip? The Ernest Hemingway House. We wandered in, dripping with humidity, and found a kind of hush there that felt almost sacred. It was so hot we couldn’t think straight—so we let the cats and cool tile floors soothe us.

Isles of Capri: Where Stillness Meets Sea Salt

This is where I spent my earliest years, and it lives in my memory like a Polaroid soaked in sunlight.

The kind of small coastal town where you can walk barefoot to the ocean before breakfast.

My hair was platinum blond, the days were long, and the smell of Coppertone still teleports me to those sandy stretches with my mama—beach towel over one shoulder, a bag of snacks in hand, headed straight for the Gulf.

Naples: Where Barefoot Luxury Began

I was born here—and in many ways, it’s where I first learned the art of elegant ease.

After high school, I moved back part-time while performing in regional theatre, and later teaching children’s theatre at the Sugden Theatre right on 5th Avenue. I’d walk out of a rehearsal, toes in the sand ten minutes later. Naples taught me that luxury doesn’t have to shout. Sometimes, it wears flip-flops and carries a linen tote.

Palm Beach: Old-School Elegance with a Wink

My memories here are split between perfectly manicured palms and the glitz of Worth Avenue—though, truth be told, I spent more time in the mall than on the beach.

Still, it’s the spirit of Palm Beach that’s stayed with me: that cheeky, old-money glamour that doesn’t take itself too seriously. A gold cuff paired with a caftan.

A wink behind the oversized sunglasses.

Miami: Chaos, Culture, Couture

Our go-to spot every time we visit is this sweet little Art Deco number, a boutique hotel called the Oceanside (once the Monticello). It’s got character.

Like Miami itself, it’s layered—gritty and glossy all at once. Miami is where I go when I need a jolt of inspiration. It reminds me that being “too much” is often just right.

Jacksonville: A New Chapter, Still Unfolding

And now here we are.

A different kind of beach, a different kind of pace. It’s the beginning of something, and I like that.

There’s something sacred about knowing you’re planting roots somewhere, even if you’re still learning the rhythm.

This is where we are now—writing the next pages of our Florida story.