Austin, the capital of Texas—dubbed the “Live Music Capital of the World”—boot scoots between the modern world and the old west. Known for barbecue, hippie culture, and Willie Nelson, it’s also a buzzing modern metropolis filled with cool shopping, great restaurants, and interesting museums. Austin also sits near the Hill Country, a surprisingly pretty zone of the Lone Star State known for wineries, a cowboy scene, and German food.

As a native San Antonio girl who gets back often, I know Austin well. I recently wrote about how a lot of its weirdness has worn off, and that’s still true. But Austin is still a vibrant city. Here’s my very curated, highly researched cheat sheet of the top 25 things to do there.

This is a new type of feature (complete with a map!) for paying subscribers. Get a monthly sub—which costs less than a couple of Austin breakfast tacos!—to access it.

Five hip hotels

Austin Motel ($250 a night) Adorable rehabbed vintage motel-turned-boutique hotel sits in the midst of South Congress, a busy retail and restaurant drag near downtown.

Austin Proper Hotel ($495 a night-ish) This chic tower hotel was outfitted by L.A. interior designer Kelly Wearstler in Mediterranean tiles, southwestern artworks and desert tones. Perks include five restaurants, an outdoor pool, and easy access to restaurants, shops, and Lady Bird Lake. The last is great for morning walks—be sure to visit the statue of Texas guitar legend Stevie Ray Vaughan.

Commander Perry Estate ($800ish a night) The fanciest stay in Austin? This plush hotel/private club in a restored 1928 mansion two miles north of downtown. A recent renovation kitted it out with antiques, cool art, and high-style wallpaper. You’re paying a lot to crash here, so relax under the striped yellow umbrellas by the pool or have drinks in the library-like bar and pretend you’re an oil baron.

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Guatemala is a land of bright textiles, Spanish colonial architecture, and imposing Mayan ruins. Few people know it like Regan Billingsley, a Washington, D.C./Florida interior designer I’ve become pals with after writing about her for The Washington Post and other pubs. Besides decking out clients’ spaces, Billingsley spearheads RB Curated, a luxe line of pillows, bed coverings, and fabric made in Guatemala. She frequently travels around the Central American country working with artisans.

Here, Billingsley pinpoints where to go in the colonial city of Antigua and around Lake Atitlán, two of Guatemala’s top spots for visitors. Read on to find out where she shops, eats, sightsees and hikes in this vibrant country. I’m taking notes since my husband and I head to Guatemala next month!

PS: This story also features two Google Maps with even more of Regan’s fave restaurants, shops, and hotels in Antigua. It’s for paying subscribers. To access them, upgrade your subscription below. Links to maps at the end of this story after the paywall.

Who are you, and what’s your passion?

Regan Billingsley: I’m an interior designer and creative entrepreneur whose work sits at the intersection of design, cultural storytelling, and craft. Through my design practice and textile brand, RB Curated, I collaborate closely with master artisans, especially in Guatemala and Mexico, to bring traditionally handwoven textiles into modern spaces in a way that feels ethical, elevated, and lived in.

On a personal level, I’m deeply curious. I’m an endurance open-water swimmer, a traveler, and someone who believes that immersion—whether in water, culture, or creative process—is where transformation happens.

Why do you love Guatemala?

RB: I’m a bit of a textile nerd! The seed was planted in 2007 when my mother and sister traveled to the remote Guatemalan highlands building homes for Habitat for Humanity. Their stories about the people, the culture, and the craftsmanship stayed with me. After a surgery in 2016 left me bedridden for a month, I immersed myself deeply in the history, symbolism, and techniques of Guatemalan textiles. I studied everything I could and planned a trip to learn directly from the source.

At the same time, I was noticing a growing interest in artisan-made pieces. I wondered whether there was a way to represent the beauty, quality, and integrity of Guatemalan textiles within the luxury interior design market. When I eventually traveled to rural Guatemala to experience weaving traditions firsthand it confirmed that this was work I wanted to pursue.

So then you launched RB Curated?

RB: RB Curated launched in 2025 as a purpose-driven, boutique interiors and lifestyle brand rooted in preservation, ethical partnership, and cultural integrity. We work directly with master weavers across Latin America to translate traditional techniques into limited-edition pieces. Through long-term, respectful relationships, we ensure artisans are fairly compensated and globally celebrated.

Why is Guatemala known for traditional crafts?

RB: Textiles and crafts are still deeply woven into daily life, identity, and community in Guatemala. Weaving isn’t treated as a hobby or a revived tradition; it’s a living practice passed down through generations. Each region, village, and family carries distinct techniques, patterns, and color stories that communicate ancestry, place, and worldview. For example, the huipil [a traditional tunic worn by Indigenous women, pronounced wee-peel] is not just a piece of clothing but a visual language. It’s cultural meaning keeps the tradition relevant and protected.

Where should I go to learn more about textiles?

RB: The small city of Antigua is an ideal starting point because of its 18th-century colonial history and walkable scale. Antigua’s shops, galleries, and markets feature textiles and crafts from many regions across Guatemala, offering a broad introduction to the country’s diverse weaving traditions, ceramics, and woodwork.

On the outskirts of Antigua, La Nueva Fábrica is a contemporary art gallery in a former textile factory. Its exhibitions highlight how contemporary artists engage with tradition, material, and place.

What other things can I see in Antigua?

RB: Antigua’s history is layered, shaped by centuries of cultural exchange. Walk through some of its ruins, such as the 18th-century Convento de las Capuchinas, to get a visceral sense of scale and ritual. Climb up to Cerro de la Cruz for sweeping views of the city framed by volcanoes.

Where should I eat in Antigua?

RB: For breakfast, go to Los Tres Tiempos for a desayuno chapín, a traditional, hearty breakfast usually including eggs, black beans, fried plantains, fresh cheese, tortillas, and sometimes avocado. Add fresh fruit—you won’t find a better-tasting papaya! For lunch, El Peroleto is a tucked-away, counter-only gem serving some of the freshest ceviche I’ve ever had. Grab a lemonada and don’t skip the homemade torta chilena [dulce de leche cake]. I love a mid-afternoon sweet snack, and Doña Luisa Xicotencatl is an Antigua institution for dense, moist, not overly sweet banana bread. For dinner, Por Qué No is intimate and softly lit, with a relaxed, bohemian feel. The food draws on Mediterranean and Latin influences.

What’s the one dish I need to eat in Guatemala?

RB: Pepián pepián is a stew, usually made with chicken or turkey, simmered in a sauce of roasted tomatoes, tomatillos, dried chiles, seeds, spices, and sometimes chocolate. The preparation reflects Guatemala’s layered culinary history, where Indigenous cooking techniques and ingredients intersect with Spanish influence.

Any favorite shops in Antigua?

RB: Nim Po’t is a joyful, overflowing melting pot of Guatemala, packed floor-to-ceiling with textiles, ceramics, masks, toys, clothing, and jewelry. It’s a colorful collage of regions, techniques, and traditions. Xibalba Studio bridges craft, storytelling, and contemporary design. I buy their recycled gold and jade jewelry.

Any hotel recs in Antigua?

RB: Posada del Ángel is a seven-room boutique hotel in a restored Spanish colonial home on a quiet cobblestone street near the center of town—and my favorite coffee shop, Artista de Café. The traditionally styled rooms center around a cozy indoor-outdoor living space with a small dipping pool.

El Convento Boutique Hotel is housed in a former 18th-century convent where you can still feel the history in its thick stone walls and vaulted spaces. The interiors layer clean, modern design over the original colonial structure.

Aren’t there great volcano hikes near Antigua?

RB: Guatemala’s most iconic hikes center around volcanos. Near Antigua, you can mix big, awe-inducing climbs with quieter experiences that let you understand the land up close.

Volcán Acatenango is the quintessential Guatemala hike, physically demanding and best done as an overnight trek with an experienced local guide. From the summit, you watch neighboring Volcán de Fuego erupt in real time, a powerful reminder that this landscape is active, raw, and very much alive. A Volcán Pacaya hike will be shorter. Walking across hardened lava fields, feeling heat rise from the ground, and even toasting marshmallows over warm vents gives you an unforgettable, approachable introduction to Guatemala’s volcanic terrain.

And why should I visit Lake Atitlán?

RB: Lake Atitlán is a glacially formed lake a two- to four-hour drive from Antigua. While you’re there, take a boat around the water with a guide to see the various towns around the lake, since they all have different character.

Villages I like include Santa Catarina Palopó, known for bold, blue geometric patterns on both its textiles and buildings. Santiago Atitlán is famous for richly symbolic huipiles tied to Tz’utujil identity and cosmology.

My favorite lake town is San Juan La Laguna. It is deeply rooted in textile traditions, particularly natural dyeing and backstrap weaving, with community-based cooperatives. While you are there, go to Utz Food, a bar and restaurant known for fish. You can also visit Asociacion Q’omaneel to learn about medicinal herbs or Casa Flor Ixaco Weaving Cooperative to see weavers at work.

At the lake, I like to stay at Hotel Atitlán just outside of Panajachel. It’s a traditional hacienda on the lakeshore with views of the water and surrounding volcanoes. Wake up early to enjoy the water view as light creeps up!

Chichicastenango Market isn’t far from Lake Atitlán. Why should I go?

RB: Chichicastenango Market is one of the largest, most important crafts markets in Central America. You can reach it from most villages around the lake. On Thursday and Sunday market days, it becomes a vivid, sometimes overwhelming cross-section of Guatemalan life. You’ll see an extraordinary range of textiles—huipiles, cortes, rebozos, and yards of fabric—representing many regions, techniques, and color stories.

There are also other crafts (wooden masks, baskets, ceramics, candles) plus raw materials (yarns, dyes, weaving tools) reminding you this is a working market serving local communities, not just visitors. Food stalls offer fresh fruit, tamales, caldo, tortillas, and atole.

To visit Chichicastenango, hire a guide to handle logistics from the lake to the market and to help you navigate the market. They can help you find bathrooms and ATMs (many vendors only accept cash). Bruce Guatemala has excellent bilingual local guides.

What do you pack to wear in Guatemala?

RB: I’m very intentional about what I wear there and focus on comfort, since I’ll be walking, and moving between cities and more rugged or remote terrain. My style there is the opposite of influencer travel dressing. I’m there to observe and spend time in artisan communities, not perform the destination. I typically dress almost exclusively in black cotton or other natural fibers. It’s understated, modest, doesn’t show dust, and helps me blend in rather than stand out.

What’s the ultimate souvenir from Guatemala?

RB: A vintage huipil! It carries meaning far beyond aesthetics. Each huipil is a handwoven garment encoding identity, region, language, and lineage. The patterns, colors, and motifs communicate where the wearer is from and often reflect community history, cosmology, and daily life. It’s not decorative by accident, it’s by design.

Regan’s insider maps of Antigua

Below you’ll find more of Billingsley’s favorite places to eat and shop around Antigua. This content is for paid subscribers; upgrade to access it.

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Souvenirist subscriber, world-class shopper, and nomad Laura Pritchard recently quit her job to spend more time visiting spots such as Oaxaca to Iceland. She’s perhaps most bullish about Costa Rica. I asked her what lures her back to the nature-rich Central American country.

Who are you, and what’s your passion?

Living in the Washington, D.C. area for many years, I always answered this with my job title. It took me years to learn that was how I made money, not who I am. I’m a wanderer, a traveler, and an adventurer. I love discovering, uncovering, and following the road less (or never) traveled.

I come from a family of explorers in rural North Carolina. My mom exposed my sisters and me to a variety of areas and viewpoints. She started our traveling journey early, doing road trips and short flights to domestic destinations and the Caribbean. Then I married a guy who didn’t like to travel and I did very little traveling during my 20s and 30s. When I got divorced, I hit the road and haven’t looked back!

So where do you like to go?

I mainly travel internationally and quit working in 2024 to travel for a year. This year, I sold my condo and put everything I own in storage so I could really immerse myself in my favorite destinations.

You’ve been to Costa Rica many times. Why?

There’s just no place like it. It’s magical, wild, free, and beautiful. The beaches are amazing with warm, swimmable water, and they are never crowded. Costa Ricans have always welcomed me, too. Plus there are many non-stop flights from the U.S. to Liberia. You’re there in just a few hours soaking up the sun!

So tell me about this most recent trip.

Usually my trips include attending a yoga retreat in Nosara. I always like to spend a few days after my retreats there as well, which I did again this year. This time, I also decided to go a week early and drove a loop from the airport in Liberia to La Fortuna [near Arenal Volcano], and then on to the cloud forest in Monteverde. I finished up on the beach in Santa Teresa before returning to Liberia.

I fell in love with Monteverde and would love to spend more time just sitting on my front porch drinking coffee and soaking up the view. The cloud forest was breathtaking! Driving up and down the mountains was scenic once I got used to the bumpy roads.

After Monteverde, I took the ferry across the Gulf of Nicoya to Santa Teresa. It was fun to see Costa Rica from the water.

What were the best parts of this trip?

Nosara was a highlight for an immersive week of yoga, breathwork, and sisterhood. I’ve been to many retreats there, often led by Rebecca Kovacs. She breaks me apart, takes my breath away, and then gently puts me back together.

Nosara has fabulous restaurants, stores, and The Harmony Hotel, which is my second favorite hotel in the world. It’s located near the beach, shops, and the Tuesday market. The Harmony mixes old surfer vibes and modern touches with an amazing spa, yummy restaurant, and soulful yoga classes.

What about the food?

Costa Rica is my favorite place to eat. The fruit and seafood are so fresh and healthy. The Organico Bakery in Nosara sells cold brew and chocolate croissants to die for. Across the street their market has delicious sandwiches, wraps, freshly squeezed juices, and coconut water, which I drink by the jug.

La Luna restaurant on the beach in Nosara is a must stop for sunsets and pizza. It also has a shop selling clothing, bags, and jewelry representative of the breezy, laid-back Nosara lifestyle.

I also tried some new restaurants this trip including Sunrise Coffee for excellent cold brew and La Rosa Coffee Bar in Santa Teresa. I like coffee if you hadn’t noticed!

How is the shopping in Costa Rica?

Costa Rica has great boutiques and artists—more than half of my wardrobe and jewelry came from Nosara stores. My favorite, Bazzar Nosara, is across the street from The Harmony Hotel. From there it’s a short walk to North Guiones with restaurants and shops like Bloom. I don’t think a day goes by when I’m not wearing jewelry from there.

New to me this trip was MAGIC Boutique Nosara, which stocks stunning dresses. I got a diaphanous cotton cheetah dress made in Ibiza there that was perfect in the Costa Rican heat. In Santa Teresa, I bought a beautiful locally-made labradorite necklace at Malie and animal tarot cards at Calm & Co. The El Mangroove Hotel has a phenomenal shop, too. And you can find wood carvings at the Original Grand Gallery in La Fortuna.

Where should I go in Costa Rica?

For yoga and/or beach enthusiasts, Nosara has a taste of the jungle and wildlife, plus zip-lining, boating, and snorkeling. For more adventurous folks, La Fortuna has tons of hiking, and rafting. I did a coffee and chocolate tour there and stayed at the Arenal Kioro Suites & Spa which has multiple hot springs.

Isn’t nature and wildlife a major reason to visit?

You can’t escape nature in Costa Rica. There are exquisite birds, pizotes [long-nosed mammals], and howler monkeys. This trip I saw a huge porcupine in a tree and many insects and sand crabs. Other ways to dip into nature: a walking trail at the Monteverde Cloud Forest Biological Reserve (you can see both the Caribbean and Pacific coasts) and La Fortuna Butterfly Garden in Monteverde.

In addition to The Harmony, what other hotels do you recommend in Costa Rica?

I have found some real jewels including Hotel Senda Monteverde, Tierra Magnifica in Nosara, and El Mangroove on the beach in Guanacaste.

The insects in CR are ginormous! How do I deal?

The giant grasshoppers are otherworldly! My advice? Brush them away and avoid going out at night!

Did you recently travel somewhere fabulous with cool crafts, great shops, or a major design scene? PM me if you’d like to chat about it—I might feature you in a future “Just Back From” column.

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My Indian girlfriend Tanvi R. gave me that advice as my husband C. and I set off for three weeks traveling around Rajasthan and Kerala earlier this month. My dear pal Deepa, born in India’s Tamil Nadu state, also reminded me that women need to cover their knees and shoulders in India, particularly when visiting Hindu temples or Muslim mosques.

Sartorial, social, and religious differences in India and warm-to-boiling hot temperatures mean planning what to wear when visiting takes planning and sensitivity. You’ll often be wandering around in a sea of sari-clad women and, in the villages, older men in turbans and white tunics. As a Westerner you probably won’t fit in. So what I aimed for was dressing respectfully, comfortably, and chic while giving a few nods to subcontinental fashion.

Here’s what I packed and what I wore (and didn’t), plus some style ideas I’ll be taking home.

Big trip, big bag strategy

I’m not Team Carry On, particularly for a long trip like this where I want to do some shopping. Checking a bag is more reliable than ever before (lost luggage is on the decline, and Air Tags are reassuring).

I brought a 27-inch Samsonite checked bag (similar to the middle-sized suitcase here) and only filled one side of it, stuffing an Away duffle (somewhat like this one) in too in case we buy block-printed textiles, fabulous slippers, or a bunch of Taj Mahal snow globes.

What I packed for India

Three weeks in still-hot weather (a high of 89 in Delhi our first day) means we’ll do laundry once if not twice. Sending clothes out isn’t very expensive at hotels in India, plus any hand-washing you do will dry quickly in the blazing subcontinental sun. I packed:

· Five bottoms: three pairs of linen pants (black, apple green, black and white stripes), one pair of patterned cotton palazzo pants, one maroon midi knit Cos skirt. Indian women always covered their legs, hence all the trousers.

· Five maxi dresses: A wine-colored knit Cos number, an Indian bejeweled cotton dress, a multi-colored animal print for nice hotel dinners, a striped Nili Lotan caftan to double as a pool coverup, a plain black linen dress.

· Seven tops: paisley-print BA&SH blouse (similar here); three T-shirts (black, black-and-white stripes, pink); black linen bell-sleeved top

· Four pairs of shoes: “India is dusty and the roads are not always walking friendly,” Tanvi had warned. I brought black New Balance sneakers, some Steve Madden “Scooter” sneaker Mary Janes in gold, silver Birkenstock “Gizeh” thongs (good for visits to the pool and dressy enough for fancier dinners), and flat brown sandals.

· A bathing suit and one yoga outfit.

· A big, black sun hat. I like Eric Javits ones, which have baked-in SPF and can be crushed down for packing; they’re expensive, but you can also find them gently used and much cheaper on The Real Real. (Some picks: here, here, here.)

How my packing worked out

I’ve been pretty pleased with what I packed, particularly some black-and-white print Old Navy pants I’ve been donning under dresses and longer tops. And those sneaker Mary Janes, while frumpier than my usual traveling trainers (Adidas Gazelles, Onitsuka Tiger Mexico 66s), were easier to slip on and off in a land where you go barefoot at Hindu temples and mosques. Their closed toes and lower price point were also a plus on uneven, dusty, streets, since sidewalks are as rare as moped-free roads here.

I wish I’d packed another yoga outfit—many hotels have either free group classes or inexpensive one-on-one sessions, so I’ve been om-ing a lot. But that black linen dress was a mistake—it felt like depressing pilgrim garb when I wore it amid the women in saffron yellow saris and rainbow-striped headscarves.

Style ideas I’m taking home

Women deck themselves in such riotous colors in India! In Delhi, Agra, and Rajasthan, dusky blue saris go under red and yellow ghunghats (headscarves); teenage girls sport rainbow tie-dyed kurtas (tunics) and matching pants.

Women tend to be both more and less covered up than chicks in the West: Hindu wives veil their faces with the thin, gold-edged chiffon of their crimson- or curry-hued saris. The sari’s yards of fabric are wrapped into a skirt/head and shoulder drape, but combined with a midriff-exposing choli top.

I’m not going to tie on a sari here or back home, unless I’m invited to an Indian wedding. But I’m taking the following ideas home.

Combine colors and patterns with abandon

Indian women often wear three or more colors and patterns at once. One key seems to be a sticking to a similar tones (all pale shades for widows) or mixing smaller patterns with larger ones. I bought a Fab India kurta (tunic, see first photo) in an ochre yellow in Delhi I’ve been combining with those MVP Old Navy pants and a polka dotted scarf.

Bling it up with bracelets

Bangles jangle from every female wrist in India, and they represent everything from how long a woman has been married to where she lives. They’re often stacked in multiples on both arms in many colors. It’s inspiring me to layer the blue-and-white lacquer cuffs I picked up in Jodhpur with some Peruvian textile bracelets I already own.

Put pants under dresses

Indian women match kurtas or kurtis (tunic-like dresses) with leggings or narrower pants. It’s great when they hop on the mopeds that are ubiquitous here, and looks powerful and feminine in equal measure. At home, I’ll be trying this with jeans or kick flares (maybe these or these).

Subtly show skin below the ankle

I haven’t done enough yoga to confidently wear a crop top anytime soon, but I’ve loved the way Indian women put on long skirt or pants with sandals or toe-cleavage flashing, bejeweled slippers or chappals. It’s got a whiff of Tibi’s “Creative Pragmatist” big-slim-skin philosophy; the idea works because exposed feet (or bangled wrists!) provide a contrast with lots of fabric or volume.

I haven’t yet bought any slippers worthy of a maharani (a queen in Rajasthan), but I’m in India another week (we next head to Kerala and Mumbai next). So stay tuned, and send any touring, shopping, or dining tips if you’ve already been!

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Designers and shops to try

There are plenty of indie shops (and folk-art pieces like jackets made of kantha cloth) in Indian cities. But these brands, with stores in most major metro areas, have high-style, good-quality clothing for men and women. All ship worldwide, though in the U.S. be wary of the ongoing, distressing tariff issues.

Anokhi. Artisanal, stylish block-printed cotton and silk clothing for men, women, and kids with East-meets-West flair. Beautiful stores and helpful staffers, and the Jaipur HQ has an onsite cafe. Mid-range and fair-trade.

Fab India. Block-print kurtas, dresses, men’s shirts, kid’s clothes, and more in cotton and silk. Inexpensive and fair-trade.

Idli. Parisian designer Thierry Journo (a vet of John Galliano) now lives in Jaipur, creating caftans, unisex shirts, and other crisp clothing in prints riffing on symbols from the region’s palaces and streets. This was my hands-down favorite clothing find. Mid priced and fair-trade.

Nicobar. Jewel-box colors, beautiful fabrications, and metallic-accented prints festoon men’s and women’s clothing from this Delhi-based lifestyle brand with stores around India. Mid priced and fair-trade.

“San Francisco has become a hellscape.”

My friend Gina told me this before I headed there for the weekend last month, my first time in nearly a decade. Gina now lives in Silicon Valley, but she lived in San Francisco during the 1990s and early 2000s. Friends like her had migrated away from the city, to the exurbs or Lake Tahoe; I had little reason to visit San Francisco anymore.

A personal trainer friend back in D.C. also had words of warning. “My clients had their car broken into in the Marina, and they were afraid to leave their downtown hotel after dark,” he said. “San Fran was crawling with drug addicts, and everything was dirty.”

It all sounded like a completely different city than the one I’d fallen head-over-ballet flats in love with decades ago. From my first trip during college (circa 1989) through the 2010s, I’d visit about once a year, captivated by San Francisco’s fog-wrapped Victorian houses, checkered-tablecloth Italian restaurants, and edge-of-the-world coastal beauty.

I’d gawp at the city’s cartoonishly steep hills, sip California wine in the grand hotels of Nob Hill, and shop around quirky neighborhoods such as Haight-Ashbury and the Fillmore. My West Coast besties (friends like Gina who’d moved there from D.C. and New York) and I would frequent coffee shops, beachfront hiking paths, and cool shops. In one vintage clothing boutique, I bought a suede fringed jacket from the 1960s, convinced it had once belonged to Janis Joplin.

But now I was going back to the city by the bay, and, to paraphrase the Pretenders’ song, I feared it was gone.

Going back to places you once loved

There’s risk of disappointment when you return to a place that once bewitched you. Santorini, Venice, or Prague might be overtaken by tourists. Once vibrant cities can fall on hard times. Or your older, jaded eyes might now perceive a destination as less interesting. Tween me loved Disney parks; adult me says, “meh, deliriously expensive and dull.”

Finding a place forever changed can bust up old memories. Sit in heinous traffic and hike on crowded trails and your childhood trip to the Grand Canyon suddenly feels less special. The quaint Paris café from your honeymoon seems less charming when it’s all over TikTok.

But I pined for San Francisco as if she were a long-lost love and wondered how she was doing. Swept along by nostalgia, my husband and I went back, hoping the rumors were false of streets littered with crack vials and Union Square beset by armed bandits.

Returning to Chinatown and the Haight

We drove into San Francisco on Highway 80, shooting down from Lake Tahoe, where we were remote working for the month of August. The skyline popped into view through my passenger window, a snow globe-like panorama of skyscrapers and bridges floating in the fog.

Parked in a surprisingly inexpensive room-with-a-view at the legendary Fairmont Hotel, we spent the weekend walking the impossibly inclining streets, our calves sore but eyes wide. I had forgotten just how vertical SF is, how you can be strolling on a patch of flat sidewalk and how, a block later, it dives down, an urban roller-coaster.

America’s largest Chinatown felt like a mash-up of the New World (Transamerica’s skyscraping triangle, teenagers in K-Pop T-shirts) and Old Shanghai (red lanterns strung across Stockton Street, dim sum everywhere). We gobbled lotus cakes at closet-sized Yummy Bakery and poked around the clothing section upstairs at Canton Bazaar. I didn’t go for the fur-trimmed silk cheongsam PJs (too “Crazy Rich Asians”) but did buy a simple blue cotton jacket with Asian-frog cord closures (Tibi vibes!).

Another day, C. and I hiked along the coastal paths high above the crashing waves at Lands End with its sightlines to Golden Gate Bridge. We popped into the Legion of Honor to see the Wayne Thiebaud exhibit—it had so many painterly images of cakes and SF streets!

In the afternoon, we grabbed Vietnamese ban mi sandwiches in Haight-Ashbury before checking out the vintage clothing stores (stylish Relic, Decades of Fashion in a converted bank) and hippie throwback spots such as Love on Haight for tie-dyed coats, T-shirts, and his-and-hers underwear. The surrounding Victorian houses, all cupola-ed towers and gingerbread trim, looked as storybook as ever.

Braving wilds of Union Square

Downtown’s famed Union Square has lost some dazzle (and a Nordstrom flagship) due to druggies and dramatic store robberies. But on our visit, it was full of families, dogs, and, one evening, an outdoor screening of “Mrs. Doubtfire,” which was filmed in San Francisco in the 1990s.

Our Thai dinner at Kin Kao just off the square wowed with spicy rice salad, a bracingly spicy fish curry, and hipster servers. Too stuffed to hike up the hill to our hotel, we took the clanging cable car home with other happy tourists.

Yes, there were some unhoused people and garbage. And the real estate prices remained as high as the streets of Nob Hill. But San Francisco still had its countercultural swagger and historic charm.

On our last night, C. and I paused in the columned ground floor hallway at the Fairmont and looked at framed vintage photos and newspaper articles related to the storied hotel.

The grand dame was about to celebrate its 1906 grand opening when the San Francisco earthquake hit. Fire gutted its fine interiors, but the granite and stucco building remained standing amid the destruction. It was rebuilt and finally made its debut less than a year later.

We took a brass-doored elevator down to the Fairmont’s Tonga Room, a retrograde tiki bar that’s been slinging mai tais amid kitschy Polynesian statues and thatched awnings since the 1940s. Tables surrounded an indoor pool where the house band Island Groove belted out yacht rock songs on a floating barge.

When they started to play “California Dreamin,” C. and I clinked glasses and toasted San Francisco. My bicoastal love affair was back on.

Group travel can be a bit like high school: Find your tribe—art class creatives, chill lacrosse players—and the experience will be magnificent and result in lasting friendships. For me, that means I seek out tours and trips to connect me to crafts, design, or fashion as well as likeminded fellow travelers.

In Argentina, Shop Hop Buenos Aires took me to secret stores such as a glam 1920s apartment where a young woman was selling vintage dresses and tango shoes worthy of Eva Perón. (I went home with a swirly polka-dotted skirt I still treasure.) In Luang Prabang, Laos, I bonded with classmates and teachers while learning to weave silk at Op Pop Tock. Spoiler alert: I’m not a master weaver, but I’ll never forget the click-clacking of my loom and the misty Mekong River views.

“During and after the pandemic there was so much growth in people wanting experiences—taking online classes or learning something new,” says Kate Watson-Smyth, the British home design writer behind the Substack Mad About the House. That’s why, after she rehabbed a villa near Turin, Italy, she began hosting interiors-focused retreats last year. Travelers participate in design classes, shop at Turin’s vintage market, and meet other style-mad souls.

“We get an interesting range of people on our trips, from professional craftspeople to 9-to-5 tech workers who want to turn on the other side of their brain,” says Caitlin Garcia-Ahern, the founder of Thread Caravan tours. Her company leads small groups to places such as Panama (learn about mola embroidery and stay on a boat) and Ladakh India (wool dyeing and weaving in the Himalayas).

Here are eight organizations offering guided trips focused on design and crafts. Some involve getting your hands dirty learning to paint, throw pots, or dye yarn; others plunge into the markets, shops, and creative scenes in spots from Jaipur to Johannesburg.

And watch this space, since I’ll be launching my own Souvenirist Retreats to the American Southwest and North Africa soon. Expect the blend of art, history, quirk and yep—shopping—that you read about here.

Ace Camps Travel

Artists-in-residence (Japanese culture expert Prairie Stuart Wolfe, painter Heather Chontos) often lead these popular small-group retreats in places such as Oaxaca, Mexico, Shikoku, Japan, or Hoi An, Vietnam. Trip I wanna take: Basket weaving, batiking, and a Kruger National Park safari in Eswatini and South Africa.

John C. Campbell Craft School

Spend a week or a weekend at this Appalachian folk crafts school in the mountains of western North Carolina and you’ll learn to carve wood into stringed instruments, transform beads into colorful jewelry, or felt a chic hat. Students bunk in 1930s cabins and enjoy down-home meals daily; on weekends, expect bluegrass concerts and other performances. While you’re there: Check out the gift shop for carved wooden spoons and glass jewelry.

Luna Zorro

Delve into food, design, and weaving in Mexico City and Guatemala with Molly Berry, the founder of Luna Zorro, an ethical textile company based in Antigua, Guatemala. In Mexico, expect artists’ studio visits, a cooking class, and a tour of architect Luis Barragán’s Casa Pedregal; in Antigua, where Berry is based, you’ll score visits to a legendary artisan market and weaving lessons amid the city’s pastel-hued colonial architecture.

Souvenirist reader Laura Pritchard took Luna Zorro’s Antigua tour last year. “My group was all women ranging in age from mid 30s to late 70s,” she says. “Most of us had some knowledge of textiles, and everyone was an avid traveler who made full use of the free time that the trip allowed as well.”

Mad About the House

Several times a year, acclaimed British design journalist Kate Watson-Smyth hosts mini-breaks in and around her restored Italian villa outside of Turin. Guests stay in an elegant hotel in a restored factory and enjoy talks on home decor, visits to a vintage market, and lots of good food.

Passport to Folk Art Trips

Santa Fe’s International Folk Art Market hosts dozens of artisans from around the world each July. Its organizers also put on crafts- and culture-focused group tours to places including Cuba, Provence, and Oaxaca. Trip I wanna take: A West African journey with stops to work with batik artists in Elmina, Ghana and witness a voodoo ceremony in Benin.

Thread Caravan

Travelers live and learn alongside Moroccan potters in the Rif Mountains, Peruvian weavers in the Andes, and other endemic groups in these thoughtful trips concentrated on community engagement and preserving traditions. For crafts newbies: “All of our trips are beginner friendly,” Garcia-Ahern says. “We recently had people on a knitting trip to Iceland who had never picked up needles before, and they did fine.” Trip I wanna take: Trekking with women climbers in Bolivia, with stops for blanket-making lessons and tastes of village life.

Travel with Grant

Interior designer Grant K. Gibson knows how to shop—and travel stylishly—in bucket-list destinations such as Istanbul and Jaipur. Sign up for a small-group week with him in Rajasthan or Mexico and bring an extra suitcase: participants have hauled back everything from bedazzled mirrors to piles of Moroccan carpets. “People who come on my trips are a mix of designers and people interested in design,” says Gibson. “They want to see beautiful stores, great interiors, and all the cultural sites.”

Vacation with an Artist

Choose your own adventure with VAWAA, a service connecting travelers to mini apprenticeships with dozens of makers around the globe. Experiences tend to be one-on-one and last two to five days; you’ll stay either with the artist or in nearby lodgings. Choices range from learning how to make your own perfume in Los Angeles to schooling in bamboo crafts and construction in Nepal.

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I traveled to Japan expecting to see kimono-clad geishas and pagodas. I didn’t anticipate becoming fixated on people’s socks.

But rickshaw drivers in split-toed tabi socks with rubber soles pulled tourists around streets near Tokyo’s Senso-ji Shinto temple and chic women everywhere paired white lace socks with black platform sandals, a bold Goth-gone-sweet move. And on Omotesandō boulevard, Tokyo’s shop-stuffed Rodeo Drive, schoolgirls in outrageously scrunched white knee socks and short skirts jockeyed for sidewalk space with fashionistas in ruffled ankle socks and Onitsuka Tiger sneakers.

I started to worry that the Japanese, as polite and reserved as everyone said, were going to lock me up as a gaijin (foreigner) foot-fetishist. But it turns but the whole country is obsessed with where and how you wear socks, slippers, and shoes. I came home from my May trip with a half-dozen new pairs and a fascination with why so much Japanese style happens from the ankle down.

Shoes come off, socks stay on

“Wearing socks is ingrained in Japanese culture,” says Ashley Ogawa Clarke, a British-born, Tokyo-based fashion correspondent for Vogue and The Wall Street Journal. “There are so many situations where you must take your shoes off—to go inside homes, to walk on tatami mats inside restaurants or hotels, and even to enter dressing rooms at shops. You have to think what’s on your feet and to make sure your socks are presentable and neat.”

Businesses usually provide the slippers you slide your socked feet into when you deposit your outdoor shoes outside their doors. For example: a bamboo basket of worn leather slides sat at the entrance to the Japan Folk Crafts Museum in Tokyo. Visitors de-sneakered or de-loafered, then stuck their feet into the slippers to pad slowly around the traditional building’s weathered wood floors.

The guest rooms at the ryokans (hot-spring inns) on my hiking tour of Kyūshū came with cotton kimono called yukata—not bathrobes—plus geta (flip-flop-like thong sandals) and simpler tabi socks (no rubber soles). You wear this entire outfit to dinner at the inn. I felt very Shōgun-meets-The Tale of Genji since the yukata’s ankle-grazing length and the sandal-and-sock combo made me sway as I walked.

Pairing tabi socks with getas goes back 600 years in Japan, says Sheila Cliffe, a British-born, Japan-based fashion historian known as “Kimono Sheila.” “The tabis were usually white, which was a sign of wealth,” Cliffe says. “Poorer people couldn’t afford to keep pale colors clean or probably to buy socks in the first place.” Geishas still sport split-toed white socks with their chunky-soled okobo thong sandals, and white tabi are de rigeur for brides.

Explore the history of tabi, still made mostly in Japan on antique machines, at the Tabi and Lifestyle Museum in Gyoda. The longtime center of sock-making in Japan is about an hour-and-a-half drive northeast of Tokyo. Gyoda also holds Oshi Castle, an atmospheric, pagoda-like 15th-century castle plus sock shops, galleries, and restaurants located in 19th-century tabi warehouses.

Where to buy—and how to wear—Japanese socks

The Japanese respect tradition in both life and fashion. Women still wear kimono for formal occasions or fashion (see the outsize sections selling them at Kyoto boutiques and Tokyo department stores like Isetan and Takashimaya). Powered by the tabi industry, many sock brands still produce in Japan.

But sock stylings on the city streets step way beyond pristine white tabis and the inky socks of dark-suited salarymen. Particularly among women, there’s a sense that any sartorial rule Westerners ever toed—no white socks with black loafers, socks with open-toed shoes are tacky—was wrong or stuffy. “Sandals with socks are just part of the culture,” says Ogawa Clarke. “My Japanese wife, who is a stylist, brings homes what seems like a dozen pairs from Tabio [a Japanese sock maker] for photo shoots each month, which I often steal for myself.”

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Shopping Tokyo’s stylish Daikanyama and Harajuku neighborhoods, I spyed lettuce-edged anklets with Mary Janes, tennis skirts and colorful knee-highs, and patterned socks peeking out from combat boots. Lace socks—tabi or otherwise—softened up tough sports sandals. Kawaii, the national obsession with cuteness, even trickles footward, with knee socks decked with small stuffed animals, Hello Kitty characters, or Pop Arty symbols.

Japanese people are endlessly politely, and they dress quietly yet stylishly in dark colors and often subtle shapes. But their socks speak loudly.

Japanese sock sourcebook

Below is a curated guide to buying Japanese socks both in country and online. Japan still has knitting machines and high production standards, so these may be the world’s best socks.

Subscribe now

AnonymousIsm, men’s cotton or wool socks including tie-dyed crew styles and women’s pairs come with fringe or ruffle embellishments. Online and at Japanese boutiques and department stores.

Happy Socks, bright styles for adults and kids (Lichtenstein-ish Pop Art), Pride-worthy stripes, cartoon characters. Sold at Tokyo and New York City boutiques and online.

Muji, minimalist Japanese brand sells tabi socks and 10-toe socks. Sold at stores in Japan, New York City and online.

Onyva, punk princess tabi socks in glittery fabrics with faux pedicures, online and at Japanese department stores.

Rumi Rock, a design collective known for wild spins on kimono and other Japanese clothes offers tabi socks in wild fabrics such as metallic lamé. Sold online.

Tabio, Japanese sock maker bringing “zetsumyo” (subtle differences) that elevate its stylish tabi, 10-toed styles, and lace anklet socks. Sold online and at the brand’s stores around Japan

Yahae, minimalistic organic cotton socks in nubby textures plus some pairs infused with Japanese washi paper.

New York State’s Hudson Valley gets ample press for bucolic scenery, quaint small towns, and a hip shopping and dining scene. The town of Hudson itself—about two hours from Manhattan by train or car—is the undeniable star. I’ve spent time there, but not as much as my dear friend Nicole Lanteri, a Washington, D.C. interior designer (see our prior collabs in The Washington Post and Washingtonian Magazine). She brands her style as “eclectic, bespoke, playful,” terms that bubble up when you see her projects (and her Georgetown, D.C. showroom).

Lanteri and her husband Aaron keep returning to the towns of the Hudson Valley (including Hudson, Rhinebeck, and Kinderhook) and they’ve designed several homes for clients in the area. Below, Lanteri reveals the antiques shops, funky restaurants, and other spots she recommends.

Why do you love Hudson Valley and spend time there?

The Hudson Valley has a reputation for being a retreat and a place with a deep affinity for good design, both old and new. During the pandemic, Aaron and I wanted to relocate for a bit, and I found out we could rent designer Sheila Bridges’ guest house, which had been featured in Domino Magazine!

You often stay in and around Hudson. Why do you like it?

Hudson’s Warren Street feels like the longest indie shopping drag in the U.S. It has so many stores and restaurants I like.

• Clove and Creek, for great candles, silverware, and home goods.

• The Farm Shoppe, is a really charming market with kitchen and home goods.

• FINCH Hudson, which has a wonderful curation of vintage and modern homewares plus a collection of books.

• Modern Exchange, with a really great selection of vintage and resale furniture. We’ve also found great prints by artist Mary Maguire here.

  

• Quiet Botanist, a lovely dried flower shop with a delightful name.

• Regan and Smith, where Kurt, the owner, has a great selection of outdoor and large-scale pieces. The stock is mostly vintage, and we sourced a fabulous tete-a-tete (two-seater) from them!

• The Spotty Dog Books & Ale lets you have a drink at the bar and buy books!

• Upstate Rug Supply has unique , colorful, patterned rugs.

Any favorite small towns in Hudson Valley?

There are lots of towns around, many of which we’ve stayed in, including Woodstock and Kinderhook, New York. Kinderhook has a great small downtown, with a lovely little coffee shop, and art gallery, plus it’s very walkable to the rail trail.

What have you purchased for clients and yourself in the Hudson Valley?

• For a project in Potomac, Maryland, we found great lighting, including an Italian six-arm lacquered metal pendant for the dining room and an 1960s Italian metal and Murano glass floor lamp for the living room.

• We placed a &Tradition Shuffle Table in a project beside Washington, D.C.’s Rock Creek Park.

• In a project we did in Hillsdale, New York, much of the indoor and outdoor furniture came from local vintage shops. You can read more about it here (and see photos).

• In our Georgetown office, we have two very special vintage pieces from Hudson’s Ida’s Eye: an elephant desk and a “starburst” light pendant.

  

Any favorite art galleries in the Hudson Valley?

• Carrie Haddad Gallery (Hudson) is fairly established and has a wide selection of artists.

• D’Arcy Simpson Art Works (Hudson) has more colorful, larger pieces.

• Pamela Salisbury Gallery (Hudson) is an absolute favorite with a wide variety of artists. In the back is a historic carriage house, a raw space with lighting where she features the art. It all feels very special and unique!

  

• September Gallery (Kinderhook) In an old knitting factory with a crazy old elevator, find a juxtaposition of artists.

What about museums or historic homes?

• The Frelinghuysen-Morris House and Studio (Lenox, Mass.) is the former home of two mid 20th-century married artists. It’s a wonderful example of modern architecture with interesting paintings and features like a twisting staircase.

• MASS MoCA Museum of Contemporary Art (North Adams, Massachusetts) has contemporary art in a former textile mill

• The Mount: Edith Warton’s house (Lenox) the home of the “Age of Innocence” author is fun to see. They have ghost tours around Halloween, too.

• Olana State Historic Site, artist Frederic Church’s masterpiece, is so colorful and well-preserved on the inside. It was built in the late 19th century but feels very modern and contemporary.

  

• Schuyler Mansion State Historic Site (Albany), where Eliza and Alexander Hamilton got married, is a great example of Georgian architecture.

• Vanderbilt Mansion (Hyde Park, New York) has stunning gardens—and FDR’s house is nearby.

Where do you recommend eating in and around Hudson?

• Baba Louie’s pizza (Hudson) is a fun casual spot.

• Feast and Floret (Hudson) excels at both ambiance and food. Everything is fresh, seasonal, and very creative. Plus they have a flower cart where you can grab a bouquet before heading out.

• Kitty’s Market (Hudson) at the train station, is a great place to grab a bite before your trip to pick up little souvenirs. I’m always tempted by the tinned fish!

  

• MOTO Coffee (Hudson) There’s no shortage of cute and impressive coffee shops in Hudson, including this motorcycle-theme one, which also has great burritos.

• Samuel’s Sweet Shop (Rhinebeck) is owned by actors Paul Rudd and Jeffrey Dean Morgan. In the summer, get a Frozen Cappy, an icy chocolate and coffee drink.

• The Tavern at Rivertown Lodge (Hudson) is one of our go-tos. It’s easy and approachable—you can always just pop in.

What’s your ideal day in Hudson or the Hudson Valley?

Morning: I’d do early morning yoga at Lava Hot Yoga, where I’ve even made a few friends! Then maybe a short hike along the Harlem Valley Rail Trail in Hillsdale, the trails through Olana, or Staatsburgh’s path along the Hudson River. Then I’d pop into Twisted Sisters in Hillsdale for coffee and a breakfast sandwich.

Afternoon: I’d spend that in Hudson shopping, starting with a drive to the Antique Warehouse and a wander down Warren Street, where I’d definitely stop at Finch.

Evening: I’d head for an early dinner at Rivertown Lodge and sit at the bar. If there are any mushroom dishes on the menu, get them, and save room for deserts such as miso ice cream or rhubarb-tahini pot de crème.

Then we’d watch the sunset from the park along the river.

So where should I stay in the Hudson Valley?

In Hudson, the Maker Hotel (has a pool) or Rivertown Lodge (no pool, but does have a fantastic restaurant, maybe my favorite of all time).

INNESS New York is more of a “pastoral spa” experience. The pool is wonderful!

What other things should travelers check out?

• Germantown is just really cute, and has a little strip with a great sandwich place and other shops.

• Great Barrington, Massachusetts and Rhinebeck, New York are worth popping by. The Beekman Arms Antique Market in Rhinebeck has some gems.

• Drive around Chatham, New York or up to Albany. There are so many towns and they’re all a little bit different.

• BCMT (Kingston) is a wood, metal, and fiber crafts studio. We’ve used their tables in projects often.

• The Antique Warehouse (Hudson) is an endless, easy to wander, 40,000-square-foot antiques mall. Explore and get lost among treasures, which come in varying degrees of quirk or fabulousness at many price points.

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This newsletter is devoted to unvarnished travel advice and mindful shopping tips. That’s why I love interviewing other cool folks about where they’ve been and what they’ve seen, bought, or chowed down on.

Today, I’m checking in with my well-traveled college friend Amy Young, a wine educator from San Antonio. She and her husband, Steve, seem to be in Mexico every other week. They recently spent a month in Chiapas. The southern Mexican state is known for dazzling nature, charming colonial architecture, and a rich textile crafts culture. Here’s what she did and bought.

So tell me where you went.

We went to San Cristóbal de las Casas, in Chiapas, right next to the border with Guatemala in Mexico. We were there the whole month of February. My husband Steve and I like exploring the different towns and regions of Mexico.

San Cris was a bit of a journey from San Antonio, but worth it. It’s in the mountains, a bit higher than 7,000 feet, and the weather is beautiful. The town is full of colonial architecture and coffee shops.

How was Chiapas different from other regions of Mexico?

It’s definitely not as touristy as San Miguel de Allende or Mexico City. Plus Chiapas has a lot of great outdoor sites a few hours away from San Cris, where we stayed, such as the waterfalls at El Chiflon in Comitan and Sumidero Canyon. Sumidero is just mind-blowingly big. We took a boat trip through the canyon and saw monkeys and crocodiles while we were onboard.

Doesn’t Chiapas also have a significant indigenous population?

Chamula and Zinacantán are two indigenous towns very close to San Cris with their own languages, traditions, and rituals. Steve and I visited both of them on a Sunday when they have their big markets.

In Chamula, at the Iglesia de San Juan, families come, sometimes with their own shamans, to perform rituals that mix indigenous Tzotzil customs and Catholicism. They light candles and create altars of sorts, which include Coca-Cola or other soda. Then they drink the soda and burp out the evil spirits. You pay to enter, and are not allowed to take any photos.

In Zinacantán, we were fortunate to see a wedding party outside the main cathedral. The floral embroidery on their clothing was amazing.

Even walking through the Mercado de la Caridad y Santo Domingo next to the main church in San Cris, you were more likely to hear indigenous languages than Spanish, since people from the villages travel there to sell their goods.

Chiapas is known for weaving and embroidery, right?

There are so many textiles—clothing, dresses, blouses, table runners, pillow covers, and that kind of stuff. Zinacantan is known for its weaving and floral embroidery. We visited a workshop there, Taller Artesanal Casa de Toña, where I bought a gorgeous table runner. The artisan told us it took a month to make!

In San Cris, the Mercado de la Caridad y Santo Domingo attracts locals sellers, many of whom were working on pieces in their stalls. I really felt like I was buying local, not some cheap souvenir made in China.

How do you use your souvenirs back home?

I try to not buy anything I don’t have a plan for when I get home. I’ve got my new runner on our dining table, a new pillow on the couch, and I bought a white cotton embroidered dress in Chiapas I’ll be wearing to a family event soon.

How was the food in Chiapas?

We will eat pretty much anything, which can be a problem. In San Cris there was a lot of non-Mexican cuisine that was good. At Cerveceria Naufragio brewpub, we had amazing pizza and good beer, and Casa de Willy is a great, casual place, full of locals, with traditional Mexican food.

Our coolest dining experience was Comal, Cocina De Barro. It’s a super small, open-air place in San Cris where the chef cooks things over the fire right in front of you. We had sopes with chicken tinga and tetelas, triangular masa pockets stuffed with melted cheese.

You love cooking classes—did you do any in Chiapas?

I took one cooking class at El Tzitz, where we toured the mercado and then made three types of stuffed chilies. There were also tortilla-making classes at the La Tierra del Maiz cultural center, where we even ground the corn. The process was so interesting, and the woman who taught me—who was from Chamula—explained the center’s purpose of teaching the local children the customs, language, and stories from their area.

Any other spots in Chiapas I shouldn’t miss?

There’s also a museum, Na Balom, set in a beautiful house around a courtyard, which displays textiles, books, and photographs.

And about 20 minutes outside of San Cris, we went El Arcotete, an incredible cave and natural area which was great for hiking and picnicking.

Some people seek out chain restaurants and shops on their travels (e.g., the garish chocolate-neon confection of the M&M’s flagship in Times Square). But Manhattan illustrator Joel Holland aims his eye and colored pens at small storefronts and storied, independent restaurants in his hometown and other locales.

Drawings of Big Apple landmarks (the pint-sized Case Rubber Stamp shop, LGBTQ landmark the Stonewall Inn) headlined in Holland’s first book, “NYC Storefronts.” Publishing on April 8, Holland’s latest book,“Paris Shopfronts” ($30, Prestel), features whimsical sketches of the French capital’s umbrella shops, brasseries, and bookstore/wine bars. I chatted with him about it–and how travelers can find indie businesses, too.

Why did you start drawing storefronts?

I’ve always been attracted to hand lettering and vernacular signage. In old sketchbooks I have quick renderings of storefronts in Baltimore, Brooklyn, Rome, and Los Angeles. Those drawings evolved into what I’ve been working on for about five years. Now I’ve made drawings in Thailand, Japan, England, Paris, and more.

What makes you want to sketch a particular shop or restaurant?

I’m drawn to the aesthetic and the story. Each shop I draw has to have both, or at the very least a brilliant story or product. Great mixed-berry tart? Great shoe-repair service? Yes, please.

I love finding the tiny details the shopkeepers add, sometimes subconsciously, and capturing them. The more hand lettering the better, I love signage. Oh and awnings—I love awnings!

Your new book is about Paris shopfronts. How are they different those in New York?

Drawing wise, they’re not soooo different. Paris has shops that are A LOT older than here in Manhattan, so that’s huge. I think that shows up in a lot of drawings, the signage especially. But it also appears in the adoration that locals have for these spots. They are woven into everyday life [in Paris] in a slightly deeper way.

Did you have favorite spots in Paris?

I love the cafes, though they were kind of nightmares to draw, with the angles, the chairs, and the glowy-ness.

How do you find interesting small businesses?

In New York it’s mostly on foot. It’s probably my favorite thing to do in the city, just walking around and exploring. Otherwise I’m on the bus, snapping pics and taking notes of places that look interesting.

I do get commissions where someone has their own experience and relationship with a shop and wants to commemorate it. I really enjoy hearing the stories that others have, as it’s a way of connecting and commiserating over something meaningful.

Working with my editor Ali Gitlow, after the New York City book we had a formula of the kind of places we wanted to include—small, family-owned, good stories, good products, and as diverse and inclusive as possible. We used a similar approach with [my 2024 book] Brooklyn Storefronts with writer David Dodge. Ali, David, and I are all in New York, so we asked our friends in as many different neighborhoods as possible.

For the London Shopfronts book and Paris book I worked with writers—Rosie Hewitt for London and Vivian Song for Paris. I’ve been to both cities but never lived like a local. Both writers made those books special for those cities.

How long does it take you to capture one storefront?

It depends on how intricate or detailed the shop is. For some storefronts, I can do two in a day. I like to say that the shops draw themselves, and thus the time spent is dictated by how much they have to share.

I just drew the Sock Man shop in New York City, and it took me a few days. The exterior is a bit more involved than if it were just a flat color.

Tell me more about your materials and process.

Years ago, for my illustration work, I exclusively used tracing paper and brush pens. Then I had a job come in where I was to use a specific pen, the Pilot G-2. I had a rainbow of colors and somehow it just—no pun intended—clicked for me. The pens feel great in my hand and they flow at the perfect pace. That’s how I started these full-color storefront drawings.

As I did more and more I came across colors or textures beyond the reach of those pens. So I resorted to what was around me. My kids have a thing they call the art cart in our house, and in there were some blow markers. They give off an airbrush look, plus a grit and an emotion I couldn’t achieve otherwise.

What do we lose when smaller stores like these close?

I think about it like this: Living in cities, the businesses around us are like family. We need them, they color our lives. Yes there may be other options, but we develop relationships and preferences and it affects our day to day. Otherwise what’s the point? When these shops close our lives change and not for the better.

Do the owners of small businesses feel about the drawings?

They love them! Hearing stories from people shop at these places as being my favorite but seeing owners faces when they see the details, from Gramercy Park’s Warshaw Hardware and their ’got boxes’ sign to the painted butcher block at Albanese Meats [a 100-year-old market in Manhattan’s Little Italy]. It’s so sweet.

So how can travelers find indie businesses like these?

Go with your gut. Explore. Try new things. Ask questions. It’s not easy to do these days but just look around, like literally. Not on a device, but just go for a walk or a bus ride and see what works for you.

Where are you and your pens headed next?

Everywhere! I’ve drawn one of the oldest Chinese restaurants in America the Pekin Noodle Parlor in Butte, Montana [open since 1911], and things like that are fun. I’d love to do more books—a California book, a second New York City book, Mexico City, or Bangkok.

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that a traveler who digs crafts and food must one day visit Oaxaca. My husband C and I just returned from a week in the southern Mexican city (and state). We were charmed by its Spanish colonial architecture, indigenous foodways (olé, moles!), and Mesoamerican mountaintop pyramids.

Fiestas pop up on every corner in Oaxaca: rumba bands in the zocalo, wedding processions with giant papier-maché puppets in the streets, masked pageants veering between religious rites and riotous celebrations outside churches.

The crafts and shopping in Oaxaca also bring the party. Seeing locals creating traditional goods or new, edgy art—and being paid fairly for it—makes shopping imbued with meaning. “Going to a crafts workshop, meeting the family who weaves wool rugs or shapes Oaxacan black pottery brings an understanding of how long these traditional arts take to do,” say Gabriel Sánchez, the Oaxaca-born tour guide who took us to several crafts villages just outside the city. “Plus meeting the artist gives you an emotional connection to anything you purchase.”

Here’s what C. and I saw—and bought—in the craftiest, artiest part of Mexico.

Zapotec carpets

In the mountain-framed farm country southeast of Oaxaca City, agave plants (spiked like the skulls of punk rockers) fuel mezcal tasting rooms and fields of sheep power a centuries-old carpet crafting tradition. Small workrooms in the tiny town of Teotitlán del Valle feature artisans at work dyeing, spinning, and weaving rugs in patterns inspired by the surrounding peaks and the traditions of the Zapotec people (who built nearby Monte Alban).

We stopped at Nelson Perez Weavers, a fifth generation business, where you can help color the wool with vegetable dyes (cochineal bugs, which grow on cactus, make red!). “People love to see how rug makers create natural dyes,” says Sánchez. We bought a small gray and white rug for my mother-in-law’s mountain house.

Nearby, Dixza weaves traditional rugs and hosts guests for daylong or weeklong crafting retreats in an onsite Airbnb.

Black pottery

For thousands of years, Oaxaca’s Zapotec people have been gathering mud-colored clay from nearby Sierra Madre mountains. Via the heat and smoke of kilns in the town of San Bartolo Coyotepec, they transform these hunks of earth into shiny, black Barro Negro or “pottery of the night.”

We visited Dona Rosa Studio, run by descendants of a female artisan who commercialized the technique in the early 20th century. We bought luminous Day of the Dead skulls and decorative hearts to give to friends. You can also find Barro Negro at downtown Oaxaca shops; just have it wrapped carefully for shipping or schlepping.

Wood-block prints

The art in Oaxaca isn’t all rooted in age-old traditions. A buzzing print scene has filled the city since the late 2010s, spurred by political protests and social justice causes. Colectivo Subterránea’s black-and-white, life-sized woodcut prints of skull-faced women, Emiliano Zapata, and mythical beings plaster candy-colored walls around town. Buy T-shirts and artworks—or take classes—at the group’s indoor-outdoor studio, one of a dozen print shops in town; discover more @pasaportegrafico.

Fiesta-ready fashion

Oaxaca’s weaving and embroidery producers fuel the production of both traditional garments and edgy pieces. We found clothing in boutiques, artists’ cooperatives, and stalls in the Mercado de Artesanas at the southern tip of Oaxaca’s historic center. I picked up a handwoven shift dress at Mariana Grapain’s snug gallery and a sweatshirt embroidered with a striped snake by Nana Mintsita at Marías Arte & Diseño shop.  

I was tempted by the freaky fur sandals at many shops. There were also huipiles (traditional woven blouses) and full skirts at Los Baúles de Juana Cata and at the Museo Textile de Oaxaca museum boutique. My cousin’s new baby daughter will soon be wearing a striped cotton frock from Huizache, a downtown co-op with multiple makers under one roof.

Textiles for the home

Oaxaca turns out bright cotton textiles, often with fringe or abstract patterns. We saw them made into bedspreads, napkins, and pillow covers at shops like Casa Bíini and La Casa de Las Artesanias de Oaxaca. We purchased nubby cotton napkins and bright hand towels to give as gifts, plus a rainbow-striped tablecloth (about $80) for our ginormous dining table.

Carved mythical animals

A purple and neon yellow rabbit with a green snail’s tail. A skull-faced dragon-coyote hybrid painted in ice-cream-cone pastels. Alebrijes, fantastical wooden sculptures drawing on Zapotec folklore and artistic license, headline at dozens of family-run studios in San Martín Tilcajete, a town about a 30-minute drive from Oaxaca City.

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We watched artisans carve, paint, and finish whimsical beasts at the Jacobo and Maria Angeles Workshop. After asking my birthday, our guide informed me I was a coyote-rabbit spirit. I believed him, but not enough to buy a totem that mashed up the two. (Still, there were more chances to score the carvings at shops back in Oaxaca).

Day of the Dead Décor

November 1 and 2, Oaxaca’s squares, cobbled streets, and cemeteries come to life with papier-mâche skeletons, heaps of orange marigolds, and other decorations marking Dia de los Muertos. Stores in Oaxaca’s Centro (including La Casa de Las Artesanias) traffic in the surprisingly jolly looking calacas (skeletons) and other décor. I picked up a few colorful, doll-sized skellies.

I also scored six rainbow-hued papel picado paper banners with grinning skulls for about $12 at Miguel Fiestas, a sort of Mexican Party City. They’ll set the scene for our Day of the Dead dinner party next weekend.

I started this Substack not only to share my own travels (and shopping adventures), but also to feature the journeys of cool people I know. So welcome to the first installment of “Just Back From,” in which I chat up my disarmingly cool friend Philippa Pham Hughes, a Washington, D.C.-based artist, curator, and cultural strategist who just returned from four weeks wandering along—and purchasing cool textiles on—the Central Asian portion of the Silk Road. (That’s the vast trading network which once stretched from China to Europe and North Africa.)

Here’s where she went and what she bought along the route. Read a detailed account of her trip here.

JB: What’s your full name, and how do we know each other?

PPH: Philippa Pham Hughes. We met when you worked as a fashion editor at the Washington Post, and you profiled me as the best-dressed person in Washington, D.C. And this somehow also involved traveling on a crazy trip to Paris with you and an entourage.

JB: Oh wow, that trip, I think it was around 2010? We did so much art museum hopping, shopping, and browsing at the Paris flea market.

JB: Let’s talk about the vacation you just took to Central Asia, aka the Silk Road. Where did you go?

PPH: My boyfriend Adam and I originally were just going to Mongolia. But when I told my Kazakh friend Togzhan we were traveling to Central Asia, she convinced me to also visit Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan. These are all big countries so it’s like telling someone who’s visiting the U.S. for the first time that they should also visit Mexico and Canada!

We started in Samarkand, Uzbekistan, where the Registan [a restored square with dazzling 14th-16th century madrassas] was so beautiful. It’s so much turquoise tile and a little bit Disney. You’re walking around these ancient places, but they’re actually ruins that have been recently renovated. It didn’t look that good 100 years ago.

One of my students from a class I taught at Johns Hopkins in the spring was from Uzbekistan. He was spending the summer in Samarkand and he offered to show us around.

JB: Isn’t Uzbekistan a fabric powerhouse? What did you buy?

PPH: I am really interested in learning about the culture of the places I go, and you can do a little of that by seeing what kinds of goods they produce. Uzbekistan was a fun place to shop because it was the literal center of the Silk Road in ancient times. I ended up buying fabric, a really terrific silk coat, and a silk dress at Ikat by Asmira in Samarkand. (I got great tips on Uzbekistan shops and markets from blogger Eva Darling. And to buy Uzbek dresses, traditional suzani textiles, and bags online, try Anor Living.)

Oh, and I also got a plate in Uzbekistan, because I end up buying a different one nearly everywhere I go. Then I use them together at dinner parties.

JB: How do guests react to those “It’s a Small World” plates?

PPH: I’m sure those plates are much more meaningful to me than to anyone else! I also have several table cloths from different countries that I use. Many of the things I buy when I travel are for entertaining back home!

JB: Where did you go after Samarkand?

PPH: We went to Kazakhstan, where we stayed in Almaty and took a lot of day trips to hike. And we flew up to Astana, where there is all this futuristic, wacky architecture. And then it was on to our original trip to Mongolia.

JB: What were some highlights of your time in Mongolia?

PPH: We stayed in a yurt for a couple nights in the Altai Mountains in western Mongolia, which is more closely aligned with Kazakh culture than Mongolian. Kazakh yurts were different from Mongolian ones, which we had stayed in earlier in the Gobi Desert. Kazakh yurts were decorated inside with lots of color including these intricate fabric wall hangings, which also act as another layer of insulation.

I fell in love with those yurt wall hangings. In Ulgii, the town that’s the main jumping off point for tourists in the region, I visited every souvenir shop until I found a vintage wall covering that had actually once hung in a yurt.

JB: What else did you do in Mongolia?

PPH: We also went to a Nadaam in Ulaanbaattar, the Mongolian capital. It’s a festival of manly competitions—wrestling, horseback riding, archery—that’s held every year in the summer. Everyone’s dressed up in traditional garb, and a lot of that kind of clothing was for sale at pop-up stalls around the stadium. I ended up with a silky embroidered vest and a jeweled belt.

And there were also tons of cashmere stores in Mongolia—all those goats graze out in the Gobi. I went to the EVSEG Factory Store and found a terrific lime green cashmere hoodie and a beanie.

JB: You’re a huntress when you travel. Any tips on finding cool shops in far-flung places?

PPH: It’s a little easier now to find things beyond the souvenir shops because there are so many blogs and Substacks that share information. I scour the internet for hints.

But the best way to find places to shop (or eat or stay!) is to ask folks who live there. Last year when I went to India, I put the word out. Indian friends put me in touch with relatives who live in Mumbai who gave me specific shopping recommendations.

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I also enjoy just wandering around and seeing what I can find. That’s how I discovered a dress shop in Almaty, Kazakstan called Heaven that sold brand name dresses from past seasons at deep discounts.

JB: What do you do with your treasures upon your return?

PPH: Sometimes they go in a box and I never see them again. I was rooting around in my storage room recently and found a stack of beautiful textiles that I’d bought in Israel in 2010. No idea what I was intending to do with them! Maybe I could have someone stitch them together to make a beautiful bed covering?

Years ago I bought 20 colorful two dollar scarves in Cambodia and gave them to friends. My mom, who is an aggressive shopper and haggler, said I should have paid only a dollar each. I don’t buy gifts for people as much anymore—I think they aren’t as meaningful to someone who hasn’t actually been there.

JB: You’re a fan of wearable souvenirs. How do you incorporate things like your Samarkand coat into Washington, D.C. life?

PPH: I work in the arts, so I feel like I can get away with wearing super colorful and unusual things—like the Samarkand coat—in the sea of black and navy blue typical of D.C. events. I want people to know that I think creatively and differently and that I am bold. These wearable souvenirs signal those things.

I also have a lot of dresses from Paris in my closet. They’re deceptive, because they give the illusion of being classic styles or fabrics. But they’ll always have an unexpected element like a Carlos-Carlos dress made from vintage men’s wool suit fabric and oxford shirt cloth in a very contemporary cut.

Did you (or someone cool you know) just travel somewhere fabulous and buy unusual things? PM me, and maybe you’ll be the focus of my next “Just Back From.”

Two dozen owls stared over the lobby of Palm Springs’ Parker Hotel, all beady eyes and scraggly tails. But the guests slouching on the louche caramel-colored leather sofa below seem unfazed—the flock was made of macramé rope, just one of a zillion vintage touches that groovy interior designer Jonathan Adler used to transform this 1959 Holiday Inn. Think hulking tin statues of knights guarding doorways and a mammoth neon “drugs” sign on the wall.

Those kitschy birds gave me a jolt of panic, though. Was one of them Twiggy, the handcrafted jute wall hanging I’d won in a 1970s Bingo game? She had hung on the wall of my childhood bedroom next to a swoony poster of John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever, a prized possession until I deemed her hideously out of date in the late 80s. By the time I left for college, Twiggy had migrated to a charity shop or yard sale.

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But the ghost of my bad owl art haunted me in Palm Springs, where my husband C and I had flown for a long weekend. We came to enjoy the California desert city’s low-slung midcentury modern houses, San Jacinto Mountains vistas, and legendary vintage shops. I had signed up for 1950s and 1960s glam, not a macramé-fueled nostalgia trip to the disco era.

“People travel to see what they can’t experience where they live, whether that’s the canals of Venice or architecture from a past era,” says LA-based mid-century modern expert Charles Phoenix, who leads tours of PS during its biannual Modernism Week. And in some places and cases, that travel can blast you back to a time you never experienced: the Art Deco period in Miami’s South Beach, the mid 20th century heyday of Palm Springs, when women in taffeta cocktail dresses rustled through Jetson-esque nightclubs.

After retro Crab Louie and thoroughly modern avocado toast under the orange and yellow awnings at the Parker’s Norma restaurant, my husband and I took our rental car on a self-driving architectural tour suggested by Visit Palm Springs. (Next time, maybe we’ll splash out on an antique car with a driver or book a guided tour.)

We tooled around the city’s canyons and wide boulevards, stopping to photograph and ogle all the “Desert Modernism”: Richard Neutra’s blocky glass-and-steel 1946 Kaufmann House, “Swiss Miss” ranch homes with dramatic central A-frame entrances, and the Palm Springs Visitors Center. The last occupies a 1965 gas station with a dramatic triangular awning, a slice of white cutting the blue sky.

Jazzed by all those right angles and exuberance, I was ready to shop for some stylish MCM clothing and decor. C dropped me off at the top of North Palm Canyon Drive in the Uptown Design District, where small mom-and-pop (or pop-and-pop) boutiques tumble down the street. In a gallery-like white space, A la Mod had brass, Chinese-inspired lounge chairs, 1960s Lucite tables, and a Cubist enamel painting in blues and whites I nearly snapped up.

At most Palm Canyon Drive vintage dens, the shopkeepers were uncommonly friendly and the prices reasonable compared to the spendy East Coast. I liked Bustown Modern’s mash up of designer consignment and vintage, including a voile, 1960s swing dress in a yellow and lavender floral ($60) that I bought. Packed-to-the-ceilings Gypsyland burst with lime green and white 1950s men’s golf shoes and 1960s Hawaiian maxi dresses that seemed zapped in from a groovy country club. (I scored a Chinese-style blue tunic with gold brocade trim for me and a paisley shirt for C.)

As I walked closer to downtown along Palm Canyon, other boutiques leaned vintage in mood, if not merch. Trina Turk and Mr. Turk are hers-and-his clothing stores serving up tropical hued, pool-to-party wear. (I could see one-time Palm Springer Cary Grant in Mr. Turk’s leopard-print “Thurston” blazer.)

Frank Clothiers filled its wallpapered menswear nook with bright, patterned styles like a Les Deux green and white trellis print shirt and punchy-hued Italian knits. And the Frippery carried both vintage womenswear (a silky 1980s secretary dress, a butterfly print maxi skirt) plus brilliant new kaftans (about $200) made from dead stock vintage fabric.

“I describe the Palm Springs look as Lilly Pulitzer meets Mad Max, with all the bright colors that dazzle in this desert light,” said my friend Andrew Nelson, a recent transplant who wrote the new travel book Here Not There. “There’s nothing subdued about how people dress here.”

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Dozens of midcentury glass vases and goblets in shades from ruby to emerald to azure glinted in the big windows at Bon Vivant. Inside, owner Patrick Barry stocks more art glass, 1970s enameled metal dish ware, and Studio 54 worthy costume jewelry.

I was eyeballing a metal dish swirled with Picasso-esque yellow and blue squiggles when I saw them: another pair of macramé owls on a back wall. A 20something man in nerdy glasses paused in front of them, smiling. He bought the smaller of the two birds. “My boyfriend is going to love this, it feels so throwback,” he told the shopkeeper.

I hoped that owl allowed him to escape to some imagined, idealized version of the 1970s. I left the shop happy to have done some time travel, but without a scrap of macramé in my suitcase.

Other spots not to miss in Palm Springs:

We stayed at the La Serena Villas, a white-walled, 1936 motor court-turned-boutique hotel. It boasts private, outdoor clawfoot tubs, comfy beds, and a chic little Mexican restaurant Azucar with Frida Kahlo-inspired art and yummy guac.

There’s often a wait out to get into the Rooster & the Pig, a snug Vietnamese restaurant that serves crispy tumeric cod over rice noodles and crispy calamari in serrano-coconut sauce.

Please drink a sweet, icy date shake in Palm Springs—they’re whipped up all over town, and are a local delight.

Robolights is a wacky, folk-art display in Palm Springs resident Kenny Irwin, Jr.’s yard. Even though you can just peer over the fence, it’s a nutty, Transformers-gone-punk experience.

You’ll see palm trees everywhere in Palm Springs (um, it’s in the name). But the pint-sized Moorten Botanical Garden overflows with cacti, succulents, and other desert dwellers, and it’s a great place to learn a little more about the landscape.

The Prescott Preserve is a former golf course that’s being rewilded and turned into a bird-filled public park.