If Coastal Grandmother spends her days in a sunlit kitchen with linen and hydrangeas, Coastal Vampire prefers to dine after dark. She’s been around considerably longer than she lets on, and her crumbling villa above the Adriatic has seen better centuries. For her, sallow is the new olive. And gaunt is the new glow.
Each night, when the moon turns the sand to silver, a once-tanned hand pulls back a heavy velvet curtain, and a silhouette gazes down at the glittering sea below. She is not here for the Summer. She is here for the duration. At dusk, she combs the shoreline for flotsam and jetsam from lost ships. She keeps an eye out for lost tourists, too.
Ready to channel the look? Here’s what we’d do.
Dress for the tide. Start with a striped shirt, ideally one acquired from a sailor who washed ashore ages ago. Pair it with tattered chinos and finish with a lace cravat as frothy and white as sea foam. Linen is optional. Centuries of wear are not.
Embrace faded grandeur. Your interiors should look collected over several lifetimes, because they were. Fill crystal decanters with something deep red and don't elaborate. Let cobwebs dust the once-sparkling chandeliers. Draped. Like a veil over a very patient bride.
Let the exterior go. Shutters should have peeling paint and be one good gust away from falling. Stucco should be in need of patching, the garden overgrown, and the flowers lovingly left to crumble in their vases.
Hire the right help. Every great villa needs a single elderly caretaker who regards each guest as deeply unwelcome. He knows more than he says. And he says very little.
A signature scent. Sea salt adds bite while old roses and a hint of cedar are a nod to just how long you’ve lived here.
Follow these tips and soon you'll have a seaside retreat that's equal parts sunset and sunless. Where even those who come for a short stay almost never leave.
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