It’s only appropriate I should kick of the official start of Summer with a Summer of Love post, and nothing symbolizes the Summer’s of year’s past like Montauk, New York. It sits on the extreme eastern tip of Long Island, or as Andy Warhol said, “The next stop is Lisbon, Portugal.” It’s truly an outer limits landscape, with water at every turn and miles and miles of the most beautiful dune-backed sand beaches in the world. What’s more, the town has consciously resisted chain stores from gaining a foothold in the town, which has kept just about everything both local and seasonal. It’s a throwback, a huge time portal leading straight to the 70s and 80s when my family used to come here regularly—very little has changed. The only real difference is the realization with age just how precious this all is, and just what my mom might have been thinking when she was watching me play in the sand, negotiate for a toy, or battle the waves for the first time.
It’s magic to be here right now, and it gives a powerful focus for the impetus and very real reason for the bava Summer of Love— little taking stock of something real in a world of fog and uncertainty.