October got away from me this year. One moment, everyone was eagerly awaiting the release of all things pumpkin spice at the end of September, and the next thing I knew, it was Halloween. Perhaps it’s because I didn’t spend much of October actually in a classic autumnal environment—the leaves were just starting to change and I was barely in need of a light sweater when I headed to JFK to embark on a trip that ended in French Polynesia early on in the month. By the time I landed back in New York two weeks later, the air was nothing short of crisp.
I travel relatively frequently for work, but this particular long-haul adventure reminded me that certain products, places and experiences will always stand a step above the rest. Because when you’re sprinting through LAX to retrieve a lost bag with mere minutes to make a flight (yes, it was quite dramatic), or in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with no wifi in sight for three days, you’re really able to separate the superior from the merely adequate. In October, my favorites are a somewhat eclectic combination of items: A Breton sweater I wore almost daily, the tech gadget I finally invested in, a pair of not exactly fashion-forward socks. And then there were the places and experiences: An Art Deco jewel box in Santa Monica, a book devoured in one sitting, a deceptively casual beach bar on private island with Hollywood history. Take this list for what it is: one editor’s very subjective attempt to sort through the nonsense and find the best of October—with not a pumpkin in sight.
The Georgian
Until this month, I hadn’t spent any real time in L.A. since before the start of the Covid pandemic. I usually stay on the Westside (yes, I know that makes me a peak tourist, but I’m good with that—if I’m in California, I want to be near the water, okay?!), and one hotel, in particular, intrigued me: The Georgian. This Santa Monica hotel reopened in 2023, but it dates back to the 1930s, when it was very much a go-to for the who’s who of the Golden Age of Hollywood.
The Georgian, a member of Leading Hotels of the World, is just across the street from the beach, but it stands out even among the other eclectic spots in Santa Monica, largely thanks to its iconic blue exterior. Both the outside and inside of the 84-room property—including the bellhops’ distinctive baby blue retro uniforms, complete with a pillbox hat—exude an Art-Deco-meets-Wes-Anderson aesthetic, which feels right considering the hotel is featured in the Accidentally Wes Anderson book.
I checked into a one-bedroom suite, and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was an actual suite, with a full separate bedroom—something that’s become increasingly rare. The room was as delightfully whimsical as the rest of the hotel, outfitted with jewel tones and vintage-y accents like a record player and curated selection of records, along with an impressive view of the ocean.
This is a truly boutique hotel, with small yet charming public spaces, including the main restaurant, Sirena, which also offers outdoor seating, and unexpected areas like Gallery 33, which hosts a rotating lineup of art shows, and the cozy, dim-lit Library, where I holed up with my Kindle before heading to the airport for my midnight flight across the Pacific. The service and atmosphere was impeccable, and as I departed, I decided I was once again a fan of the West Coast and would happily book back into the hotel for my next trip to L.A.—a notion only further bolstered once I discovered that Go Greek is essentially next door.
The Georgian
‘Heart the Lover’ by Lily King
Anyone who has spent more than five minutes around me quickly learns that I have exactly three hobbies: Travel, crosswords and reading. Ever since childhood, it’s rare to find me without some form of reading material at all times—my Kindle is perhaps my most treasured possession. When I’m traveling for work, I usually don’t have reading time during the day, but Tahiti was the rare exception. The second leg of my trip included three days on a catamaran in French Polynesia, during which it rained approximately 75 percent of the time—I should also note that there was no wifi on this boat. No matter, though—I had already pre-loaded my Kindle with an unreasonable number of books, and was thrilled that I got off the Libby waitlist (support your local public libraries!) for Lily King’s new novel, Heart the Lover, just before I left for the airport. I read her previous novel, Writers & Lovers, in the thick of the Covid-19 pandemic, and immediately fell in love with her sharp, witty and utterly engrossing writing style. Without giving any spoilers, I’ll just share that her latest is about an unnamed narrator (that is, until the final page) who is dubbed “Jordan” by two boys she meets in college (as in, The Great Gatsby‘s Jordan Baker), and a love triangle ensues that is so far beyond what you could expect. And I would not, in any way, categorize this as a romance novel. I absolutely devoured it in a single day, and I do recommend reading Writers & Lovers before diving into this one. Be prepared—I was giggling out loud at first several chapters, but it’s an emotional rollercoaster by the end.
Grove Press
Apple AirTags
I travel pretty frequently, so it might be a surprise that Apple AirTags are just now making it onto my list of things that I only recently realized are crucial to my life. Well, it’s true—despite the fact that travel is my actual job, I have never invested in an AirTag. There’s a reason for it, though—I’m a diehard carry-on-bag-only traveler, and yes, I am, in fact, one of those unbearable people who loves to subtly brag about their packing skills and how they can fit everything they could possibly need in just this one bag. But after a couple of recent travel experiences in which I was one of the unlucky few forced to check my (carry-on-approved, might I add) bag at the airport, I realized perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to keep a few of these tags with me.
Yet, I still couldn’t bite the bullet—that is, until I was preparing for my Tahiti trip this month. While I still packed everything I needed in my trusty Away carry-on, I was informed ahead of time that no matter what size the rolling suitcase was, it would need to be checked a few times throughout my two-week-long trip, which included a few shorter flights on what were essentially prop planes, as well as a longer leg on an airline that I was warned was not particularly accommodating. When the October Amazon Prime savings event popped up earlier this month, I decided it was kismet and ordered a four-pack of AirTags. (I must insert here that I got these half-off the usual price, because there are few things I love more than a good deal.) I’m happy to report that I’ve never had less buyer’s regret, and there’s something oh-so-satisfying for my type A brain about not only knowing where your bag is at all times, but also removing a bit of that rather crippling anxiety of wondering where, exactly, your suitcase could be at any moment.
Apple
Undercover Dark Chocolate + Sea Salt Chocolate Quinoa Crisps
On any given travel day, approximately one-third of my tote bag is filled with snacks. I have a (perhaps unfounded) fear of being trapped on a never-ending flight with no food in sight. To be fair, I’m a girl with allergies and an unfortunate predisposition to fainting, so a bag packed to the brim with an outrageous array of food for any trip is a nonnegotiable for me. On a last-minute Whole Foods stop ahead of the first leg of my journey to L.A., before going off to Tahiti, I went wild and grabbed all the acceptable snacks I could find, which was how I came across these Undercover Chocolate quinoa crisps. I inhaled them en route, immediately lamenting my lack of foresight in buying more than one pack, and upon touchdown on the West Coast, promptly ran to a CVS to grab several more before embarking on part two of my travels. It’s like eating a bag full of chocolate, but the quinoa adds a little crispiness and helps encourage the delusion that these are a *health snack.*
Undercover Chocolate
Comrad Knee-High Compression Socks
I am no stranger to the compression sock, which is not a new item in my travel repertoire. I first encountered the compression sock about a decade ago, with no small amount of derision. Unfortunately for me, by the ripe old age of 27, I was already in desperate need of these bad boys for any long-haul flight, and now, six years later, I simply cannot board a flight longer than five hours without them. I forgot a pair on my first post-pandemic flight, and I woke up halfway through the redeye to Ireland because my feet had already swollen such an egregious amount that my sneakers were near bursting open. It was all very glamorous. Anyway, I’ve tried out several brands over the years, but I’ve brought these Comrad compression socks on my most recent long-hauls, and they’ve quickly become my favorites. First of all, the plain black color is entirely inoffensive, but most importantly, these are tight and get the job done, but not so much so that I struggle to pull them over my calves in my cramped airplane seat and subsequently contemplate whether or not a pair of compression socks can actually cut off all circulation to my legs, while also praying I don’t run into anyone I know as I start to break a sweat getting into a pair of socks. So while these are perhaps the least sexy item on any “favorite things” list, they’re crucial to my October arsenal.
Comrad
Mersea Catalina Sweater
I’m a sucker for a Breton stripe, and even though it’s almost time to pull out the heavier knits, I’ve been clinging to the last licks of milder weather and wearing this Mersea Catalina sweater nonstop. If you’ve seen me at any point over the past month, it’s likely I’ve been wearing this sweater and probably a pair of pants that I’ll talk more about in a second. The classic crewneck is fitted but not so tight that I get that mild sense of claustrophobia from a too-snug turtleneck, and the billowy silhouette is loose but not baggy.
Mersea
Bob’s Bar
An undeniable highlight of my time in French Polynesia was my visit to The Brando, an eco-resort on the private island of Tetiaroa, which has been on my travel bucket list ever since I wrote about Barack Obama penning his memoirs at the property. And no, it’s not a greenwashing scheme—this is a genuinely environmentally-focused resort on the late actor Marlon Brando’s private island, with the singular goal of minimizing its carbon footprint through exploration, discovery, education and conservation. I could wax poetic about the pure magic of this place for ages, but I’ll do my best to restrain myself.
The entire place is nothing short of dreamy (okay, failing already with the restraint), and I found myself particularly taken with the nondescript Bob’s Bar, an unassuming beach shack serving drinks and bites. The menu takes the form of an imagined travel journal Marlon Brando left behind in the 1970s, with a selection of his favored cocktails and dishes, and some quirky anecdotes—this is also where I learned that the famed actor liked to take a five-gallon tub of ice cream into a kayak, and simply sit there dining while floating around. New life goals.
As I plopped down on one of the benches in front of the bar one day, I wondered aloud who Bob actually was—he seemed quite mysterious. In reality, however, not so much—the bartender kindly informed me that Bob was just Brando’s friend-slash-assistant-slash-island manager. A man of all trades!
To say that the bartenders and pool staff go above and beyond isn’t enough. I’ve always scoffed at travel reviews and writing that fawn over how a place makes you feel like family, but I finally get it, because you really do feel like a part of the Brando family at this hotel. While we got lucky with sunny skies for most of our stay, our last day was pretty much one giant downpour. After our flight was delayed (weather, obviously), we set up camp at Bob’s Bar (don’t forget to order the burger; it really is that good), where several other guests who were also awaiting departure had the same idea. Despite the gusty winds and deluge of rain coming down on us, it felt like just another adventure at the Brando, chatting amongst the other guests and staff about our impending departure and sipping on some of the best cocktails I’ve ever tasted. (Try one of the health mocktails but add rum; you won’t regret it.) As I cozied up with a plate of fries, my aforementioned beverage and Kindle, I briefly wondered if I should attempt to locate a dry towel—I said nothing aloud, but mere seconds later, Lambert, from the pool desk (an absolute star of our stay) appeared with a stack of fresh towels. Mind readers, I’m telling you! Unfortunately, my not-so-silent wish that the prop plane would be grounded in the weather and I’d just have to stay at the Brando indefinitely were not answered in similar fashion.
The Brando
Hudson Barbara High-Rise Bootcut Jean
Fall is nice and all, but I’ve never been someone who counts down to the end of September—I’m a summer person, through and through. And that extends to the wardrobe situation, because it’s just so much easier to get dressed in the warmth—layering is just so much effort. That said, for the time that I was not in the tropical climate of French Polynesia in October, I was willing to put on precisely two pairs of jeans, one of which is this bootcut pant from Hudson. They’re my preferred high-rise waist, and I find the flared leg to be super flattering and a bit more polished than a slouchy wide-leg cut. I wore them with everything, and best of all, these are made from a stretch material that holds its shape, but doesn’t prevent me from comfortably sitting down for a full meal. A win-win.
Hudson
