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Finding Our Happy Place in St. Barts

Schleppy is the word I use to describe how we felt upon arrival in Gustavia, the epicenter of St. Barts*. From the moment we tied up to the pristine, mega yacht adjacent dinghy dock, we realized that the Bahamas, this was not. Wandering around the cute, chic town in our best sea-worn threads, we were conspicuous, salty fashion victims, lost in a sea of couture caftans and seersucker. Even the customs officer stationed behind a counter of polished marble had a certain je ne sais quoi unmatched by other civil servants we’ve met in our travels. Underdressed as we...

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