A Stay at the Claremont: Old Money Seaside Dreams in Southwest Harbor
There are some hotels that feel like a stopover, and others—fewer—that feel like the destination. The Claremont Hotel in Southwest Harbor, Maine, is most certainly the latter. Perched at the edge of Mount Desert Island, just far enough from the crowds of Bar Harbor, it offers an escape that is equal parts elegant, nostalgic, and quietly luxurious.
We arrived at the tail end of June, the kind of early summer moment when the sun lingers just long enough to warm your shoulders but disappears in time to make a sweater feel chic rather than necessary. From the moment we stepped inside, the Claremont gave off the unmistakable energy of a very stylish family estate—one you’d imagine belongs to that elusive cousin who summered with the Kennedys.
The Interiors: Where Pattern Meets Peace
Everywhere you look, there’s something that makes you want to reach for your phone (or sketchbook, if you’re feeling analog). Dark hardwood floors are softened by perfectly worn oriental rugs, and wallpapered walls in soft greens and creams play host to eclectic vases and coffee table books that seem casually, perfectly placed. Nothing felt over-designed; everything felt just right.
Our room, facing the harbor and the lush back lawn, was the sort of space you immediately begin to mentally replicate at home. A mix of floral prints danced between headboard, pillows, and papered walls in a way that should clash—but didn’t. Instead, it felt deeply thoughtful, like the visual equivalent of a well-styled outfit. Bonus: everything was immaculately clean and smelled of... well, summer. Sea air, linen, and the faintest whiff of something botanical.
What I Wore: Seaside Sartorial Moments
Packing for Maine is a little like styling an outfit for a Nancy Meyers film—classic, romantic, but never too precious. I brought along a red, drop waist shift dress by Hunter Bell, which paired perfectly with my Parisa Wang bamboo cane bag. Layers were key: an Ulla Johnson sweater shirt made multiple appearances, especially when the sun dipped and the harbor breeze kicked in.
For my birthday dinner, I went full “why not” in the Yacht Dress by La Double J—a flowing orange number peppered with hot pink flowers. It felt celebratory, like the sartorial equivalent of a Champagne toast. But maybe my favorite look was a vintage floral romper I scored at a thrift store in Charlottesville—a quiet reminder that the most stylish pieces are often the least expected.
The Food: Lobster, Blueberries, Repeat
We ate well in Maine. At the Claremont’s own restaurant, the menu was a study in tasteful indulgence—no single dish stood out because everything was simply excellent. But the culinary highlight came from a more rustic setting: Abel’s Lobster Pound. We went once. Then again. Then, once more for good measure. Whole lobster, lobster rolls, lobster mac—it was indulgent, it was messy, and it was magnificent.
Blueberry became its own food group during our stay: popovers with jam at Jordan Pond House, blueberry cocktails, cheesecake, scones—you name it. We even biked through Acadia National Park to reach Jordan Pond, which, if you’re wondering, does in fact make the popovers taste better.
The Chic of Stillness
On my birthday, we set sail. The water was calm, the sky clear—until, suddenly, it wasn’t. Fog rolled in like a scene from a coastal novel, and for a while, the world disappeared into white. It was beautiful. Strange. Still. It’s the place I now visit in my mind when life feels too loud.
If Bar Harbor buzzes with activity, Southwest Harbor hums. It’s quieter, chicer, somehow more intentional. And the Claremont is the crown jewel of it all—a hotel that doesn’t try too hard, because it simply doesn’t need to.
If stillness has a setting, I found mine in Southwest Harbor.
