The once fabled playground of movie stars, the “Rat Pack”, and wealthy retired folks seems to be a tired, out of style celebrity, struggling to remain desirable and virile. It is a crumbling monument to those glory days of Frank Sinatra and Dinah Shore; after the love is gone.
The streets have the names of stars and celebrities from the 40’s and 50’s, reminders of the greats of the Golden Era of movies and big band music, but names that are strange, if they are even recognized at all, to those under 50.
Architects in the 60’s and 70’s did well in Palm Springs, but their edifices far out number more recent structures; the designers have either moved on, or more likely faded away with age like their creations. Even the hotels look tired, with names that must have once evoked visions of Palm Trees and a glamours desert life: Desert Inn, Ace Hotel, Club Trinidad, Hotel California (why they would keep that name after the Eagles song is a mystery to me.)
Consignment and used clothing shops are frequent, often two or three at a given intersection. The maturing well-to-dos seem to desire an outlet for their raiment that is fading from their taste or fashion; trading in the old for the new.
Palm Springs does have a reputation as a haven for the “mature”, thus the ubiquitous plastic surgeons and urologists that compete with the consignment shop in numbers. The memories of times past may fade, clothes sold on consignments, but there is a burgeoning business in removing wrinkles and healthy prostates. We may age, but age well!
I am sure there are those who will take issue with my slanted observations, that is fine. Yet I was disappointed, I wanted Palm Springs to be something it apparently once was. Like gravity moving our sagging body parts down, the classy area seems to have moved South to Palm Desert.