I Reached Press Trip Nirvana at The Cooper Hotel in Charleston

There’s a protocol when it comes to press trips (no, not the one about denying the invitation in the name of journalistic integrity). Invite a loose gaggle of friends to an easy destination for two nights only. And if such is the case, you go. When I was blessed with the text invitation for a weekend stay in Charleston, I followed said protocol despite my usual hesitations (a busy schedule, work, what have you). I was southbound, baby.

I landed in Charleston at 5:55PM on Friday evening following a two-leg flight from San Francisco (okay, so I was technically eastbound). I had a layover in Atlanta and survived one (1) landing and one (1) take-off amid hurricane Isaias’ landfall. If this is the end, I thought, I’m blaming Chris Black. By the time I stepped out into Charleston’s warm sea-breezy air, my existentialism evaded me. I was greeted by a man with an O’SULLIVAN sign who led me to the back of a black car, back where I belong. Off to The Cooper hotel we went.

The Cooper is grand and luxurious by anyone’s standards. It sits in the heart of downtown Charleston on the waterfront overlooking the Cooper River, which was silver and moody upon my arrival. The hotel’s facade mirrors the architecture of the French Quarter neighborhood. Ivory with blue shutters, vines climbing the exterior. It’s a beautiful sight, so I can see why the trip host and agency founded by Chris, David Cho, Spencer Lemon, and Shivam Pandya, Lobby Partners & Associates, decided it was an ideal destination. And might I mention, there are fewer things more satisfying than pulling up to a hotel driveway just in time for dinner.

Night one took place at Merci, a dimly-lit European-inspired bistro, where I was blessed to sit across from Cobey Arner and Amanda Lee Burkett, next to Lissie Chappell (hostess extraordinaire), and diagonal from Emily Dawn Long. There was a beef wellington that was unlike anything I’ve ever eaten in my life, followed by a sampling of small desserts. We shuttled home in the rain and had a night cap in The Cooper’s bar before I dozed off in a feathery cloud of crisp hotel sheets, my version of heaven.

Day two began with a mossy-green matcha (not too milky, not too icey, and yeah I am one of those girls) at Cooper Coffee & Wine, the hotel’s cafe and wine bar. I chit-chatted with trip guest John Fulton, the man behind Eastside Rag, who just left his fulltime job to do the damn thing. We then had a cheeky American Breakfast at The Crossing where I marveled at Amanda’s “hurricane ready” outfit. She packed for Charleston and London (where she would suss out JW Anderson x UGG in the days to follow) and is the only girl in the world who could pull off press-trip-but-make-it-rained-out-and-slightly-southern on a whim. “I’ve experienced my fair share of hurricanes, it’s nostalgic to me,” Amanda says. Her outfit? “In Charleston, I wore brown Havaianas—I would rather get my feet dirty than ruin my nice shoes, and St. Agni pants hiked up around my knees—they’re white! And my boyfriend’s Barracuta jacket, which is an iconic menswear item that dates back to 1937. No one knows this… But I actually had three raincoat options: my Barbour and my Margiela for Hermes were in the hotel room, but I’m just into little crop jackets right now.” Her wardrobe packs a punch.

Sauntering to the hotel spa after an 11AM American breakfast is a special type of satisfaction. My facial began at 12:30PM sharp and I didn’t want to miss a single second of it. Have you ever gotten a facial from a woman with a Southern drawl, who tells you sweetly that you’re in good hands? I’d trust her with my life. The spa was complete with a serene lounging room, steam room, and sauna. I received an oxygen facial, and I’m not really sure how that works, but I do feel something good happened.

I could have marinated in the red light bed for several more hours, but a boat trip awaited. Our fearless leader, fossil hunter and naturalist extraordinaire Cade Kaufmann led us to sea. Never did I ever think there would be an archeology hour on the activity list, alas, there we all were, shipped in from our respective fashion-adjacent jobs to search for shark teeth on a rural island. I loved the sight of scattered, gorped-up Prada/Chanel/Arc'Teryx/Cou Cou/Literary Sport/Emily Dawn Long, media-adjacent Sims wandering around in the sand and earnestly searching for something. I boarded our sea-chariot back to The Cooper with Amanda, John, photographer David Gurzhiev, and writer Emily Wilson. It was good to be back at home base.

Our final act was a candlelit dinner at The Crossing, the hotel’s Mediterranean restaurant with a Lowcountry twist, “rooted in the rhythm between land and sea.” Totally! It was divine. The dessert Greek yogurt with honey and berries was my cherry on top. No, wait… The cherry on top was actually the complementary homemade rice crispy treat in The Cooper hotel room, which I brought home and had for breakfast Monday morning. Thank you, Charleston.