The Attwater

Newport is a town of summer homes, expansively old-school hotels (aka wedding factories in the warm months) and bed and breakfasts. The latter have names that reference Dickens’ books, and the hosts expect you to have long, lingering meals, discussing your plans for the day, your sleeping habits and the local bird population.

Thankfully, the Attwater, a boutique hotel set right by the Newport Art Museum, doesn’t fit into any of those categories. It is not your weekend home (though you might wish it was), and, unlike the local hotel classics, it is polished but never, ever stodgy – with nary a white dress or drunken groomsman in sight. And though the Attwater feeds you every morning – a changing menu of small plates that might include red pepper and cheddar quiche, say, or strawberry scones, all made in-house – there is absolutely no expectation of the sort of interaction that is especially painful before you’ve been caffeinated. In fact, it’s completely acceptable if the only thing you say as you work your way through your Greek yogurt and balled cantaloupe (served in a birdbath glass that may have held champagne in a former life) is, ‘I think the coffee carafe might be empty.’

Which meant that it was exactly what Mr Smith and I were in the market for. Though he is much more adept at navigating the early-morning chit-chat than I am, he’s also more than happy to be left alone to read the paper and brainstorm the best nearby options for unimpressive tennis-playing or splashing around.

Considering this was the first time either Mr Smith or I visited Newport – indeed, it was our first outing to any of the classic, East Coast summer destinations that seem to have an endless supply of ribbon belts and polo shirts – it’s probably not fair for me to judge the Attwater as unconventional, but it was unexpected. The 17-room hotel in a rehabbed mansion is modern and sophisticated, and the 10-minute walk to the seafood-and-ice-cream harbourside main drag lets you feel like you’re doing your own thing and actually having a weekend. And a stroll is definitely part of the draw – especially if you’re anything like my travel companion, who was in it for the big, beautiful sailboats and got his fix with an America’s Cup charter the last day of our trip.

The hotel’s design has a certain if-Alexander-Girard-and-Kelly-Wearstler-had-a-love-child vibe (yes, that would involve time travel, but go with me). The common areas downstairs are bright and lively with pops of orange, turquoise, and lime and chandeliers that don’t seem to want to be taken seriously. Upstairs, the King Suite that we happily made our home for two nights was cheery but serene. There was a marble coffee table and a sleek gas fireplace in our sitting room and homey rugs on the hardwood floors throughout. Sweet little beach photos by Alicia Bock hung on the walls, and a painted barn door separated our bedroom from our black-and-white-tiled bathroom.

The best part of the set-up, without a doubt, was the bed. The hotel should consider opening a gift shop just to sell their sheets and pillowcases, which were likely constructed of very high-thread-count cotton but felt as if they were made of magic. Leaving them to start our day was a real struggle – something our hosts seemed well aware of, considering that they served the breakfast in their café until 11am.

Another bit of genius: upon check-in, as well as keys to our room and to the front door (which is locked nightly at 10pm), we were given an iPad preloaded with the Attwater’s approved list of Newport goings-on: things to do, stores to shop (such as Farmaesthetics, the local apothecary just a quick stroll away), and, of course, places to eat. When we arrived around 5pm after fighting the July weekend traffic, the friendly receptionist was visibly concerned about our dinner plans, offering to help us score a Friday night reservation. We didn’t tell her we’d be happy to go pretty much anywhere that had a raw bar, but she read our minds. We were set up on the unfussy patio at Benjamin’s and spent way too much time deciding whether we needed both fried and raw oysters. Turns out we did.

Though there was rain during our weekend, we took advantage of any evening patches of clear skies to slip out onto the hotel’s back deck – the perfect venue for taking in the stars that we don’t see in New York and we sometimes forget exist at all. We made our way through a bottle of wine, served in the pair of stemless wine glasses tucked into the a sneaky alcove right by our suite’s front door along with a mini fridge, an ice bucket, and a pod coffeemaker – all the weekend essentials, no?

Had we stayed longer than two days – which would have been very easy to do – we would have settled contentedly into our room, spending hours curled up reading on our cushy gray couch, doing a little email-answering from the Parsons desk to feel productive, and jogging to the Cliff Walk for a morning run. Our fellow guests even exhibited that wearing workout gear to the morning meal was absolutely acceptable and that you could do so without anyone asking where you were headed or if you’d like some company. We look forward to testing that out ourselves some time. Nice to meet you, Newport.