In The Cayman Islands, Anyone Can Be An It Girl

In preparation for my recent trip to Grand Cayman, I crammed the night before by studying previous It Girl visitors’ Instagrams until my fingerprints nearly lost their whorls and loops. But what precious little I found by way of clues about what to wear (bikinis, duh — and a lot of Christopher Esber) and where to go out (indeterminate) suggested something very out of character for people whose world-building mostly happens online: They were having too nice a time to post.

When I arrived as a guest of the islands’ tourism board after a painless flight, I quickly got the sense that what made this an It-Girl destination wasn’t only the presence of Mesdemoiselles Hailey Bieber, Chloë Sevigny, and Kaia Gerber — it was the fact that just about any traveler, regardless of age or budget, can enjoy privacy, calm, and do-nothing beach time tempered by some healthy hedonism.

That last point, however, might require a slight paradigm shift if you’re accustomed to performing the most obvious It-Girl activities — mainly consuming potent potables and dancing — in the wee hours. In Grand Cayman, it’s not easy to find many spots open at midnight, but you can still slam Star Treatments at Next Door and twerk to Soulja Boy (true story), just on a condensed timeline. You could also have a big night out like I did at Bonny Moon, or an alternate-universe Surf Lodge, down to the french-fry towers, the Australian DJ pretending not to know who Charli XCX is, and the banquette dancing, though the move there is to bop with the throw pillows instead of helicoptering your napkin. It’s true that I was burrito-wrapped in bed by 1 a.m., but — get this — if travel is all about experiencing a different way of life, you could do far worse than trying out a schedule on which you wake up clear-headed for rooftop yoga at Vida or horseback riding with Spirit of the West.

And while you’re most likely already familiar with Palm Heights’ striped umbrellas and its hammam with the monolithic, sun-heated slab of stone that probably weighs more than a Miata, real It Girls pride themselves on being ahead of the curve. I was introduced to a very good lip oil by the woman-owned GM Cosmetics, and one of the most surprising and delightful discoveries I made was Mutiny — a by-appointment shop shrouded in mystique, even among locals — where I picked up a Caribbean streetwear brand’s funny faux concert tee extolling the benefits of sea moss.

But perhaps what Grand Cayman does best is provide a place where weary It Girls can rest their aching heads. The strictly enforced early closures on weekends certainly help but moreso does the chill and genuinely kind atmosphere. It’s the little divas in the shallow end of Hotel Indigo’s infinity pool clinking their glasses of chocolate milk. It’s a server, without being asked, snapping a photo simply because the sun is setting right behind you. That’s why, when anyone asks about my trip, I say Grand Cayman is where I’ll return whenever all the rubbing elbows and Montenegro and mezcal shots get to be too much.