Everyone wants to be a coastal grandmother, but for all the wrong reasons. On social media [1], the coastal grandmother shops at local farmer's markets, vacations in Cape Cod, and eats lobster at every meal. She's Emily Gilmore hosting Friday night dinners in her Connecticut mansion — a purely aspirational aesthetic. But this viral ideal is one that would have my actual coastal grandmother calling BS.
As a young girl, my family of five stayed with my coastal grandmother in the same three-bed one-bath home my father grew up in. "If there's floor room, there's sleeping room!" Grammy liked to proclaim. We spent summers together on a blow-up mattress in a converted garage, shopped at Walmart, chased after fireflies, and explored the rocky beaches of Kittery, Maine. (Grammy called the 60°F water "refreshing.") It was simple, and it was perfect.
The coastal grandmother I grew up with didn't care about Instagrammable routines or luxury living. She'd sooner splurge on fresh scallops than a designer bag, and the only thing she wanted for Christmas was a restock of her favorite Dunkin' K-Cups. So when I got the opportunity to return to Maine for a coastal wellness retreat, I wanted to experience it from the perspective of an actual coastal grandmother. No complicated routines or viral trends, just back to basics. Here's everything I learned (and everything the internet gets wrong) about coastal wellness — coming from a coastal granddaughter.
My Coastal Wellness Experience
My coastal wellness trip started as all great things do: with coffee and lobster. I could practically see Grammy rolling her eyes at my oat milk and maple sea salt latte, but my younger sister and I needed the energy for our three-hour drive from Portland to Acadia. After finishing our food, the GMC team handed us the keys to a brand new Yukon Denali SUV [2] — ours for the weekend. With chair warmers on, a carefully curated autumn playlist on full blast, and massaging car seats activated, we were ready to embark on our mini road trip in style. "I don't know how we're going to top this," my sister said as we drove through the impossibly vibrant autumn leaves.
We stayed in a tent at Under Canvas Acadia [3], which felt pretty on par with the no-frills ethos of a true coastal grandmother. Of course, most tents don't have a working shower, scenic oceanside view, or plush king-size bed. But to our credit, my sister and I still went the entire retreat without any WiFi or electricity, using lanterns and flashlights to see at night. We even built a fire for heat (and yes, triggered the fire alarm shortly afterwards).
After pulling into camp, we set our alarms for 3 a.m. so we could drive up to Cadillac Mountain and be among the first people to witness the sun rise over the eastern seaboard. Huddled next to each other for warmth, we stared at the horizon until the sun finally lifted its orange head above the sea, bathing the crowd of onlookers in an amber haze. It was like a scene from a movie: so beautiful it was hard to believe we were really there witnessing it in real life. But coastal wellness challenges us to breathe it all in and soak up the present moment.
Later that afternoon, my sister and I stole away for a hike in Acadia National Park and found ourselves completely lost — no parking, no visible trailheads, no signal. It was tempting to get frustrated and call the rest of the day a wash. Instead, we pulled over and asked for help.
"You can always turn the day around," my sister told me as we finally made our way to the Sieur de Monts Nature Center. We ended up hiking Jesup Path and followed a long wooden boardwalk through the middle of Acadia's white birch forest. We stopped to touch the peeling tree trunks and marveled at the great meadow — tall grasses blowing in the wind and leaves singed different shades of red and orange.
On the way back to Portland, we drank iced lattes and listed our favorite memories from the retreat. I glanced down at the GPS and wished I could freeze these final moments in time, extending our coastal wellness for hours and hours.
My Coastal Wellness Takeaways
Coastal wellness doesn't have to end the moment you leave New England. In fact, science says you can practice it practically anywhere. A 2022 study [4] published in the Association for Psychological Sciences calls the kind of awe we experienced on our trip "a pathway to better mental and physical health." Simply put, when we're able to reduce our self-importance and increase our sense of meaning, oxytocin goes up and inflammation goes down. You can experience it yourself by waking up early enough to see the sunrise, hiking outdoors, or just watching the leaves fall on your next roadtrip. The best part is, it doesn't cost a thing.
Too often we reduce wellness to strict diets, pricey equipment, and disciplined fitness regimens. But if my childhood summers in Maine taught me anything, it's that wellness should be simple. It's not all about expensive red light chambers [5] or full-body scans [6] — it's about driving through Maine's misty fall foliage and gossiping with your sister. It's about pulling over for a particularly gorgeous patch of scarlet leaves because you never get to slow down in your normal life. It's about leaving your comfort zone, asking for help, and giving yourself permission to be awestruck more often. If you can do that, then congratulations! You're well on your way to becoming an actual coastal grandmother.
Chandler Plante [8] (she/her) is a staff writer and PS Fit Producer. She has over six years of industry experience, previously working as an editorial assistant for People magazine, a social media manager for Millie magazine, and a contributor for Bustle Digital Group. She has a degree in magazine journalism from Syracuse University and is based in Los Angeles.