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In travel these days, girlfriends rule.
They shop, they sip, they splurge. No wonder every resort, spa and tourism bureau is touting "girlfriend getaways,'' trying to reel in the roving groups of women who are out spending quality time with each other.
Galena advertises pajama parties, makeovers and massages. Kansas City plugs a martini-and-manicure night. In Chicago, it's
"shoes, shoes, shoes.'' In Door County, Sturgeon Bay hosts a Groovin' Sisterhood Weekend in April.
A small Red Wing Stoneware sponge bowl, $550. A beat-up pie safe, $795. A shaky coat rack with two broken brackets, $80.
Well, I'm not an expert on antiques. But an empty can of Heet antifreeze for $4?
My friend Andi and I stood contemplating this sight.
In the grand scheme of things, Galena, Ill., was destined to be a flash in the pan.
The flash came from the shiny lead sulfide upon which the town's fortunes were built in the 1830s, '40s and '50s; galena is the Latin word for the ore. It made many people rich, and in the 1850s, Galena, three miles from the Mississippi, was the busiest port between St. Paul and St. Louis.
The new railroad approached, but the steamboat lines made sure it stayed away from Galena. Then the lead market weakened, trade routes shifted and the town's steep hillsides, which had given up their trees for the smelting furnaces and their limestone for houses, began to erode into the Galena River. By 1910, the river had shrunk so much the steamboats couldn't get through.
For some people, “Wisconsin wine” is a puzzling concept, like “New York nice.’’
But grapes do grow in Wisconsin, primarily on the high ridges of the Wisconsin River, near its confluence with the Mississippi. There, vines bask in sunlight and frosts sink into valleys. What vintners can’t grow they truck in from other states, adding a Wisconsin je ne sais quoi to the grapes during blending, fermentation and aging.
Wisconsinites now are enthusiastic supporters of their local vineyards, thanks largely to the late Bob Wollersheim, who
resurrected the state’s first vineyard in 1972. He made good wines, but more importantly, he made wine-buying fun,
holding tasting events and festivals at his oak-framed hillside vineyard.
Everywhere I go, I see groups of women out having fun. Women on bikes. Women on skis. Women shopping, sightseeing and
sampling.
Often, they're wearing the tell-tale colors of the Red Hat Society, a loose-knit organization of older women whose mission is to have fun. One June, I spotted three of them at Strawberry Festival in Cedarburg, Wis., having some laughs over a bottle of strawberry wine. They'd driven up from the southern Wisconsin town of Orfordville for the day, one of many trips they take throughout the year.
"We're taking them all the time," says Lin Newman, who founded one of five Red Hat chapters in her town of 1,200. "We get a chance to giggle. There's just a sense of freedom. We can let our hair down. It's an opportunity to be wacky. There are no rules."
When a small town is about as pleasing as can be, what else can it do?
Why, make sure everyone notices, of course.
In 1972, an old Yankee mill town just north of Milwaukee started a Wine & Harvest Festival. Two years later, it started Winter Festival. Eight years after that, it started Strawberry Festival. And people poured into Cedarburg by the thousands.
Out in the countryside, it's a good time to go hunting.
There's so much to scout out — autumn colors, new trails, interesting shops. Lots of people head for the river valleys, to orchards on the St. Croix and towns along the Mississippi.
But one October, two girlfriends and I headed north instead. And in an overlooked part of the state, between Brainerd and Mille Lacs, we found a rich vein of fun.
When country artists hang an "Open'' sign on their studios, it's time for seasoned shoppers to hit the road.
Around the region, art-studio tours have been springing up, beckoning art patrons into the countryside just as fall leaves change color.
It's the perfect meeting of minds and pocketbooks — shoppers get to chat with the artists, and artists get to sell right out of their studios.
We all know what summer means — days at the beach, boat rides, marshmallow roasts . . . and shopping.
Not at malls but under the little white tents that pop up wherever there's a festival, on the shores of lakes, in parks and on picturesque town squares. That's where the region's most accomplished potters, glass makers, jewelers, painters, weavers and photographers bring out their wares and make themselves available to whoever cares to stop — customers, passersby, admirers.
At Duluth's Park Point Art Fair, Frank Garcia of Duluth cast himself into the last category as he went from one photographer's booth to another, looking enviously at beautifully composed portraits of wildlife, flora and landscapes.
There are certain towns that are so adorable and have so much that appeals to tourists that you just have to call them show towns (Also see Best little towns that charm the tourists).
They're real towns, of course, but they're always on their best behavior because tourists are always watching, and many have evolved in lockstep with tourism.
There's no question about what goes on the top of this list — Galena, Ill. This 1850s lead-mining boom town snoozed for a century before it was
rediscovered and turned into a playground for weekenders, especially from Chicago. They dabble in history, but they dive
into shopping; boutiques line Main Street, and the hillsides are dotted with 50 B&Bs. It's a great place to visit —
especially midweek and in April, May and September, when it's a little less crowded.