The New Dallas

By Katy McColl
October 7, 2010
1011_dallas
Misty Keasler
A hometown girl returns to find all her favorite things—chalupas, sarsaparilla, and a gleaming skyline—sparkling with a bright new style.

The rotating-disco-ball restaurant atop Reunion Tower is a little girl's idea of glamour—at least, once upon a time it was mine. As a child in Dallas, I used to beg my father to take me there after a night out at the ballet. The tower spins a full 560 feet above ground, and as I sipped my Shirley Temple and listened to the tinkling piano music, I might as well have been at the center of the universe, there as part of Dallas's iconic skyline, outshining even the stars. One night I laid my white cardigan sweater on the windowsill, and it made the full rotation, like a horse at Saratoga, before it was time for us to leave.

When my parents divorced, Dallas became a casualty of the breakup and I moved to Massachusetts with my mom. The city where I'd enjoyed such a happy childhood was reduced to a flattened-out caricature—a place where women wore pancake makeup and lip liner while working out, and where "Too much is never enough" seemed to be the unofficial city slogan. Essentially, recreation came down to two things: eating (Tex-Mex) and shopping (at NorthPark Center). An abundance of grande dame hotels—the Mansion on Turtle Creek, the Crescent, the Adolphus—rounded out the excess. But for all the queso and the Neiman Marcus Last Call sales, the guac and the glitz, the city, I decided, lacked a certain depth. Its superficial pre-occupations led to a whole population of young people—known locally as $30,000 millionaires—who leased Lamborghinis and lived well beyond their means in an effort to keep up with the reigning nouveau riche aesthetic. Not that I was above all that. A fellow Texan once caught me applying cake eyeliner in the bathroom at Smith College in Massachusetts and crowed, "You can take the girl out of Dallas, but you can't take the Dallas out of the girl."

Eventually, friends' weddings and showers started to bring me back for whirlwind weekends, and I began to notice that the landscape of my hometown had changed. An influx of tech companies like Cisco Systems and AT&T had created a boom in the suburbs, and massive amounts of private capital went into creating a 19-block arts district in the formerly quiet downtown. Big D, as it's called, is now the only city in the world where you can stroll past four buildings designed by Pritzker Prize–winning architects in a single block. Just as exciting, however, is the renewal of older neighborhoods like Oak Cliff, where the sensibility now falls more in line with Austin or San Francisco than the denim and diamonds of before.

On my last visit, I'd been the maid of honor and a bridesmaid for two weddings taking place on the same day; I'd hardly had a second to breathe, much less sightsee. But even from the backseat of a car whipping around town, it was clear that the city deserved a fresh look. This time, I knew exactly where I wanted to stay: the Belmont Hotel, a vintage white-stucco motor lodge that's been outfitted with the quirky 10-foot-tall cacti of a desert resort. Built on a bluff in Oak Cliff, the 64-room hotel manages to be both cheap and stylish, a novel concept for Dallas. The backyard pool area, where the hotel screens blockbusters like Big and Nine to Five throughout the summer, looks out on the city's postcard-perfect skyline. As I check in, I see a handsomely scruffy guy pull up in a red Volkswagen bus with gingham curtains—a poster child for Dallas's burgeoning bohemianism.

When I was in high school, Oak Cliff's big draw was its late-night post office, where procrastinators could count on same-day postmarks until 11:55 p.m. Now the neighborhood's Bishop Arts District—a collection of art deco storefronts—makes it an ideal daytime destination, with all the requisite shops and res-taurants, albeit with a Texan twist. At Tillman's Roadhouse, a modern comfort-food joint where you can roast marshmallows table-side for s'mores, the front door has a shotgun barrel nailed to it in place of a knob. A few blocks over, I wander into The Soda Gallery, a Technicolor shop that sells rare and regional soft drinks—including 28 different kinds of root beer for about $2 a pop. Explaining the Wonka-like quality of the place, co-owner Tony Font says prior to opening the business he "spent twenty and a half years in a corporate job with lots of time to daydream during conference calls." After helping me select a Sioux City sarsaparilla, Tony decorates my mix-and-match six-pack with three colors of ribbon, using a scissor blade to curl the ends with a flourish.

Oak Cliff's most dramatic turnaround, however, belongs to Bolsa, an industrial-chic bistro housed in a former mechanic's garage. The food is so fresh, my server tells me, that the restaurant doesn't have a freezer, and the honey drizzled on my fig and prosciutto bruschetta comes from the chef's personal hives. Sitting at the bar beneath a flock of origami paper cranes made from recycled menus, I'm impressed that the restaurant has somehow sold this formerly traditional town on the locavore trend. I spot back-slapping oil tycoons at one table and young hipsters at the next, united by a shared craving for sangria and flatbread topped with roasted grapes and Dallas goat cheese.

Once a month, the Dallas Museum of Art (DMA) stages a Late Nights festival, and I'm drawn downtown by the museum's punchy Twitter feed ("Ukulele on Level 4 right now"). Close to midnight, I find myself cheering on a raucous live reggae band; throughout, women are stalking the galleries in avant-garde heels; and on the ground floor, a table in the Tech Lab is laden with everything you might need to create a metallic pipe-cleaner masterpiece.

During my after-hours reverie, I'd missed entire galleries completely, so I make time on Sunday morning to revisit the DMA and also explore the Dallas Arts District's newer museums—like the Nasher Sculpture Center and The Crow Collection of Asian Art—in the light of day. At the small but exquisite Crow Collection, I admire a gleaming 15th-century Ming dynasty Buddha, and at the DMA's sculpture garden, I watch a couple unpack a picnic between a wall of rushing water and a futuristic bench designed by Zaha Hadid. Down the street, a DJ plays acid jazz in the garden of the Nasher, a "roofless museum" of modern sculpture founded by the same man who created NorthPark. I feel a wash of gratitude to be able to see so much art in the space of a few blocks; it used to be that most of the art in Dallas was dispersed among the city's commercial spaces like hotel lobbies and the mall. Tony Font, the co-owner of the Soda Gallery, had told me that his favorite place in the entire city was a hidden sculpture at the Nasher called Tending, (Blue). And there, behind a door so nondescript it could house an HVAC unit, I discover a modern-day, secular pantheon, a room with cooling granite benches tilted toward an open view of the sky. Tipped back like I'm getting my hair washed at a salon, I watch dragonflies and airplanes pass over the vivid-blue portal. It's spiritual and moving—and for 10 minutes I have it all to myself. When other folks step into the room, I welcome them with a smile, all too happy to share Dallas's new richness together.

Later that afternoon, I meet up with a former coworker named Lauren who moved here from midtown Manhattan and offered to introduce me to some of her favorite discoveries. Having grown up in Mississippi, Lauren appreciates the way Dallas combines urban amenities with a small-town pace. "I get to sit outside drinking margaritas in November with really friendly people," she explains. Our first stop happens to lead us to a couple who made a similar choice: Adam and Alicia Rico, who recently traded Brooklyn for Big D. The Ricos are owners of Bows and Arrows, a boutique and flower shop in the area just north of downtown where the Uptown, Oak Lawn, Knox-Henderson, and Lower Greenville neighborhoods bleed together into one live/eat/shop pleasure center. I chat with Alicia's parents, who sometimes help out on weekends, and buy a Lucite dachshund ring. As Lauren and I leave, we're sent off with a call of "Y'all have fun!" and I start to feel a sort of neighborly glow I never got at the Galleria mall.

A few blocks away at the Taco Joint, a gem of a Tex-Mex taqueria with album covers on the ceiling and a cheerful mural on the back wall, every table is filled with young families or Southern Methodist University students hunkered down over $2 chalupas. The guac is as great as you'd expect, rich and limey, but more important, the restaurant has pioneered what may be the world's best condiment—homemade jalapeño ranch—that sends us back for seconds.

As we cruise past blocks of valet stands and dozens of new apartment buildings—from Melrose Place–style haciendas with fountains and tiled courtyards to spare modernist cubes—I feel so confused: What used to be here? Lauren can't tell me, of course, but a few long-gone scenes start to take shape in my mind. I see scrubby lawns and dry cleaners that I don't miss so much, but I start to recall other things the construction has replaced, like the Mexican restaurant where my family and I would have dinner on Sundays beneath autographed portraits of Tom Landry–era Dallas Cowboys sporting sideburns and mustaches. For a moment I feel a slight pang of loss, but then Lauren and I stop for a cocktail at Park, which—with its outdoor fireplace, sultry chinoiserie-themed interiors, lantern-lit garden, and bocce court—cheers me right up. Instead of dye-soaked maraschino cherries, staffers use fresh blackberries and sprigs of mint for garnish. We watch a mixologist muddle thyme and strawberries for a complicated drink called a Jagger's Lips, and I am heartbroken by how good it tastes, because I will never be able to re-create it at home.

I want to repay Lauren for introducing me to these new places by taking her to Reunion Tower, but I'm slightly concerned. I'd ventured down this nostalgic path once before in the late '90s and regretted it: Between the brass railings, maroon carpeting, and wilted food, revisiting the tower that had enchanted me as a child felt deflating. But last year, after a two-year renovation, Wolfgang Puck reopened Five Sixty, as it's now called, which lured us in with the prospect of a happy hour where certain cocktails and pan-Asian appetizers only cost $5.60 apiece, instead of the usual $12 to $22. As we step off the elevator, Lauren squeezes my hand and says, "This is fabulous!" My heart skips a beat, too. Glamorous gray-velvet sofas and glinting cocktail tables spread out before us, and as the panoramic view slowly unfolds—it takes 55 minutes for the restaurant to make a single rotation—I slip right back into a state of pure wonder. High above the distant red-neon rooftop Mobil pegasus, I can make out the blue Ferris wheel at Fair Park, the Trinity River corridor, and the birds gliding far below.

LODGING
Belmont Hotel
901 Fort Worth Ave., 866/870-8010, belmontdallas.com, doubles from $109

FOOD
Tillman's Roadhouse
324 W. 7th St., 214/942-0988, tillmansroadhouse.com, table-side s'mores $14

Bolsa
614 W. Davis St., 214/367-9367, bolsadallas.com, bruschetta four for $12

Taco Joint
911 N. Peak St., 214/826-8226, thetacojoint.com, tacos from $2

Five Sixty by Wolfgang Puck
300 Reunion Blvd., 214/741-5560, wolfgangpuck.com/restaurants/fine-dining/3917, select cocktails and appetizers $5.60 on weeknights 5 p.m.–7 p.m.

ACTIVITIES
Dallas Museum of Art
1717 N. Harwood St., 214/922-1200, dm-art.org, admission $10, sculpture garden free

Nasher Sculpture Center
2001 Flora St., 214/242-5100, nashersculpturecenter.org, admission $10, joint ticket with DMA $16

The Crow Collection of Asian Art
2010 Flora St., 214/979-6430, crowcollection.com, free

SHOPPING
The Soda Gallery
408 N. Bishop Ave. #101, 214/946-7632, thesodagallery.com, six-pack from $13.50

Bows and Arrows
1925 Greenville Ave., 214/828-2697, bowsandarrowsdeluxe.com, ring $15

NIGHTLIFE
Park
1921 Henderson Ave., 214/824-3343, parkhenderson.com, Jagger's Lips cocktail $9

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World's Best New Boutique Hotels Under $150

NORTH AMERICA/CENTRAL AMERICA 1. Las Vegas More Palm Springs–chic than Las Vegas–bling, Rumor is a far cry from most Sin City resorts. Just a few blocks off the Strip, the two-story hotel trades the buzz of slot machines for a tranquil palm-and-pool-studded courtyard, complete with hammocks on the lawn and a DJ who spins classic rock on the pool deck. The 150 rooms are all done in Rumor's signature color palette of purple and cream, from the fresh orchids on the desk right down to the lavender-scented bubble bath. rumorvegas.com, from $89. 2. Chicago After opening in January, Longman & Eagle became one of Chicago's most sought-after restaurants, known for rich comfort food like house-made pork sausage and ricotta pasta. But it was missing a crucial ingredient: a place to crash after dinner. Last month, Longman's owners solved the issue by unveiling six guest rooms upstairs—done in the same cozy decor as the pub. longmanandeagle.com, from $75. 3. Lancaster, Pa. Pennsylvania Amish country has never lacked appeal—antiques markets, covered bridges, farm-fresh foods. It was finding an appealing hotel that was hard. No longer. Last spring, the Cork Factory Hotel opened in a 145-year-old redbrick foundry, still equipped with its huge, original glass-paned windows. The 77 rooms are within walking distance of a 120-year-old market, where farmers still hawk their wares every week. corkfactoryhotel.com, from $139 with breakfast. 4. Adams, Mass. When owners Nana Simopoulos and Caryn Heilman set out to restore a 19th-century brick boardinghouse in the Berkshires, they didn't just strive for eco-conscious design—it was more like eco-perfection. Nearly everything in the eight-room Topia Inn is organic, from the breakfast of banana bread, spinach quiche, and fair-trade coffee to the plush mattresses made of chemical-free cotton. Even the walls are plastered with bright, earth-friendly clay, which makes them cooler in the summer, warmer in the winter, and inviting all year long. topiainn.com, from $125. 5. St. Pete Beach, Fla. Set on a quiet strip of white sand 35 minutes southwest of Tampa, the Postcard Inn on the Beach is a dose of Florida Keys flair transported to the mainland. Each of the 196 rooms is wallpapered with surfing photos and accented with vintage lamps, while the lobby has its own macramé art installation and colorful surfboards. The effect is an overwhelmingly casual vibe that continues out in the garden, where Adirondack chairs surround a fire pit and the beachfront bar serves blackened tilapia sandwiches and bacon-and-jalapeño-wrapped shrimp—perfect snacks for Postcard's dive-in movie nights, when surf, travel, and classic films are projected above the pool. postcardinn.com, from $99 with breakfast. 6. Acapulco, Mexico Long before Cancún or Cabo, Acapulco was the king of Mexican resort towns—and the Hotel Boca Chica was its crown jewel, drawing everyone from Elvis to the Rat Pack. Now, after a three-year remodel, the Boca Chica has regained its former sparkle. The 36 rooms are lacquered white and flooded with light, and all have private balconies. Meanwhile, old Hollywood touches throughout—like lamps made from conch shells and latticed brickwork—serve as ever-present reminders of its storied past. hotelbocachica.com, from $95. 7. Granada, Nicaragua It's one thing to stay in the heart of a Spanish colonial city—and quite another to stay in a Spanish-colonial mansion. Located smack in the middle of Granada's historic district, the sprawling 19th-century Hotel Spa Granada has five garden courtyards, a lagoon-like swimming pool in the center, and 15 expansive guest rooms (some with ceilings as high as 18 feet) that are decorated with handicrafts from a local artisan. A free spa treatment is included with every night of your stay, but the rates are so shockingly affordable—a 60-minute massage is $20, an aloe facial is $10—that a full day of pampering hardly qualifies as a splurge. hotelspagranada.com, from $49 with breakfast. 8. Uvita, Costa Rica The 12 cabins at Oxygen Jungle Villas were constructed with a singular goal: to make you feel like you're the only person for miles. Blissfully isolated among barriers of tropical plants and vines, the one-bedroom villas come off like Swiss Family Robinson tree houses. Each has a private sun-deck, a sharply angled roof, and glass walls to maximize views of the Pacific Ocean a mile away. And considering the adults-only hotel never takes more than 24 guests at a time, it's hardly a stretch to believe the jungle is yours and yours alone. oxygenjunglevillas.com, from $139. EUROPE 9. Brussels In a rare example of a marketing gimmick gone right, the Pantone Hotel delivers on the style standard that design geeks have come to expect from the namesake global color guru. Each of the property's seven floors is dedicated to a different hue—from vivid tangerine to cool sky blue to buttery yellow—which comes through mostly in accent pieces and artwork. White bedding, walls, and window dressings keep the 59 guest rooms in balance. Even the rooftop bar picks up the pigment theme, serving drinks named for the color codes they most closely resemble: Pink Champagne 12-1107, Lemon Drop 12-0736, and Daiquiri Green 12-0435, to name a few. pantonehotel.com, from $89. 10. Cornwall, U.K. Cornwall's rugged cliffs, manicured gardens, and 300-plus public beaches have drawn British vacationers since the 1800s. Now the seaside retreat, four and a half hours west of London, has one more draw to add to the list: the Nearwater. At this whitewashed B&B in the town of St. Mawes, owners Tim and Amelia Whitaker have transformed a simple home into one of the area's sweetest small hotels. Bamboo floors, Danish teak furniture, and a mirror made from driftwood give Nearwater a light, nautical look, while the three rooms' beds are covered in sailor-striped wool blankets. Added to that, Amelia's homemade granola and pancakes are the perfect start to a day spent taking one of Tim's famous guided walks along the coast. nearwaterstmawes.co.uk, from $131 with breakfast. 11. London For years, London's members-only clubs catered exclusively to their elite clienteles. But in April, the East End's Shoreditch House broke ranks and opened 26 rooms to the masses. While this technically means it's now a hotel, the Shoreditch sure doesn't feel like it: Antique telephones, oak tallboy chests, complimentary umbrellas, and bookshelves filled with board games and guidebooks speak to its heritage as a private club. Guests enjoy the same privileges as members, including access to the fourth floor's two-lane bowling alley and the trendy rooftop pool, which has views of the London Bridge. shoreditchhouse.com, from $116 for nonmembers. 12. Paris Imagine arriving in Paris only to have some globe-trotting local hand you the keys to her apartment. That's the idea behind Bohème, a 366-square-foot, one-room hotel in the Montmartre district within walking distance of the Sacré-Coeur Basilica and the boutiques along rue de Clignan-court. The property is one of three apartment-style rentals run by the French boutique hotel firm Bed & Style. The sunlight-drenched space has a teak canopy bed, draped in scarlet curtains, and a daybed made of Indian acacia. In an alcove, visitors will find Bohème's most useful feature: a fully equipped kitchen stocked with Moroccan tableware. bedandstyle.com, sleeps three from $109. 13. Auvergne, France Four hours south of Paris, a wilderness of pine forests, crystal-clear lakes, and volcanic peaks springs from the countryside. It's the kind of rugged landscape you'd expect in Montana, scattered with wild horses and wolves. Except here, at the Instants d'Absolu Ecolodge & Spa, you can also enjoy French food and creature comforts. Chocolate croissants and wildflower jam are set out each morning, and post-dinner cordials of lemony pine liqueur are served by the outdoor hot tub. Lest visitors get too relaxed, all 12 rooms have exploration-friendly binoculars and boots. ecolodge-france.com, from $115. 14. Prague Part stylish hotel, part traditional hostel, the Mosaic House is an experience all its own. Inside the six-story 1935 building, guests can opt for one of 64 private rooms (from $26) or one of 30 shared spaces—for nearly half the cost (from $15). While the atmosphere skews toward the casual (think board games and beanbag chairs in the lounge), the decor is more upscale: Each room is done up in chocolate brown, burgundy, and gold, and is accented with quirky touches like closet rods made of tree branches and tables fashioned from salvaged-wood beams. mosaichouse.com, from $15. MIDDLE EAST/ASIA 15. Tel Aviv, Israel Aspiring creative types will feel right at home in the new Art Plus Hotel: Five of Israel's leading artists painted huge nature-inspired murals on the first-floor walls, and there's a video installation running on a loop in the lobby. Concrete floors and stark-white walls serve as a backdrop to eye-popping furniture, like the purple Pantone chairs in the library, where free happy-hour wine, fruit, dips, and sandwiches are served amid a collection of art books. All 62 rooms are decked out with king beds backed by metallic-gray vinyl headboards, glass-topped desks, and '60s-era armchairs. And if inspiration strikes, each has crayons, watercolors, and sketch pads on hand. atlas.co.il, doubles from $120 with breakfast. 16. Chiang Mai, Thailand Before returning to his native Thailand to open La Bhu Salah hotel, chef Vatcharin Bhumichitr perfected his recipes as a restaurateur in London for 20 years (he also wrote 10 popular cookbooks). At the combination hotel and cooking school in the jungle-covered hills north of Chiang Mai, visitors can sample Bhumichitr's unique takes on traditional Thai dishes at the restaurant and then sign up for one of his individual or group classes. Local artisans also lead on-site batik, ceramics, and jewelry-making courses, while evenings are filled with folk music concerts and performances of traditional Lanna dancing. La Bhu's 13 rooms are spread across five 2-story wooden houses, each with an open-air art studio on the ground floor. bhusalahchiangmai.com, from $21. 17. Bangkok Far from the city's high-rises in a 104-year-old shop house, The Bhuthorn channels Bangkok's royal past. The three jasmine-scented rooms are all named for a different Thai prince (the Grand Palace is a five-minute walk away) and filled with treasures from the owners' travels across Southeast Asia: Burmese teak beds, quilts stitched from sarongs, woven rattan chaises. Afternoon tea is served in the leafy courtyard and is usually capped off with an assortment of traditional sweets gathered from family-owned shops in Old Town, the surrounding neighborhood. thebhuthorn.com, from $102 with breakfast. 18. Luang Prabang, Laos Positioned on a hill overlooking the Mekong River, the year-old BelleRive Boutique Hotel is an ideal base from which to explore Luang Prabang's unique Buddhist and French-colonial influences. The eight light-filled rooms are spread across two buildings—including a former mayor's residence—shaded by tamarind and frangipani trees. All rooms come with river views and four-poster rosewood beds draped with elephant-adorned silk runners and enclosed by sheer white curtains that double as mosquito nets. Best touch: Free bikes are on hand for guests to use to discover the town's temples, monasteries, and cafés. thebellerive.com, from $110 with breakfast. 19. Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam The last thing you'd expect to find in Vietnam's hyper-kinetic capital is a tranquil French retreat, but such is the pleasant surprise of Ma Maison. Run by Natasha Long, a Saigon local, the inn is housed in a 70-year-old colonial villa remodeled to evoke French country life. Walls are painted in soft yellows and greens, while the 12 rooms have blond-wood beds and desks with gold-leaf details. The hotel's bistro completes the vibe, with a menu full of French fare such as braised chicken with mushrooms. Add to that thoughtful touches like the complimentary mobile phones with free local service and an affable cat, Mr. Sushi, and you'll be feeling like family in no time. mamaison.vn, from $70 with breakfast. 20. Siem Reap, Cambodia The Sojourn Boutique Villas is the rare resort that soothes your body and soul all at once. The 10 red-and-white bungalows are just a few miles from the iconic temples of Angkor, so guests can spend their days wandering among 12th-century Buddhist ruins and their evenings soaking in the palm-tree-fringed saltwater pool. All that relaxing comes with the peace of mind that Sojourn donates a portion of its proceeds to clean-water initiatives and English lessons for residents of the nearby Treak Village. sojournsiemreap.com, from $100 with breakfast.