Hotel Isle de France in St. Barts - photos courtesy www.isle-de-france.com
If a mysterious black car pulled into my driveway today, I would get right in. I would step into the backseat and the driver would give me a knowing little wink and then hand me an envelope with the initials 'SBH'. We would drive a little further and pick up my husband and he would inform me that the kids, dog and cat were being looked after this week and that my list of to-do's had become a list of 'dones'. After getting a whole lotta tipsy on a few glasses of really good champagne, we would arrive at the airport, say a quick 'a bientot' to the snow, open the envelope to find two plane tickets and be escorted right into the first-class section of a plane headed for St. Barts (SBH). We would arrive at a private villa at the Eden Rock, fall into bed and sleep for 3 days straight.
After we finally wake up, this is what I would find in my perfectly-packed suitcase:
(oh, and did I mention I would have Gisele Bundchen's Eden Rock-hard body? Come on, it's my fantasy!)