Quisisana, Il San Pietro, Hotel Splendido; they are hotels as ubiquitous to Italian summer as the season itself. And then there's Il Pellicano,
the utterly stylish Tuscan resort that made a jetset destination out of
a sleepy harbour known as Porto Ercole that still manages to escape the
assembly line of August travellers that almost ruin places like Capri,
Positano and Portofino. To find Il Pellicano, you'll need to plan on a
2-hour drive from Rome preferably with one of the hotel's long-time
chauffeurs that narrates the drive with stories of the owner and his
family that includes his daughter, hotelier Marie-Louise Scio, that
currently curates the creative vision and experience of Il Pellicano - that's truly better than ever.
On my first trip to Il Pellicano I chose to rent a car in Rome and make
the drive myself. A cumbersome rental experience led to a speedy drive
through Civitavecchia, right past Pellicano's sister-property La Posta Vecchia
that was once the private estate of J. Paul Getty. I wished Porto
Ercole came 30-minutes earlier, eagerly awaiting the exit with its one
road that meanders endlessly through the small town and along a prettier
seafront road with fish restaurants and gelato venders that I never
went back to visit. The buildings of Il Pellicano are neither historic
nor awesome, a terracotta roof complex with central tennis court,
less-preferential garden annex and seafront compound with reception, spa
and Michelin-star eatery that also serves breakfast. Inside, a
reception of low-ceilings feels far taller following the various
greetings and cordial salutations from its impeccable staff as all your
attention focuses on the coastal Tuscan horizon.
Unlike Capri or Positano, you come to Il Pellicano
and rarely leave with the exception of the occasional beach club meal
or jaunt into town. The spa is unrivaled, the in-house boutique
unabashedly chic and the pool scene is only usurped by the saunter down
to the waterfront deck with swimming pier and water as pretty as Baroque
painter Caravaggio praised it just days before his death here. When
asked about the rooms, I often say I don't remember, as days at the
Pellicano are recalled more through the lemony scent of its homemade
bathroom toiletries or taste of its incredible walnut-size olives that
accompany each and every Spritz or Negroni made by head barman Federico
Morosi. Evening meals are an event, as dressy city folk make an entrance
to the Michelin starred eatery where dinners linger til 2am at one of
summer's most iconic hotels.
