As much as I love our sunny SoCal skies, every now and then I need to slip inside a cocoon where nothing is demanded of me except stillness.
That’s what a recent jaunt to Dana Point became for me: a necessary hideaway in the middle of magazine production deadlines, my son’s first college finals and the mad holiday rush.
I stayed at Laguna Cliffs Marriott Resort & Spa, perched above the Pacific Ocean near Doheny State Beach and Dana Point Harbor. The resort itself feels suspended between land and sea, with red-clay–topped roofs and winding paths that open onto panoramic ocean views. During my stay, it was fully dressed for the holidays: twinkling lights, carolers in the lobby, gingerbread-making workshops and Santa appearances.
The presidential suite I stayed in was spacious but intimate, styled like a private Dana Point beach house with soft neutrals and soothing textures. Four different access points opened onto balconies, but during my three-day stay, each offered the same view: fog.
While I was initially disappointed in the absence of a glorious sunset, I realized the fog, not gray, but white, was just what my mind needed. The white haze was a blank slate, a clean page. The way it covered everything was also a cocoon. Instead of rushing outside to snap Instagram-worthy photos, I kept the heat on, wrapped myself in a thick robe and sunk down into the oversized curved sofa that felt like a hug. I read, wrote a little, got lost in my thoughts.
Even the bathroom joined the metaphor. The deep soaking tub became its own cocoon, one you sink into and don’t rush out of. The walk-in shower, with its remote-controlled temperature, felt quietly indulgent, another small way the space took care of me without asking anything in return.
On my first night, I dined alone inside the resort’s aqua-colored igloo, a lovely igloo-shaped tent on the patio of its Aprés Sea experience. My waitress handed me a thick blanket, and I draped it over my lap while leaning back onto the pillow-thick couch and slowly savoring each bite of my charcuterie board (bacon-wrapped dates!) and a hot-chocolate-inspired cocktail called “Baby It’s Cold Outside.” Old-school R&B wafted from the stereo, and I rocked and sang along to my heart’s content.
The next morning, I invited my son to join me. A freshman in a college about 30 miles away, he was deep in finals, living in a small, dimly lit dorm room he shares with two other young men. While my trip was supposed to be a solo retreat, I ended up pulling on my mama hat anyway because I knew he was stressing about one of his finals and believed the fresh air in a new space would do him some good.
He arrived by Uber about an hour before my scheduled spa treatments. We had breakfast together in the room — lemon ricotta pancakes, eggs, coffee — at the full dining table that seats six. I could feel his nervous system settle. “I’m starving!” he said as he pulled up to the table. “This looks way better than dining hall food.”
During my spa treatments, he took a solo walk and then settled into his suite to study. As I rushed to get to my appointment, I reflected on how parenting never ends — not the emotional labor nor the joys of connecting with your child, no matter how many years have passed since you held them within the cocoon of your womb and arms.
The Spa at Laguna Cliffs’ Healing Touch massage was a classic Swedish-style treatment. My therapist eased the tension in my back with mild but exacting pressure. The hydrafacial that followed helped me unwind even more. Using a wand and targeted serums, the treatment combined exfoliation, extraction and oxygen infusion, leaving my skin visibly brighter and reminding me to pause and tend to myself more often.
Nena, my esthetician, was a delight. We squealed when we learned that we both grew up in Louisiana. She was 6 when her family immigrated from Vietnam to a rural area just outside Lafayette. “I call myself a ‘Cajun Asian,’” she said. We talked about gumbo, boudin, beignets and French-Vietnamese culinary fusions, regional idioms, parenting. She also gave me some skincare tips I can try at home. My favorite: massaging my face with a refrigerated piece of rose quartz to reduce inflammation and feel instantly refreshed.
After my treatments, I lounged in front of the spa’s fireplace, alternately sipping champagne and hot peppermint-chocolate tea while nibbling truffles and wasabi-covered peanuts.
The fitness center, pool, jacuzzi and cabana all offered their own versions of enclosure — spaces to move or float without urgency. And that evening, my son and I at dinner at the resort’s Lantern’s Edge, where I ordered branzino and my son chose a squid ink seafood pasta dish. Everything felt unhurried, padded, held.
We knew our ravenous deadlines were waiting for us. But Dana Point gave us a moment to pause, imagine, breathe more deeply and reflect. Before finals. Before deadlines. Before Christmas lists and logistics.
Laguna Cliffs Marriott Resort & Spa is located at 25135 Park Lantern, Dana Point.
