Luxury glamping for grown ups

Luxury retreats where peace is the priority and dinner is served

We took our first glamping trip when the kids were young. Featherdown Farms, in the UK, took the idea of camping and replaced basic tents with wood-burning-stove-equipped yurts. Canvas walls, yes—but also real beds, hot chocolate, and chicken coups where you collected your breakfast every morning. It felt rugged but safe, which is roughly the balance we were after as exhausted parents of two toddlers (with a third on the way).

15 years later, in New York, two resorts have taken that same concept and quietly, elegantly, scaled it up. Not by adding marble floors or room service menus. But by stripping everything back to the bones—then building it all again with intention. Inness and Wildflower Farms aren’t just escapes from the city. They’re invitations to let the city go.

You can’t have happiness without “Inness”

About two hours north of New York City, near Accord, NY, Inness could be in another country. The vibe here is quiet, cool, and elemental. If Wildflower is pastoral luxury, Inness is stone and canvas restraint.

There are pools—plural. We spent mornings relaxing at both the indoor and outdoor spa pools (massage available, plus sauna and steam room). There’s also an outdoor adults-only pool down by the Farmhouse and, discreetly out of sight, an outdoor family pool across the grounds, just below the restaurant (alongside the store and reception). It’s thoughtful without being prescriptive.

The Farmhouse anchors the property, at the bottom of the hill. We grabbed coffee in the morning from the kitchen. Afternoons meant gin and tonics from the honor cocktail bar, which we took out to the adult-only pool (you can also order food here from the restaurant). There are bedrooms upstairs at the Farmhouse, but the first floor is open to all guests. There’s a kind of gentle, collective silence throughout. People read. People write. People glance up from their drinks like they’ve just remembered something important and forgotten it again in the same breath.

Like Wildflower, Inness spreads its cabins across the property. Where Wildflower is mainly flat, Inness is set on one side of a valley. Better for views, and our glutes. The Inness cabins themselves are darker, more minimal. Tucked into the trees, they’re easy to miss. No frills. Just wide windows, stoneware mugs, soft linens, and a sense that you’ve landed somewhere deliberate. Somewhere to take stock. Or pull the drapes at 4pm and, well, you know.

We visited in late July, just as the humidity was easing off. The need to escape was real, coming off the back of a pretty difficult nine months. We booked late but it didn’t matter. We managed to snag a cabin halfway between the restaurant and the Farmhouse. An ideal location—mornings on the deck offered a perfect view of the grounds.

The place is cool in tone and temperament. Once checked in, one of the fleet of Ineos Grenadiers, drops you at your cabin. This place doesn’t pretend to be rural; it is. The palette is stone, ash, oak. Everything feels stripped back and intentional. It’s not trying to impress you with comfort. It really reminded us what real quiet feels like. There’s also a 9-hole golf course folded into the landscape.

At the top of the hill, the restaurant and spa overlook the entire property. The view of sunset at dinner is something else—especially from the balcony. Our first night was inside but the second night we grabbed one of the coveted balcony tables (call the restaurant at 4pm and ask for Laura). Before dinner, we had a beer by one of the firepits—brewed right in Accord, using New York hops. That detail mattered.

Inness is also a private members’ club, so you never know who you might bump into here. Amanda Seyfried is a local and a regular— she was sitting at the next table at dinner the second night.. But Inness doesn’t lean on exclusivity. It leans on peace.

Both Wildflower Farms and Inness are built on the same premise: considered design, impeccable taste, and a deep respect for the land they sit on. But while the goal is the same—stillness, recalibration, a kind of grown-up escape—the paths they take to get there diverge.

Where Wildflower Grows

We celebrated my 50th at Wildflower, our second visit. Auberge-owned, nestled in the folds of the southern Catskills, just outside Gardiner. It’s about 40 minutes south of Inness. Our first visit had been a romantic weekend away, the second was with a group of friends. And while the birthdays and the company mattered, the backdrop did the heavy lifting.

Wildflower wraps you in warmth from the moment you arrive. We were whisked to our cabin by golf cart, around the meadow that separates the main house from the cabins, and past the kind of subtle landscaping that requires a lot of skill to make look effortless. The cabins feel like an evolution of the modern barn—light wood, natural fabrics, warm tones. The aesthetic is Scandinavian farmhouse with a therapist’s touch: calming, cozy, just soft enough.

There’s a kind of quiet at Wildflower that isn’t really about silence. It’s the sound of your shoulders dropping an inch. The sound of other people cooking for you. It’s a new kind of luxury—not about opulence, but space. Room to breathe. To take a walk before breakfast. To sit in a robe outside at noon and not need to explain it.

Wildflower Farms doesn’t announce itself. There’s no glossy sign. Just a winding road, some low-slung buildings, and a feeling that someone very tasteful has arranged everything just-so.

Wildflower is, in the truest sense, a farm. You can visit the greenhouse where ingredients are grown, walk trails that cut through long grass, or feed the animals if you’re feeling rustic. The nearby Hudson Whiskey distillery is walkable—though only downhill in one direction. Coming back took a bit of effort from our whiskey-fueled group.

But even with all this, it’s not an itinerary. It’s an invitation to slow down. Have a massage. Take a nap. Reconnect—whether with your partner, your friends, or your own damn nervous system.

Same But Different

Wildflower is best when shared—with friends, with partners, with family. It’s a place for marking moments: birthdays, reunions, milestones. There’s something inherently social in its layout and energy. We walked to the distillery. We fed the animals. We sat in the cedar hot tub after a massage and felt looked after in every sense of the word. Inness, by contrast, encourages solitude. Not isolation—but presence.

Dining at Wildflower feels like an event. It’s thoughtful, polished, and yes, probably plated with tweezers. At Inness, it’s quieter in tone. Still seasonal, still elevated, but more relaxed. Both are excellent—but they reflect the mood of their surroundings.

If Wildflower glows, Inness hums. Both are beautifully made, but one holds you, and the other clears you out.

The Fifty-Year Filter

Here’s the thing about turning 50: you start to crave subtraction. Less noise, fewer decisions, no agendas. The right countryside escape doesn’t just offer that—it insists on it.

We’ve done the more structured retreats too. The Lodge at Woodloch, in the Poconos, was a standout. A beautiful setting, excellent food, and a packed roster of classes and talks that I genuinely enjoyed. Who knew bees could be so fascinating? But it felt fuller. Busier. Like someone had planned your perfect weekend in advance.

Inness and Wildflower do the opposite. They don’t fill your time—they make room for it. There’s no schedule. No suggestion box. Just an unspoken permission to be still.

Maybe it’s my Irish childhood—rainy walks, wind-whipped beaches, the smell of cut grass and rain—but being back among the elements doesn’t feel like a vacation. It feels like remembering. You sit by a firepit with a glass of beer brewed a mile away, and you’re not escaping the world. You’re syncing back up with it.

There’s a myth that city life is more stimulating. But stimulation isn’t what most of us are missing. What we’re missing is attention. Slowness. Texture. These places offer that in spades.

Practical Magic

At Wildflower, ask for a cabin facing the ridge. The views alone are worth the email. Cabins at both Wildflower and Inness offer decks to relax on, but Wildflower gives you loungers as well as chairs. Inness keeps it minimal: just chairs, but the view does most of the work anyway.

At Inness, Cabins 8 through 12 strike the sweet spot between proximity and privacy—halfway between the Farmhouse and the restaurant, with easy access to both.

Bring comfortable shoes. Both properties encourage walking—gravel trails, short hikes, and meanders before dinner. Wildflower is mostly flat; Inness has short, sharp climbs. You’ll earn that post-dinner Amaro.

Wildflower has a partnership with Mercedes and cars are available for guests to use. I can confirm: it’s entirely possible to get an SL500 sideways on the road up to Shawangunk Ridge.

For us, it’s Wildflower when we want to feel held and Inness, when we want to feel cleared out. Woodloch, maybe, when we want to be told what to do.

They’re all designed for grown-ups, yes. But more importantly, they’re reminders that age doesn’t mean settling down. Sometimes it means knowing exactly when—and where—to disappear.

At Inness, there’s a shirt that says, “You can’t have happiness without Inness.” And honestly, I can’t disagree.