There’s something deeply poetic about celebrating your birthday in a desert oasis that feels like it was dreamed up by midcentury architects, drag queens, and sun gods. In this third installment of California Live, I take you with me to Palm Springs—one of the most visually and emotionally striking cities I’ve ever visited—and share the story of the longest birthday I’ve ever had.
From the moment I arrived, Palm Springs greeted me with warmth, both literal and metaphorical. I remember being a little road-weary and suddenly overwhelmed by the city’s sheer beauty—so much so that I worried I might crash my car just from staring too long at the San Jacinto mountains. A police officer smiled and waved at me. I smiled back with a heart gesture. It felt like the city was saying, “Welcome, you’re exactly where you need to be.”
I stayed a week, and let me tell you: that’s not enough. I kicked things off with Bongo Johnny’s, where I had tropical salad, bottomless prosecco with mango and pineapple syrups, and an atmosphere that tasted exactly like Palm Springs should. From there, I wandered the Walk of Fame, explored tiny record/bookstores, and admired midcentury architecture that made me feel like I was in an open-air museum curated by Mad Men.
The Moorten Botanical Garden stole my heart. Imagine a place filled with desert flora, local history, and the world’s first cactarium (yes, it’s a thing). I also discovered that part of the original Palm Springs Hotel had been reconstructed there—an adobe wall preserved in time like a memory made solid.
One of the highlights was the Palm Canyon Theater’s production of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I hadn’t been to a play in a while, and this one was magic. During intermission, an older gentleman proudly showed me his first tattoo. He wasn’t creepy—just joyful. That kind of joy ran through the whole place.
But the real showstopper? My birthday celebration. I stretched it across time zones, starting on European time and partying through to the next day. It began at the Hotel Saguaro’s Drag Queen Brunch—my first ever. It was surreal and sensational: drag queens performing with flair, champagne flowing endlessly, and everyone feeling fabulous. The hotel’s rainbow-colored walls, hammocks, and poolside bar made it feel like I had walked into a Wes Anderson film co-directed by RuPaul.
And then it rained. After days of sun, the sky finally softened and gave us clouds. It felt like a perfect ending—like Palm Springs had put on a final costume change just for me.
I closed out my birthday with a quiet dinner back at Bongo Johnny’s, reflecting on a day (and a place) that had filled me up with so much color, connection, and joy. Palm Springs, you weird, stylish, sun-kissed gem—I’ll be back.
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