If you have ever had a conversation longer than 10 minutes with me, you have probably gathered what a sappy romantic I am. If you have ever had a conversation longer than 15 minutes with me, you have probably heard me gush over my love of Emily Henry. She is quite possibly the greatest romance writer of our generation and happens to be the author of my favorite book, Happy Place. I often think about this book in my travels when scoping out what cities and towns I feel I most identify with. Since I live in New York City, I often find myself drawn to small towns as a travel photographer; towns where it seems time moves at half speed and big dreams can be bite sized but hold just as much meaning. When my sister asked my family if we wanted to go to Edisto Island last summer, I knew I would love it for this reason.

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Edisto Island sits about an hour and a half south of Charleston, South Carolina. As soon as I crossed the bridge, I felt I’d been transported into an Emily Henry novel. First there was the spanish moss blowing in the breeze and the humid air so thick you could scoop it with a spoon (humidity evidenced by my foggy camera lens photos). Then came the children on a parent-free bike adventure to get ice cream and all the parking lots marked with “golf-cart parking only”. The houses on this island are truly stunning: squatty bungalows and stilted ranch style houses surrounded by palms and marshes. There are few things more entertaining than reading beach house names as you drive down the main strip. You probably know exactly what I mean if you have visited a small beach town, but just in case you do not, think names like “The Sandy Saloon”, “The Ocean’s Whisper”, or even “Morning Driftwood”.

Other novel-like qualities included the handsome lifeguard who had me drooling. The fantasy was as follows: he would see me lounging on the beach, come tell me I am the prettiest girl out here, and demand I let him pick me up in his jeep after his shift so he can take me to his secret private hideaway on some nearby point and eat cheesecake (in my fantasy he is also an aspiring baker) and drink Prosecco. The rest we can leave up to your imagination.

Speaking of Prosecco, this little beach town had more liquor stores than it did gas stations. The same cannot be said for restaurants, but it did have a few. As a travel photographer plagued with celiac disease, you can safely assume we didn’t do much dining out, but the singular Food Lion (a legend among southern grocers) did the trick for some good old fashioned home cooking. If it weren’t for my dietary restrictions, you better believe we would have been eating at Coot’s Bar and Grill which was made complete with the gift shop that sold sweatshirts, hats, and drink koozies with sayings like “Eat More Coot” and “I’m here for the coot”

While some details about the island were silly, others were down right precious like the Edisto Bookstore walls lined with children’s drawings of the in-store cat named Sarah Margaret or the State Park with the gorgeous marshes, Great Egrets, and driftwood strung beaches. All of it came together to make me feel like I was submersed in one of my favorite books. It’s a place that makes you want to spend all day on the beach and all night holed up with board games. Between this and the easy Charleston day trip option, Edisto Island is perfect for family vacations, friends trips, or building your portfolio as a travel photographer.