Would you believe that Las Vegas is going green? And that makes it even more fun than ever. Really.

There’s a new Las Vegas in town. Chic, sexy, sophisticated, and surprisingly sustainable. Now you can indulge in a luxurious weekend and skip the maddening crowds, cheap buffets, swarms of drunk frat boys, and smoky casinos.

There’s a better way to love Las Vegas — here are 5 ways to do it.

1. Stay at a Non-gaming Hotel

LEED gold-certified, Vdara is an all-suite, art-filled, smoke-free oasis of serenity in Las Vegas. With 57 stories, you’ll feel like you’re floating over the twinkling skyline. Its house wine is Bonterra Chardonnay made with organic grapes. And while smokers aren’t welcome, your dog certainly is with suites outfitted specifically for four-legged best friends. Vdara’s pool and lounge area are a haven away from the busy strip below with an interactive space, sweeping views, private cabanas, a semi-private plunge pool and double daybeds.

The Four Seasons Hotel Las Vegas is another stunning non-gaming option.  With recently renovated luxurious rooms with views of Red Rock Canyon and a beautiful pool with top service, you can’t go wrong.

2. Treat Yourself to a Spa Day

Need to recover from a late night out? Treat yourself to a spa day. The Cosmopolitan’s Sahra Spa is home to a 1,200-square-foot stone Hammam that can be just for you – or up to four very lucky friends – to purify away last night with steam baths and cold water plunges. The Hamman’s signature treatment, the Sahra Journey, is 2.5 hours of detoxing bliss.

Vdara’s ESPA offers a 110-minute Desert Rose treatment that starts with a ritual foot cleansing then a salt scrub, body and scalp massage. After your baby-like soft skin is slathered with body butter. Covering two floors with rejuvenating therapies, when you book a treatment you can come and go in the spa throughout the day. Don’t miss the heated stone lounge chairs by the whirlpool. Bliss.

Aliante’s Spa is worth the 20-minute trip off strip  for their re:juvenate massage therapy with dōTERRA essential oils. Using a specific order, the oils are massaged up and down your spine and combined with a Swedish massage that will truly take you away.

And if you’d love a spa day but prefer to stay poolside, the perfect solution is the“Spaah-ify” cabana program at none other than the Trump International Hotel. The Mediterranean-style cabanas and daybeds feature an aromatherapy mister with refreshing scents like pink grapefruit, a chair massage, and Coola skincare products made with organic extracts.

3. Dine at Sustainable Luxe Restaurants

Encore’s Jardin is very ooh la la for several reasons. First, its garden chic atmosphere is inspired by the South of France and is truly magnificent. Second, Executive Chef Joseph Zanelli went to extraordinary lengths to include mouthwatering vegan and sustainable seasonal options on his menu. No vegan will go home hungry or unsatisfied. Overlooking Encore’s pool, the indoor/outdoor French garden makes you suddenly want to speak with an accent. And you can drink consciously with Wynn mixologist Damian Cross’s menu of artisanal favorites such as the Vanilla Rose with Tru Organic vanilla vodka.

Harvest by Roy Ellamar serves up sustainable and seasonal dishes at The Bellagio. The restaurant honors his culinary history “surrounded by farmers, foragers and fishermen, gaining a true appreciation for the provenance of ingredients and the relationship with the producers.” The decor is sexy and sleek. You won’t feel like your missing out on that nighttime Las Vegas vibe while staying healthy.

A retro classic, The Barrymore is a slice of the silver screen, where the sommelier is passionate about organic and biodynamic wine. Sit and sip outside on the patio and watch the lights glimmer over Las Vegas. It’s magical.

4. Take in a Show with Phenomenal Artist Residencies

No more looking at the jumbotron screen when at a live concert. Line up your Las Vegas trip when your favorite artist is in residence and you’ll feel like it’s (almost) a private show. Think not just Celine Dion, but also Jennifer Lopez, Elton John, and top DJs like Tiësto who take up residence for a unique experience that you won’t see anywhere else. Many charity events such as Cirque du Soleil’s One Night for One Drop offer bespoke events with phenomenal after-parties.

5. Do Brunch

Las Vegas knows brunch and brings it to an entirely new level. STK’s Brunch Club in The Cosmopolitan Hotel serves up fresh pressed juice or the hair of the dog – if you prefer – in a fully stacked bloody mary cart. Add in a band and day becomes just as fun as night. While you might be elbow-to-elbow with meat-loving folks, STK’s healthy options like the ubiquitous kale salad and fresh farm egg omelets will make the meat eaters ask what you’re having.

Off strip is Hearthstone Kitchen and Cellar boasting “simple, sustainable, and seasonal ingredients.” Do not leave Las Vegas without trying their Coconut Cream and Seasonal Fruit Parfait. The food is just as fresh as the vibe. And it’s the perfect stop after an early morning hike at Red Rocky Canyon, which is just minutes away.

While Las Vegas is still on its journey to green (as most cities are), restaurant groups and hotels have made incredible strides expanding our options to enjoy the vibrancy, creativity, and fun of Las Vegas while still feeling good about our choices.

Related on EcoSalon

The Mandarin Oriental Hotel: What Happens in Vegas Shouldn’t Always Stay There 

Can Gambling Be Green

Celebrity Knockoff: Blake Lively’s Vegas Party Look Made Eco

Image of Welcome To Las Vegas neon sign on sunset sky via Shutterstock 

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Is it humanly possible to stay healthy and fit during a Vegas Vacation?

My name is Sarah and I’m a fit mom. That’s what I call myself for work, This Fit Mom. I’m a group exercise instructor, personal trainer, fitness blogger, and fitness writer. So I basically eat, sleep, and breathe fitness. All day, every day. Also, like I said, I’m a mom. And I have two little boys. They’re busy. All day, every day. Also, I have a husband. And he has some parents. Those are my in-laws. And this past weekend we all went to Vegas. Together.

I’ve only been to Vegas once before, when I was younger. I didn’t like it much because my husband (he was just my b-friend then) and I were poor and liked Radiohead a lot, if you know what I mean. So, we mocked stuff and sat around sadly, like only 22 year-olds can. My memories of it were mostly just being really hot and dirty. And not in a sexy way.

So when my in-laws suggested we drive up from Los Angeles with our two boys, I wasn’t super psyched on the idea at first. But my MIL (they were in town for a business convention) thoughtfully arranged a beautiful suite for us in a swanky hotel (The Cosmopolitan), and planned several fun kid activities (visit to a shark reef and seeing some dolphins and stuff). Plus, the pool was gorgeous and there was the promise of a lot of free babysitting. So, slowly but surely, I got very on board.

Now, when I plan on traveling anywhere I have a fair amount of anxiety due to my lifestyle. I exercise for 1-2 hours almost every day. This requires space, equipment, time, and child care. When you’re on the road, these things can be hard to come by. Additionally, I eat in a somewhat restrictive and particular manner. I do my best not to eat any grains, dairy, or processed food. I care about where my meat comes from and I prefer my fruit and veggies to be organic. (Are you annoyed with me yet?) Last, but not least, I eat one blended meal a day. That means if I don’t have my Vitamix, I feel somewhat…bereft. So, traveling poses some difficulties there for me as well.

But in a an attempt to be less Type A than I usually am and show my husband and his family how fun and flexible I could be, I told myself that it was going to be fine. FINE. Firstly, there would be a gym at the hotel. A very nice and well stocked one, if the pics on the website were any indication. And there would be three adults around who could watch the kids while I “got ma sweat on.” It might even be like a treat!

Secondly, we were going to be eating out for every meal during our entire Vegas vacation. I could always just order a plain salad with a protein. NBD! For breakfast there would be eggs. Greens, veggies, and protein. Maybe not the most varied or satisfying menu, but totally acceptable for four days. And just for extra back up, I would bring six Quest Bars. You can always depend on a Quest Bar in a food emergency.

Maybe I would even come away from this Vegas vacation more fit than I already was! Maybe it was like a gorgeous chance to step away from all of my usual duties and responsibilities so I could get some monster workouts in while relaxing and not rushing around like a maniac. Also, my husband and I would finally have some well deserved time alone. We could even go on a date! FYI, the last time we went somewhere alone together it was a different calendar year.

Day 1

The drive through the desert was hot but beautiful and fast and when we got to The Cosmopolitan I was knocked out by how nice it was. The in-laws had stocked our bar with ingredients for Negronis and Rye Whiskey and we mixed up drinks while the kids climbed over all the furniture like wired cats and the grandparents plied them with gifts. Heaven. It was kind of late and the kids were hungry, so we headed right out to the Rainforest Cafe.

My kids are insane for animals so they were beyond wowed by the animatronic beasts, festive decor, and extensive kids menu at the RC. But perusing the chef’s offerings, I could see that right away my salad plan wasn’t going to hold water. All of the salads sounded dismal and I could just picture the watery iceberg and wilted spinach. My wonderful husband, sensing my distress, whispered that we could just get a small appetizer and have something better later-BY OURSELVES. Eating without children is a pleasure as rare to us as a nun playing craps.

So, we ordered nachos. No one had really eaten anything substantial since breakfast and we were all famished. And although I meant to just have a chip or two, this is what happened to the nacho plate.

After that, the kids headed to Grandma and Grandpa’s room for a slumber party and we were left to our own devices. We both felt full from the grody nachos and tired from the travel day, so we stupidly decided to stay in to relax and enjoy the view. To our credit, this was our unbelievable view.

Day 2

To combat the effect of the nachos, I got up early the next morning and hit the gym pretty hardcore. It was a great gym. Tons of equipment, mostly empty, and a killer view. I ended up hanging around for almost two hours and and doing cardio, glutes, squats, shoulders, and some core work. Here’s my Instagram selfie:

Then we all hit the pool. Because there was no time for breakfast I housed two Quest Bars to keep from fainting in the heat. Have I mentioned there was a heat wave while we were there? The temps soared up past the 100s erry damn day. It was as hot as a sack o’ nuts.

We did some lunch before we ventured out into the baking oven of the filthy metropolis. This time we went to a proper restaurant, Holsteins, and I was able to snag a super salad with ahi tuna. It was delicious and filling. Things were looking up for sure. It’s possible at this point I felt a little smug, like what’s the big deal? Anyone can do this healthy-in-Vegas thing.

During most people’s stories, it’s always at the smug point that things turn to shit. And my story is no different.

After the kid friendly activities (Shark Reef, they went bonkers), my husband and I had some free time before bedtime. So we decided to go on an early-evening date to get some sushi in the casino. And get sushi we did! We went to Blue Ribbon Sushi, and it was incredible. Here’s my dinner. JUST MINE. Not to share or anything. And it might be that I had some, or a lot, of sake. But here’s the most beautiful damn dinner you’ve ever seen.

uhhhhhhhh. It was so good.

After that, things went downhill. My younger son, who is 3, got sad and wanted to sleep with us. So, I ended up in bed at 7:30 with a cranky toddler who kept kicking me in my very full belly and poking my face with his meaty little fingers and calling me a, “poo poo ghost face” and then giggling like someone on Molly. Needless to say, I wasn’t able to get up early and do the gym the next day.

Day 3

After a responsible breakfast of eggs, we headed back to the extremely fabulous pool. While squatting down to give my older son something, I stood up wrong and my hip twanged like a freaking banjo. After that, it was all I could do to keep the screams inside while I limped around and felt cursed. It might be that felt very sorry for myself and had a few too many frozen margaritas (the waitress brings them to you while you’re floating in the pool!!!), skipped lunch altogether, and took a lot of selfies while my lovely MIL and husband watched the kiddos.

After more fun kid activities (the Secret Garden, they loved it) everyone wanted pizza for dinner and I said what the fuck. I ate some damn pizza. My hip was still hurting and I was starving for some carbs.

My sweet husband had planned for us to go see a movie and have another fab dinner, so I was pretty excited. Even though I was kind of full of pizza and a little hungover from the shitty margaritas, I rallied and got all dolled up.

We got all the way downstairs and halfway through the casino when the text came through. “Both boys want Mom. So sorry.”  The message was like finding out the new expensive sweater you love so much is woven from a homeless man’s pubes. Very very disappointing, but not anyone’s fault and just something you have to find a way to accept. Defeated, we slumped back upstairs and collected our heinous spawn. As a consolation prize, I got to watch the Miss America Pageant on mute while my older son snored old pizza breath into my face. I was so sad, I got up and ate another Quest bar because it had chocolate in it. I gloomily noticed it was the last one. Not even my Quest bars had lasted.

Day 4

I meant to get get up early and at least do 200 burpees in the hotel room, but I accidentally slept in. Damn you, blackout curtains! That morning was our departure day. My hip felt better, but I was broken. We hit up the incredible Cosmopolitan buffet and I went a little nuts. I had smoked salmon, chocolate mousse, sushi, gelato, caesar salad with a glistening white anchovy on top, bacon, pork belly, more sushi, three cups of coffee, raspberry rice krispie treats, pho, roasted potatoes, eggs, orange juice, chocolate tart, and more sushi.

We took the leftover pizza from the night before home with us and I ate it all in the car while blasting the air conditioning in my face to keep the carb and guilt sweats down to a slow drip.

Here’s what I learned:

1. Bring a sound machine. Here’s my pick, it works gooooood and is small and portable. Surprise! People are partying in Las Vegas. They will play extremely loud music in the room right next to yours. If you are adults who are alone, this can just be annoying. With kids = Disaster. The sound machine truly cancels the noise out and lets you (and your babies) have a decent night’s rest.

2. Go all in or all out. No wish-washy crap.

• All In: If you’re going to be good in Vegas, plan ahead. Prep chicken. Buy canned salmon or packaged tuna. Blend tons of greens into smoothies. Gather responsible carbs. Buy 24 Quest Bars. Freeze it, pack it, put it in your mini fridge. Then you’re not at the mercy of when other people want to eat or what there is on a menu. You can down your fuel whenever you need to and not inconvenience anyone. Insist on getting time to spend in the gym to just slip away. Don’t care about the fun you’re missing. Find a way to be accountable. Strut around the pool marinating in the glory of your superior hotness. Sip only water. Feel smug on the car ride home.
• All Out: Just take a break from your grueling schedule and have an incredible time. Don’t feel guilty about anything you’re doing and take advantage of every minute that’s available to you to indulge, get crazy, and do things you normally wouldn’t do. Stay out too late and don’t think about the next day. Smile all the way home remembering the fun you had.

Follow Sarah on Facebook: This Fit Mom

Related on EcoSalon

The Mandarin Oriental Hotel: What Happens In Vegas, Shouldn’t Always Stay There

Can Gambling Be Green?

Celebrity Knockoff: Blake Lively’s Vegas Party Look

Images: Shutterstock Vegas Photo and Sarah Olive Bergson

The post I Tried to Live a Fit Life During A Vegas Vacation: A Survivor’s Story appeared first on EcoSalon.

An avant-garde hat lets its wearer travel back in time.

A flamboyant, two-tiered hat of black and shimmery emerald feathers has somehow flown into my life. I imagine the lively backstory of the Golightly lampshade – a copious chronicle of its madcap owner turning heads at Glide church or in the Venetian Room at the Fairmont before being sentenced to hang for 50 years in the legendary Mrs. Dewson’s Hats on Fillmore Street in San Francisco.

It was housed high up on a head form at the store, clearly outshined by an Easter parade of newly-sewn, pastel chapeaus, overwrought with fabric roses and bow adornments. It stirred in me a flurry of possible stories the way vintage discoveries both serious and frivolous stirred novelist Linda Grant, who penned the read about our relationship with fashion, The Thoughtful Dresser.

The high-heel red pump of a Polish woman; The felted quill headdress of a San Francisco church lady: Old relics capable of forging fresh awareness, if only we  let them.

I was seeking a costume hat for a King’s Speech-themed Oscar party when I hit the colorful haunt. Inspired by the romantic British glamor of the film, as well as Kate Middleton’s revival of the audacious topper as a royal statement, I sought a replica of the queen’s Ramillies style cocked hat with a feather. No dice, but as I was heading out, I looked up and was instantly mesmerized by the zany, tactile feather bucket.

“Hello, lover!”

“You talking to me?” asked the hat. “You talking to me?”

As it happened, I was also hunting props for a Sixties Rat Pack in Vegas gala also on my calendar. Anyone could see the accessory smacked of the iconic couture fashion pieces that once graced the covers of Harper’s. A hat an eye-lined Audrey surely would have modeled and a topper Lady Bird might have caged for a White House garden fete.

“May I see that black feathered hat?” I asked the kind, elderly clerk, who had already brought down a dozen boisterous Boatwright sister bonnets for me to explore, (to no avail mind you). When you have a grape-sized head such as mine, not just any hat will do. I usually have to settle for cloches or perhaps those mini sailor caps worn by a monkey grinder’s little performer.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” the clerk said, strategically inserting a band of thick foam tape around the circumference of the lining to prevent it from dropping over my eyes and onto the bumpy bridge of my nose. She knew a grape head when she saw it.

The hat fit like a glove, and I was instantly transformed to a time when women rarely left home without a head piece to keep out the dirt and look top drawer.  Think of the many hats that graced our mothers and grandmothers about town: hats to the market, to ladies luncheons, on exotic cruises, at picnics. A time traveling opportunity via the almighty hat.

Each time a new crown and brim is assembled by hand or by some factory machine, a forgotten castaway idles in an attic or on a shelf begging to be reborn.

I was told the work of art was part of milliner Ruth Garland-Dewson’s personal collection, and that she suffered from memory loss and no longer tended to the shop. “See if she’ll sell it to me,” I urged, “or at least loan it for the event.”

I could pick up a little black dress, second hand gloves, grip a martini glass, puff a fake ciggy, and cling to a fella in a fedora. Who cares that I don’t have the 24″ waist for those Mad Men party dresses that cinch like tourniquets? I could pull off the hat and still eat appetizers without busting a seam.

Turned out that for $120, the owner with memory loss forgot she didn’t want to part with the hat. That, or her sales gal deemed it was cool to let it go and make some dough. The cherry on top was the large, pink floral patterned hat box the clerk placed it in. “Are you giving that to me?” I asked, salivating.

“It’s the only thing it will fit into,” she explained.

Cut to the night I wore my hat, or rather, the night my hat wore me. I say that because when hat and I waltzed in, the only competing prop at the event was the fanned, red plumed headdress worn by one of the Vegas showgirl greeters. But seriously, she had at least two other major focal points.

All I know is from the moment I arrived, the hat took on a life of its own, me shepherding it through a red carpeted reception lounge where photographers snapped away and waiters with trays grinned and winked at my crazy head. Then I escorted it through the glitzy, gold curtained auction room where couples examining massive gift baskets and vacation packages gravitated towards us, smitten, uplifted, enamored.

The compliments gushed out as onlookers relayed the same intoxicated sensation that overcame me when I first glanced at the wild thing. Strange men approached, glanced up, gazed into my face, chuckled and uttered, “That’s wonderful!” Martian speak for “What a hat!”

Women, many in impressive late Fifties and early Sixties garb of their own (retro mink stoles from Haight Street, up-dos, foil brocaded shifts and silk pumps), tended to be more expressive. Most of them clearly perceived the Audrey-couture link, while at least three mistakenly equated it with a wardrobe staple of Cruella Deville’s. I couldn’t argue. My hat had been to church and convinced me to bite my tongue.

I  removed my crowning glory only once in five hours to shake my booty since it proved a nuisance to grind to Snoop Dog wrapped in a giant, felted brain-heater.  At home, I kicked off my heels and gently returned my lucky acquisition to her box, stashing it on a ledge in my dressing room. I paused to study myself in the mirror. I had a hideous case of matted hat hair – enhanced by a strip of foam tape stuck to the side of my sweaty bob. I literally peeled the grape.

I’m not sure where me and my Huckleberry hat friend will travel next, but I know I will find another way to let others connect with the flight of fancy vividly emanating from Ruth’s forgotten treasure, and validate what I’ve always suspected: that bygone chic endures as long as we walk the bold walk of the Mrs. Dewsons of the world, proudly picking up where their memory lapses about flaunting remarkable fashion leave off. Nothing about that is old hat.

Images: Sydney Bradley; Paul Todah; Sf Gate

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