You might associate the great state of Maine with summer camps, ample lobster shacks, or maybe a fortuitously wealthy aunt and uncle in Bar Harbor—but fishing villages and ferries aside, the Pine Tree State also hosts dozens of small inns with verdant menus, seaside accommodations, and luxe amenities.
My relationship to Vacationland began in Lewiston, a fairly industrial and inland town of 39,000 where my mom worked as a travel nurse in 2019. We spent most of our trip there exploring the coast, the tourist traps, the lobster roll at Red’s. I’d never felt this way about a place—like I’d walked in somewhere that was always my home despite having never known it before.
I returned the following year for a sibling trip—a week of no electricity or running water in Nobleboro—and again the next summer to live in Vinalhaven for some time, and then every summer after that. While I’m typically staying in places far less refined than those that found me this summer, my affection for Maine is always exactly the same: It’s authentic, salty, windswept, tough, totally anachronistic. Many of its inns are just so, but a few have indulged in modern delights: functional Wi-Fi, for example, percale sheets from Matouk, rain showers, Malin + Goetz hotel toiletries, bidets, and—always, as is now customary—an associated dining experience.
I completed a two-week tour of the Maine inns most recommended to me by both locals and vacationers (outsiders, they literally call them), roadtripping in a ridiculously luxe Hyundai which had things like working AC and Apple CarPlay and a sun roof—all things quite opposite the spirit of Maine, which is something more akin to cursing tourist traffic with the windows down in a 2009 Ford.
I reached out last minute to Norumbega—one of mid-coast Maine’s most coveted inns this summer—to see if they might, just might, have a room available for one night. They did: the Penthouse. The building, built in 1886, is known colloquially as the Stone Castle by the Sea on account of the fact that it’s built like a small castle, turrets and all. Its interiors, however, are just as impressive and ornate. studiocake helped co-owners Brett Haynie and Will Tims tackle the redesign when they purchased the building in 2022.
The Penthouse has a balcony with panoramic ocean views, a fireplace, a mini fridge stocked with Fiji water, a Nespresso machine, Malin & Goetz toiletries, a clawfoot tub, and the softest bed I’ve ever slept in.
The enormous bed is upholstered in green velvet, a custom Lawson Fenning, and the living room was decorated with pieces from Soho Home and a treasure trove of 1stDibs finds like midcentury chairs by William Hinn. The rest of the decor was found in “ruggedly sophisticated” antique stores across Maine, Haynie told me. From my balcony, I could see a couple playing on the bocce court, trying to remember the rules.
While their hotel bar was closed, our senior digital editor, Zoë Sessums, is a regular and confirms I’ve missed out on their house-made cocktails, like the First Sister, which is made of mezcal, charred onion, lime, and a seasonal bit of produce like corn or squash. The breakfast on the outdoor deck is fantastic—an elaborate egg sandwich, fresh fruit, and bottomless coffee. Inside, the parlor has a piano, velvet couches, and complimentary sunscreen on the front table to grab before you head out for a dip at Owl’s Head. From $269 per night.
Chebeague will delight true antique lovers—rebuilt in 1925 after a fire destroyed its first iteration. This means gorgeous hardwood and wall panels, stained glass detail, gingham curtains, and petite ornate sconces. A huge stone fireplace in the Great Room is the perfect setting for a glass of Pinot Noir when there’s a light rain outside, and a painted porch looks out to the ocean, where the ferry comes in. Wrought-iron bed frames and de-silvered mirrors play into the mood of a seaside inn. The bedding is exactly what I wanted from a boutique hotel—Matouk’s crisp white percale, ironed corners, thick duvet, four plush pillows and a light throw for aesthetic, or cold feet. My room was just the right size, fitting two nightstands, a small dresser, and a lounge chair. The ensuite bathroom was a bit fluorescent and barracks-like but was stocked with all the necessities, CO Bigelow-style.
Unlike Bar Harbor, a tourist-friendly mecca, Chebeague is on the quiet side, and you can request the shuttle to take you around the island—like to a sandwich dive that doubles as a gift shop in the boat yard. You’ll eat most meals at the inn, as the grocery store is hand soap-and-cigarette-forward and grocery-lite. If you’ve been to Maine before, this will be unsurprising—if you haven’t, the onus is on you to pack snacks for the duration of your trip anywhere outside Portland.
The island has a plethora of beaches—some even with proper sand, a Maine rarity! One great hike, and ferries that run every hour, making an overnight painless, especially as you won’t need (and actually can’t have) a car on the island.
I would not be doing my journalistic duty if I didn’t tell you that the service is not quite bad, but certainly awkward here. You’ll need to feel comfortable advocating for your needs and thicken your skin when your requests are met with silence or exasperation. Regardless, the rooms are airy, clean, and comfortable, and the beaches are worth it. From $282 per night.
Innkeeper Alexa Stark, who has a background in fashion design and founded Twin Interiors, merges coastal antiques with modern pieces, unexpected color stories, and DIY touches that make the space feel anything but starchy. “A lot of these items are family heirlooms,” she tells me, “You wouldn’t believe how many local people notice how much I love these things, and then gift me their own great-great so-and-so’s something. Including these items in the interiors has made the house feel as much like the locals’ as it is mine.” The entire inn feels cohesive.
My room was huge. Truly enormous. As was my deeply comfortable bed. A clawfoot tub stood gloriously in the bathroom, supplemented with bath salts in an antique crock. (Don’t worry, there’s also a shower—for those who Hate Relaxing). The thing I most loved and remember is the feeling of the inn’s plush towels. Few things upstage a long soak while watching Love Island, then wrapping yourself in the thick, soft, warm embrace of a terry cotton. That’s vacation.
Other design details included a decorative vintage Chanel perfume bottle on the dresser, a vintage couch airbrushed with daisies in Stark’s instantly recognizable style, and her direct number for ordering a bottle of wine to your room.
Downstairs, there’s a large, exquisitely designed parlor, where I wrote diligently about Amazon Prime Day deals without one Wi-Fi issue. Nearby is a spacious kitchen equipped with every culinary accoutrement and even has a sign encouraging guests to make their own pancakes. Not surprisingly, it’s also a spot for regular pop-up events for local chefs. The fridge is filled with farm fresh eggs, individual yogurts, cherries and strawberries, plus homemade rhubarb and ginger jam.
Ida’s is an adjoining wine bar that showcases furniture designed in collaboration with Brooklyn designer Gregory Beson. I enjoyed both a delicious plate of pork ragù one night and carnitas tacos the following evening. The quality easily rivaled the experience of New York dining at about 60% of the cost. Because Ida’s is the primary source of entertainment in Waldoboro, it’s teeming with life and live music every night it’s open—the kind of summer experience that makes you question how badly you really need to return to your $9,000/month apartment in New York. From $220 per night.
Mainers, or Downeasters, uniformly hate when Maine’s secret spots are revealed, and several people asked me to leave Monhegan out of the guide (sorry). While Monhegan itself is no secret, per se—ferries depart daily from Camden and Boothbay to reach the island twelve miles off the mid-coast—it is the sort of place that is so otherworldly that if overtaken by tourists it will lose its charm, so stagger your vacations. This rugged island on 700 acres is teeming with wildflowers, overgrown grasses, craggy cliffs, a dramatic shoreline, and tide pools for wading. An extensive trail network of winding paths leads to and from a vibrant artist community, though bring snacks, as places to eat are practically nonexistent.
I stayed at Monhegan House, affectionately referred to as MoHo by its current owner, Melanie Tucker. She has the concentrated energy of a hundred people and affectionately speaks to everyone within a 100-foot radius, all with her dog Sammy at her ankles. Each night, she hosts oyster roasts, craft nights, and there’s always the hum of a gathered community, both inn guests and locals, chatting and rocking in their chairs on the porch. In addition to running the hotel, she’s the proud proprietor of Nite Nite Fatty’s, a cake dispensary that operates each night for two hours from the inn’s porch.
The MoHo resembles an old-fashioned boarding house with 28 bright, comfortable rooms on four floors that include oceanside and meadowside rooms. The two bottom floors have a few suites, as well as hall baths and showers. Unlike the other inns with posh toiletries, you’ll only find teal soap in a dispenser, so a stop at the Thomaston Walmart might not be a bad idea before departing for the island. In the lobby is a parlor, a lounge stacked with books and games, and a restaurant serving a four-course breakfast and a four-course dinner.
The island is so small that everything is walkable, including the trailheads, galleries, the museum, and the lighthouse. The cliffs, too, are a short walk from the inn, places to watch the sunset in total tranquility, as are the coves, empty except for birds and sea glass. It’s sort of impossible to overstate the magic of this island, which is so georgic it’s surprising to see it inhabited at all, but the inn itself feels perfectly suited to its landscape—an old-fashioned watering hole for gathering, if not luxuriously, extremely happily. I found it the hardest place to leave. From $150 per night.
Tucked into the far corner of Deer Isle, Aragosta is a name that’s been floating around Maine with due respect for at least a decade. It’s a small empire built by James Beard Award–winning chef Devin Finigan, who’s created her vision of “Downeast hospitality” on the shore of this cove just outside Stonington. This inn is perhaps the most food-centric on our list. It is renowned for its $250 seven-course dinner that includes things like oyster, fluke, crab, lobster with beurre blanc, fennel jam, koji mole, and anise hyssop.
My room is just a short walk from the large outdoor dining area, where people drink Champagne into the late evening—I am surrounded by newlyweds—and overlooking the cove. I could see the sunrise from inside my room, but I took to the porch deck with its French-pressed coffee in a branded Aragosta Yeti travel mug. The food, particularly the breakfast, is unforgettable. Shakshuka with sausage links comes out one morning, French toast with blueberry compote the next. Even their scrambled eggs are exceptional, and all of this is complimentary.
Wi-Fi is but a whisper here, the sort that gives you full bars but can’t load an email, forcing you to spend your entire stay exploring Deer Isle’s trail systems and tiny beaches. Going offline is a small price to pay when you have a glass of cool white wine on the rocky beach just 30 feet from the inn—a comfortable, dry place to admire the bold swimmers who don’t fear sharks or 63º July waters. The nearby and tiny town of Stonington is a can’t miss with its great coffee shop, bookstore, fish-and-chips restaurant, and delicious ice cream. The essentials.
The staff assures me the real ticket is the cabins, speckled throughout the property, though I have not a single qualm with my room, which has an en-suite bathroom, an excellent shower and Le Labo toiletries, soft sheets, plus a separate room for lounging and looking out at the sea. The furniture feels only slightly outdated, a nod to 2018 design that embraced the likes of a yellow velvet couch and soft-modern details from Article and Anthropologie. It’s just the sort of place that is what it is—one that cares far more about the quality of its oysters than it does furnishing the place with Herman Miller pendants. That’s exactly, actually, what Maine is about. From $360 per night.
Craving an escape? From colorful carry-ons to cleverly designed packing cubes (how did we ever travel without them?), shop everything you need to make the journey in style—and as streamlined and stress-free as possible.
