By Santa Choplin Bogdon and Bob Friel

updated 8:06 p.m. ET Oct. 24, 2006

Put a gaggle of gals together, and it automatically becomes a Lifetime Network special. Send a bunch of guys off on their own, and you get Animal House. Just clichés, right? We sent two groups to the Bahamas to find out.   

A Bahama Pajama Party
As soon as Margo stepped through the Grapevine’s white-picket fence, I knew I’d picked a winner. The antique clapboard cottage, a charmer in teal and white, practically reached out and gave her a hug.

“It’s perfect, just perfect,” she said, walking into the cozy living room where islandy artwork and tropical furnishings stood out against freshly painted white floors and walls.  “The colors,” she said, touching the tropical-blue sofa patterned with bits of staghorn coral. “The view,” she sighed as she stopped at the front door, looking out over the blue-green waters of Harbour Island.

I think Margo wanted to marry the Grapevine, which confirmed that if you’re planning a girls' getaway, you should never underestimate the value of charm. When I hatched the idea for a weeklong Bahamas trip with Margo and two other dear friends, I wanted more than a prepackaged resort vacation with complimentary rum punches and a couple of spa treatments. Harbour Island, a 3½-mile sliver of paradise off the coast of Eleuthera, offered exactly what I was looking for — easygoing atmosphere, great restaurants, local color, a famous pink-sand beach — all just 45 minutes from Fort Lauderdale. Finding the beautiful three-bedroom cottage on the bay to serve as our home for the week was the icing on the cake. Instead of separate hotel rooms, we’d get to play house in a cozy retreat with the privacy to let it all hang out.

Margo, Carolyn, Erin and I first met when we were pups just out of college, and formed a bond that has endured 20 years, through marriages, kids and career changes. Though it’s a challenge, we still carve out girlfriend time every few years and shed our responsibilities as moms, wives and career women. Our number-one getaway activity is gabbing, and this trip got off to a fast start. Carolyn and Erin couldn’t even wait until they got to the island. They were yakking so intently at the airport that they didn’t hear their flight called — or the airline paging them. Carolyn phoned to let us know they’d missed their flight and couldn’t get another until the next day: “We’re sorry! I can’t believe we did this, but we’re here in Fort Lauderdale drinking margaritas.”

Zach Stovall / CT&L The Grapevine, charming inside and out.

The next morning, Margo and I hopped in our golf cart and whizzed around historic Dunmore Town looking for a latte. The village was humming. Folks going about their business smiled and waved; roosters darted across the narrow streets; and fishermen brought in the early catch. We found our fix at Arthur’s Bakery. Inside the simple pink building was a decadent display of fresh croissants, pineapple muffins and the biggest temptation — Key lime tarts. We sampled the croissants and grabbed a box of temptation to go. Passing a series of cottages almost as cute as ours, we drove at a snail’s pace while talking a mile a minute. We made it to the dock just as our tardy chat queens stepped off the water taxi. A squealing four-way hug-fest made a bit of a scene, but none of us cared. We could be as girlie as we wanted: There were no husbands or sons around to embarrass.

Zach Stovall / CT&L The Grapevine

Back at the Grapevine, our gab-athon shifted into full throttle.

“Being with you guys makes me feel like I’m 20 again. I don’t look like it, but I feel like it,” Carolyn said. 

“Oh, you guys look the same as you did 20 years ago,” Erin said, which greenlighted the tell-each-other-how-fabulous-we-look conversation.

“You don’t have a line on your face, honey. What are you hiding in that makeup bag?”

“Well, look at her wearing that bikini. I can’t wear a bikini anymore.” 

“Your hair color is fantastic. I’ve never seen it look better. Look at the highlights, they’re so natural.”

Who needs Botox when we’ve got each other?

If Margo wanted to marry the Grapevine, we all wanted to have a torrid affair with Pink Sand Beach. Our first sight of that wide blanket stretching seductively to the glistening teal water even caused a pause in the chatter. When someone finally spoke, it was Erin, our Colorado ranch girl turned Denver attorney. “This is the most beautiful spot on God’s green earth.”

Zach Stovall / CT&L Pink Sand Beach

Nestled in sea grapes at the top of the dune was Sip Sip, the beach bar favored by movie stars and supermodels. From our table on the deck, we took in the beach view and had fork fights over grilled shrimp with black-bean cakes. Rum punch and laughter flowed, and if there were any A-listers or leggy models around, we were too busy with the great company, food and
view to notice. 

Stopping at Arthur’s Bakery became our morning ritual. When Robert, the owner, discovered we were on a girls’ getaway, he started teasing us.

“There were paparazzi on the island yesterday looking for Drew Barrymore and Cameron Diaz,” he said. “I told them they were staying at the Grapevine.”

“Well,” I said, “I bet they think Cameron and Drew look a lot shorter and older in real life.”

After Arthur’s we’d head straight to the beach. We’d walk and talk, swim and talk, and sometimes just sit and drink in the beauty. And talk.

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