There’s something about a Gulf Coast winter that slows the world to a heartbeat you can actually hear. The bay softens into glass. The air, still warm enough for short sleeves, carries a hint of salt and something sweet, maybe cinnamon from a nearby café, or the aroma of something baking in a neighbor’s kitchen. In this light, everything feels deliberate: the sound of church bells drifting down Palafox, the slow sway of Spanish moss, the hush of a city quietly preparing for Christmas.
Pensacola’s winters aren’t about snow or sparkle; they’re about stillness. The kind of stillness that makes you notice what endures the people, the rituals, the grace that doesn’t need applause. This season, I’ve come to think of that feeling as a quiet kind of magic. Not the loud, glittering kind that fades when the lights go out, but something softer and stronger, the peace that comes when we keep showing up for one another.
Every December, the city transforms. Downtown glows with twinkling lights that hover above brick streets like stars come to visit. Storefronts dress themselves in garland, and the rhythm of life slows just enough to feel the moment. Families linger longer at cafés and coffee houses, and the air carries the fragrance of cinnamon and pine from wreaths hung on shop doors. It’s the sensory heartbeat of Pensacola in winter: warm, familiar, and gently alive.
This past year, through the pages of Pensacola City Lifestyle, I’ve rediscovered that kind of stillness—the kind that doesn’t shout for attention but leaves an impression that lingers long after the last page is turned. Every feature, every photograph, every conversation reminded me that this city’s strength comes from its people, the ones who build, who dream, who love this place enough to make it shine.
Our story began, fittingly, with celebration. Pensacola welcomed the year in Mardi Gras style, parades rolling down Palafox in a swirl of color and laughter. And just as the last beads were swept from the street, spring arrived, bringing one of our most memorable evenings, the MarineMax Spring Bash in April. The bay shimmered gold at sunset, luxury yachts lined the docks, and the landscape itself became part of the celebration. Flowers cascaded across long white-linen tables in waves of blue and white hydrangeas, while ten international chefs lined the decks, creating dishes that made guests pause mid-conversation just to savor the next bite. Wines curated by our own wine writer, Alex Boykin, flowed like conversation, graceful, intentional, and full of discovery. It was more than an event; it was a promise that Pensacola knows how to celebrate beauty and connection in equal measure.
In May, we turned our lens toward the women who make this city move. Our Women’s Issue became a celebration of visionaries—those who design, build, and dream beauty into being. That issue felt deeply personal, an ode to the women who shape Pensacola’s heart with elegance and determination. It reminded me that creativity is an act of courage and that when women lead, entire communities are elevated.
In June, we explored purpose and faith through Aaron Watson, a preacher’s son turned attorney, advocate, and founder of Juneteenth Pensacola. His story carried conviction and grace—a reminder that passion and principle can coexist beautifully when led by heart.
By August, we were ready to transform vision into experience with the grand opening of Engel & Völkers, a night that felt like art came to life. With city permits in hand, we closed a stretch of South Jefferson Street and reimagined it as a dreamscape of light and luxury. A grand round bar anchored the scene, surrounded by red-and-white draped canopies, candlelit tent bars, and chandeliers that glowed like jewelry against the night sky. Plush couches invited conversation, and the whole evening unfolded with the glamour of Monte Carlo or Paris filtered through the warmth of Pensacola’s spirit. It wasn’t just an opening; it was an atmosphere. A love letter to design, to hospitality, and to the belief that elegance has the power to transform.
Summer also brought our Jane Merrill cover, featuring Jane and her grandson “Junior,” an homage to legacy and love across generations. The cover, cinematic in its stillness, reminded us that family stories don’t fade; they evolve. The Merrills, a close-knit family of brothers, grandchildren, nieces, and nephews, remind us that perfection isn’t the point; love is. Family, with all its imperfections, like all our families, is what makes the holidays shine brightest. They know how to celebrate Christmas the way it’s meant to be celebrated: together, with warmth, humor, and heart.
Between interviews, late-night writing, and edits, I’m writing this at 2 a.m., fueled by coffee and conviction—I began to notice a thread running through all these stories: courage, generosity, and faith. Whether in a boardroom or a ballet studio, a kitchen or a sailboat, the people of Pensacola share one rare gift: they live with gratitude and generosity. And that gratitude, I’ve learned, is what keeps the pulse of this city steady and bright.
When we introduced Chef Laura Bernardi Piovesana, the Italian-born culinary artist whose table became a gathering place for authenticity and joy, it felt like sharing a recipe for life itself—equal parts passion, patience, and purpose. Her story was a reminder that it’s never too late to start again, to trust your gifts, and to find connection in the simple act of feeding others.
The same quiet generosity runs through Christi Costello, owner of Costello’s Butcher Shop and founder of the Kimberly Taur Foundation, which feeds hundreds of families on Pensacola’s west side every week. Her work reminds me that kindness is a verb; it moves, it feeds, it shows up. We also celebrated Impact 100, a community of women who have reshaped Escambia and Santa Rosa Counties through $17.5 million in grants over twenty years. Their power lies in unity in choosing collaboration over competition. And through the Satori Foundation, based at the Pensacola Yacht Club, we saw how compassion can take to the water offering sailing, marine science, and STEM experiences to underserved youth and veterans. What they’re doing is more than teaching people to sail; they’re showing what confidence, teamwork, and curiosity can create when given a fair wind. That’s the kind of hope that carries forward quietly, steadily, and unstoppable.
This year reminded me that every person carries a story you can’t see from a distance. You never truly know someone until you take the time to ask and listen. Be curious. Ask the question. Don’t be judgmental. It’s in that space where we choose understanding over assumption that compassion takes root. And that grace, both given and received, is its own kind of magic.
At home, life hums with ordinary miracles: the smell of dinner, music in the background, laughter from the next room, candles lit simply because they make the night softer. These are the small moments that anchor me, the ones that remind me who I am when everything else fades to quiet.
As this year closes, I’m thankful not only for what we’ve accomplished but for how, with grace, collaboration, and a belief that media can be both beautiful and kind. Pensacola City Lifestyle has never been just a magazine; it’s a mirror held up to a community that continues to inspire me because I lead with curiosity, ask questions, and listen without judgment.
If this story touched your heart, I’d love to hear from you. Email me at suzanne.pope@citylifestyle.com and share what it meant to you, and you’ll be entered to win complimentary seats to a special curated dinner and wine experience this February, a 150-guest ticketed event celebrating connection, conversation, and community, the kind of night where the quiet kind of magic continues long after the holidays.
A City That Gives Back
Pensacola’s heart beats for others from the Kimberly Taur Foundation feeding hundreds weekly to the Watson Family Foundation giving 1,000 turkeys each Thanksgiving. Here, compassion isn’t seasonal; it’s our way of life.
“Pensacola’s magic isn’t found in the glitter or noise, it’s in the kindness that shows up quietly, the love that lingers, and the way this city takes care of its own.”
“We don’t need snow to feel the season’s wonder, just a generous heart, a grateful spirit, and the warmth of a community that still believes in showing up for one another.”