Alys Beach — Florida, But Make It Santorini (Minus the Nature)

Ah, Alys Beach — the seaside fever dream where the developers boldly asked: Why let Northwest Florida be Northwest Florida when you could turn it into an overexposed Instagram filter instead?

Once upon a time, this stretch of 30A was an unassuming expanse of coastal scrubland, full of pesky native plants and inconvenient wildlife. But then, the visionaries arrived — armed with stucco, symmetry, and an aesthetic so whitewashed it could blind a pelican from 200 yards.

The developers of Alys Beach understood something most mortals couldn’t: dunes, wetlands, and coastal forests are just wasted square footage. Why leave those charming little ecosystems intact when you could replace them with the architectural equivalent of a minimalist Pinterest board? That’s right — they heroically bulldozed the scruffy, messy wilderness and installed a Mediterranean-lite mirage in its place.

And what’s not to love? The “green” building practices, the LEED-certified this, the sustainably-sourced that — all expertly marketed while sitting atop land that used to be a thriving, biodiverse coastal habitat. The irony is so rich it probably gets taxed at the luxury rate.

Let’s not forget the fortress walls that surround each pale palace, turning the community into an exclusive, sun-bleached utopia that practically screams, Nature? Oh, sweetie, we’ve upgraded. Of course, the landscaping is “native-inspired” — meaning a few carefully curated plants were allowed back in after the land was suitably tamed and sanitized.

And then there’s the pièce de résistance: the central green space, designed for perfectly curated “spontaneous” human interaction, provided your wallet matches the HOA dues. Nothing says “connection to nature” like imported turf and art installations that subtly remind you the developers are the real artists here.

So here’s to Alys Beach — a place where nature was politely asked to leave, and modern design answered the call.