From Sand Dunes to Subdivisions — A Standing Ovation for Progress

And so, dear reader, we reach the end of our scenic drive down 30A — the stretch of Florida coastline where nature once whispered in salty breezes and now politely hands out branded welcome packets.

From Rosemary Beach’s airbrushed nostalgia, to Alys Beach’s alabaster fortress of curated exclusivity, to Seaside’s theme-park version of community, to WaterColor’s rustic-but-make-it-expensive charm, and the golf-cart-laden utopia of Watersound — it’s been a journey.

And of course, no tour would be complete without raising a glass (crafted from sustainably-sourced irony) to the grand puppet master: The St. Joe Company. The outfit that saw an entire coast as less of an ecosystem and more of an Excel spreadsheet, ready for monetization.

In a world obsessed with branding, these developers mastered the ultimate sleight of hand: selling “natural beauty” while paving over the very thing they claim to celebrate. It’s not enough to be near the beach — you must have the right beach-access wristband, the correct HOA-approved porch color, and the moral superiority of believing you’re living “in harmony” with nature, while your square footage suggests otherwise.

But let’s be fair — the Gulf breeze still blows, the sea turtles still (somehow) crawl their way through the labyrinth of beachfront construction, and the sunsets, at least for now, remain free of charge.

So here’s to 30A: a place where the Earth was politely evicted, the sand dunes were tamed, the longleaf pines were logged, and the American Dream got itself a beachfront facelift.

Progress never looked so photogenic.