Jimmy Buffet recorded a couple of memorable songs but he’s got a hardcore cult of fans who have made a whole lifestyle out of the Margaritaville mystique. I never understood the nostalgia for being drunk with beach sand in your crotch myself. Buffet, like any good capitalist, has merchandised the heck out of his trademarks and built himself a small empire. His latest business idea is just sad. He’s planning Margaritaville themed retirement communities.
Jimmy Buffett has announced plans to break ground on a string of retirement communities inspired by his classic “Margaritaville” and its themed chain of restaurants and resorts.
For Parrotheads “55 and better” seeking an “active adult community” while wasted away again, the Latitude Margaritaville will open its first branch in Daytona Beach, Florida, with similar communities also in the works.
“Inspired by the legendary music and lifestyle of singer, songwriter and best-selling author Jimmy Buffett, your new home in paradise features exciting recreation, unmatched dining and FINtastic nightlife,” the Latitude Margaritaville site says.
I’m imagining The Villages but with more public drunkenness, Hawaiian shirts, and Panama Jack hats sporting aftermarket parrots.
The $1 billion project, a collaboration between Margaritaville Holdings and Minto Communities, aims to create 7,000 homes in Daytona Beach; since announcing Latitude Margaritaville two weeks ago, the property has already received over 10,000 registrations, Minto senior vice president Bill Bullock told Good Morning America.
“It’s going to be a very fun place,” Bullock added. “We expect our first residents to be living in the community by late summer of 2018.”
I’ve only been to one Jimmy Buffett show but the “fun” going on outside and within the concert venue was not the sort of thing you see every day. Nor would you want to in some cases. I’ve heard stories from friends who are fans. For the most part it’s like 30 and 40 somethings trying to relive their glory days of tacky, beach themed fraternity parties. Drinking until they either pass out, puke, or have strange sex in odd places (or odd sex in strange places).
Imagine a bunch of aging parrotheads congregating in a retirement community, ladies in flowered mumus toting kegs of Land Shark Lager around on the back of their Rascal scooters, shirtless gray haired men in grass skirts drinking frozen cocktails straight from the blender jar. It’s sad.
On the other hand maybe it’s best to keep all those people in one place where they can’t bother the normals.