The American Summer, Preserved

Thomas’s vision proved right, as Cape May quickly became a gathering place for summer travelers. “Coming back to a place repeatedly gives comfort to people,” Curtis says. “There’s a baton passing of the generations through these properties and their traditions that connects people to the past.”

That sense of ease is intentional in the property’s design; rather than leaning into trends, Colleen focuses on creating spaces that feel familiar and quietly nostalgic. Rooms have pieces that could belong to another era, or feel as though they might. Rag rugs, four-poster beds, framed prints, and authentic materials all contribute to a charming atmosphere.

“Part of my design philosophy is always to leave a space feeling relaxed enough that people take their stress level down a couple of notches,” Colleen says. The result is a space that reveals itself gradually. Guests move through it at their own pace, discovering details along the way: a fireplace tucked just beyond the entry, a hallway lined with artifacts from different eras of the hotel’s history, and a glimpse of the ocean just beyond the lawn.

The history hall at the hotel’s entrance tells that story visually. Flags from different eras of American history and artifacts from each chapter of the hotel’s life are thoughtfully arranged as part of the lived-in space.

Outdoors, life at Congress Hall moves much as it has for decades. Families make their way to the beach and food is served right on the sand. Others stay closer to the hotel, where the grand lawn unfolds into its own quiet world: kids playing catch, couples settling into Adirondack chairs, proof that the best afternoons have no agenda.

“The classic American summer is about simple pleasures,” Curtis says. “Less screen time and more of the simple things: riding a bike, playing catch, sitting in a rocking chair.”

On Monday evenings in the summer, the property hosts an old-fashioned carnival on the lawn: ring toss, wooden games, a guy on stilts, and Blue, the hotel’s beloved blue pig mascot, making the rounds. Down the street, a mini golf course that has been there for close to 80 years still draws families in the evening. The lighthouse at Cape May Point is a peaceful, quiet early-morning walk, and the Victorian streets are made for slow biking and looking up.

“I’ve seen families come for the first time, and you watch them gradually decompress. They stop using the phone as much, and they enjoy these simple, easy ways to entertain themselves as a family,” Curtis says. 

Design plays an essential role in that transformation and experience. Colleen draws from Cape May itself, where brightly painted Victorian homes and historic architecture shape the town’s visual language. At Congress Hall, color is used with a light touch but a confident hand. Yellow and white set the tone, while accents of navy and pink add energy without overwhelming the space. “There’s no reason to rein it in,” Colleen says. “You want to let all the colors fly.”

The idea of stewardship extends beyond the building itself. For Curtis, the role is not just to maintain a property, but to provide a space for the memories that unfold within it. Over time, guests return with children, then grandchildren—tracing their own histories against the backdrop of the hotel.

Few moments capture that more clearly than the time capsule buried on the property’s lawn during its bicentennial celebration. Guests were invited to contribute letters and mementos to be opened decades later. One woman walked up at the last moment with five envelopes, letters written to her grandchildren, trusting that both her family and the hotel would still be there when they were read in 50 years. “That, to me, is what this place is all about,” Curtis says. “The tradition, passed down.”

At Congress Hall, the classic American summer feels continuous, shaped by the people who return to it year after year.