When I was a kid, Montauk was home to fisherman, a place where surfers would congregate to ride the waves and locals would take day trips. It was a tourist destination with it’s mysterious lighthouse, even for those of us who grew up on the east end. When I brought my Italian there five years ago, this was the place he found most charming and authentic. A sleepy village just steps away from gorgeous sandy beaches, considered to many ‘The End’. There was nothing chic about it, until now. But it’s not simply Brooklyn’s hipsters who discovered this surfer haven, it’s Manhattan’s social elite too, who have made this their summer home, thus creating Montauk into a surfer chic enclave. (Cap Ferret, where we recently spent a summer holiday, is often called the ‘Montauk of France’.)

Just after Labor Day we drove the length of the island, eager to see the village’s evolution.

What we found were designer boutiques and chic hotels, seemingly abandoned after a full season.

Montauk was left to the locals once more, just as I had remembered it.

The once trendy but now tranquil Surf Lodge was an ideal spot to enjoy an end of summer sunset.