Remember how your heart fluttered when you first drove across the John Ringling Bridge and saw aquamarine waves dancing under a bright blue sky? Remember your first bite of stone crab claws at The Colony? Or standing barefoot on the cool, soft sand of Siesta Beach at twilight and watching the setting sun paint the sky in shifting shades of pink, gold and purple? We’ll never forget what sparked our passion for this place; and, as in any great romance, we keep discovering enchanting new reasons, some rational, some sentimental, and some just delightfully quirky, to fall in love all over again.

Because it’s the perfect car town.

We know it’s politically incorrect, but we just can’t help it. We love our cars. Our new Lexus LS 480, our BMW ragtop, our C-note Mercedes. Even our beat-up old Toyota Corolla. Is it our fault we live in the perfect car town?

Yes, we agree we need better mass transit. And we’ll fight to get it. But what could be more exhilarating than coming back from St. Armands, with the Beach Boys blasting on the stereo, and cresting the bridge to suddenly see our fabulous new skyline laid out before us? It’s a real “this is my town” kind of moment. We always feel a lump in our throats.

We bitch about the traffic, but in all honesty it’s much more manageable than in most Florida cities. Have you been to Orlando lately? Or Naples?

And what wonderful blessing has given us perfect automotive geography? Everything is 15 minutes away. And even the longer trips—out to the south end of Siesta for a sunset dinner at Ophelia’s, or up Gulf of Mexico Drive to the Colony—become magic journeys of astonishing postcard views. The turquoise water, the gorgeous homes, the Season of Sculpture whizzing past . . .

Anyone for a drive?

Because real estate is suddenly dirt cheap.

Our beautiful real estate boom may be over, but Sarasota always finds a silver lining. Bargains are everywhere.

High-end homes are seeing million-dollar reductions, both on the keys and inland. Those high-rises downtown are suddenly affordable, and for the first time in years, you can get a real nice house in a real nice neighborhood for under $200,000.

And what do you get for your money? You get much more than a piece of real estate. You get a share in Sarasota, with an amenity package that puts any other town to shame. Thirty-five miles of white sand beaches, world-class culture and social life, year-round golf, tennis and boating, the best dining in Florida and a sophisticated lifestyle no matter what your income.

The Europeans have already started arriving, driven by a weak dollar and offers they can’t refuse. And smart locals are upgrading. We personally plan to watch the economic return from our new penthouse overlooking our new urban downtown. It was a steal at $599,000.

And we don’t even care that a similar unit went just last week for $549,000.

Because the most popular girl in town is 95 years old.

With her ever-present dark glasses, imperious bearing and husky European accent, Ulla Searing has a Garbo-like aura. But unlike the reclusive actress, this Sarasota philanthropist definitely doesn’t want to be alone.

The 95-year-old Searing, a Swedish native who says her Viking heritage accounts for her remarkable stamina, is out on the town every night, at performances, concerts, art openings and gala affairs, many of them thrown in her honor. Her face appears regularly in society-column photo spreads, often with beaming arts leaders by her side.

It’s no wonder they’re her biggest fans. In the last few years, Searing has donated millions in legacy gifts to Sarasota cultural organizations and educational institutions.

She pledged $9 million in endowment funds to the Ringling Museum of Art, which named its new wing for her and her late husband, Arthur. Her generosity also encompasses a $2 million gift to New College, $4 million to the Ringling College of Art and Design (both of those institutions have named buildings for her, too), $2 million to the Asolo Repertory Theatre and $1 million to Circus Sarasota.

But as a smiling Searing stresses, “They’re not getting the money until I’m dead, and they’re going to have to wait a long time.”

That spunky attitude endears Searing to people like Michael Edwards, the Asolo’s producing artistic director.

“Ulla has such vitality, such a passion for life, at an age when many people have retreated from life,” Edwards says. “She’s got a wicked sense of humor, and she’s so engaged. At intermission of a show, she’ll tell me exactly what she thinks.”

Searing loves to talk to Ringling students about their projects, says president Larry Thompson. “She has the spirit of someone half her age,” Thompson says. “She goes to more events, and stays longer, than anybody in town, including me. And I go to a lot.”

Stephen Borys, whose curator of collections position at the Ringling Museum is endowed by Searing, calls her the quintessential patron of the arts.

“She has such high standards when it comes to art and aesthetics and taste,” Borys says. “It’s one thing to give money, but when that is backed up by connoisseurship, really special. We got to know each other well when we were planning the new wing. She took such a personal interest not only in the wing, but in my work, in my professional and family life.”

Noting that Searing wouldn’t think of attending a social event without wearing her white gloves, Borys says she’s a throwback to a more formal, genteel age.

“I would never meet with her without wearing a coat and tie,” he says. “But she’s not stuffy. She’s witty and smart and fun. And she loves to be on the arm of a handsome man, preferably a young one.”

For more than 30 years, Searing was on the arm of her first husband and great love, Arthur. They met in New York City in the 1950s, when he was chief financial officer of AIG, a world leader in insurance and financial services.

“He was handsome and brilliant and caring,” Searing says. “We had a wonderful life together.” They had a glamorous life, too, attending white-tie-and-tails openings at the Metropolitan Opera and socializing with a wide circle of friends.

The relationship must have been particularly satisfying to Searing, in light of what she says was an unhappy childhood. The daughter of a prominent physician, she was born in Goteborg, Sweden. “I was an only child, and there were few other children around to play with,” she says. “I was lonely a lot of the time.” Both of her parents died when she was still an adolescent, and she went to live with relatives.

Her stable, happy life with Arthur was upended a bit in 1973, when he surprised her with news that they were moving to Longboat Key. “There were only a couple of condos on Longboat then, and it didn’t seem like a very interesting place,” Searing says. “I wasn’t happy at first, though now I absolutely love what Sarasota has become. But at first, I missed New York and my friends. Of course, we did go back to New York in the summer [the couple had a home in the exclusive Hamptons on Long Island].”

After Arthur died in 1983, Searing remarried and divorced twice. She has no children. In a sense, she has adopted the organizations that she supports. “They have become her offspring, in a way, and she wants to see them thrive,” says Suellen Field, the Ringling Museum’s development director.

Searing’s elegantly furnished downtown apartment has a stunning view of Sarasota Bay and Island Park, where Searing walks occasionally to keep fit. At her home in the Hamptons, where she still summers, she swims in a backyard pool. “I used to go water-skiing, when we first came to Florida,” she says. She also used to love to dance, before developing hip and knee trouble.

An avid reader, she has no time for television but would like to stop procrastinating and finally learn how to use a computer. She monitors her finances carefully, and is full of political opinions. “I don’t like our president, but we are stuck with him for a little while longer,” she says. Searing thinks it’s time for a woman in the White House. “But not that woman,” she says, referring to Hillary Clinton.

Asked what brings her the most pleasure, Searing responds quickly. “Sleeping,” she says. “I never get enough of it.”

Debbie Trimble, the Asolo’s development director, describes Searing as “a perfectionist with high expectations of how things need to be done. That’s the benchmark you have to live up to. She is demanding, but I mean that in a good way.

“She’s also extremely thoughtful and gracious. One night I took her home from an Asolo performance, and she invited me upstairs so she could give me a pair of lace gloves she thought would be perfect with my outfit.”

Searing ponders a moment when asked if she thinks she’s easy to get along with.

“It depends on how you behave toward me,” she decides. “I don’t like to be fooled or taken advantage of.” She was upset recently when a friend she hadn’t heard from in years invited her to lunch, only to make a pitch for money for a local organization.

“I thought he just wanted to see me,” she says. “I’m hounded day and night by people asking for money. I have no peace. I’ve told them that all the money has been allocated, and there’s no more to give. But they don’t believe me.”

Bob Van Skike, a friend and frequent escort, agrees that the requests for donations can be wearing. “I’ve been asked to bring Ulla along to lunch by people who clearly are hoping to get her support,” he says. “I tell them I don’t bring Ulla anywhere. I escort her where she wants to go.”

And Searing clearly wants to keep on going. She enjoyed a recent Asolo concert by Broadway star James Barbour so much that she returned the next night to hear it again.

“I’m sure she would like to turn the clock back 25 years and have Arthur here, and not be as physically frail as she is,” says Van Skike. “But she’s still so positive about life.”

“She makes the 90s look pretty good, doesn’t she?” the Asolo’s Edwards agrees. “How great that she can still be so active, be such a force for good in the community.”—Charlie Huisking

Because we’re finally a two-party town.

Sarasota has always been a little hard to peg politically. We’ve long had the image of solid Republican conservatism, but social issues are important here, and the latest city voter rolls show more registered Democrats than Republicans. Not too long ago, everybody registered Republican to vote in that all-important primary. But in the last few years, Democrats have been fielding strong candidates and winning key posts. Sarasota is suddenly a two-party town, and that makes politics—and life—here much more interesting.

Sarasota is also a small town politically. Chances are you actually know the people on the ballot. And you can’t say we don’t have great elections. Or rather, memorable elections. Our last contest for U.S. Representative of the 13th Congressional District produced a classic controversy that’s already gone down in the history books, with 16,000 “lost” votes that many believe cost Democrat Christine Jennings the election. With winner Vern Buchanan starting his campaign for re-election, he’s suddenly everywhere in town, trailed closely by Jennings. The new fight promises to be the grudge match of all times.

And the history-making national election is making a little history here, too. We got a good look at the candidates as they crisscrossed town during our bungled primary. Some of the most prominent people in town hosted the candidates. The Lobos and the Grains opened their homes to the Obamas; the Githlers entertained Rudy Giuliani. And who should welcome Hillary Clinton to their Siesta Key home? None other than quintessential Sarasota power broker David Band. “Weren’t your Republican buddies appalled?” we asked him. “Heck, no,” he replied. “They all wanted to come and meet her.”

Because we seriously adore animals.