I say this with the sense of endearment and tolerance of tackiness that comes with being a Floridian. I had made countless forays to St. Augustine over the years, but the place had lost its allure. Despite its heritage, founded by the Spanish in 1565, St. Augustine has never ranked in the first tier of Southern charmers. It lacks the grandeur of Charleston, the graciousness of Savannah, the grit of New Orleans. In St. Augustine, The Oldest T-Shirt Shoppe and Body Piercing Pagoda would fit right into the cheesy historic scheme of things.

But there'd been a growing buzz about the city. Word had it that St. Augustine was home to an emerging arts scene. Plus, there was the chance to bunk down and dine splendidly at one of the city's rejuvenated centerpieces, the Casa Monica Hotel.

Built in 1888, the Casa Monica was the creation of Boston architect Franklin W. Smith, who was also founder of the YMCA. A big fan of Moorish design, Smith paid homage to Spanish colonial construction methods. He took coquina shells from the nearby beach and mixed them with mortar to come up with a kind of concrete known as tabby. The original hotel featured five towers, elaborate balconies and 200 rooms. But despite rave reviews, Smith sold the Casa Monica just three months after it opened to railroad magnate Henry Flagler, who left his mark all over St. Augustine, the base for his eventual conquest of Florida's east coast. Flagler renamed it the Hotel Cordova and used it to entertain a succession of dignitaries and industrial giants before the Depression forced its closing in 1932.

he building passed through several hands over the years, eventually slipping into dowdy duty as the St. Johns County Courthouse before Orlando-based hotelier Richard Kessler bought the property in 1997 and spent two years restoring it to its grand old origins. The restoration reduced the number of rooms to 138, but due to the configuration of the building there are no fewer than 50 different floor plans and no two rooms are alike. Our room, with its big four-poster bed and replica maps of colonial Florida, looked out onto Flagler College.

We'd arrived on a Friday night and that proved fortunate. On a sunset stroll down Charlotte Street, in the restored heart of the city, we heard the sound of soca coming from the Sanmar Gallery. "Come on in," said a cheery young woman at the door, pointing us toward a table laden with glasses of wine and chunks of cheese. "Free drinks and munchies."

The tropical tunes were a nod to the gallery's new ex-hibit, showcasing the work of Miami artists R.J. Hohimer and Lynn Fecteau, whose paintings often draw from sultry Caribbean themes. Our visit coincided with one of St. Augustine's monthly "First Friday Art Walks," where 25-plus galleries stay open into the evening, with artists hanging out to mix it up with the public, a movable cultural feast. From the Sanmar we moved on to the Butterfield Garage, where a co-op of 13 artists displayed their work in the funky confines of what was once a gas station. A guitar duo strummed in a corner at Bay Gallery of Art & Antiques, the crowd at Mullet Beach Gallery was so big we had to peer in through the windows, and at Rachel Thompson Gallery, Victor Kowal, a former St. Augustine street artist whose oils depicting the Florida landscape have become eminently collectible, was holding court at his easel before a work in progress. There was simply too much to sample.

"For a while there it seemed as if a new gallery was opening every week. The good thing is that, unlike the past, when galleries had to stock tourist kitsch to stay in business, there's now lots of quality out there and an amazing amount of it is from right here in Florida," said Karin Sufalko, co-owner of 57 Treasury, an eclectic oasis on the premises of an early 19th-century home.

Our evening stretched out later than we planned and, needing sustenance, we sat down at 95 Cordova, a brilliant contemporary addition to the Casa Monica. Swiss-born chef Rene Nyfeler serves what he calls "New World Eclectic" cuisine, melding Asian, Caribbean, Mediterranean and American flavors into the Spanish-Moroccan mix. It might sound like way too much fusion, but it works in dishes like semolina-crusted calamari with Moroccan pasta and sweet olives, and Pacific tuna with Tobiko caviar served with Cayman Islands chutney.

The next day, looking more for straightforward fare, we headed across the Intracoastal Waterway to Vilano Beach, then just north on A-1-A to find Caps on the River. Sitting on its deck, we munched on grouper sandwiches and conch fritters as we watched the parade of boats on the waterway. That evening we checked in at a favorite downtown haunt, the Tradewinds, which winkingly calls itself the "oldest cocktail lounge in the oldest city."

St. Augustine is a fine place for walking off the excesses of table and tavern. While streets through the main portion of the restored area are pedestrian-only, they get crowded early. Peaceful strolls are better found heading south on St. George Street though neighborhoods of lovingly tended 18th- and 19th-century homes. On one early morning outing, we made a lap around Lake Maria Sanchez, pausing at the south end to watch a pair of roseate spoonbills feeding on tiny crabs in the salt flats. To the north, the terra-cotta towers of Flagler College occupied the horizon, gallant ghosts of the gilded era. It was a perfect St. Augustine moment. And there wasn't anything tacky about it.