It’s the first weekend in January, and Cathy and husband D. are at a romantic upstate New York resort in Saratoga Springs. Their itinerary is packed: a post-New Year’s brunch, followed by dinner dates in town, fireside time, walks to the geyser and luxurious spa treatments, complete with a mineral bath.
“We laughed. We had a few drinks,” says 52-year-old Cathy, a nurse at NYU.
“This is the best weekend we’ve had in years,” agrees D., a 53-year-old Wall Street banker.
But the childhood sweethearts from Island Park, LI, who have been married 26 years and have two grown children, aren’t on an anniversary retreat. Instead, they’re on a trip to Splitsville.
Welcome to the DivorceHotel — well, technically, the Gideon Putnam Resort & Spa — where you can check in as a married couple on Friday and check out divorced by Sunday.
The entire package costs $5,000, and includes separate accommodations for two nights, a designated lawyer for each party and a mediator to draw up divorce papers. There’s also a welcome basket containing Saratoga sparkling water, red wine, dark chocolate and other goodies, as well as a DivorceHotel information packet.
“Everyone comes to Saratoga to get married. We came to get divorced,” says Cathy, while lounging in room No. 407, a swanky suite complete with a king bed and a living room. (D. has his own room down the hall.)
The quickie-divorce weekend is the brainchild of Dutch company DivorceHotel. The Gideon Putnam, an independently operating resort, is the first US hotel to offer the package.
Since its American launch in September 2014, four couples have divorced there, and Cathy and D., who asked that their last names and his full name not be printed for privacy reasons, are the first from the NYC area. (Hundreds of couples have used the program to divorce in Europe, where it’s offered in six cities and boasts a 98 percent success rate, according to DivorceHotel founder Jim Halfens.)
“It’s for people who are pretty civilized and without complex financial matters,” says $700-an-hour divorce attorney Raoul Felder.
You go in married, you come out single — it’s magic.
- Divorce attorney Raoul Felder
For the right couple, it offers a more amicable and affordable alternative to traditional litigation — especially in NYC, where the minimum retainer can cost upward of $25,000.
“You go in married, you come out single — it’s magic,” says Felder.
The goal is to wrap up the process by Sunday morning — and to stave off emotional and financial bankruptcy from spending years in court and hundreds of thousands of dollars in legal fees. Couples leave with a legally binding agreement, and divorce papers are finalized in about a week.
After the spark went out of their marriage, Cathy decided to consult with a divorce lawyer last year, but quickly decided that the “predatory nature” of traditional proceedings wasn’t for her.
It was important, she says, for her to stay friends with D. because of their shared history and for the sake of their 18-year-old son and 23-year-old daughter. Plus, she and D. were willing to split their assets fairly evenly.
So, while on a girls’ vacation this summer, Cathy was intrigued to read about the US debut of the DivorceHotel in the New York Post.
“I bookmarked it in my phone,” she says, “and I showed [D.] the article later.”
After checking in on a Friday, Cathy and D. met with mediator and financial adviser Michele Martin for the first of four two-hour working sessions in Cathy’s suite — a stark contrast to the grand ballroom four floors below, which hosts lavish weddings.
(“We need to be careful during the spring and summer wedding season,” notes hotel manager Rob Sgarlata. “Brides are walking through our lobby. I wouldn’t want that to be uncomfortable for the DivorceHotel couple.”)
But still, this is no “War of the Roses”-style weekend.
People actually leave saying this was a great experience. It makes me proud.
- Michele Martin, a mediator at the Divorce Hotel
Prior to a couple’s arrival, Martin helps them iron out the big issues — from division of property, money and retirement accounts to child support and custody issues — via phone and email.
“People actually leave saying this was a great experience,” says Martin. “It makes me proud.”
For Cathy and D., Saturday’s legal sessions are punctuated by leisurely walks, separate massages and downtime spent lounging in the spa’s relaxation room in white robes.
The Victorian-style hotel, meanwhile, offers romantic surroundings complete with cozy fireside sofas. (Some couples ask to stay in the same room, but Martin doesn’t believe any indulge in hanky-panky during the divorce weekend — though one couple did admit to a final fling after they returned home.)
But, behind the good-natured jokes and camaraderie that come from decades of familiarity, an air of sadness is palpable.
“Nobody did anything wrong,” says Cathy. “It’s two people going on different paths.”
In a Gwyneth-inspired dash of whimsy, she looks at it philosophically: “I’m getting ‘unmarried’ this weekend,” she says. “Divorce has such a horrible connotation.”
Then, as if it’s a regular Saturday night hanging out in their living room, Cathy and D. watch the Union vs. Boston college hockey game on TV. Except they’re signing their divorce papers while it’s on — a 42-page agreement notarized by Martin.
The game’s final score is a tie — symbolic for the warm couple who wanted a divorce that didn’t take either of them down.
“It went so smoothly. This is the way it should be,” says D., over a bottle of red he’s sharing with Cathy to toast the end of their marriage.
Even now, the couple can’t resist the charms of the place — and are already planning another visit.
“I want to come back here,” says Cathy.
“Just not the same weekend as me,” counters D.
Still, Cathy is a woman who knows what she wants: “I’d get remarried here. What’s the discount?”