Even so, the brand’s expansion into real estate shouldn’t have been a surprise. “Twenty years ago, if you had asked me what’s the logical, highest, and best use of the IP, I wouldn’t have said restaurants,” said Cohlan. “I would have said a place to live.”

For Cohlan, that can mean a hotel room to stay in a few nights or a cottage to visit a few times a year. Yet Latitude Margaritaville may be the brand’s true apotheosis.

“We joke about how soon he’ll be selling us Margaritaville Depends or LandShark Ensure.”

Buffett’s songs, from A Pirate Looks at Forty (1974) to Oldest Surfer on the Beach (2013), have long been concerned with aging gracefully. Buffett himself is 70. His fan base is getting up there, too. Little wonder that the largest chapter of the Parrot Heads in Paradise, with more than 1,000 members, is in the Villages, a sprawling, 55-and-older (“55-and-better,” in industry parlance) community in central Florida.

That tantalizing alignment of brand and product helps explain why news of the first Latitude Margaritaville generated a lot more interest than the typical retirement community. Stephen Colbert and Jimmy Kimmel picked up on the announcement; on Good Morning America, Michael Strahan wondered if he was old enough to move in.

More than 100,000 people signed up for updates on the project, according to Mike Belmont, president of Minto Communities USA. (That prompted the developer to move forward with a second Latitude Margaritaville, in Hilton Head, S.C., and a marina condo project—named for the 1983 Buffett tune One Particular Harbour—near Sarasota, Fla.) While the first homes won’t be ready until next year, in October, prospective buyers can visit a sales center in Daytona Beach to see what’s in store.

“What we try to do is create emotional triggers that transport you to Margaritaville,” said Pat McBride, whose company has been designing Buffett’s restaurants and resorts for nearly 20 years. Taking his cue from Buffett’s 1979 song Volcano, he installed tequila-and-sour-mix-spewing mountains in some early restaurants. A 14-foot-tall blue flip-flop and a chandelier made of margarita glasses remind guests at the Hollywood, Fla., resort why they’re there.

“We like to talk about it as going back to summer camp at 55.”

Diners linger just a few hours, hotel guests a few days—a place where people live full-time calls for a lighter touch. In Daytona Beach, a faux lifeguard station will stand sentry at the entrance; the place will be planted with dense, tropical vegetation. The plans also call for a town center built around a series of connected swimming pools, pickle-ball courts, and a bandshell, plus a doggie spa called Barkaritaville and a mechanic shop that will specialize in customizing tricked-out golf carts.

The Margaritaville team is also creating programming inspired by Buffett’s interests—such things as fly-fishing classes, cooking lessons, and live music. The idea, said McBride, is to give boomers a chance to pick up the pursuits they’d put on hold decades earlier to grow up and get jobs. Or as Cohlan puts it: “We like to talk about it as going back to summer camp at 55.”