in other lives: a lady who lunches (a lot) in montecito
a visit to the beautiful and the damned on the American Riviera
"In other lives” is a series about the different paths our lives could take and what our world would look like if we’d chosen one of them. Past installments include a divorcee at Ett Hem, a floundering fashion girl in Palo Alto and an American expat in Paris.
She moved to Montecito from Los Angeles almost four years ago with an aloof husband and three children in tow, before it became a thing everyone was doing. When she first arrived, to the fresh coastal air and the Mediterranean house on Hot Springs Road, she felt calm for the first time since she was seventeen.
The tranquility faded quickly, replaced by a mix of boredom and a hum of resentment, though she isn’t fully clear whom she is resentful of. Perhaps everyone.
She wonders if what she needs is an affair, the kind that reignites a faintly simmering passion instead of the type that tears a marriage apart. Once you turn 40, it’s tempting to blow up your life. But Montecito is a small town, and she’s aware enough to know these things can go awry. She’s unclear if her husband harbors these same concerns.
She spends most of her time with a motley crew of friends who all decamped to Montecito from whatever metropolis they were living in, in search of a softer landing. The country club loving gay couple, with their idyllic children and penchant for throwing fabulous parties (their brunches have become a bit of a thing). The tech investor and his artist wife, in a phase of indulgence after grinding for years in Menlo Park, who throw together mushroom-fueled “salons” when eclectic friends come to town. The salty heiress who trained under Alice Waters and now spends her days in her garden, plotting a cookbook she’ll probably never release. Dinner at her house usually means rhubarb pie and a joint.
She knows M & H tangentially through her children’s school, and though she acts above the trappings of celebrity, she (secretly) delighted when she received a gorgeously wrapped package of jam before it was available to the public.
But today, it’s Friday night at Tre Lune. Actually, it’s not exactly night - it’s 5:30 PM and light out, but this is Montecito prime time for reservations, and people watching. She’s just ordered the lemon caper salmon and her third glass of chablis, as her kids sit occupied with a game they’ve invented that, judging from the frenzy of whispers, will momentarily result in mayhem. (It’s fine though; the nanny is on standby in case family dinner becomes too hectic for her to handle without a little help). Her husband ran into a golf acquaintance. And so for the first time this week, her mind is quiet.
She lazily scans the room. It’s typical. There’s the requisite divorcee (this is Montecito, after all), a believer in acrylic nails, sipping chardonnay with a friend and undoubtedly dressed for a second dinner at Lucky’s. The Hollywood mogul, sharing dessert with his wife and the richest man in America. And the sweet, almost obnoxiously normal mom from school, a 90s star with a megawatt smile, who is calmly reading a book with the youngest of her children as they wait for their pasta.
In her closet:
She’s slightly more funky than the average Montecitan, a signal that she came from somewhere else. She finds it assuming when people ask if she lives in Summerland. She loves a light jacket in of the moment khaki for those breezy Santa Barbara evenings, especially when paired with Khaite’s scrumptious pink satin. A pop of red to keep it interesting, and a flouncy georgette top, her best purchase of the year, that she throws over tank tops when she wants to feel dressed. And an easy house dress, especially when it’s of the new Comme Si variety.
But, on the weekends, life slows down. Leset jersey dresses and cozy clogs for leisurely Coast Road walks and Varley club dresses for tennis with friends.
She likes to wear expensive lingerie under her clothes simply because it gives her the sense she has designed the exact life she wanted, down to her closet, though she hasn't brought it out for that purpose in ages. If only she’d remembered to add fulfillment to her vision board among the photos of Mediterranean revivals and ivy covered pergolas.
In her house:
Mohair armchairs in rich, earth tones. A brass chandelier for warmth. A touch of rattan, but the chic kind, ideally of the Atelier Vime lineage. Accents of pattern, of Oxfordshire eclecticism, more Nicky Kehoe than Mike Moser.
On her vanity:
We all know it’s all about the skin in this coastal enclave. She begins with the waxy face bath cleanser from Skin Design London, which she’s been using religiously ever since she sharp elbowed her way into a facial with Fatima at San Vicente Bungalows on Oscar weekend, one of her greatest accomplishments. She follows it with Dr. Diamond’s Instafacial Plasma and 111 Skin wrinkle fighting eye patches - though, let’s be honest, she hasn’t let up on the Botox long enough to see a wrinkle in years.
For her makeup, a light dollop of Iris & Romeo Weekend Skin, a swipe of matte lipstick from MERIT, a fresh, bitchy brow courtesy of Westman Atelier and a bit of Hermes blush, just as a flex. And a La Bonne Brosse in cherry red, because women of her ilk only use French hairbrushes and Trask toothbrushes. A spray of Maison D’Etto Karat EG on her wrists and neck.
On her table:
A vintage silver tray, a gift from friends who came to stay for the weekend and couldn’t resist the display at Field & Fort. A marble bowl from The Well, and grain free bread from Oat Bakery. For formal entertaining, Creel & Gow silver bird place card holders and whimsical dinner plates from the cult ceramicist in Italy.
On her bucket list:
She’s just dying for a trip to Estelle Manor. It’s the new Du Cap, or so she’s heard.
And, my MONTECITO BLACK BOOK
- - Founded by the legendary Jennifer Rudolph Walsh, this is the modern utopia of bookstores. It’s decorated with photos of famous, bad ass women and includes a cozy area for readings, a sweet kids room with activities and an outside patio with a coffee truck.
Field & Fort - A cult cafe meets fancy grocery meets drop dead gorgeous home goods store. Ask someone who works there to take you to their furniture showroom, which is housed in a dreamy residence on the same street.
Lotus Land - 37 acres of dreamy gardens just down the hill from San Ysidro. Reserve in advance, and spend the morning strolling.
San Ysidro Ranch - Rooms are on the pricey side, but go for an early evening dinner, and arrive early to stroll the expansive gardens. This is where JFK and Jackie honeymooned, and Vivian Leigh got married.
Montecito Country Club - Get someone to take you here. It looks like the cross between a Moroccan riad and a waspy golf club. But it kind of works? Plus, there’s a bowling alley and they make a great martini.
Merci - All the things a bakery should be. Tiny, delicious, with butter laden biscuit sandwiches and strong, frothy lattes. Start here and work your way through the Montecito Country Mart, stopping at Oat Bakery for healthy breads to take home and Poppy for the cutest kids clothes.
FROM THE ARCHIVES
dopamine hits from the sale section
I have complicated feelings on sales. The thrill of finding an item, especially one you considered at full price, is sort of an addict’s high.
If you enjoyed this piece, please consider hearting below. It helps non-subscribers see this story. Also, if you click on something, I may earn a small commission You’ll see that I sometimes link to the same things as in past newsletters. That’s because if you buy something, I want you to wear it, and I think it’s helpful to see pieces you own in different contexts and outfits. Thank you!! xx NRB
How lonely she is. It’s heartbreaking.
My favorite series of your substack!