Sometimes people ask moi, where I get my style, my taste.
It’s from three people: my grandmother, my mother and my friend, Diandra
Douglas. My grandmother was so chic she didn’t even know how chic she was.
That’s how chic she was. My mother was born with great taste. Sometimes I would
come home from grammar school and she would have repainted and redecorated an
entire room by the time I got out of gymnastics. Diandra got her exquisite taste
from her grandmother and mother as well. So, when Diandra and I met so many
years ago, it was kismet. It was fate. That day started an ongoing 12 year
conversation about furniture, houses, accessories, fabric, chandeliers,
sconces, antiquities, chinoiserie, Bugatti chairs, and on and on and on and on.
We have never stopped.
La Quinta. Diandra’s house in Montecito, California. Okay,
look, I’ve seen a lot of great houses. I’ve been around the block a few times
and hands down, this is one of the best. Make a cup of tea and let me take you
on a little journey…
I don’t know how it happened but one day Diandra invited me
to her house for tea. We didn’t even know each other yet. We had mutual
friends, but we were strangers. I accepted the invitation with excitement. Not
because she was Michael Douglas ex-wife. Who cares. All I knew was that I was
about to meet this style icon. We lived on the same street. I, at the bottom at
the beach and she, at the top of the hills. We were on the same axis point.
Good start. As I drove through the pale salmon colored walls of her estate, I
was greeted by a horse like Great Dane. The dog guided me slowly up the long
pea gravel driveway, so I had enough time to notice the hundreds of
Chanel–esque Camellia flower bushes on my left. To my right was a colonnade
with Wisteria dripping from it, and a green rolling lawn.
When I got to the top of the driveway, I was all in. She
literally had me at the front door. I think I’m going to let the pictures speak
for themselves. What maybe cannot be conveyed through the pictures is the
absolute warmth that the house exuded. I grew to know this house and love this
house over the years. After Diandra moved to New York, sadly, she decided to
sell La Quinta. I was fortunate enough to live in the house for a year with my
daughter to watch over the house, update a few things and prepare it for
showings. I know it like the back of my hand. I love it as much as a girl could
love an inanimate object. Big love.
Years ago, there was a big fat fire in Santa Barbara looming
over Diandra’s house. No one was living at the house at the time. I remember
her calling me and saying, “Save My House! Save My House!” I raced up the hill,
lied my way through the police barricade, stood in the middle of the living
room with my arms out and thought, “Oh My God, where do I start? What do I grab
first?" It was like Sophie's Choice! I remember standing on top of the white sofa in the living room and
ripping the tapestry down and dragging it outside. What next? How do I
prioritize? Oh my God, I’m going to have a nervous breakdown. Luckily,
reinforcement arrived. Our other friends brought over polo pony trucks and we
started filling them with all of the antiquities. By the grace of God, the
house was not touched by the fire. Slightly stressful day. It’s probably why I
have ALS. Just kidding.
We also decided to put in a vegetable/fruit/herb garden. Funny, it’s one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done. We had three different types of lettuces, heirloom tomatoes, peppers, Rosemary, thyme and loads of Moroccan mint for tea. Francisca, the housekeeper of 1 million years, helped me with everything. Diandra supervised from New York.
This house has seen a lot of love, a lot of happiness, a lot of joy, a lot of dogs and children and friends. It is also seen sadness, heartbreak and tears. Such is life, oui?
A few years ago we hosted the Santa Barbara Magazine Christmas party. We decorated the whole house using most everything from nature. Take a look…
Sadly, La Quinta is gone now. Sold to one lucky person who
hopefully isn’t destroying its magic… Before you feel too bad for Diandra…
Tomorrow let’s take a look at her other faaabuloous house in Mallorca, Spain.
You’re going to die.
