Palm tree perfection.
Our relationship began years ago – in the early 90’s when I made my first trip to the Golden State on business. I landed in San Diego and saw palm trees. California palm trees. I was smitten. It was all so exotic to a girl who had grown up in the shadows of the Blue Ridge Mountains in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia.
To me, Southern California is the cool kids with the cutest clothes – the ones you hope invite you to their party. SoCal knows it’s cool, too, but it’s very laid back about it all. It’s paradise with a youthful attitude and a side of caramelized brussels sprouts. And not everyone looks the same. It’s alive with energy and bursting with diversity and I absolutely love it.
And California is just too cool to care that folks on the east coast run that “left coast” moniker into the ground. Whatever, dudes.
My sister bears some of the blame for my SoCal lust. She married into California in 1993 – she met her husband when they were both working at Scripps Clinic in La Jolla. He lived in a condo in Del Mar, a small beach city in San Diego County – a condo overlooking the Pacific Ocean. And by overlooking, I mean dangling. It is a breathtakingly dramatic view.
THE view. Del Mar, CA.
My sister picked me up at the airport that first visit and I can still remember my head spinning as we drove to Del Mar – the terra-cotta colored mountains in the distance and all those fabulous palm trees. And then she turned onto a steep hill leading straight down to the Pacific Ocean. I felt like we were driving into the ocean.
We had lunch on the patio of an oceanfront (understatement) restaurant. We shared a split of champagne and I was baptized in a mist of bubbles and ocean spray. It was love at first sight. I saved the cork from that bottle for years – somehow even then I knew I needed a talisman for that place and that feeling.
And then we went to her condo. On a clear day you can see, well, not forever, but Catalina for sure. I felt like I was in an episode of Santa Barbara, one of my favorite soap operas back in the day. The sun was shining, as it almost always is, but the air was light and cool. Del Mar had me at cool.
Del Mar will always have me for another reason, too. This is where we scattered my mother’s ashes a year after her death. Mom made Karen Walker from Will & Grace look outdoorsy. She just didn’t really see a compelling reason to be outside unless you were at an outdoor mall. But she loved everything about Del Mar – the climate, the flowers and best of all to her – the absence of any bugs. She always immensely enjoyed her visits to see my sister and her husband and I like to think she’s at peace in that beautiful spot.
I am in many ways my mother’s daughter and I have spent most of my adult life in a climate conundrum, too. You see, I love the ocean but I hate the heat and humidity of summer. In Southern California I have found the best of both worlds – with valet parking.
Last month, I spent two magical weeks with my sister in Newport Beach and since I’ve been home I’ve been suffering from SoCal Syndrome – a condition characterized by a general malaise and a craving for Cioppino and avocado toast. The only thing that seems to help curb the symptoms is a triple, venti, half sweet, non-fat, caramel macchiato and some reruns of The O.C..
It’s almost a straight shot from WS to NB.
Lucy loved SoCal, too.
Modern Screen and Photoplay were fan magazines that featured photographs and interviews with movie stars. Both publications reached their heydays in the 1950’s but were still in circulation until the late 70’s. I could hardly contain myself when they arrived in the mail and I would steal away into my bedroom to pore over the photos of stars in their Malibu homes. Again, it all seemed so intoxicating to a dour teenager with acne and split-ends for days.
Must see TV.
Okay, I know life is not a TV show unless you are a Kardashian or a certain presidential candidate and that the air is always cooler somewhere else. The truth is, I probably couldn’t live in SoCal fulltime for the same reason my sister is always whining about – it’s too damn sunny. My sister, in addition to being a radiation therapist, is also an esthetician and the sun has always been, in her mind, The Evil Empire. She spends more on skin care in a year than I do on wine. That’s a lot of moisturizer, my friends. But she has radiant flawless skin to show for it.
My sister wearing SPF 1000. She prefers to come out at night.
Mornings are usually pretty safe in Newport Beach because there is often a marine layer that takes a few hours to burn off before the sun is on high. But my sister longs for a rainy day – even just an overcast one – and I understand. She misses the seasons and I know I would, too. Okay, not summer but most certainly fall and spring.
You’ve got to enjoy the fog while you can.
The last morning of my latest visit, I got up early and drove down to Newport Beach Pier. I bought a coffee and walked out far enough to have a great view of the surfers. In my next life, I will surf. I can’t imagine that rush – of riding a wave on a sparkly SoCal morning. It was cool to see so many young women among all the dudes – and very cool to see a lot of not so young dudes out there, too.
Best board meeting ever.
Meanwhile, I’ll just keep watching those KAYAK price alerts and hoping that objects in the mirror really are closer than they appear.
I’ll be seeing you…
My mistress.
California dreaming for now.
My sentiments exactly.
Bookends 