![]() Laughter runs freely and easily in the Florimbi-Simon household, even when they’re disagreeing. “It’s a Goldilocks kind of place,” Florimbi says, punctuating the thought, as he frequently does, with a chuckle that suggests he thinks what he has just said or is about to say sounds a tad goofy or, worse, pretentious. They wanted good light, good views, and most of all, simplicity. “We’ve moved a lot,” says Simon, “almost like trying on clothes. In essence, he re-created a masterpiece.”įlorimbi, Simon and Sophia have lived in several Santa Barbara houses, a converted four-car garage and a dank 1880s stone dwelling among them. It took a great deal of creativity to bring the original focus back into reality. “It was in a sad state of disrepair,” says Logan, “but David instantly saw the interplay of light that is a trademark of Smith’s designs. Twelve years ago when they moved to Santa Barbara from L.A., they bought and renovated El Hogar, the 1914 studio-residence, inspired by Andalusian farmhouses, of architect George Washington Smith. They had reason to trust their instincts. Not a pretty sight, and needless to say, not holding much promise for the unimaginative or the image-conscious.ĭespite the outspoken skepticism-bordering-on-disbelief of some of their friends, the couple bought the property. Flowered wallpaper covered walls, pink tile one of the bathrooms. The entrance was awkwardly placed, parking was far below the level of the house, the backyard was largely concrete, the floors were laid in white tile or white wall-to-wall carpeting. Rooms were claustrophobically small, with no flow. ![]() ![]() A hillside tightly hugged the rear of the house, giving it a pushed feeling. You couldn’t really tell if there was a view because of the thickly overgrown landscaping. It was like a house that seemed to be turned on its head.”īut the site was evocative - or probably was. “It was a house that, politely, you would say was ‘unique,’ ” says Logan, “totally lacking in the basics of how you get from room to room. “But we did think, ‘This could be an amazing place.’ ” That is, if you had the pluck and the aesthetic vision to see past its flaws and peculiarities, and take it on. “We said, why? When we first saw it, we weren’t hit with, ‘This is an amazing place,’ ” says Florimbi. The only comparable remaining houses in the estate corridor are the guest houses, according to Logan, a third-generation Santa Barbaran whose grandfather was an estate caretaker. “Everyone else who looked at this house wanted to tear it down,” says Florimbi of the 1940s’-era house and, indirectly, of what is a familiar practice in Montecito: replacing the understated with the overstated. There is still the garage to convert to an at-home work space for Florimbi, a piano room to a dining room, the tiny guest house to a writing retreat for Simon. He and Simon, who has gone to pick up their 12-year-old daughter, Sophia, from ballet practice, have yet to fully transform the house they redesigned themselves and moved into a year ago after a massive remodeling. At 3,200 square feet, the ranch-style homestead is less than half the size of most of the residences surrounding it and one-fifth that of the palazzo across the lane. Instead, the angling one-story house of dark green wood has a humility that renders it all but invisible in juxtaposition with its bigger, grander neighbors. An electronic gate slides open, revealing an unimposing structure that is no less a jolt to the expectations than the architectural extravagance just beyond.Īfter all, this is what’s known as “the estate corridor” of Montecito, so a certain augustness would be perfectly in keeping with the demeanor of the region. A case of mistaken identity.ĭavid Florimbi and Nancy Simon’s house is directly across the street, obscured by a fence. This must be the one - no other house in sight - but how can it be? Is this really the sort of place two serious artists - a conceptual painter and a fiction writer - would live in? Two practitioners of Buddhism, in a place of such startling exaggeration, such frippery? Doesn’t compute. Here, on a bosky Montecito lane, is a house so improbably huge and overbearing, it takes on a momentary aspect of menace in the half-light of late afternoon. THE spine stiffens and the spirit goes cold.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |