Streamline Moderne in Santa Monica

Cedric Gibbons' designed 1930 Streamline Moderne, built for his wife Dolores del Rio. Five bedrooms, tennis court, anything else you could want. Absolutely gorgeous. $12,450,000.

Barnsdall Lawn

A legendary private house, some of the best views in city, a sprawling lawn perfect for picnics or bocci or reading, the occasional good wine tasting - what's not to like?? This is one of the most restful, inspiring and often secluded places around, and a true delight.

The Sky Over My Front Door

Clouds.

Vermont between Russell & Melbourne

Could there be a more perfect block in the city? The delightfully low-tech 1934 Los Feliz 3, the fantastic Skylight Books and Annex, and the perfectly homey Figaro Bistro. Oh, for more of an LA on foot, with such good things to stumble across.

My Birthday

It was my birthday, and out of a slight shade of melancholy, or reflectiveness, I decided to take a run on the trails in Griffith Park at dusk before meeting a few friends at a bar. It took a bit of time to get going, and I hadn't run in months, so by the time I was hitting sole to sand it was almost dark. I had what you might call a perfect moment. I came across a deer on one of the last bends in the fire trail. We stared at each other for a moment, each waiting for the other to move. As the deer was about to, instead he cocked his ear a bit as if listening to something. And, suddenly, there it was. An ever-growing wave of noise, an undulation of expectation, that neck hair raising "waaaaaah" as a rare performer takes the stage. And for that moment in the near black, the deer and I stood transfixed, looking off towards the hill over the Greek Theater right below us, listening to the crowd call up Eric Clapton.


The deer and I ran off, he a little quicker. I like to think we both listened to the opening of "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" as it reverberated through the canyon and we ran our separate ways. The night was so filled with beauty, the sound of cheering so incredible, the deer such good company. I was indeed happy to be alive in Los Angeles.

Paul Williams in Moreno Highlands

First time on the market in 50 years. Perfectly sited at the top of the best hill in Silver Lake. Paul Williams designed, gracious mediterranean. 4 bedrooms. $2,187,000.  Stunning.

No Memory, No Lie

Why would anyone pay to take out this ad? Or ever conceive of being subjected to their ministrations? Or, I suppose, take the time to place it in a blog? Still makes me chuckle every time I read it.

Walls of Beauty

I love stumbling on something like this. An unassuming side street that looks like countless others suddenly transformed with something striking and surprising.

Why limit yourself?

Not sure if I would choose to purchase my insurance, my computer and my fruit under the same roof, but I have to applaud the spirit of creative enterprise - and thinking well beyond the box - that these folks espouse.

Here We Go

The City of Los Angeles has always been a place of dreams. And for the most part for good. It is a hard place to call home, and a remarkably easy one.

I am a real estate agent. I am also a rusticator. A collector. A great observer. Of the many things that make Los Angeles splendid. Of those, I have to say that the private houses are among the very best reasons to love this city. And there are many.

There are a lot of sites out there dedicated to what is great, and personal, about Los Angeles. And a lot of sites about LA real estate, for better, for worse. With these pages I wanted to create a place that could be the best of both. I want to catalogue what makes me feel at home in Los Angeles at the same time that I want to make a place that makes it a little easier for people to find a home.

I grew up on Manhattan’s Riverside Drive. We city kids had nothing but disdain for the idea of Los Angeles. It wasn’t a city. The land of tacky, plastic fakery. The height of unsophisticated gaudiness. A lazy place with no edge or style.

And many of my sixteen year old’s prejudices are of course entirely accurate. But it wasn’t until I actually set foot that I quickly realized how much there is to love here. In fact, as I remember all those years of afternoons spent gazing West over the water, it certainly wasn’t New Jersey I was looking towards, and for. I was looking over it. I wonder now if it was indeed Los Angeles.

Here we go. Home.