California

In 1999-2000, I found myself residing in the vibrant heart of San Francisco, a city riding high on the dot-com wave. I was situated on Buena Vista Terrace, within the splendid confines of one of the most enchanting mansions perched atop the hill.

The first morning of the summer in ’99 greeted me with the sight of San Francisco’s trademark fog, reminiscent of the mist I was accustomed to back in Milan during late November. It was an odd yet captivating experience to witness this phenomenon in the midst of July.

My decision to settle in San Francisco had been somewhat random.  There had always been a fascination within me for California—the allure of its artistic scene, progressive culture, sun-kissed beaches, and the allure of beautifully bronzed models. However, the reality of San Francisco differed from this image, even during its zenith.

I often referred to San Francisco as somewhat drowsy, perhaps influenced by the fact that I was romantically involved with a girl from Omaha, Nebraska.

At the time I was an interior designer, a proud intern working in a studio adjacent to Mario Botta’s MOMA. Even though my desk felt like a closet, its size was inconsequential in light of my pride. Within a few months, I made myself  a visa that enabled me to work for  an architectural firm on Market Street.

However, my sojourn in the city concluded abruptly as my visa reached its expiration date. The prospect of marrying for a green card filled me with considerable anxiety. By 2006, when my life had taken me already in  New York, after a two-year stint in Paris, I landed in  Los Angeles, following an interview with Philippe Starck’s office. This was the epitome of my dreams— design architect in California under the aegis of Philippe Starck.

I remember printing out MapQuest directions, attempting to navigate from LAX to the Wiltshire studios. My first turn went awry, leading me to repeatedly traverse the city’s highways in a bewildering dance between east and west. Exhausted and disoriented, I eventually sought assistance from a kind homeless individual at a gas station. With their guidance, I finally comprehended the cardinal directions in LA.

Although I wasn’t ensconced in the illustrious Chateau Marmont, I still managed to create my own memorable experience by hosting a stripper in my hotel room. The morning after the pivotal interview, I embarked on an exploration of Venice Beach’s vibrant art scene with a friend. This pop culture immersion resonated deeply with my personal aesthetics.

At that juncture, everything seemed authentic. This was the California I had always yearned for, the embodiment of my dreams.

There is nothing better than a chacha – matcha in LA

LA in the  woods