The Ends of Eras
Local gossip
Departures and New Beginnings
This week it was announced that two of our favorite businesses would be losing some of our favorite folks.
Maines Salon on Main Street announced that stylist and makeup artist, and resident Ms. Fabulous, Becca Vazquez, would be leaving to start up her own business. If you don’t know or haven’t met Becca, um, seriously, what are you doing with your life?? She is one of the warmest, friendliest, and funniest people we know. As Maines’ owner, Sydney Maines, rightly notes, Becca lights up a room.
She will be opening her own salon, called Hair Haven, in Downtown Santa Paula. We wish her all the best—and hope to see her grand opening in January!
In the meantime, Rabalais’ Bistro announced that their lead drink slinger, Hayden McClain, will be leaving to pursue new opportunities in Ojai. Dale and I will definitely miss him. He was one of the first staff members I met, and he’s been with us for whiskey tastings, impromptu get-togethers—even our wedding. He was instrumental in Rabalais’ recent makeover and upgrade from quaint coffee shop to fully stocked bar, serving some kick-you-in-the-britches cocktails, with Hayden’s own signature twists. That guy was made for mixology.
Go kick some “Oh hi!” butt, Hayden!
Sold!
I noticed the For Sale signs had gone missing a few weeks ago. It stopped me in my tracks. I couldn’t remember a time when the vacant lots hadn’t been marked by real estate company signs and overgrown foxtails in need of mowing. I hoped it was just the Santa Anas that had knocked the signs off their metal stakes.
Alas…
Two properties near our place have finally been sold. I suppose I shouldn’t be too shocked. Our neighborhood has been in flux the last couple of years. We’ve seen neighbors come and go. We breathed sighs of relief when we learned that some homeowners refused to sell out to private equity firms—they sold their house to folks who would continue to make it a home. We like families here. We like to see people who wave hello and introduce themselves, people who take their dogs for leisurely walks or futz in their gardens. Even if the faces change, the neighborly attitudes go a long way in making the area feel safe and secure. In L.A., Culver City, and Pasadena, people came and went. We were lucky if we learned each other’s names. It’s not like that here.
Or at least it hasn’t been. Sometime around 2020, ground was broken for a new, custom-built home just up the street from us. Pandemic shortages, and the drying up of funds, have left the house in a semi-complete state—and exposed to the elements—for the last four years. I’ve come to call it the Half-Built House. For a while this last year, the owner, in a fit of desperation, put his Frankenstein’s monster up for sale. The house is a giant—well over 3,000 square feet, I believe, and blocking the view of the Catholic enclave across the street. The land had to be leveled, prolific avocado trees removed, ground squirrels evicted. (We still miss those avocados.) (The ground squirrels have taken up residence around our property.)
Then the For Sale sign came down, and the contractor happily chittered at me about how the owner found new financing, wood-trimmed windows were going in, the AC system was complete, blah blah blah. It’s slated to be complete by March. We’ll see.
As for those vacant lots? Today we found out they’ve been bought up, not by private buyers, but by corporations. Probably private equity firms.
Heavy sigh.
We had hoped our little town was immune from the whims of developers and greedy landowners. The City Council has traditionally, and notoriously, been anti-development. But when the typical asking price for homes has shot north of $750,000, what do we expect.
The future, which we’ve struggled to hold at bay, is here at last in our sleepy little hamlet.