![]() ![]() After the devastating 1925 earthquake, the city enacted strict building codes requiring all new structures in the downtown core to be Spanish Colonial Revival style there are also height and sign requirements. ![]() Santa Barbara has long been ahead of its time with regard to historical preservation. I didn’t want to date it, but I certainly loved spending a weekend enjoying its aesthetic charms and binging at my favorite taquerias ( Lily’s, and Rincon Alteno, FYI). After my last move, I decided that, for me, Santa Barbara was like a weekend fling. Today, Santa Barbara is effectively a suburb of L.A., by which I mean it’s packed with high-end, on-trend boutiques, chain eateries, and yoga and Pilates studios, and a surplus of Botoxed, boob-jobbed and overly-toned, -tweaked, and -tanned bodies. ‘The American Riviera’: Stearn’s Wharf on Santa Barbara beach edged by the Santa Ynez Mountains There were notable exceptions, of course, like the famed 1920s resort El Encanto, Montecito Inn and the San Ysidro Ranch. The Santa Barbara Mission off upper State-a regal National Historic Landmark dating to 1786 as part of the mission chain stretching the length of California’s El Camino Real- attracted loads of tourists and school groups, but the nearby guest amenities were mostly limited to grim motels (rental by the hour optional). It wasn’t unusual to see one or two guys riding horseback-this is before Highway 101 bypassed the town, and instead bottle-necked on lower State, where it ended at historic Stearn’s Wharf. Many of the Spanish Colonial Revival storefronts we passed in those days were empty, and in varying stages of decay. I lived for their Monte Cristo sandwich, and the inevitable postprandial stroll along State Street (which grew increasingly sketchy as you walked west toward the railroad tracks). We’d always stop for brunch at El Paseo (still there, since 1922), captivated by the 1826 adobe complex’s open interior courtyard covered with netting to keep the birds out. My parents used to make the drive to visit Jedlicka’s Saddlery (still there), because we lived on a small ranch. Growing up outside of Santa Barbara in the ’70s and early ’80s, I knew it as a sleepy country town. Santa Barbara’s only eco-hotel is a sexy, stylish, affordable 41-room property, housed in a 1912 former Amtrak employee building across the tracks from the bustling and renovated train station and a mere block-and-a-half from the beach. Anchoring the entire makeover is three-year-old Hotel Indigo. Starting in 2013, they began zeroing in on grotty lower State Street’s half-assed Funk Zone, bent on transforming this desolate beachfront railroad district into a world-class representation of local agriculture, art, green renovation and indie businesses. A group of enterprising developers, architects, designers and restaurateurs saw the gaping hole in this international tourist destination: they decided to fill it with green construction and businesses, and a non-corporate-driven hospitality industry. It seems that while I was playing in the snow, something has happened. My enthusiasm is showing, and I’m getting ahead of my story.Īs I was saying, I never regretted leaving … until two months ago, on my most recent visit. Hotel Indigo Santa Barbara upstairs loungeįorgive me. But I’m happy to report this tale has a new beginning … and it’s very cool and very green and called Hotel Indigo. (Its small fleet of generational fishermen use sustainable catch methods and other superlative marine resource management practices). This, in a region known worldwide for its family farms, wine and seafood. As a food and travel writer focused on sustainability issues, I scratched my head over why this wealthy city with such a sophisticated visitor base didn’t have a dining scene or green hospitality movement to match. While it still has its sleepy moments and neighborhoods, it’s not the Santa Barbara I grew up with, and, ultimately, I moved away for the second time in late 2006 (returning to the mountains of Colorado), because I felt the proverbial sun had set on this Riviera. At risk of dating myself, during that stretch of time I’ve witnessed a staggering amount of change and development on this self-proclaimed “American Riviera.” Both good and bad. I grew up an hour south of Santa Barbara, and have lived there twice over the last two decades. | A New Eco-Hotel in a Revitalized Arts District | ![]()
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