I love open houses. I've been going religiously since my college years and have seen everything from kit homes with infinity pools to grandma relics in need of an update. It's always fun to pretend how you'd decorate and to give a myriad of fake names. Well, at least in New York, where signing in upon entry with your email address is mandatory. (I apologize to Jules Answorthy, Annette Merriwether, and Avonlea Thomas @yahoo and @aol and @gmail.coms). I peruse real estate sites with the same gusto, especially the ones showcasing bagillion dollar homes that I will probably never own. The west coast sites are usually the best, and Westside Estate Agency is LEGEND, full of Beverly Hills and Malibu showstoppers in the six zeroes category. On one recent visit, I came across a beach house with tawny furniture, marble walls, and errant sculptures of faceless man blobs that I pictured myself eating salad, reading Didion, and listening to Philip Glass in. It was the kind of place I could only attribute to the wonderful world of Kelly Wearstler. Could this be her humble beachside abode? And if so, is there an open house?
Looks like it IS a Wearstler. Willa Sommersby needs a plane ticket STAT.