Marriage: Gloria Nagy
Marriage
In America, there are places to live that might be called paradise places. ney are usually towns, sometimes villages - but never cities anymore - where lucky people live. Lucky people with gunite pools and German sports cars and someone to mow the lawn, bring in the paper, and let out the dog. People who are fortunate enough to live in these places are often envied. The independently wealthy, the affluently retired, the creative who have the freedom to work anywhere. But the reality is often something else. And the reality of this last illusion of the twentieth century is that there is no longer anywhere to escape for long. Empty boutiques, too many For Sale signs, bag ladies and homeless phantom people, drug addicts and thieves; the sore thumbs of society are everywhere now.
Montecito, California, is a paradise place. It appears to the casual eye to be a rather newly created place, springing up behind the grand old Biltmore Hotel as a reaction to the small city it is attached to. That city, Santa Barbara, an old mission town with fine Spanish architecture, a lovely sea-fronted site, and several fine restaurants, has an underclass and homeless population to rival many less romantic places.
Tiny Montecito is the place to be in Santa Barbara County. The time of the fax machine, cellular communications and environmental obsession has come, and for people who have a choice, Montecito offers to Los Angeles what the Hamptons have offered to New York City. Everyone wants to be there because they can be somewhere scenic and laid back and still be in the game.
