“The first thing I did when I came to this country was go to a department store and squeeze the Charmin,” says Martin Short. “I had to know.”
The new mayor is sitting next to me at a professional, un-contagious distance, wearing purple sparkly shoes (rhinestones? A glittery mirage of unfathomable political power?). His purple suit is elegant yet playful, inhabiting a world somewhere between a nicely tailored Crown Royal bag and the singing dinosaur with obvious inflammatory issues who gave a whole generation of children morning-routine PTSD.
He is wearing a cumberbund, which is one of the fashion world’s kindest gestures to men—an ancestor of Spanx that hides our midsections’ emancipations or the fact that the pleasure of eating Pringles sometimes disables your ability to not burrow through the entire joy silo in a single sitting.
Minutes earlier, I had stood in the hallway waiting my turn. Handlers handled me. For prep, I pondered how no carpet felt as good as casino carpet. It’s like the soft, verdant loam of money; carpet so thick and giving it’s nearly a bounce house. Eventually, the door to the PR suite opened, and a journalist exited. He looked a bit stunned from his encounter, as if he saw what was inside the glowing briefcase in Pulp Fiction, and it was Mr. Short.
Martin Short, of course, doesn’t need the cumberbund to hide any abdominal discretions. He is lithe and vibrant and very Canadian in the most pleasant of ways. He and I have exactly 15 minutes with each other, a luxurious infinity pool of time allotted by the media architecture of press junkets. I imagine by the end of this vacation together, we’ll blithely phone Steve Martin from the gas station where we choose the proper jerky for the road trip all new buds take to cement our forever bond.
I have become mildly obsessed with what I consider to be one of the greatest ad campaigns of all time for a regional casino, Harrah’s of Southern California. They officially renamed—officially!—an entire town an hour north of San Diego “Funner, California.” And, every couple of years since 2017, they have “elected” a new mayor. The first mayor was David Hasselhoff. You’d see him all over billboards in San Diego, his handsome face that seemingly came into the world expressing a flirty wink or a double-guns. That double-guns face lorded over the city for years, proclaiming him the preeminent public official of a casino-based woohoo. Destinies had never been so perfectly aligned.
Courtesy of Harrah’s Resort Southern California
The Hoff was followed by geometrically-chinned boy king Rob Riggle and, most recently, the towering dutchess of deadpan, Jane Lynch (I sat with Jane when she was “elected,” too. You can read about our deep, meaningful relationship here). And now, Martin Short.
I enter the large suite and Martin Short is sitting at a conference table, purple as a magnificent bruise. There is an adjacent “living room,” where no fewer than four people also sit but make no eye contact whatsoever. Then, a kitchen with three barstools, all of which are full with people charged with overseeing this interaction. It is… dead silent, as if someone has just informed the group that AI has made it into the national drinking water. It’s in my nature to not ignore anyone in a social situation, so I briefly say hello to Mr. Short and then try to make eye contact with every single person. It is unreciprocated—not in a cold way, but in a professional “please do your job; we’ve been here all day” way.
Martin, understandably thinking I’m looking for direction, says, “You can sit over here. Ask me anything you want.”
“Okay, great,” I say. “We’ll start with politics, move into religion, and finish up with sex.”
“TROY!” the PR agent blurts.
She’s a friend, a very capable and talented person who is here on the behalf of her important client. It would be better for her if I didn’t go completely free radical, leaving her to later answer many strongly worded questions about pre-screening interviewees for obvious emotional instability. I smile and become the best professional I possibly can be.
Eight people will now watch Mr. Short and I attempt to wrestle something meaningful out of 15 minutes of conversation. Which I fully realize, having been around some famous people at this point in my life, is a lifetime. Minutes are the most precious possession of the truly famous. Their time is continually requested and picked at by the rest of us. The true interview artists can go from “Hello, my name is…” to “crying over past traumas but in a meaningful, shared way” within 15 minutes.
I am not that professional. I mostly ask him dumb food questions.
Courtesy of Harrah’s Resort Southern California
Here’s what should be said about Martin Short. First, I admit to having drastically under-appreciated this man’s talent. For whatever reason, I’d only seen him in roles that required him to perform with wild, almost cartoonish theatricality. Though his performances were remarkable in, say, Father of the Bride, my heart bends toward the blacker, dead-inside forms of comedy. I giddy most at the cigarette-smoke non-emotion of Lenny Bruce, Steven Wright, Mitch Hedburg, and Neal Brennan, or even the dopey, mellow wonderment of Nate Bargatze. Even The Chappelle Show was too animated for me, which I consider a stain on my ability to comprehend greatness.
And Mr. Short, in person, is an extremely high IQ’ed Canadian with immaculate emotional composure and a hilarious, no-bullshit wit. His answers are far less fantastical and lampoonish than I expected, but express some self-deprecating insight and wry cultural criticism. “I appreciate food people; I really do,” he says. “Eugene Levy would phone me up and say, ‘Do you want to drive to the valley and go to DuPar’s?’ And I’d say, ‘Orrrrr… eat a Balance Bar and go for a hike?’”
When I ask him for San Diego memories, he doesn’t bother polishing the fakery. “I distinctly remember going to the Hotel Del and the zoo,” he says and gives me a look that says, No clue, man. And I appreciate that amount of real, which again, I hadn’t expected. I’d expected him to embellish every moment, milk it for the ersatz. He also points out, “What do you know about Hamilton, Ontario? Probably not much.” Imminently fair.
The whole time he looks at me with the same look I imagine I’m giving him. “What, dear god, are we going to get from each other in less time than the intro montage of each episode of Game of Thrones—but, hey, let’s try.” And yet, he’s game, a consummate professional, polite as ****. And we get what we get.
The whole room laughs multiple times throughout our conversation… and not in a way that suggests they’re paid to laugh (they are). I’m laughing, too. His wit leaves the station first in any conversation—as it has been for nearly five decades now—and, more often than not, drops you off at a pretty damn funny destination.
By the time my PR friend announces from behind me, “Two minutes remaining, Troy,” I’ve decided that I do want to get some gas station jerky with my new buddy, head toward some uniquely American tourist attraction like the world’s largest petrified wad of hummus, and stop at a grocery store somewhere, half drunk on road cosmos, to squeeze a little Charmin.
Courtesy of Harrah’s Resort Southern California
Hard-Hitting Questions With The New Mayor Of Funner, California: Martin Short
Troy Johnson (TJ): What are you going to change about Funner, California during your reign?
Martin Short (MS): It’s going more modern and muted tones. I’m a painter. If you ever saw Ordinary People, it’s going to be as depressing as that. Changing nothing is my policy.
TJ: What is fun to you? What gets your giddy going?
MS: I have a lot of funny friends.
TJ: You don’t say.
MS: I swear to you, I have had 500,000 funny dinners. So funny to me is a great dinner, great cocktails, funny people, and a good vibe.
TJ: Let’s talk drinks. When you look at your hand, what is sloshing there?
MS: A cosmopolitan or white wine. Or, what my siblings and I all drink is rum and Cokes with a slice of lime. I’m not doing the Jack and Coke like you kids. When I was doing The Second City, I would always have a Rusty Nail. It was called a liquid Quaalude in the US and a kilt-lifter in Canada. You have one and you lift your kilt.
TJ: Your shoes are fantastic. Did you dress yourself?
MS: This is just stuff I had lying around. Dorothy-esque.
TJ: Let’s say it’s your final meal before you leave every human behind. You’re never going to see Steve Martin or any of them ever again. But you’re in charge of the menu. All that matters is you. What are you eating?
MS: I would order a Caesar salad, and then I’d go to roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, asparagus. And then for dessert, I’d go for ice cream. When I have guests at the house or Christmas or whatever it is… whenever they leave, and it’s just me, I will take that ice cream out of the freezer and leave it in the sink and let it melt. Because it’s like heroin.
TJ: I knew you were a man of distinction, but I didn’t realize you had this much distinction.
MS: I remember, in Canada, they didn’t have Baskin Robbins. My sister was going to the University of Michigan. I remember first experiencing pralines and cream, mocha almond fudge. And I would get up at 3 a.m. in the morning… I’d never tasted anything like it. So for my last meal I’d have a butterscotch sundae.
TJ: You had universal healthcare in Canada but not 31 Flavors? That seems like Canada’s priorities may be off.
MS: No. The first thing I did when I came to the US was go to a department store and squeeze the Charmin. How soft could it be? Talk about an ad campaign that worked.
TJ: And was it soft as my middle-aged midriff?
MS: Unbelievably soft. Started making out with it and they threw me out of the department store or wherever I was.
MS: I don’t eat red things. I wouldn’t eat a beet, I wouldn’t have a radish, and I don’t eat tomatoes. But I love ketchup and I love tomato sauce. But if someone hands me a turkey sandwich with tomato on it, the first thing I do is take it off.
TJ: Interesting. So you’re like a bull. Red inflames and enrages you.
MS: One time, my father was drinking milk from the quart, because he’s Irish, and I said, “Dad, be careful. I think that’s a little bit turned,” and he went “Hmmm… a little bit,” and kept drinking it. To this day, I’m traumatized. I don’t put milk in my coffee. I’ll put skim in my cereal, but just moist enough to cover the Raisin Bran.
TJ: So what tomato hurt you?
MS: I don’t know.
TJ: Pineapple on pizza?
MS: No. No, no, no, no, no. Mushroom and pepperoni.
TJ: What do you have in your pantry at all times?
MS: I have peanut butter, some tuna in a can. I make poached eggs in the morning.
TJ: That’s cooking-esque.
MS: Breakfast I can do. But I’ve never made a meal. I’ve never made a dinner. I can have a Balance Bar for breakfast, a Balance Bar for lunch, a Balance Bar for dinner, a sensible protein at the end of the night.
TJ: Okay, that makes sense.
MS: It doesn’t, really. It sounds kind of sad.
TJ: We’re San Diego Magazine. Do you have San Diego stories?
MS: I remember vividly staying at Hotel Del. I love the film Some Like It Hot, so that was exciting. Going to the zoo. That’s my image of San Diego.
TJ: So, not much. We are the souvenir cup of California, but we’re getting better.
MS: What do you know about Hamilton, Ontario? Probably not much.
TJ: I know they have healthcare and their red food sucks.
MS: Exactly.
TJ: What do you love about the resort experience?
MS: I love a good spa, but not the cucumbers. I would not eat a cucumber. You like all this stuff—you like all the foods, don’t you?
TJ: Well, not all. I’ve tried to like uni. All of my friends who’ve cooked in great restaurants say, “You have to like uni; it’s like the foie gras of the sea,” and my response is, “Really? Because it tastes like slimy gonads of a sea creature.”
MS: I’m weird because I would not eat a cucumber, but I do love escargot. I like sushi. I love steak. A good cheeseburger. But I eat a lot of chicken and turkey. And I think my favorite meal would be Thanksgiving—the mashed potatoes and turkey and dressing. In Canada, we don’t mash the potatoes because it feels too aggressive.
TJ: You just kind of stare at them and hope they’ll do their thing?
MS: I envy the foodie. I really do. I pass people painting a beautiful gorge, and I wish I could do that. But the only thing I can do is fill in “one” and then fill in “three.” I envy someone who can get joy out of cooking for three hours with a glass of white wine and youthful music playing. But me? I eat for energy.
TJ: Someone hands you a glass of white wine, and it has two cubes of ice in it. Does it activate your über-pretentious gene where you say, “Oh dear, oh my, nobody desecrates the terroir of the wine on my watch?”
MS: No, I take the glass, I down it in one gulp, and I say, “How dare you?” You know who does? Diane Keaton will take the best glass of red wine and put ice cubes in it.
TJ: You’ve been doing comedy for a couple years—what makes you get up and do what you do?
MS: Well, I think that you love doing it. It’s trickier in any career when you realize you’ve got the rent covered. Why do you want to keep doing it? The second you become complacent—or you realize the effort you would put in at 30, you’re not willing to put in at 60—then you should move aside.
TJ: And you’re not there yet, obviously. Do you ever see yourself getting to that point?
MS: I think after the third stroke I won’t be as active as I’d hoped.
Troy Johnson is the magazine’s award-winning food writer and humorist, and a long-standing expert on Food Network. His work has been featured on NatGeo, Travel Channel, NPR, and in Food Matters, a textbook of the best American food writing.
As summertime inches closer to the shores of San Diego, there are plenty of reasons to be ecstatic. For one thing, there’s the impending arrival of the summer solstice (Sunday), and three days before that, Del Mar’s own Summer Solstice will return for its yearly golden hour. There are also plenty of local Juneteenth events, such as Kinfolk Fest, the Cooper Family Foundation’s Juneteenth Celebration, and The Freedom Table, a new, food-centered event from the originators of Juneteenth San Marcos. We’re also less than three weeks away from America’s 250th anniversary, and the celebrations range from the San Diego History Center’s America 250: San Diego 1776-2026 to NASCAR’s weekend of racing at Naval Base Coronado.
Cbar has planned a week’s worth of festivities to mark its first birthday, and everyone can get in on the fun. The 1-Year Anniversary Week celebrations continue with a special edition of the Sips & Shells craft series ($50) on Tuesday from 6-8:30 p.m., half-off pastries with any purchase of a barista drink (plus an anniversary summer wine flight) on Wednesday and a five-course winemaker dinner on Thursday from 6-9 p.m. ($130). Finally, the birthday bash will conclude with live music on Friday (Will Fedak) and Saturday (Cappo Kelley) from 6-9 p.m.
2917 State Street, Carlsbad
Taste of Little Italy
June 16 & 17
Little Italy’s annual food crawl has so many options that it warrants splitting into two evenings, each boasting a diverse lineup of 20 neighborhood vendors. During the Taste of Little Italy, taking place Tuesday and Wednesday from 4-8 p.m., attendees can make their way from the Piazza della Famiglia to nearby dining destinations for bites like esquites, sausage rolls, hot chicken tenders, and forkfuls of handmade pasta. Each night will also include live music and stops for drinks, desserts, and vegetarian items. Tickets are $71 per day.
As spring makes its golden transition into summer, welcome the new season with open arms and a big appetite during Del Mar Village’s marquee tasting event this Thursday from 5-8 p.m. With the Summer Solstice celebrating its 20th anniversary, this year’s iteration will include dozens of food and drink offerings from Del Mar Village vendors, soulful tunes from Christian Jules Taylor, live art by Sarah O’Connor, and wave-crashing views at Powerhouse Park. General admission (21+) is $157 and comes with unlimited tastings as well as a commemorative tasting glass, while VIP tickets are sold out; proceeds support the Del Mar Village Association.
1658 Coast Boulevard, Del Mar
The Freedom Table at TERI Campus of Life
June 19
After hosting the first-ever Juneteenth San Marcos festival in 2025, Lionel and Natalie Saulsberry have upped the ante with The Freedom Table, an elevated observance of community, culture, and the culinary arts. This Friday from 4-9 p.m. at TERI Campus of Life, guests can enjoy storytelling, art installations, live music, curated cocktails, and a chef-led dining experience, all in recognition of Juneteenth’s lasting importance. Ticket options include general admission ($261), plus two charitable ticket options: supporter ($313) and impact ($417), with a portion of sales going towards the youth nonprofit Achievement in Motion.
555 Deer Springs Road, San Marcos
Talladega Nights Father’s Day Brunch at ARLO
June 21
In honor of NASCAR’s Coronado debut and Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, ARLO is throwing a Father’s Day brunch for the dads who want to go fast. This Sunday from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m., patrons can order from ARLO’s regular brunch menu, as well as a trio of holiday specials: the Dad’s Day Steak and Fries ($64), the Fit For a King Muffuletta Sandwich ($29), and the Big Daddy Brookie ($14). This shake and bake-approved meal will also include a DJ, cigar rollings, whiskey tastings and a Ricky Bobby costume contest. Reservations can be made online.
Ryan Hardison is a freelance arts and entertainment writer and recent graduate of San Diego State. When he's not staring at his laptop, he's likely eating an adobada burrito or getting sunburnt at the beach.
My 15-year-old daughter tried to steal our car this week, so I’m ready to become a NASCAR dad. It would be appropriate discipline. We just relocated to a nice suburb within walking distance of her high school. The suburbs are like living in a Tesla commercial. I am pretty far from the wealthiest dad in this neighborhood (I am the least wealthy dad in this neighborhood), more than a few engineering degrees short of being in the running.
I’m fairly certain watching NASCAR is a violation of our HOA and a violation of my daughter’s emotional HOA. But NASCAR hits San Diego this weekend and I have a fever I’ve never felt before. I want to watch 111 drivers do dangerous things in cars and trucks on an active military base in the ocean. Since my lifelong exposure to NASCAR is limited to Talladega Nights and every single iteration of the movie Cars, I can only base my plan of attack on oafish stereotypes.
So while other neighbor dads are sizing bubble jackets for their golf simulators, I’m gonna grow a Ricky Bobby, run the extension cord for the TV out into the carport we share with six other condos, fill a cooler with a proper 80-20 split of Hamm’s and Mountain Dew, treat a lawn chair like an ADU, and spend a few hours yelling ohsheeeit as if it’s a single, nine-syllable word.
The quality parents in our neighborhood seem to be able to sense anytime a vehicle breaches the 6 MPH threshold, so I should gather a crowd pretty fast. They may come over with strongly worded emails in their hearts, but one glimpse of Shane van Gisbergen and hometown hero Jimmy Johnson guzzling the last remaining drops of gasoline on the planet in a dazzling display of carmanship—they’ll join my NASCAR pop-up party.
By the time my daughter brings her friends over, we’ll have a real welcoming committee.
Because, like I said, my daughter tried to steal my car.
She wasn’t going to Mexico. But while Claire and I were off doing businessy stuff to afford my teen’s skincare rituals, she and a friend decided to teach themselves stick shift. She’s never driven a stick before. I’m not saying she has, but if she has driven a vehicle at all—it would have been done in a remote, abandoned parking lot where the only possible thing she could destroy was the concept of driving itself.
But a couple TikTok videos later, she and her friend felt a certain level of mastery had been achieved, and they gave it a go. They backed our VW Bug out of the garage with a series of stalls and transmission seizures, and managed to get it into the carport, attempting to do “donuts.” That’s when I got a call from a resident, who had taken an active interest in this experiment.
Which got me wondering about the power and might of vehicles. Turns out, even at carport speeds there exists a bit of potential fireworks. A garage door could become not a garage door anymore. At 145 MPH on Naval Base Coronado this weekend (don’t worry, they slow down to 100 MPH for turns), NASCAR drivers are essentially doorbell ditching gods. I didn’t register the temperature after my daughter’s trial run, but the track at NASCAR races usually hits a cool 130-150 degrees, enough to lightly sear some Nikes (the tires themselves hover in the 200 degree range).
And that is at least part of our fascination with NASCAR (the other fascination is the legendary pit parties, which either set humanity back a few evolutionary links, or advance it by the same amount of links). These drivers do something all of us do every day in a very efficient, boring way and take it to its extreme impulse. Grace and precision at the thunderous edge of shit going terribly wrong. Most of us have, upon seeing the price of California gas, wanted to pile our worldly possessions into a Honda Pilot and see how fast we could make it to our new home in Vegas. So NASCAR drivers are acting on our own wildest impulse.
Troy Johnson is the magazine’s award-winning food writer and humorist, and a long-standing expert on Food Network. His work has been featured on NatGeo, Travel Channel, NPR, and in Food Matters, a textbook of the best American food writing.
Music drifts across the fairway. Someone’s in flip flops. The Pacific flashes in the distance. Sun peeks onto shoulders through the palm trees. It’s spring, technically, but the air reads suspiciously like summer. At the par-3 course at Liberty Station, the longest hole barely stretches past 120 yards, and no one looks particularly interested in becoming the next PGA legend.
“I got dragged to a par-3 course in 2019 —The Loma Club—and it was way more my jam,” says Ronan Galvin, CEO and co-founder of Sunday Golf, a company that makes lightweight golf bags for players who’d rather carry less and laugh more. “It was a lot different than the stereotypical ideas you have about golf where it’s kind of long, uptight, and exclusive.”
Galvin spent over a decade in the golf industry working in product development, sourcing and manufacturing. But he didn’t grow up swinging clubs. Basketball and football were more his speed. What clicked for him was a simpler, more relaxed kind of play: shorter rounds and weekend games built for fun rather than formality. The kind of golf that resonated for him felt accessible, effortless, and surprisingly his lifestyle.
Courtesy of Sunday Golf
He noticed something else, too.
On a course where five clubs do the job, players were still lugging 14. So Galvin built something smaller. Lighter. A bag designed specifically for par-3 rounds, the Loma Bag is sleek, functional, and refreshingly unfussy. It’s practical minimalism in a sport known for excess.
Sunday Golf was slated to launch in January 2020. Then, COVID hit. Shipments stalled; lost at sea. The future felt shaky. But the series of catastrophes for the young company turned out to be anything but: By the time inventory arrived that August, golf had become one of the few activities people could safely do.
“It introduced and brought so many people back to the game,” Galvin says. “It created a habit for a lot of people, which is a big reason golf is on its growth trajectory.”
It turns out Americans can’t get enough of golf. Forty-eight million of them swung clubs last year, a 41 percent jump since 2019, and the National Golf Foundation says the total could top 50 million by the end of 2026.
The brand rode this unlikely momentum. Since 2021, Sunday Golf has expanded into larger lightweight bags and continues evolving from there. A major reason for the company’s success is its approachability, a value so central that it’s literally written on the office walls in the form of the company’s guiding mission: “Get 500,000 golfers having more fun by 2027.” This goal is measured, fittingly, by golf bags sold.
Sunday Golf has already passed 300,000 bags sold.
But the numbers aren’t the point.
Courtesy of Sunday Golf
“To remind the world that life is meant to be enjoyed,” Galvin says of the brand’s why. In an era dominated by screens, golf offers something analog. “People are outside, touching grass with their friends. A golf bag is a golf bag, but our products are vehicles to help support that.”
Unlike legacy golf giants promising proximity to Rory McIlroy-level greatness, Sunday Golf leans into what Galvin jokingly calls “diet golf” or “golf light”—weekend rounds, driving range sessions, company scrambles. The bags are built for the casual golfer, and the fit feels obvious.
That philosophy resonates across Southern California, where year-round sunshine means golf courses never really hibernate for winter. As Galvin puts it, “the laid-back lifestyle of San Diego kind of seeps into everyone’s veins.”
Sometimes the validation arrives via email: a 76-year-old customer is able to walk the course again because their golf bag is lighter. Parents are able to take their children out with Sunday Golf’s kids line.
For Galvin, that’s the real win. Not perfection. Not prestige. Just more people outside, enjoying themselves. In San Diego, that might be the most natural mission of all.
Isabella Dallas is a freelance writer for San Diego Magazine and the Arts and Culture Editor at The Daily Aztec in her final year at San Diego State University. She previously worked as an editorial intern for SDM, but when she’s not writing, you can find her trying the best coffee spots in SD, devouring the latest rom-coms, and indulging in anything and everything pop culture.
Kelly H. Harfouche, founder of KQ Aesthetic Society, knows firsthand that cosmetic treatments like fillers, neurotoxins, and microneedling, can not only enhance a person’s appearance and restore confidence, they have the power to truly change a person’s life. An expert injector has the ability to tailor treatments to each individual patient’s anatomy and goals for personalized results. Harfouche, a board-certified nurse practitioner, has spent nearly a decade perfecting her craft as an aesthetic injector and integrating her multifaceted artistic skills with precision patient care. Her commitment to continual education and training, plus a passion for helping people look—and feel—their best, set KQ Aesthetic Society apart in a sea of local medspas.
For many people considering nonsurgical treatments, the intent is to look refreshed and refined. KQ Aesthetic Society’s philosophy eschews a cookie cutter approach that bases treatments around units, instead working to understand each person’s unique goals, then curating a treatment plan to fit that vision. Harfouche focuses on “inclusive luxury,” the belief that everyone deserves access to aesthetic treatments, respective of budget restrictions. She develops long-standing trusted relationships with her patients, and works with each one to achieve their aesthetic objectives and address the underlying causes of their concerns.
“For me, forming an honest and open relationship with every patient who walks through the door is essential. This means understanding them on a deeper level and meeting them where they are to define and achieve their individual goals,” she says.
Drawing on her artistic background, which inspired her transition into medical aesthetics, Harfouche sees each client as a “unique canvas.” Rather than relying on standardized procedures, the practitioner’s distinctive approach combines her profound understanding of the physiological and anatomical changes associated with aging with an unwavering commitment to ongoing education about the newest products and their mechanisms of action. Her goal is to make each patient feel beautiful in their own skin and to embrace their individuality.
She has also pioneered a way to combine her talent for aesthetic artistry with her philanthropic nature. Harfouche is one of only a handful of providers using dermal fillers to treat patients with lip asymmetry and scarring resulting from cleft lip surgery. Patients travel from around the country for this transformative treatment, noting increased confidence and a restored identity. She hopes to eventually launch a training program to help fill the void in this space.
“My passion has always been connecting with people and giving back in any capacity that I can,” she says. In the rapidly advancing landscape of aesthetic medicine, you can place your confidence in Harfouche and KQ Aesthetic Society to deliver exceptional care. To learn more or book a consultation, please visit kqaestheticsociety.com.
The initial project will be a landmark September edition of San Diego Magazine—fully dedicated to the people, ideas, and identities of the city’s creative community. After its release, those stories and more will extend across six months of integrated digital, social, and multi-platform coverage. Art & Design District and SDFC Playmakers will serve as co-publishers of the expanded editorial vision.
The Art & Design District is evolving into San Diego’s first home for the performing arts at iconic downtown venues like the Civic Theatre and Jacobs Music Center alongside research and development programs focused on artist live/work spaces, galleries, studios, and New School of Architecture & Design.
“[The Art & Design District initiative] is a long-term investment in San Diego’s creative life and the creative workforce that powers our cultural experiences and creative industries here at home and across the world,” says Jonathan Glus, Prebys Senior Fellow for Art & Design in Residence at Downtown San Diego Partnership. “But infrastructure alone is not enough. The public needs to see, understand, and participate in what’s being built and why. Joining as co-publisher of this issue means helping ensure that the story of San Diego’s creative community—its artists, its institutions, its future—gets told at the level of ambition the moment requires.”
San Diego has entered a defining chapter in how the region invests in its creative community, with civic and philanthropic leaders working alongside artists, brands, institutions, and people to chart a new model of public-private support for arts and culture.
As digital co-publishers of San Diego Magazine‘s arts and culture coverage, SDFC’s Playmakers partnership will include a six-month integrated collaboration designed to sustain the visibility of San Diego’s creative community well beyond a single issue.
“The Playmakers program was built on the belief that the creative community is essential to what makes San Diego, San Diego,” says Sebastian, San Diego FC’s SVP of Brand and Innovation. “Investing in local media that tells those stories—and reaches the audiences who need to hear them—is one of the most direct ways we can support the artists, organizations, and cultural leaders shaping this city’s future. We’re proud to step in as digital co-publishers of San Diego Magazine‘s arts and culture coverage and the founding partner of this new editorial program.”
Under the partnerships:
The Art & Design District joins as Co-Publisher of the September 2026 Arts & Culture Issue, undwriting San Diego Magazine‘s most ambitious editorial event of the year.
SDFC Playmakers joins as Digital Co-Publisher of San Diego Magazine‘s arts and culture coverage, founding a six-month integrated partnership that includes co-publisher presence in the September issue.
The partnership represents a new model for regional media: civic and cultural institutions providing the resources required for sustained, ambitious, local editorial media focused on the neighborhoods it serves.
“For 78 years, the magazine has told the story of arts and culture here,” says Claire Johnson, CEO of San Diego Magazine. “But the fragmentation of traditional media has made it harder than ever to cover this community at the depth and scale it deserves. SDFC Playmakers and the Art & Design District have recognized something critical: Media is not separate from the civic conversation, it’s the stage for the conversation.”
San Diego Magazine retains full editorial control over all reporting, features, and original content produced under both partnerships.
“Our role in this ecosystem is to tell the story of San Diego’s culture and provide context for our readers.” says Johnson. “These partnerships give us the resources to do justice to that responsibility—and to extend that commitment well beyond a single issue. Our readers also deserve to know exactly how this work was funded. I’m grateful to our partners, and to the arts and culture community in San Diego for letting us tell this story.”
The September Arts & Culture Issue will be released early September 2026, with digital, social, video, and podcast coverage rolling out through early 2027.
ABOUT SAN DIEGO MAGAZINE For 78 years, San Diego Magazine has been the region’s leading lifestyle and culture publication, reaching approximately 6 million readers monthly across print, digital, newsletter, and social platforms. Owned and operated locally, the magazine has been the connective tissue of San Diego’s cultural conversation since 1948.
ABOUT SDFC PLAYMAKERS The Playmakers program is an ongoing initiative that seeks to identify and showcase the talent of San Diego creatives who are contributing to the culture, substance, and flow of our community. We want to bring the San Diego community together by marrying football and creativity to provide a platform for these Playmakers who are positively impacting our culture by pushing the boundaries through innovative ideas. The goal is to create a program that consistently provides growth and exposure opportunities for San Diego creatives, while shaping an authentic direction for San Diego FC’s brand and community-building process. Through this program we hope to contribute to the creative fabric of our city by providing paid jobs, projects, collaborations, as well as networking opportunities for Playmakers.
ABOUT THE ART & DESIGN DISTRICT The Art & Design District is a Downtown San Diego Partnership initiative, supported by the Prebys Foundation, working to shape a connected, vibrant arts and design district in downtown San Diego. Led by Art and Culture Expert Fellow Jonathan Glus, the initiative convenes artists, cultural leaders, civic stakeholders, and residents in service of a downtown that reflects the creativity, identity, and diversity of the region. Learn more at downtownsandiego.org.
Golf doesn’t have to mean stiff collars, pleated khakis, whisper-talking on the green, or pretending your sand trap fails aren’t actually hilarious. Around San Diego, a handful of rebel courses are quietly rewriting the rules of an afternoon round, making them more relaxed, more social, and yes, more dog-friendly. These are the fairways where leashed pups pad alongside their people; where a suspenseful search for a golf ball in the bushes or—no!no!no!no!no!—in the water hazards are part of the fun; where every polite golf clap comes with a smiling, panting audience. If your ideal golf day includes a walk, a drink, and your dog riding shotgun, this is your teeing ground.
For proof that a golf course can be approachable without being boring, look no further than Emerald Isle Golf Course in Oceanside. The executive course delivers consistently beautiful greens, rolling elevations, and just enough challenge to keep you engaged, not stressed—unless your pup breaks free and runs for the rolling elevations, in which case you’ll be very engaged and maybe a little stressed. Locals love holes like the canal carry on No. 3 and the wildlife-dotted pond on No. 16, while golden-hour sunsets steal the show most evenings. Dogs are genuinely welcome here, not an afterthought. Grab them a slice of watermelon from the clubhouse, pose in the cart for Instagram cameos with an Emerald Isle scarf (it doubles as an adorable bandana for your four-legged friend), or introduce them to the course’s resident pups like Bogey, the assistant director of instruction, and shop dogs Karl and Frank. Affordable, friendly, and no-frills, Emerald Isle feels like golf you and doggo can’t wait to play.
660 S El Camino Real, Oceanside
Courtesy of The Loma Club
The Loma Club, Point Loma
The Loma Club is where golf goes social. Set in Liberty Station, this historic 9-hole par-3 course trades country club stiffness for an easy, neighborhood energy that feels distinctly San Diego. The course is walkable and unintimidating, with skyline and harbor views doing most of the heavy lifting. The Loma Club is just dipping its paws into the dog-friendly trend, and welcomes them on the mini course and off the fairways. Though your pup is the epicenter of your world, the patio at Loma Club is the real star, hosting live music, trivia (even the smartest dogs are stumped), and cocktails that rival golf itself. You don’t even need clubs to enjoy it. Show up with your dog, wander the course, grab something from the clubhouse, and stay for hours. You’ll feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
Calling Goat Hill Park a golf course almost undersells it. Known as the “People’s Park,” this historic Oceanside staple operates more like a community space where golf happens. Expect dogs strolling alongside the players, music streaming from magnetic speakers attached to golf carts, beginners smacking balls alongside serious talent, and locals and tourists sharing the same teeing grounds with a few four-legged besties trotting alongside. Saved from redevelopment in 2014, Goat Hill embraces a raw, unpolished look that’s both intentional and refreshing. With ocean views, a “19th-hole” fire-pit, and zero pretense, it’s golf at its most human…because: dogs.
2323 Goat Hill Dr, Oceanside
Courtesy of Omni La Costa Resort & Spa
The Club at Omni La Costa, La Costa
Ready to add your pup’s name to the illustrious list of golf greats? Same. At the iconic The Club at Omni La Costa, the vibe is equal parts championship-caliber and casually fabulous. Emerald fairways so perfect you’ll hesitate to step on them, palm-lined paths practically begging for a golden-hour strut, and rolling greens that ripple in the sun. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, your four-legged plus-one enters the chat: For members and overnight guests, the La Costa lifestyle rolls out the (very chic) welcome mat for your (leashed) pup, turning tee times into a social affair of breezy, citrus-kissed luxury and leisurely strolls. Really—what are you waiting for? Even your dog’s got a standing invite.
Isabella Dallas is a freelance writer for San Diego Magazine and the Arts and Culture Editor at The Daily Aztec in her final year at San Diego State University. She previously worked as an editorial intern for SDM, but when she’s not writing, you can find her trying the best coffee spots in SD, devouring the latest rom-coms, and indulging in anything and everything pop culture.
AVRP Studios’ tradition for Design Excellence and Innovation began in 1976 with Doug Austin, FAIA, in Solana Beach, California. The firm has since grown to complete major projects throughout the United States and Canada. We think of ourselves as a family and we care deeply about people. We want to inspire, help make their lives richer and more complete through our efforts. We believe that architecture is one of the most important art forms because of the impact it can have on the lives of those it touches. We’re delighted to have been recognized with over 150 awards for design excellence.
703 16th Street, Suite 200, San Diego, California 92101 | 619-704-2700 | avrpstudios.com
