Edna Harper asked for one thing before she died: that the next owner of her iconic Mission Hills home keep the street-facing “garden.” Which is essentially asking the future residents to be curators of a whimsical and obsessive, delightful and strange, classic, cartoony and slightly unhinged sculpture museum. Harper, who died in January at the age of 87, poured her heart into this topiary bonanza, and it’s right there for everyone to see.
Like thousands (or millions, there’s no formal estimation) of others, I had scrolled through the photos of this topiary fantasia before I ever stood in front of it. As of this writing, Harper’s Topiary Garden is No. 227 of 2,686 Things to Do in San Diego on Tripadvisor, making it a popular tourist stop between fish tacos, a day at the beach, and a stroll in nearby Presidio Park. But crowdsourced photos quickly snapped in direct overhead sunlight tend to flatten the shapes that, while meticulously manicured, refuse to behave. In person, Harper’s figures seem to be in motion and, given that they’re sculpted out of bushes, they literally are. (I’d love to see a maintenance timelapse.)
Animals emerge out of shrubs as if they have impish ideas. A fanciful whale, a man in a sombrero, a random spiral twisting skyward, otherworldly creatures that defy categorization—all of these exist together in a neatly trimmed cascade pouring down the steep front slope of the property.
You don’t accidentally end up with a yard like this. You decide to create it and choose to cultivate it, and then you keep deciding and cultivating—for decades.
Although a consistent parade of looky-loos have visited over the years, most have never been inside the home, which is on the market for the first time since Harper and her husband, Alex (who died in 2020), bought it in 1969.
Courtesy of Christopher Delgado
“It was and is a landmark,” says Christopher Delgado, Harper’s cousin and trustee of her estate. “She specialized in Chinese brush art and Japanese art called ‘sumi-e,’ a form of Zen art. She was a creator … she was very, very talented.”
I can’t stop thinking about Harper, sitting at the kitchen window, looking down at her masterpiece and the watchers watching it. The image of Harper enjoying the joy the public took from her handiwork makes me want to understand the woman behind the work. Because topiary, as an art form, has always been a little… loaded.
Topiary has always had a bit of an identity crisis—and that’s part of its charm.
When I think of topiary, I immediately think: Fancy. French bourgeoisie. Palace of Versailles. Mais non! Topiary has its origins in Rome. According to the Center forArchitecture, the word “topiary” has its origins in late 16th century English, which combines the Greek word “topos” for place and the Latin word “topiarius” for ornamental gardner.
Photo Credit: Casiel Sanchez
Topiary started as a flex, really. A Julius-Caesar-adjacent pastime for the most ancient one-percenters; an expression accessible only to those with land, labor (or, put more plainly, enslaved people), and spare time. In its earliest form, topiary was about control: bending nature into submission. It’s where symmetry and precision signaled order, taste, and money.
But with the collapse of the Roman Empire and the Dark Ages that followed, the topiary almost preceded the Dodo Bird in extinction. Monks quietly kept the art alive by growing herbs and manicuring the gardens and hedges within the courtyards of their monasteries.
It wasn’t until the Renaissance nine centuries later when topiary saw a resurgence—ah, Versailles!—and this form of pleasure gardening went into overdrive. Nature became architecture. The French pruned their foliage into iconic cones and obelisks, walls to keep out the riffraff, and ornamentation designed to impress. The Dutch got a little freaky, as they do, and sculpted complicated figures, animals, and even furniture.
Inevitably, the pendulum swung again, and topiary fell out of favor once it became viewed as excessive and even absurd. Even so, it never really disappeared. It just migrated to exist in a completely different paradigm. It was less Versailles and more, “What if this bush were a mouse?”
Fast forward to Disneyland in 1963. That year, the park opened a topiary garden in Fantasyland with verdant sculptures of giraffes, camels, elephants, and hippos all inspired by Denmark’s Tivoli Gardens.
Disney’s interpretation of topiary—which is still a fixture of park decor today—falls more into the realm of imagination and possibility than restrained aristocratic performance.
That’s one of the stranger throughlines of topiary: It moves from elite to everyday, from stiff and formal to playful and silly, from symbol of control to something steeped in personal expression.
Which is what makes a place like Harper’s Topiary Garden so compelling and the woman behind it utterly intriguing.
Courtesy of Christopher Delgado
Born in 1938, Edna Harper was something of a Renaissance woman. She worked for two decades as a dental assistant, and she later became a notable painter, calligrapher, and stained glass artist (the house itself is adorned with her work). But she was also savvy in other ways.
“She graduated [with a degree in dental assisting] from San Diego City College and wanted to have her own money and her independence,” says Delgado. “Most people didn’t know that she was such a great businessperson, and for many years, she managed all of [the couple’s] properties on her own. She was great at building relationships … she touched a lot of people’s lives.”
Her friend and fellow artist Julie Roth attributes her artistry to her relationship with Harper. The pair met two decades ago at an art class at Oasis in Mission Valley.
“She was just the most encouraging person,” Roth says. “I didn’t know I could paint, but apparently I can. She was a tremendous person.”
I asked Roth what she’d want people to know about her friend.
“Her empathy and diplomacy,” she says. “[She had] a sharp eye for other talent. She spotted me, but I’m not the only one she encouraged.”
That sharp eye suggests attention, the same kind it takes to look at a bush and also see a whale. Or a spiral. Or something that doesn’t exist yet, but could.
Photo Credit: Casiel Sanchez
Nothing about Harper’s life suggests someone chasing attention. And yet, she ended up creating something that demanded hers, and she took great pleasure in seeing people enjoy her creations.
The garden didn’t happen all at once. It grew out of years of travel, observation, and collaboration. Harper often traveled without her husband, always returning from trips to Japan, Thailand, and other parts of Asia with ideas and impressions captured through sketches in a notebook.
“She would get creative ideas from her travels … she’d come back with ideas and pictures, and they’d go about cutting that topiary bush into shape,” Delgado says.
For the past 25 years, she had the help of her gardener, Pedro Duran—who’s still employed by the trust and has maintained the garden since Harper’s passing.
In the early topiary years, Harper worked closely with Duran in what Delgado describes as a kind of shared “labor of love.” She would share her sketches and together the pair would shape the bushes into something deliberate.
Photo Credit: Casiel Sanchez
“As she got older, she would increasingly draw her ideas and [Duran] would [carry them out],” Delgado says.
That collaboration reinforces that her garden was not an act of control, but one of creative collaboration and translation. From memory to sketch. From sketch to shrub. From something seen, somewhere else in the world, to something rooted in the soil of a steep hillside in Mission Hills.
Harper also made sure that the lawn’s boisterous energy made its way into the house on Union Street. Apparently, she threw legendary parties.
“Fairly regularly, in the late ’70s and ’80s, she would host Super Bowl parties with 200 people. She had TVs everywhere,” Delgado says.
It’s not hard to square that image with the stillness of the garden which, despite the careful pruning and intentional design, is voluminous and nearly vibrating.
And, damnit, I wish I’d watched some sportsball on her shocking number of TVs and wandered out front to the topiary—slightly wine-drunk with an orange smear of wing sauce on the corner of my mouth—to marvel at the leafy hippo and this woman’s elaborately creative life.
Photo Credit: Casiel Sanchez
I can hear Delgado smiling as we talk on the phone. He’s going back to his childhood, when he talks about being one of the cousins Harper doted on when he visited.
“The adults were inside, and we’d be out in the camper,” he says, “and [Harper] would come check on us, make sure we were okay. She always had gifts for us. If it was Easter, there were chocolate eggs. If it was Christmas, stockings. We were the beneficiaries of them not having kids because they showered us with all their love.”
Knowing this and taking a look at her garden again, you can see it’s not the work of a shut-away curmudgeon. It’s wondrous, inviting, and the right kind of weird.
“Ultimately, she did it for herself and family, first and foremost,” Delgado says of Harper’s Topiary Garden.
Harper’s one request of whomever buys her home may seem like a focus on basic maintenance, about hedges and upkeep and preserving something visually striking. But it’s really about attention. And maybe, too, about legacy. Not hers, per se, but the legacy of community, relationships, art, creativity, possibility, adventure, culture, dedication, and love.
For now, it’s there for anyone to see, and its future is in the hands of whomever comes next.
Aaryn Belfer is a writer and editor specializing in nonfiction across art, architecture, and culture. Once upon a time, she wrote a provocative column for San Diego CityBeat (RIP). She was a runner up in the 2025 Matchbook Stories contest at the San Diego Central Library and is irrationally happy about it. Currently in her Soft Girl Era, Aaryn has expensive taste in (mostly flat) shoes and will choose a great art exhibit or live jazz concert over almost anything else. Except, possibly, Javier Bardem.
On February 28, 1926, the Fine Arts Gallery of San Diego (now called the San Diego Museum of Art) opened its Plateresque doors to 3,000 guests for opening day. Over the next century, the museum changed with the times—even once functioning as a naval hospital after Pearl Harbor. This year, the museum is celebrating its 100th birthday with an exhibit (open through January 24, 2027) featuring photographs, ephemera, and film footage spanning the museum’s history.
Courtesy of Tim Novara
Free Concerts at Spreckels Organ Pavilion
Every Sunday from 2 to 3 p.m., stop by the historic Spreckels Organ Pavilion for a free concert presented by the City of San Diego on the largest outdoor organ in the world (more than 5,000 pipes). The pavilion seats 2,400 for performances by the civic organist or guest artists.
Some think natural history museums are just cemeteries for dioramas that haven’t received an update since the Reagan administration. When it comes to The Nat, which just finished a $7.5 million rejuvenation, they’re totally wrong. The museum debuted a new rooftop that replaces its 25-year-old atrium. The old roof created a greenhouse effect that steamed up some exhibits, so the new one—which includes 200 solar panels and better temperature control—will help preserve the artifacts inside. Each Friday in the summer, The Nat also becomes one of the season’s vibiest hotspots during Nat at Night, with food from places like Wolf in the Woods and The Craft Taco, bars and signature cocktails on several floors, and a rooftop DJ.
Fleet Science Theater Remodel
The Fleet Science Center just received its most significant update since the 1990s. It expanded its exhibit space by 20 percent and introduced a newly designed entrance gallery (formerly the IMAX theater lobby) that includes free exhibits for visitors who want a taste of the science without paying an admission fee. The former ticketing area now houses the Mindbender Mansion exhibit, and there’s a new café, Element 8, that will, of course, sell the center’s famous soft serve.
September is San Diego’s unofficial second summer—the crowds thin, the weather stays warm, and the city’s calendar somehow gets even busier. This month brings stadium-sized rock shows, Broadway’s buzziest comedy, a new anime convention, world-premiere theater, gallery openings, food festivals, and the first signs of spooky season. Whether you’re ready to lean into fall or determined to keep summer going, here are the best things to do in San Diego this September.
As Guns N’ Roses storm into decade five, their appetite for destruction persists. During their Snapdragon Stadium concert, hear the hard rock anthems, new material and a set from The Black Crowes.
9/23
Kehlani is proof that the romance and earnest sensuality of old-school R&B will never go out of style. Hear her take it back to the aughts at Viejas Arena.
From the silver screen to The Old Globe stage, John Carney will Begin Again (again) with a world premiere musical adaptation featuring new songs—courtesy of Train—and a story overflowing with hope.
9/12-10/17
The concept of work is a guiding principle for San Diego native and multidisciplinary creative noé olivas. Observe his community-informed approach via Tierra y Cielo (Earth and Sky) at Best Practice Gallery.
9/18-10/25
Two workers grapple with the weight of their roles at a temporary migrant shelter in Mario Vega’s world premiere play Our Lady of the San Diego Convention Center, set for citywide performances.
9/26-2/28/2027
Luminous visions of peace and the Punjabi-American roots of Rupinder Kaloti inform The Gathering, a wondrous unification of family foretold via paintings at Oceanside Museum of Art.
9/29-10/4
It’s Mary Todd Lincoln’s world and we’re just living in it. See the presidential paramour barrel to her way to stardom at the Civic Theatre during Oh, Mary!, Cole Escola’s political spoof.
Courtesy of SeaWorld
More Fun Things to Do in San Diego This Month
9/5 & 9/6
Pros and Con(vention)s: Anime San Diego will debut at the San Diego Convention Center with cosplayers, panels and more than 400 vendors well-versed in Japanese animation.
9/11-10/31
Scaredy cats beware: SeaWorld San Diego’s Howl-O-Scream embraces frights forged in darkness. Enjoy an ominous lineup of live shows, scare zones and bloody bars ahead of Halloween.
9/12
The best parts of Artivál and the Alley Cat Art Walk have united for the free Alley Cat Art Fest, an all-day outing for live music and immersive artwork in Downtown El Cajon.
9/12 & 9/13
Take a Grecian vacation for a fraction of the price during the annual Cardiff Greek Festival, two days of immersive cuisine and culture—with plenty of dancing—on the Encinitas coast.
9/13-9/20
Step away from the stove! The California Restaurant Association has eight days of eating experiences with your name on it. During San Diego Restaurant Week, explore by meal, neighborhood or cuisine for your personal dining plan.
9/16
Nourish yourself with an all-inclusive spread of Pacific Beach eats and locally-crafted artwork during the HeArt of PB Restaurant Walk on Garnet Avenue.
9/19
When it comes to stand-up comedy, Chelsea Handler is always ready to roast. See Handler tell anecdotes and skewer an assemblage of victims during her Balboa Theatre performance.
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.
A Rare Look Inside Callaway Golf’s San Diego Test Center
The Ely Callaway Performance Center is where tour-level fittings, cutting-edge technology, and golf equipment you can’t buy yet all come together
Courtesy of Ely Callaway Performance Center
By Tina Mickelson
“Come test something.”
Those are quite possibly my three favorite words in the English language—all due respect to “I love you” or the highly underrated “you were right.”
I’ve been a PGA Golf Professional since 1994, and yes, full bias disclosure, a Callaway Golf Ambassador for 18 years. One of the bonuses that comes with that combo is access to the Ely Callaway Performance Center—a place so exclusive it gives “velvet rope” vibes.
Originally opened in 2006 as a highly functional (yet not exactly breathtaking) test facility, the ECPC got a serious glow-up in 2018 when Gil Hanse (along with partner Geoff Shackelford) turned it into what can only be described as a fully engineered golf playground. Hanse is no stranger to golf course renovations. In 2024, he completed an extensive redesign of the Omni La Costa North Course in Carlsbad, so it could host the NCAA Division 1 Golf Championships. He also worked on acclaimed courses like Winged Foot, Merion Golf Club, and Oakmont Country Club.
In just two months, it went from a standard test center and R&D lab to a fully dialed-in golf playground.
Courtesy of Ely Callaway Performance Center
What was once purely practical is now intentionally designed to be both precise and inspiring. The targets are staggered with purpose—forcing creative shot-making while also calling you out on your actual distances (no more “that’s my 150-yard club … ish”).
Add a massive hitting area, bunkers and greens that mimic real on-course conditions, a “Himalayas” putting green (named for its roller-coaster undulations), an upgraded indoor putting lab, and a 120-decibel sound system blasting a very golf-appropriate playlist, and suddenly it’s a rare blend of high-performance testing facility and “don’t mind if I stay here all day” energy. Since this isn’t exactly open to the public, SDM asked me to take you behind the curtain.
As the iron gates part, it feels less like arriving at a practice facility and more like being granted backstage access at a rock concert—if the bandmembers were made entirely of launch monitors and perfectly manicured turf.
There are no mats. No guessing. No “I think that one felt good?” Just conditions that mirror exactly what tour players see in competition. Because when you’re testing equipment at this level, accuracy isn’t a bonus—it’s the whole point.
Even the sand matters. Different textures. Different densities. Because bunkers have personalities, too, and they are often unfriendly. And the golf balls? Brand. New. Not the usual “these have seen some things” range balls. New balls mean consistent spin, truer trajectory, and no surprises. The older a golf ball gets—and the more it’s been baked in the sun, scuffed, or generally lived a full and complicated life—the less reliable it becomes. Think of it like this: fresh ball, predictable performance; old range ball, slight chaos with a side of mystery.
I’m escorted to my personal hitting bay—basically a pop-up shaded oasis stocked with enough equipment to make a gear junkie weak in the knees. Shafts in every weight and profile imaginable. Heads lined up like they’re waiting to be drafted by their favorite team.
Courtesy of Ely Callaway Performance Center
Toptracer technology was patiently waiting to track every one of my swings, each shot instantly delivering ball speed, launch, spin, carry distance, and dispersion (a polite way of saying consistency, or lack thereof), so there’s no guessing—just data telling the truth, whether I like it or not.
We start with irons. Different heads, different feels, different results. When I miss a shot, the ball tends to leak right, so we check lie angle. A quick adjustment—2 degrees upright—and suddenly the clubface is consistently square at impact like it remembered its job. Effort level: down. Ball flight: improved. Confidence: creeping back.
Next we look at the different shaft options—because nothing says “fun afternoon” like realizing a higher kick point can change your entire golf identity. Shaft flex (how much the shaft bends during your swing) helps determine whether you get more height and distance or more control, while kick point (where the shaft bends the most) influences your ball flight—lower kick point for higher launch, higher kick point for a flatter, more penetrating shot. In other words, one small tweak and suddenly you’re hitting shots you’d normally only describe later, slightly exaggerated, over a glass of wine.
Then we move through the bag: hybrids, fairway woods, drivers, wedges. It’s a full rotation of “try this,” “now try this,” and “okay wait … THAT one.”
And yes—the new Quantum driver and fairway woods made an appearance. Without getting too deep in the weeds, they’re faster, more forgiving, and smarter (thanks to AI face mapping) than previous models. Translation: Even your mishits are now slightly less embarrassing. And they were not the only things getting tested. My patience was under attack because the driver and woods would not be available to the public for a good three months.
Courtesy of Ely Callaway Performance Center
Watching the fitting team work is like watching a Formula 1 pit crew. Clubs are swapped in seconds. Shafts tightened, adjusted, replaced. One minute you’re swinging something that seems “fine,” and the next, you’re holding a club that feels like it is a part of your DNA.
Then there’s the putter fitting. Drivers are physics. Putters are therapy. Inside the putting lab, sensors track everything—tempo, face angle, path—things you didn’t even know could be measured. Within minutes, my data politely informs me that my putter face is slightly closed at impact. Not shocking, but also not ideal.
A few quick adjustments—different head (with a bit more weight at the toe to discourage the face swinging closed at impact), shorter shaft (so I feel more over the ball, which helps my eyeline)—and suddenly the ball starts rolling exactly where I’m aimed.
Same stroke. Same golfer. Completely different outcome. If only the rest of life worked like that.
And then there’s the part that feels slightly classified. The ECPC isn’t “just” a performance center—it’s also where future equipment lives before the public even knows it exists. I’ve been there when certain clubs were basically under surveillance. Not “don’t touch,” but more “please keep phones in your pocket.”
It’s golf’s version of Area 51. Except instead of aliens, it’s drivers that won’t hit shelves for another year—and like I mentioned, waiting is not my strong suit.
Getting to test the newest equipment isn’t just a perk—it’s part of the job. It’s what allows me to stand in front of students and say, “I’ve tried it. I know what works and what doesn’t. And more importantly, I know why.” And if I happen to sprint to my car every time the phone rings and someone says, “Come test something” … well, that’s just professional courtesy.
Callaway isn’t the only place to get your swing analyzed and clubs fitted. You can stroll into big retail spots like The Golf Mart or Golf Galaxy, book a next-level session at a dedicated studio like Club Champion or True Spec Golf, test brand-specific gear at various manufacturing companies (many located in Carlsbad), or even combine a lesson and a fitting at GOLFTEC. And let’s not forget your local golf course, where fittings happen on actual turf, on a driving range you have some history with—many times with the golf professional who is familiar with your swing so they can give you valuable input. With this many options, there’s really no excuse, other than pride, to keep blaming your clubs.
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.
San Diego has always worshipped at the altar of good skin. Equal parts surf town, biotech hub, and wellness capital, it’s a city where lunch breaks become beach walks and sunscreen sits beside car keys by the front door. The products that get used here earn their place. With 266 sunny days a year and one of the highest rates of skin cancer in the country, we take skincare seriously. Dr. Bronner’s has been making soap in North County since the 1960s. Sun Bum was born in Encinitas and is now on shelves in over 70 countries. The tradition runs deep.
“Living in San Diego means your skin is exposed to sun almost every day of the year,” says Sue Zhang, M.D., a San Diego physician specializing in aesthetic medicine. “The products that tend to succeed here are the ones that can keep up with daily life, UV exposure, sweat, and movement, while still supporting long-term skin health.”
From a mineral powder that solves the sunscreen-over-makeup problem to an acorn oil serum rooted in Indigenous plant medicine, the local San Diego shelf is more diverse, and comprehensive, than most of us realize.
Courtesy of Kopari
Kopari
Sun Shield Body Glow SPF
A hydrating gel-oil hybrid that applies like a body treatment and leaves skin with a sheen that reads as healthy rather than oily. La Jolla–founded Kopari built its reputation on cold-pressed coconut oil sourced from family farms in the Philippines, and the Sun Shield Body Glow SPF is exactly that in summer form: coverage that doubles as skincare.
4-Skin
Morning Rub
The name is intentional. The founder got a basal cell carcinoma diagnosis that his dermatologist caught—she’s now his business partner. The question he couldn’t shake was why the skincare industry hadn’t yet figured out how to talk to men, and 4-Skin is the answer: a premium sunscreen and skincare line built around the kind of blunt, self-aware humor that gets guys to pay attention. Men’s skincare has needed this for a long time, and the formulas are serious enough to deliver.
Courtesy of Coola
Coola
Classic Face Sunscreen SPF 50
Carlsbad-based Coola was formulating organic SPF before “clean sunscreen” was a marketing category, and the Classic Face Sunscreen is the brand’s thesis: protection that disappears into skin and layers cleanly under makeup. Sheer and lightly hydrating, it makes sunscreen easy to reapply before an afternoon walk at Torrey Pines.
Saffron and Sage
Glow Finishing Oil
Squalane, argan, jojoba, and CoQ10: a short ingredient list that does a lot. The Glow Finishing Oil from Mission Hills wellness sanctuary Saffron and Sage is plant-based, scientifically grounded, and formulated to absorb rather than sit on the skin. The brand started as an integrative health practice where acupuncture, naturopathic care, and functional medicine share a roof, and the skincare line runs on the same philosophy.
Courtesy of Alastin
Alastin
Restorative Skin Complex with TriHex+
The Restorative Skin Complex is powered by TriHex+, a patented peptide blend developed by Carlsbad-based Alastin’s team of SkinMedica veterans. It promises to clear out damaged collagen and elastin while supporting new production, the kind of gradual improvement that makes a product hard to quit.
Beldi is a multi-functional cleansing tradition rooted in Moroccan hammam culture, dating back over 12 centuries. Alia Jouj is the brand’s flagship product, and San Diego–based founder Dr. Mia Chae Reddy built a brand around it. Alia Jouj uses 100 percent organic, cold-pressed argan oil and the same ancient saponification method to produce a honey-thick liquid cleanser that softens skin without stripping it.
Courtesy of N8iV Beauty
N8iV Beauty
Móyla Moon Polish
Acorn oil has been used by California’s Indigenous communities as plant medicine for generations. Ruth-Ann Thorn, an enrolled member of the Rincon Band of Luiseño Indians, built N8iV around it as the first Native American–owned skincare brand to reach the national mainstream. The Móyla Moon Polish, named for the Luiseño word for moon, is an exfoliant centered on acorn oil Thorn gathers herself each year from the La Jolla reservation. Find it at the Gaslamp Quarter store Thorn owns at the historic Yuma Building.
Courtesy of Colorescience
Colorescience
Sunforgettable Total Protection Brush-On Shield SPF 50
This product solved the reapplication problem. As a brush applicator, this mineral SPF goes over makeup without disturbing it, which is why it has been on derm-office retail shelves in Carlsbad and beyond for over two decades. The tinted version doubles as foundation.
Courtesy of Tubby Todd
Tubby Todd
All Over Ointment
This steroid-free, petroleum-free eczema treatment was built specifically for babies and toddlers (although grown-ups can use it, too). It’s centered on FDA-approved 1 percent colloidal oatmeal with a base of sunflower seed oil, beeswax, and jojoba. The “linoleic-acid-rich sunflower oil is helpful for atopic, eczema-prone skin that is often deficient in that fatty acid,” says Dr. Zhang. Gentle enough for newborns, safe for daily use, and tested by both pediatricians and dermatologists.
Korej
The Mandelic Night Serum
The Mandelic Night Serum pairs mandelic acid, an AHA derived from almonds and gentler than glycolic acid on sensitive skin, with lactic acid, niacinamide, and urea to brighten, smooth texture, and reduce breakouts overnight. Fragrance-free, vegan, cruelty-free. The brand name is the initials of the founder’s five daughters, pronounced like courage. Dr. Zhang also says she “really value[s] [the founder’s] mission to create pregnancy-safe skincare products that are both effective and wallet-friendly.”
Ingrid Yang, M.D., J.D. is a hospital-based physician in San Diego, CA, certified yoga therapist, and longevity specialist. She loves *double hearts* San Diego and spends her days helping people fully engage in long, healthy lives through evidence-based lifestyle medicine. Her books include Adaptive Yoga, Zen Mindfulness, and Hatha Yoga Asanas. When she’s not leading international wellness retreats, she is chasing sunsets, handstanding in nature, or geeking out over mitochondria.
How Scrojo Became One of Rock’s Most Prolific Poster Artists
The San Diego designer has created more than 3,000 concert posters over nearly 40 years for artists including the Rolling Stones and the Red Hot Chili Peppers
When he was in high school, he and his friends were trying to come up with the perfect name for their punk band that would encapsulate all their personas. Nicaragua. The Freds.
One of his friends said he was going to go by Jimmy Stacks and called it “the perfect rock and roll name.” Their names changed so much that Haskett erupted: “Fine, I’m f—ing Scrotum Joe, the true defender of the Open West.”
Their response: Wow, that’s a great name.
As a teenager, he drew chalkboards for Del Mar’s Pannikin coffee shop and would design T-shirts for surf/skate brand Life’s a Beach. He signed the shirts with his moniker, but even in punk rebellion, who wants a shirt with the words Scrotum Joe on it? “They just cut out the ‘t-u-m,’ and the next thing you know, a client referred to me as that, and it stuck,” he says.
Courtesy of Scrojo
Scrojo could have been part of a band as iconic as The Misfits—had he been able to learn the famously cumbersome bassline to The Kingsmen’s “Louie Louie.” Becoming one of the most renowned concert poster designers—someone who quite literally designed the cover of Art of Modern Rock: The Poster Explosion—is a pretty good Plan B.
“To my knowledge, he’s done more rock posters than anybody else alive,” says Dennis King, whose D. King Gallery in Berkeley, California, serves as one of the largest private rock poster collections in the world. “He’s the hardest-working guy in the poster business.”
King not only co-authored the sequel to music historian Paul Grushkin’s The Art of Rock, but he also handles distribution and sales for all of Scrojo’s work. That’s more than 3,000 different posters over nearly 40 years. (That’s over one poster each week. For four decades straight.)
For anything from boxing matches to rodeos, posters have long been used as promotional items. Toulouse-Lautrec’s famous lithographs advertised Moulin Rouge in the late 1800s. Around the same time, Hatch Show Print in Nashville was making handbills for the Grand Ole Opry.
“I propose this: Cave paintings are the first poster art,” Scrojo says.
Courtesy of Scrojo
Rock and roll posters took off in the 1960s, when the hippie counterculture era replaced conformity and suburbia. Artists like Jimi Hendrix and the Grateful Dead used their vibrant, psychedelic prints as a form of rebellion from the mainstream. Posters were promotional, commemorative, collectible, and especially expressive.
If the name Scrojo is any indication, he doesn’t shy away from imagery that toes the line of being too provocative. He focused more on what inspired him instead of trying to be offensive for the sake of getting attention.
“Didn’t want to show it to my grandmother, but my parents were fine with it,” Scrojo says with a laugh.
“We’ve had to ask him to put a Band-Aid over a nipple every now and then,” says Chris Goldsmith, president of Belly Up Tavern in Solana Beach, where Scrojo started out and hundreds of his posters currently line the walls.
Scrojo spent six weeks at Otis College of Art and Design for a summer semester before drugs, alcohol, and a self-described lack of discipline prevented him from enrolling full time. Still, he taught himself concepts like text hierarchy and later found his niche at the Belly Up and in the surfing and skating world, working with brands like Quiksilver, Rip Curl, Scorpion Bay, and DGK.
His first concert poster was for North County band Borracho y Loco, of which Goldsmith was bass guitarist. Scrojo drew an abstract version of the Belly Up’s iconic shark with colorful calypso and tiki themes.
Early on, he would craft using a pencil, pen, non-reproduction blue pencil, X-Acto knife, rubber knife, and proportion scale to create each poster, and the finished product could take a week or even longer.
Courtesy of Scrojo
“I recommend every artist coming up to do that for like six weeks,” Scrojo says. “It forces you to think about every design decision as you’re going along.”
He has since mastered vector imagery through Adobe Illustrator to the point where, depending on the level of detail needed, he could finish two projects in a day. Still, he fills sketchbook after sketchbook to blueprint.
“I liked his line in particular, and he knows how to draw, which a lot of people don’t really know how to do these days,” King says.
Scrojo would research what each musician’s merchandise looks like to get a feel for each artist’s tone and voice. Once he has his central image in mind, he focuses on what and where to place the text.
He doesn’t have one specific style, ranging his talents from art deco to psychedelic and everything in between (and outside the lines). Want a pop surrealist comic book cartoon devil with splattered paint textures, halftone dot patterns, and pure chaos? Red Hot Chili Peppers, February 1986. Want a minimalist graphic portrait with bold strokes and graffiti text? P!nk, October 2023. Want a carnival sideshow style piece with a tasteful caricature of Jeff Bridges? The Big Lebowski, August 2011.
Scrojo calls himself a jack of all trades because he can create posters for all music genres. King calls him a chameleon for his ability to adapt his voice to new eras.
Courtesy of Scrojo
“The variety of his skillset makes it possible for us to put 50 of his posters on a wall next to each other and have it look compelling, not just a bunch of the same thing over and over,” Goldsmith says.
Some of Scrojo’s favorite posters are when he feels a personal connection to the artist or the album. He has a vivid memory as a child of being trapped in a closet filled with marijuana leaves while playing hide and seek and staring at Jimmy Cliff’s “The Harder They Come” LP. “For whatever reason, as a kid, that sparked a desire to do graphic design,” Scrojo says.
Fast forward to February 2012, Cliff is performing at Belly Up. Scrojo decided to modify Cliff’s original album cover from rainbow gradient fills to classic reggae psychedelia while preserving Cliff’s striped pants and bold hat. Cliff’s manager called him and said they wanted to use it for the rest of their tour.
“We always get artists requesting that he does their posters,” Goldsmith says. “A lot of artists don’t want venues to go all rogue because they want to control how they’re being presented. With him, they’re like, ‘Let him go nuts.’”
Matt Eisenberg is an award-winning writer and photographer based in San Diego. A former ESPN editor, his work has also been published by CNN, Bleacher Report and the New York Daily News.
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