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Navajo rugs, Mexican textiles, and folk art abound at the East County ranch of designer and restaurateur Diane Powers and husband Brent Gilman
Diane Powers and Brent Gilman
GUEST ROOMS
8, each with its own theme, such as the All Saints Room and the Pendleton Room
HORSES
12, including a foal that was born this spring
For most San Diegans, Diane Powers will always be the woman who pioneered the birdbath margarita and made Old Town the place to eat chimichangas beneath a sea of colorful umbrellas. But at the East County ranch she shares with husband Brent Gilman, Old Town feels a million miles away. Of course, there is color (lots of it) and tequila (plenty of that, too), but here, the rolling pastures and natural meadows offer a quiet serenity. Inside, the décor is what fans of her Bazaar del Mundo Shops might expect: vivid Guatemalan textiles, Talavera china, and entire rooms of folk art collectibles—a passion that began when a college professor gave Diane her first Mexican Tree of Life. That gift spawned a deep love of Mexican and Southwestern culture that inspires nearly everything she does. At home, she’s created a space that’s distinctly Diane (after all, her aesthetic is part of this city’s history). With a recently remodeled kitchen, separate catering room, and multiple dining areas, it is primed for what this San Diego icon does best. Bring on the chips and salsa!
formal living area
The formal living area features original redwood paneling and hand-hewn rafters tied with rawhide joinery. The room showcases Diane’s extensive collection of vintage Saltillo serapes. Some drape decoratively, while others are used as upholstery. Most of the accessories date back to the ’30s and ’40s, when the ranch was built. “I really tried to keep to what was done in those times,” Diane says. “But I put a contemporary spin on it.”
bedroom
The couple’s custom headboard is made from two posts that once served as structural support columns in Mexico. Diane and her team then drew the rest of the design on the wall and filled it in with golden yellow and turquoise paint. The same design continues above the French doors and window treatments. On the left, Pendleton fabric covers an antique armchair. “Everything just evolves,” says Diane, who frequently travels to the Southwest, Guatemala, and Mexico, buying items for her stores and clients. “There’s a ribbon of continuity and vibrancy, those things that your eye responds to. It’s a style and a lifestyle that’s colorful, vibrant, and cultural.”
boots
Diane turned one of the property’s spare bedrooms into a dressing room, where a sampling of her leather riding boots lines the floor. They are just as vivid as the rest of her life. “I love color,” she says. “That always attracts my eye when they’ve added something more radical.”
horses
“You don’t know you’re in San Diego when you’re here,” Diane says. This is one of her favorite views, from the main house overlooking the valley. “Everything is so natural,” with miles of hiking trails, live oaks, and roving wildlife. The cedar barn (not pictured) stands behind the pool house on the far right. The couple’s Arabian horses are their pride and joy, and have taken the duo all over the country to various competitions. Below, Kimberlite and her filly Karma Link frolic in the meadow and await dinnertime.
the ranch house
The ranch house was built around this pine tree, which is at least 200 years old.
The ranch house was built around this pine tree, which is at least 200 years old.
The kitchen features an array of bright Mexican tile work, a large island with a built-in griddle, and an original copper hood. Nestled inside the ranch house cabinetry are stacks of colorful platters and Talavera china. Diane laughs as she sifts through a shelf in search of the perfect bowl. “It looks like my store, right?” For further color, the restaurateur chose shiny cobalt Viking appliances. “I thought it would complement the other colors I have everywhere. I didn’t want to overdo the red, but the blue accents the red.” When asked if she ever gets sick of Mexican food, Diane, who is constantly working with her chefs to create new menu items, replies: “Never! I get addicted to it.”
kitchen
In this sunlit breakfast nook, ceremonial masks, a Guatemalan runner, and other festive textiles add cultural flair. Chevrons, stripes, and florals blend together—a thick border here, a thin accent there, some fringe to garnish. “Color is my passion, but I’d be hard pressed to answer if someone asked what my favorite color is,” Diane says. “I love color combinations. I like hot colors—red, orange, fuchsia—and then I love to contrast those with cobalts and blues.” (Fabrics available at Bazaar del Mundo)
breakfast nook
From moody retreats to income-generating ADUs, San Diego parents are rethinking the rooms their children left behind
What the hell just happened?
That was the question on loop in my head as I sat, nearly catatonic, watching my chickens scratch and crap, from a chair on my patio. It was the first Monday after dropping my one and only at college on the other side of the country. I was tired to the bone and in shock. Eighteen-plus years of permission slips, math homework, Barbie play (ugh), carpooling—my God, the carpooling—and a teenager who, for four years and counting, communicated almost exclusively through side-eye and not-so-under-the-breath clapbacks. Parenting is insanity, and when it stops, it feels so good and so bad all at once.

I won’t linger on my personal recovery here, except to say: Part of moving on is dealing with that empty room. What do we parents do with the utensil vortex, and more importantly, when do we do it?
My daughter’s room sat for two years like a forgotten museum exhibit, preserved—not because I was sentimental, but because my husband was. While he didn’t want her to feel erased when she came home, I wanted to expunge her Totoro-meets-Pepto-Bismol gray-and-pink aesthetic, the sports jerseys, the inspirational stick-on decals from Etsy, the bazillion discarded beauty products that didn’t make it into the blue duffel bags.
But with no will to fight, I focused on myself and let the shrine exist while I worked out some big feelings.
My metamorphosis took a while, but I built a new, brilliantly free, empty-nest life. No more driving hundreds of miles a week, no more bleachers, no more ref whistles reverberating in my dreams. I reclaimed myself, then I hired a professional to help me reclaim my kid’s bedroom.
EBSCO’s Research Starters series says that “empty nest syndrome” is a real, if not clinical, diagnosis—no chart line, no billing code. Just a recognized experience of grief, loneliness, and diminished purpose that can take up to a year to resolve.

I turned to Treci Smith of Treci Smith Designs because I loved what she did with her son’s bedroom. (Full disclosure: She’s a friend.) After several interrupted attempts at reimagining the room, she designed a den for her husband, Amir. The couple, married 32 years, raised four kids in their four-bedroom ranch home in Bonita, and over the years, the kids switched rooms and pairings countless times.
The house Tetris continued as each child went off to college. But when their youngest left, his bedroom atrophied. It became a haphazard office and, for one stubborn stretch, nothing at all. A purgatory.
“We wanted to utilize every room in our house,” Smith says, “not letting it be a room that just sits empty.” She finally made a plan to evict purgatory, but the pandemic hit, and all four kids moved back home. It took a while longer before the room was finally hers to play with.

What Smith created in its place is magic. It feels like a speakeasy. Dark, moody, and deliberately masculine, the den looks like how sandalwood and musk would smell if they took physical form. It’s got a bar cart, Amir’s cigars, a speaker, a desk for his real estate research, and French doors that open to a courtyard and pool.
“When we think of meditation, we think of light and airy,” Smith says, rejecting that there’s only one way to create calm. “It’s a sanctuary. It’s a place where the rest of the world doesn’t really feel like it exists.”
Smith doesn’t talk about trends. “I think everything has to have a purpose, and not just to be magazine-ready,” she says. “So I ask clients, ‘How do you want to feel in this space?’”
For my project, Smith isn’t interested in erasing the past so much as spotlighting it. As she guides me in reimagining my kid’s former room, she’s pushing back on my urge to wipe the kid out of it entirely. “I don’t want her to feel like she’s been pushed out of the house, essentially,” she says. “The room is now functioning for other purposes, but it’s still hers.”
She pulls a painting of my daughter off the wall in another part of the house for use in the new space. She also caught sight of a planed section of a pantry door from our last house, which has my daughter’s height marks in my handwriting, climbing as she grew. “Grab that,” she tells me. “It has to go in.”
That’s not just decoration. It’s continuity.
For years, the biggest room in Melissa Gaviria’s Rancho Peñasquitos house was a shared bedroom and playroom for her two kids—absorbing blocks, toys, and balls that, with impressive consistency, never made it into the ball pit. As the kids grew, the room saw less use, then emptied out entirely: Her older child moved out, her younger one moved upstairs.
Gaviria tried turning it into an office, but “that was just one little corner of a whole big room,” she says. When a coworker converted part of a house into an Airbnb-ready ADU, Gaviria was inspired.
She hired award-winning designer Jen Guerin of JG Color Studios to create a junior ADU. It’s technically attached to the house but is functionally its own unit, with a French-door entrance on the side so guests never have to walk through the home’s main living space.
Gaviria didn’t wait until both kids were gone to build her nest egg (the unit pays her mortgage, and she rents the whole house in the summer and travels). The kids were 14 and 10 when construction started, and she gave them markers and crayons for one last pass at the walls. I ask whether she left any of their artwork as an homage. She laughs, “I can’t rent with a Godzilla on the wall.”
I beg to differ there.

Guerin pulled from Gaviria’s Colombian background, incorporating blues and a deep burnt orange as nods to home.
Guerin, who’s designed dozens of these transitions over 20 years, says most parents pivot more slowly than Gaviria. “It always starts with paint,” she says, “then flooring and slowly a replacement of all items.” But the instinct, fast or slow, is the same: “This chapter isn’t about erasing the family story. It’s about making room for the next one.”
Enveloped. Safe. At ease, creative, and a little bit sexy. I wanted an understated drama that didn’t match our minimalist, midcentury design elsewhere in the house, but that matched the inside of my soul. I wanted dark and light, color and whimsy. I wanted to never want to get out of bed, and for guests to feel that too.
Another parameter: I had a tight budget. I mean, let’s be real about the economy, right? Smith guided me toward a dark paint my husband and I put on ourselves, then sourced used and vintage pieces to go with the bed and other accoutrements we already had, and mixed in a few new pieces from Ikea—like the two-tone green speaker lamp. She nudged me not to erase my kid entirely, so I dug through boxes of ephemera in the garage, framed some old artwork, and tucked a few other mementos away for discovery, should someone look closely.
Most guests won’t notice. They’ll just sink into the bed and not want to leave, which is the whole point. But if you know where to look, my ladybaby is still in there—she’s just not running the place.
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.
Help us recognize the city's most talented local interior designers, architects, landscapers, craftspeople, builders, and home service experts
Welcome to the inaugural San Diego Magazine Home + Design Awards, where we celebrate the brilliance of local interior designers, architects, landscapers, craftspeople, builders, and home service experts within San Diego’s vibrant home design scene.
These awards are a celebration of the creative forces shaping the aesthetics of San Diego and its surroundings. Like brushstrokes on a canvas, we aim to bring attention to the talent and services that turn spaces into living masterpieces.
Your submission is your invitation to step into the limelight. The winners will be featured in the April Issue of San Diego Magazine and posted online. San Diego Magazine is read by more than 164,700 readers each month, and sandiegomagazine.com receives more than 403,000 monthly page views. Your nomination is an opportunity to captivate our affluent readers who turn to San Diego Magazine for insight into culture, food, arts, and the latest in home design.
You can nominate a business or tradesperson whose work and physical business is located within San Diego County. Please provide the name of the business and tradesperson with their contact information. In addition, please include your name and contact information with your entry.
For Transformation entries, provide a high-quality before and after photo to be eligible for the Reader’s Choice vote. We’ve set up an easy-to-use Canva template for your convenience here.
Rally Your Troops! After your masterpiece is nominated, it’s time to gather the votes! From January 8 to 15, unleash the power of your design community. Share, shout, and let your network know that your creation deserves the Reader’s Choice Award, and ask them to vote for your entry.
Nomination Period: December 4, 2023 – January 12, 2024 12 PM
Reader’s Choice Voting: January 12, 2024 3 PM – January 19, 2024
Winners will be announced in the April issue of San Diego Magazine and online at sdmag.com
Best Interior Transformations (Before and After)
Bathroom
Bedroom
Closet
Dining Room
Game Room
Garage
Home Gym
Kids Room
Kitchen
Living Room
Nursery
Office
Stairs/Staircase
ADU (Accessory Dwelling Unit)
Backyard Landscaping
Conversion to water-wise landscape
Exterior Home Renovation
Front yard landscaping
Garden
Patio + Porch
Sheds
Swimming Pools
Appliance Store
Architect
Carpet/Flooring
Cleaning Services
Closet Remodeling
Door + Window
Electrician
Escrow Company
Furniture Store
Gardener
General Contractors
Handyman / Repairman
Heating, Cooling, and Air
Home Remodeling
Home Security
Interior Designer
Landscaper
Lighting Stores
Nursery / Garden Center
Painters
Pest Control
Pile + Masonry
Plumber
Pool Services
Real Estate Agent
Real Estate Company
Roofing
Solar
Tree Services
Turf
Upholstery
Bohemian
Coastal
Contemporary
Eclectic
Green
Industrial
Maximalist
Midcentury
Minimalist
Modern
Multifamily Residence
Rustic
Beach Home
Multifamily Residence
Contemporary
Craftsman
Green
Mediterranean-Style
Midcentury
Modern
Mountain Home
Ranch Style
Spanish-Style
Suburban Home
Tudor-Style
Urban Home
Victorian
Inside the remodeled 1970s craftsman of local pastry chef and Extraordinary Desserts owner Karen Krasne
The similarities between baking a cake and remodeling a home might be slim in the minds of most. But to renowned pastry chef and owner of Extraordinary Desserts Karen Krasne, paying attention to detail when decorating anything—be it a gorgeous wedding cake or her 2,200-square-foot house in Mission Hills—is the recipe for a tasteful design.
Krasne began remodeling her 1970s craftsman into the dynamic, contemporary space it is today with the help of local architect Aaron Anderson nearly 15 years ago. “We started with this custom gate, actually,” Anderson says, pointing to a large, suspended steel-and-glass opening at the entrance of the Krasne residence.

Past the gate, guests step into the front courtyard that serves as an outdoor dining room. Beneath a custom steel canopy filtering sunlight into the space—an effect inspired by the oak trees of San Diego County—sits a grand stainless-steel communal table topped with zebra quartzite stone. Along the north wall, a smoky gray mirror magnifies the space.
The intimate courtyard brings the outdoors in, while the architecture and design of the house spill outwards.

“Both Karen and I grew up in San Diego, so the house is heavily influenced by that sort of outdoor living,” Anderson says. “But the interesting thing about Karen is her travels. What she does, as a chef, is heavily influenced by her international travel, so we also brought all that influence into the house. It’s anchored in San Diego, but it has all kinds of international flourishes.”
The south wall of the courtyard is a striking cement fiberboard privacy screen that’s been pierced with an intricate design. “The very first day I met Karen, she brought these Moroccan lanterns she bought on a trip to Marrakech into my office and she said she wanted the front part of the house to be about these,” Anderson remembers. “I had [the lanterns] on my desk, and we just thought about unrolling them and cutting out the design onto a piece of slim fiberboard. The piece is backlit so, at night, this side glows just like a lantern does.”

The old-world, international influences don’t stop in the courtyard. Inside the home, Krasne’s love of traveling is reflected in every room. A hand-carved wooden Moroccan cabinet has been repurposed into a bathroom door. Ornate candle holders from Bali adorn the master bathroom countertop. And in the living room—which expands into a second, bamboo-flanked courtyard through massive stacking glass doors—a feature wall was inspired by traditional azulejos tile Krasne once saw in Spain.

“We tried to take all these different influences—Morocco, Bali, and Paris, where Karen went to culinary school—and balance them with the edgier, modern stuff,” Anderson says. “It’s really hard to take a craftsman house and modernize it without it looking terrible, so I think one thing we all did well was elevating it without overtaking it.”

The kitchen, where Krasne spends most of her time while she’s at home, was renovated last. A large island topped with a Japanese-inspired lithograph on natural quartz sits in the middle of the sunlit room, nearly always covered in a food spread for Krasne’s family and friends. Floor-to-ceiling, built-in cabinetry is coated with a self-healing gray Fenix laminate, giving the space a calming atmosphere.

“Those,” Kranse says, gesturing to ornate, art-deco chandeliers hanging over the kitchen table, “are from an old opera house in Austria. I had them sprayed silver to match the sconces, which all came from the same opera house. I also wanted to bring in French Champagne buckets—I really wanted the space to be about us drinking wine and entertaining.”
The Champagne buckets line a shelf hung above built-in lounge seating. Next to the lounge is an in-wall desk with a stack of her favorite cookbooks on display. There, Krasne researches and experiments with new recipes.
“I have a huge office at my restaurant, but I can’t think straight there,” Krasne says. “You feel the frenetic energy, you hear the tamping of the espresso machine and the phones ringing.” It’s here, in this calming, creative space (and in her personal gym downstairs), that Krasne finds inspiration.
As we exit Krasne’s kitchen and step back out into the front courtyard, she jokes with Anderson that she recently came up with a landscaping idea for the front entrance while on a trip to Puerto Vallarta with her husband.
“I know, with Karen, there’s actually a good chance that it’ll happen,” Anderson laughs. “Karen knows more about construction and putting a house together than any other client I’ve ever worked with. We actually get to a detailed level of thought and design. That’s super rare.”
Earlier this year, Fit quietly dropped "athletic" from its brand, from Fit Athletic Clubs to simply Fit, and started calling itself something new: a social wellness club.
There’s a version of San Diego that lives in two extremes. On one side, the 5 a.m. crowd: biohackers, marathoners, people who’ve already logged a cold plunge before your alarm goes off. On the other, the after-dark crowd, the ones chasing sunset happy hours and late dinners with friends. Everyone seems to be either optimizing or unwinding, and most of us feel like we’re failing at both.
Fit, San Diego’s reigning Best Gym for the third year running, has built its entire identity around erasing that divide.
Walk into one of Fit’s three San Diego locations on a Tuesday afternoon and the lines blur fast. Someone’s mid-set on the squat rack. Someone else has a laptop open at a café table a few feet away, half-working, half-people-watching. A group is trading plans for the weekend’s event by the recovery lounge. Nobody’s in a rush to leave.
“We’re not competing for the same people,” says Emily Waybright, Public Relations Manager at Fit, addressing the arrival of a national luxury gym chain in San Diego this year. “We don’t really feel like we’re in the gym category. It’s this unique thing.”
That unique thing has a name now. Earlier this year, Fit quietly dropped “athletic” from its brand, from Fit Athletic Clubs to simply Fit, and started calling itself something new: a social wellness club.
It’s a small wording change with a bigger idea behind it. Fit was never built around escaping the workday. It was built around the people who genuinely like what they do, and who want workouts, work, and friendships to happen in the same place instead of three separate ones. Because sometimes red light therapy with a stranger turns into weekend plans.
Fit’s philosophy traces back to its founder, who started the brand nearly two decades ago after failing to find a gym he actually wanted to belong to. He looked instead to the old-school country club, where people came for a shared interest and stayed for the community. His version was made for a younger generation, minus the golf, plus the loud music.
Which makes it a little ironic that the very award putting Fit back in the spotlight this year is Best Gym.
What does the best traditional gym look like when the definition of a gym is becoming less traditional? It’s a fair question, and Fit’s answer is that the fitness industry itself is shifting. The 45-minutes-in, 45-minutes-out model is giving way to something closer to a genuine third space, the kind of role the office and the bar used to play before remote work and changing nightlife habits rearranged how people spend their time
For Fit, community isn’t a marketing add-on to fitness. It’s the through-line. Members aren’t just paying for a treadmill; they’re paying for an entire day of social wellness that’s built on performance, recovery, connection, and a plan for the next event on the calendar. That’s a much harder membership to walk away from.
Ambition and ease aren’t opposites here, they exist side by side, where passion and play share the same morning. On September 12, Fit is hosting Sol, a full day wellness festival at Fit Social. The morning focuses on wellness classes and vendors and then the evening is a full party with multiple DJ sets and an open bar. Think of it as a kick-off to locals’ summer in San Diego.
Ready to see what a social wellness club actually looks like? Visit fitclubs.com, or follow along at @thefitclubs on Instagram.
Inside the vibrant, family-friendly home of interior designer Lisa Franco
Lisa Franco didn’t plan to become an interior designer. She and her husband, Luis, met while working in biotech. But when the couple’s daughter, Samantha, was a year old, she was diagnosed with a genetic disorder called Angelman syndrome. Lisa left the industry to focus on Sam full-time. And when the Francos bought their first house in San Diego shortly thereafter, Lisa—armed with a more flexible schedule and a hunger to explore her innate love of design—decided to take the reins on the interiors.
The Francos had tapped Mark Morris of Oasis Architecture to refresh the home. He was skeptical; homeowners who go the DIY route usually end up regretting it. But Lisa’s knack for design was apparent. She pulled samples, chose colors, sourced finishes, and visited showrooms, and others in the industry treated her like a fellow pro. “I just started calling myself a designer, and other people believed me,” she laughs. “My career was in science. Science is problem-solving. Interior design is, too. It’s solving a problem, and making it look good.”

When Morris walked through the finished product, he said, “‘You need to come work for me,’” he recalls. Soon after, she did. Their first project together won Bathroom of the Year in San Diego Home/Garden Lifestyles magazine.
As Samantha, now 24, and the couple’s son Ethan, 21, got older, the Francos set out to find a forever home—one that could accommodate a future live-in caregiver for Sam. In 2017, a La Jolla Heights gem jumped out from a listing in the paper: an Old Hollywood–inspired, 1960’s home, once owned by an oil baroness. The Francos bought it, and Morris signed on to bring the build into modern day. The bones were good, and “the house had the perfect entry—grand, yet understated,” Morris says.

The inside, on the other hand, needed work. Full of small, closed-off areas, it had level changes at every turn, like step-downs into bedrooms. Morris and the Francos modified the floor plan with two goals in mind: to create a seamless flow for family time and entertaining and to make the layout safe for Sam to have as much independence as possible.
They leveled out the floors, opened up the once-enclosed staircase for visibility, and installed pocket-door gates to block rooms and stairs as needed. Though the layout changed, “Lisa loved that house and wanted to respect it,” Morris says, so they preserved some original elements: crown molding, light fixtures, closet doors, built-ins.
Today, once you cross the threshold, you step directly into the main living space, or the great room. Just past the L-shaped couch is a million-dollar view: La Jolla’s hodgepodge of terracotta rooftops, the coast, all the way to Mexico.
The home’s primary palette is one of soft gray and white walls with chocolate-brown wood floors. But the Franco house is anything but muted. Lisa’s style is bold, colorful, happiness-inducing. In the great room, velvet pillows add pops of pink, blue, and ochre to the couch.

The great room flows into the kitchen, separated only by a peninsula. When Lisa and Morris design a kitchen for a client, they ask about their everyday routine—and that’s exactly what informed Lisa’s own space. Daily essentials receive priority; open shelves hold flour, sugar, oil, and tea, while a full butler pantry around a corner offers hidden storage.
The most innovative feature is a pass-through cabinet between the kitchen and dining room. Dishes and glassware are accessible from either side, and the configuration lets the dining room borrow the kitchen’s natural light.
The Francos wanted an additional space to unwind with friends, so they tucked a bar into an alcove off the great room. “Sometimes we have a couple come over, and we just want to hang, but our dining room is big,” Lisa says. “So this is an intermediate. It’s cozy.”
The couple pulled the blue from the kitchen island and incorporated gold and stone accents. The wire accents on the bar island are both aesthetic and functional—no need to worry about scuffs from guests’ shoes. Closed cabinets hold their collection of wine and spirits.

On the other side of the great room is Lisa’s office, easily the most colorful space in the house. Her desk is framed by a bay window overlooking the courtyard, while a pendant light fixture, original to the home and refreshed with deep teal paint, anchors the room. “I love whimsy,” Lisa says. The owl-print wallpaper was a touch she couldn’t resist. Luis was skeptical until he saw it installed. “That’s why she’s the designer,” he laughs.
Right across the hall is Sam’s media room, furnished with durable pieces. It’s near the kitchen and dining room, so Sam has her own space but is still in the mix. A mother-in-law suite, which can eventually function as a caregiver’s room, is next-door.

The great room might be the heart of the home, but the lower level is where the fun happens.
A mural of Lisa’s late brother, Michael “Howie” Mandell, who she calls “the life of the party,” is front and center, smiling with arms outstretched. The local artist they commissioned tagged the names of Howie’s loved ones around him, and band posters harken back to Howie and Lisa’s shared love of music.
In the corner is sapo, a Peruvian game (also called “toad in the hole”) that Luis grew up playing. The objective: Throw a gold coin into the toad’s mouth or the nearby holes. The sapo table was a gift from Luis’s mom, who transported it in pieces via plane.
A far wall holds a candy bar, stocked with guests’ favorites, and a mini kitchen with a pink SMEG fridge and toaster. The oversized sliding window opens up onto the grill, the outdoor dining space, and the pool area.

It’s a stunning pool, considering it was once surrounded by green carpet. “It was like going into a football locker room,” Morris says. “The pool itself was spectacular, and we didn’t want to lose that character.” The Francos kept the exposed beams, opened the ceiling and walls, and wrapped the columns in dark brick. “During the day, it feels like you’re outside,” Morris says, “but at night, all lit up, it really feels like its own room.”
Morris and Lisa treated the outdoor space like an extension of the home, creating “rooms” for different functions: grilling, playing, resting, entertaining. A fire pit at the farthest point is an ideal spot to sit and reflect. Lisa designed a “rug” made from tiles that frames the outdoor dining area. They added a ping-pong table for Ethan and his friends. And in the polished, turfed yard, which mimics the shape of the pool, there’s always room for an impromptu game of soccer.

Looking up from the backyard, you can see the family’s gathering spots—great room, basement, kitchen—framed like vignettes through the windows. “Being a good architect is not about bringing your sense of style to the table,” Morris says. “It’s about being sensitive to the environment, the existing [house], and the client’s interests. And if you can cohesively pull that together into a beautiful design that feels like home, you’ve done your job.”
This month's selection includes pool toys for grown-ups, natural deodorants, and decadent Italian furniture
If it seems like you’re the only one who didn’t spend their summer sunning on a yacht off the Amalfi Coast, now you can get a taste of Italy right here in SD. Rest your bod upon a made-in-Italy sofa or bed from Natuzzi Italia, a luxury design and furniture brand that recently opened a storefront at UTC in La Jolla. They carry a wide range of sleek furniture for every room in your house. Hey, it might not be sipping an Aperol spritz surrounded by breathtaking views of Capri, but their stunning sofas make being a couch potato something to aspire to.

When San Diego–based Sarah Moret was looking for natural beauty and body products that actually worked, she became frustrated by the lack of effective deodorants without aluminum and other potentially harmful ingredients. This (smelly) gap in the market sparked the entrepreneur to start her own line of natural body care. In 2018, she debuted aluminum-free deodorant (available in varieties like coconut nectar, white tea, orange neroli, and unscented for the purists out there). Since then, she’s taken her line to Shark Tank, where she struck a deal with Barbara Corcoran and Mark Cuban, and expanded to offer more products, including body spray and hair freshener. Curie products can now be found in stores like Anthropologie, Walmart, and Nordstrom.

Move over donuts, pizza slices, and alligators. Kids’ swim is over. It’s time for the adults to hop in—and we’re bringing our own toys. Float Factory offers two different styles: one a race car, the other a tank. The tank, a.k.a the Pool Punisher, invites party-goers to engage in high-stakes buoyant battles. The toy comes equipped with a water cannon capable of blasting targets up to 50 feet away. Talk about punishment.
Laika Nur, MD, takes her love of volleyball from the court to the clinic as team physician for the San Diego Mojo
Growing up, Laika Nur, MD, Scripps Clinic sports medicine specialist, loved watching beach volleyball when the Association of Volleyball Professionals tour came to her hometown of Chicago. A talented volleyball player herself, she remembers sitting in the stands all day, and once, even got a couple autographs. Years later, Dr. Nur was attending a professional event focused on women’s sports, and the discussion turned to a new professional women’s volleyball league. The general manager and coaching staff for San Diego’s team, the Mojo, happened to be in attendance, and Dr. Nur took the opportunity to ask them if they needed a team doctor. Flash forward to the Mojo’s inaugural 2024 season, when Dr. Nur officially became the team physician. Click here to read more about Dr. Nur and how she incorporates lessons she learned on the court into her practice.
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