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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.”
The creator of Mission Hills' iconic topiary garden hoped future owners would preserve the living artwork she spent decades cultivating
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.

“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 for Architecture, 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.

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.

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.

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.

“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.

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.
San Marcos-based Vintage Cellars designs and builds customized, high-end wine storage with calibrated humidity, racking systems, and LED lighting
The floor is made of glass. Under your feet, you can see the cellar—15-foot ceilings, soft light, and stained white oak walls the color of desert silt.
Tucked behind the wood, inside the doors, and in the ceiling is a highly advanced and very specific network of tech assembled in San Marcos—perfectly calibrating the room for humidity and temperature with vapor barriers, specialized insulation, and LED lights. Along the walls on matte blag pegs lay 1,000-plus bottles of wine—some iconic collector vintages, some with stories, some earmarked for major life moments.
This is a very serious wine home, built by someone whose obsession eventually leads to a call with Chris Noel.
“We have some clients who have been collecting wine since the ’60s and the ’70s, and they have collections of 15,000 or 20,000 or more bottles,” says Noel, owner of Vintage Cellars, the San Marcos–based designer of custom wine vaults for some of the region’s top restaurants and super-collectors. “[For them], collecting wine is similar to Jay Leno collecting cars.”

Before the wheel, there was wine. Fermenting fruit sugars into alcohol was a thing as early as 4100 B.C. (wheel, circa 3500 B.C.), most likely a happy accident. Unsurprisingly, the tipsy breakthrough in juice arts was a huge hit. The challenge was that it was also hugely perishable.
The first efforts to save it from spoil were clay vessels called amphora, often fully or partially buried to create a sun-proof, temperature-stable environment. The terra-cotta pots were pointy-bottomed, which stacked and traveled better, encouraged gas circulation (thus preventing oxidation, the famed wine ruiner), and helped separate sediments.
Once basic preservation was figured out, makers noticed the aging process ushered in a moodier magic. So they engineered structures to tinker with the possibilities of the long haul. Those first wine holes in the dirt evolved into entire catacombs, tombs, quarries, and caves.

Ancient Romans engineered wine storage rooms called fumariums, built facing north to avoid the sun and filled with smoke to speed the aging process (no doubt rapidly aging the cellar workers in the process).
For centuries, specialized wine storage was mostly a commercial venture. Serious wine people would (and still do) outsource their collections to a bonded storage facility or turn to professional cellarers who run giant chilled warehouses of cabernets.
A few major social moments sparked a more serious at-home cellar trend. First, the “Judgment of Paris” in 1976 (California wines famously besting the French in a blind tasting) established US wineries as worthy of collections.
A few years later came the 1982 Bordeaux, one of the most-coveted vintages in history. It was championed by a US lawyer named Robert Parker, whose 100-point scale rating system would quickly become the gold-standard for grading wines, creating a huge boom of wine collectors for the next few decades (wine as an economic investment became a thing).
The US economy also boomed in the ’80s, while France hit a skid. With the dollar trading 6-1 against the franc, US collectors had a rare chance to pick up Grand Crus at serious bargains, which demanded equally serious storage.

Given that framing, 1990 was a fairly great time for Vintage Cellars to get into the game. Noel—who worked his way up at the company and then eventually took over as owner in 2020—and his team work with architects, designers, and builders to create cellars that both fit the space and act as an attraction in multimillion-dollar homes across the region, and at top restaurants like Pamplemousse Grille in Del Mar and Avant Restaurant in Rancho Bernardo Inn. They hide cooling systems in brick-walled enclosures, bend bottle racks around curved walls, create standalone pavilions—engineer structures for cabs.
Their cellars hover between 50 to 70 percent humidity to keep the cork appropriately moist. Air too dry, and a cracked cork will give up the ghost—O2, in excess, turns wine into vinegar. If the air’s too dry, it can shrink the cork, eventually evaporating the wine and creating a low pressure that will pull in destruction. Too humid, and mold contaminates the works.
Light’s a big no-no for wine, too. Incandescent or halogen lights were the norm for cellars 20 years ago, but they emitted heat. Like Schrödinger’s Cat, these bulbs would risk the subject in order to view it. Vintage Cellars adopts LED lighting and, for glass cellars in the sightline of bright windows, mechanized shades that lower during UV exposure times.
Custom circumference-cut cove trays, leather saddles, and pegs stabilize bottles in Vintage Cellars storage areas; movement disturbs the tannins and upsets the aging process. And these cellars are smart, with app-based monitoring, remote temperature monitoring, and eSommelier cellar management. Don’t fret, Siri’s got your Syrah.
The most important decision, however, is deciding when to uncork that special bottle.
“[A lot of times, people] are saving those wines for specific moments in life—maybe a 50th anniversary or when their firstborn turns 21,” says Noel. “That’s how they look at it: as social and also to create memories.”
Pete Peterson has served as high as Editor-in-Chief of an enthusiast media magazine and as low as writer of his own bio… In addition to contributing to San Diego Magazine, Pete authored the YA novel One Tiger One Teen and is working on his second novel. Slightly more info is available at petepetersonauthor.com.
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.
"The Distinct Modernism of San Diego" tells the story of how some architects pioneered their own style in 20th-century San Diego
San Diego is just out here minding its own business. It’s long been cast as Los Angeles’s less ambitious sibling—the chill one, the one who shows up late for dinner reservations in flip-flops with a few provocative opinions. Architecturally it’s often cast the same: secondary, derivative, a footnote to California modernism that seems to begin and end with the Stahl House (Case Study House #22). LA has Pierre Koenig, Craig Ellwood, John Lautner. San Diego has the original fish taco.
But this version of the story is redacted, metaphorically speaking.
While the jazz hands of Hollywood and its hills cast a spell on historians and architecture buffs, San Diego had, and has, its own quiet evolution: It invented and reinvented itself through homegrown modernism, beginning with The Allen House (1907) in Bonita by Irving J. Gill.
“The biggest misconception is that San Diego was following Los Angeles,” says Keith York of Modern San Diego, one of the city’s top guides to modernist architecture. “Those who consider Rudolph Schindler and Richard Neutra as the fathers of Southern California Modernism often fail to recognize the outsize influence Gill and his buildings had on their work.”

A new book, The Distinct Modernism of San Diego—written by Mark Hargreaves and Hallie Swenson, published by York—focuses on eight architects who were born, raised, or built their careers in San Diego. It illustrates how the city wasn’t hosting weekend warrior architects on side quests. It was a staging ground for a less look-at-me modernism from luminaries like Gill, Lilian J. Rice, Richard Requa, Lloyd Ruocco, Frederick Liebhardt, Kendrick Bangs Kellogg, Sim Bruce Richards, and Cliff May.
“Absent the backstabbing competition for projects, a collegial group of architectural peers collaborated and maintained lasting friendships with one another as they designed in response to the temperate climate and slower economy,” York says.
Largely unknown until the mid-1960s, Gill is a marquee name today. He arrived here from the East Coast at a moment when San Diego was still defining itself, which gave him the freedom to invent something new, experiment, rebel.
Instead of imposing the flourishes and frills of the time, he considered San Diego’s climate, light, landscape, history—the joie de vivre—and designed for this place. “[Architects of the west] must have the courage to fling aside every device that distracts the eye from structural beauty, must break through convention and get down to fundamental truths,” he once said, a sentiment that nails the un-ornate, total lack of pretension that’s defined San Diego people and culture.
And, lo, did Gill fling: His flat roofs, clean lines, and almost no ornamentation—though not necessarily modernism in the Eames or Eichler sense—foreshadowed what would later be called minimalism. Gill eventually became synonymous with the Los Angeles narrative, but broader architectural histories overlook the fact that his most progressive designs happened here.

Another key to San Diego’s architectural movement was Lilian J. Rice, who often worked behind the scenes with little credit. She was one of only about 10 women in America licensed as architects at the time. Even though she died from cancer at 43, she somehow managed to complete an estimated 170 projects in the region, many in Rancho Santa Fe.
Born and raised in National City, Rice also wasn’t importing ideas. She shaped her own based on her understanding of this region and her commitment to protect the natural environment. Her work has been categorized as Spanish Colonial Revival, but she wasn’t reviving as much as she was refining a style suited to our border region—serene, mirroring nature, beautiful.
“San Diego architects were designing for a way of life, not just a look,” says York.
Like Sim Bruce Richards, who was his own way of life. While Gill stripped away ornamentation and Rice focused on the peace of open spaces, Richards came along several decades later and went full emo. By then, modernism had grown deep roots; its steel-and-glass structures took themselves very seriously. Richards came to party.

An eccentric, unpredictable man with half a face (part of his jaw was removed following a bone infection when he was a child), his life was a jalopy of adventures. He was opinionated and passionate about design, music, texture—and he created what he called a “sensuous environment.” He wanted his clients and their guests to feel the spaces as much as to be in them, appealing to the visual, tactile, nasal (“a cedar house smells good”), auditory (“acoustically superior”), even taste. “Though, I‘ve never had a client lick my houses,” he once wrote.
Organic, woodsy, textured, aromatic—if you ever find yourself in a Sim Bruce Richards house, a licking impulse might not seem so outrageous.
Gill, Rice, Richards and the other architects in Distinct Modernism built a legacy in San Diego that resonates nationally. And the work of these heavy hitters isn’t stuck in an inaccessible collectors realm: This October, homes by Kellogg and Liebhardt will open to the public as part of the La Jolla Modernism Home Tour—an opportunity to experience it not as a museum relic or magazine image (ahem), but as something alive.
Modernism in San Diego was never about glamour or an intention to be iconic. What transpired here is more nuanced, more ingrained with a less shouty aesthetic. A very San Diego aesthetic.
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.
This month, the 2026 San Diego Business Impact Awards recognized local businesses making an impact in clean energy, biotech, hospitality, and beyond
Renewable energy companies building hundreds of power plants. Biotech startups using artificial intelligence to create personalized medicine for children with rare diseases. Hospitality companies quietly powering thousands of local events. Consumer brands growing from beach-town startups into national businesses. These are the kinds of companies driving San Diego’s economy today, and the businesses recognized at this year’s San Diego Business Impact Awards offer a snapshot of where the region is headed.
Hosted July 23 by San Diego Regional Economic Development Corporation (EDC) and JPMorganChase, the second annual awards event honored four local companies for innovation, growth, and economic impact. More than 100 nominations from San Diego’s middle-market businesses were reviewed by a 10-person judging committee, with winners selected across four categories: startup, early-stage innovator, rising star, and established heavyweight.
Two-time honoree Jimbo Someck, founder of Jimbo’s organic grocery stores, also joined the event for a fireside chat on buying local, supporting emerging brands, and giving back to the community.
“San Diego’s strength comes from its makers and builders—the resilient people who endure great risks and overcome obstacles to build and scale a company,” says Aaron Ryan, San Diego Region Manager and Middle Market Banking at JPMorganChase & Co. “These awards aren’t just recognition; they spotlight the talent, grit, and innovation shaping our region’s future. By celebrating those who create and build, we foster connections and fuel the growth that keeps San Diego thriving.”

Heavyweight honoree SOLV Energy has grown alongside the country’s rapid investment in renewable power. “It’s an exciting time for SOLV Energy as we are experiencing significant growth,” says CEO George Hershman. “The business has doubled over the last year and has almost double-digit growth since its inception.”
The Rancho Bernardo-based company designs, builds, operates, and maintains utility-scale solar and energy storage facilities. Since its founding in 2008, SOLV Energy has built more than 500 power plants.
Growth has translated directly into hiring. About 200 employees work from the company’s local headquarters, including roughly 20 interns. “Our intern program is a big part of the way that we grow our workforce,” Hershman says. “Last year, 43 percent of our interns became full-time employees. We believe San Diego is a great community to build and grow a high-tech infrastructure and technology company because of the incredible workforce—the ability to attract top talent and draw from world-class universities.”
Startup honoree La Jolla Labs is tackling one of medicine’s biggest challenges by developing personalized RNA therapeutics for patients with rare diseases—many of them children with neurological disorders like ALS. Using proprietary artificial intelligence and machine learning tools, the biotech company develops treatments tailored to each patient’s specific genetic mutation.
CEO Tamar Grossman says the recognition reflects how far the company has come despite limited resources. “We’re honored to be recognized for our ability to change and save patients’ lives and turn our lean startup into a clinical company with very minimal resources,” she says.
Grossman credits San Diego’s concentration of research institutions—including UC San Diego, the Salk Institute, and Scripps Research—with creating a pipeline of talent and collaboration. “San Diego is one of the world-leading centers for technology, genomics, and RNA therapeutics,” she says. “We have over 30 RNA therapeutics companies here, and we support each other and help with anything related to drug discovery.”
She says that collaborative spirit extends beyond formal partnerships. “You can walk around Torrey Pines, go into a café, and find colleagues from the industry and have an ad hoc conversation,” Grossman says. “That’s something very unique to San Diego.”
While Snake Oil Venue Company may not be a household name, chances are many San Diegans have attended one of its events. The early-stage innovator honoree has expanded from beverage catering and mixology consulting into venue management, operating Julep Venue in Mission Hills, Bramble Bay Venue in Imperial Beach, Vesper Venue, the Chapel at Liberty Station, and five outdoor venues throughout Liberty Station—more than 500,000 square feet of event space altogether.
“We do a lot of launch parties for corporations and new products,” says CEO Mike Esposito. “I really like working on the entrepreneur side of things, where new businesses are entering the San Diego market and looking to make a splash.”
Snake Oil has executed more than 16,000 events, employed more than 1,000 people, and partnered with more than 900 local vendors, including caterers, florists, photographers, entertainers, and other hospitality businesses. The company also works with many of San Diego’s nonprofits, museums, and cultural institutions. “We get to celebrate people’s most important moments,” Esposito says. “Whether that’s a wedding, celebration of life, or quinceañera, we’re fortunate to be involved in the community in so many different ways.”

Rising star honoree ALOHA Collection is proof that a simple idea can grow into a thriving company. Founded by two roommates who wanted a better way to carry wet swimsuits after a day at the beach, the lifestyle brand has grown into a business while maintaining strong year-over-year growth.
Now headquartered in Carlsbad, ALOHA Collection employs more than 100 people and operates its California flagship store in Encinitas, which is slated for a remodel. With roots in Hawaii, the company is known for its lightweight, splash-proof travel bags that have become a familiar sight on beaches in San Diego and beyond.
“‘Aloha’ is part of our name, but it’s also how we move through the world,” says CEO Lynna Barnard. “It’s how we show up for people, the way we travel, the way we give back.” Since day one, the company has maintained a 5 percent giveback to Hawaii conservation efforts, contributing millions of dollars over the years.
“I think what’s so inspiring about ALOHA Collection, and the founders in particular, is when you dream big, those dreams can come true when you work hard and trust in the universe,” Barnard says. “It’s inspiring to be a role model for other people wanting to start businesses from humble beginnings. Start small and watch it grow.”
Together, businesses like these form a cornerstone of San Diego’s economy—not only through the jobs and revenue they generate—but through the local workers they hire, vendors they support, and investments they make in the region. Their growth doesn’t happen in isolation; it ripples outward, strengthening the broader business community and the people who call San Diego home.

San Diego architects and designers spill on the trends, textures, and ideas shaping the city's homes today
Craftsmans and Spanish Revivalists and mid-century modernists—why does San Diego have so many different architectural styles? What makes a home distinctly San Diego? What are the trends shaping the look of the city’s neighborhoods for years to come? We asked the experts: architects and designers honoring the past, crafting the present, and radically altering the future of San Diego living. They opened their portfolios, shared points of view, and treated us to snapshots of their latest work that speaks to the ideas they’re playing with. The result? Six trends, design choices, and a proposal to make local homes unique. Grab a lemonade and get a little inspo for your own place.
“Clients are now reaching for comfortable outdoor spaces that can be controlled for subtle shifts in the environment—heated covered porches, or patios with controlled louvered ceilings with integrated fans, lighting, heaters, and adjustable light.” –Mark Morris, Oasis Architecture & Design
“I think outdoor spaces in San Diego can be as useful or even more useful than indoor spaces. Relating to the site, view, [and] neighborhood can bring so much value and richness to a home.” –Bill Bocken, Bill Bocken Architecture & Interior Design

“After years of modern farmhouses—black windows, white houses, and gray walls and floors—natural tones are coming back. We are seeing a return to organic textures and more saturated color. Homes feel layered rather than stark.” –Susan Wintersteen, Savvy Interiors
“There’s a move toward homes that feel like every element has a purpose. I see a strong desire for warmth and natural stone, wood, organic textures with softer transitions, and materials that age well.” –Jen Pinto, Jackson Design & Remodeling
“I would like to see even more architectural integrity, fewer quick flips, and more thoughtful renovations that respect proportion, scale, and context. San Diego deserves homes that feel timeless, not transactional.” –Susan Wintersteen, Savvy Interiors
“We want to see people respecting the original character of their homes while re-imagining them for modern life, rather than erasing character in favor of quick transformations that look ‘cookie-cutter.’” –John Kavan, Jackson Design & Remodeling
“Homeowners are staying in their homes longer—some 15 or 20 years. That has shifted design away from trend-driven choices and toward architecturally driven spaces that are functional, cohesive, timeless, and designed to support daily life over decades.” –Jen Pinto, Jackson Design & Remodeling

“There’s a noticeable move away from literal ‘coastal themes’ and toward more layered, textural environments. San Diego homes today often feel cleaner, more architectural, and more personal.” –Julie Crosby, designer
“Today, the aesthetic is more refined but still rooted in ease. It is coastal without being cliché and modern without being cold. The throughline is light, air, and a relaxed sophistication that reflects how people actually live here.” –Susan Wintersteen, Savvy Interiors
“When you can live outdoors most of the year, architecture and interiors must support that. Large format doors, layered patios, durable materials, and seamless flooring transitions all stem from lifestyle.” –Susan Wintersteen, Savvy Interiors
“Nearly everyone wants to take advantage of the constant sunshine, so we see a huge desire for indoor-outdoor living, light and airy fabrics, organic materials that bring the feeling of nature into the home, and a desire to incorporate a relaxed, coastal lifestyle into everyday living.” –Lilli Fish, LS Design Studio
Lili Kim is a content coordinator and writer for San Diego Magazine, with experience highlighting local businesses and communities. When not writing or shooting film, she is likely brewing her seventh cup of tea of the day or strolling along Sunset Cliffs.
Take your sanctuary to the next level with high-end fixtures that turn your space into a dreamy escape
Your bedroom is your sanctuary—a haven for your favorite shoes (the ones you never actually wear but love to admire), the place where your best thoughts sneak in before you drift off, the safe space that’s seen you through anxious nights and joyful secret dance parties.
With a little guidance and intention, this space can feel just as dreamy as that one nap you never want to end, anchored by warm burl wood, smooth (and sustainable) upholstery, and stone nightstands that read as art. And we’re not talking about the overly staged look-at-me rooms you see on HGTV. Great design prioritizes feeling just as much as form. We’ve handpicked upscale, quietly chic finds from local home stores to bring your ultimate bedroom vision to life.

Mary had a little…chair? Wrapped in camel-hued wool, the Allora Chair proves that one standout spot for lounging is often all a bedroom needs to feel like the penthouse suite at a fancy-schmancy hotel.

Room & Board sources the Sitara Rug from India, where skilled craftspeople hand-knot every inch of this soft wool carpet. Tiny flecks of gold silk add a subtle shimmer. Just try not to drop any earring backs on it.

Everyone loves flowers, but real lilies lose points for fading fast—and being dangerous for pets! Sub in these hand-painted faux calla stems suspended in crystal-clear “water” for a fresh bouquet that never withers.

Who said canopy beds had an age limit? Add a little whimsy to your sleep schedule with this walnut burl frame. Arhaus’ Morley Collection is artisan-crafted, meaning no two beds are exactly alike, so your room is as unique as you are. Go ahead, sleep like royalty.

Wrapped in a pale mint (Moonstone) velvet, the Berlin Bench delivers a soft pop of color. Equal parts functional and beautiful, it’s made for collecting discarded shirts during an outfit-planning sesh and supporting dramatic swoons.

Bonjour, bedroom—meet your new obsession. Inspired by traditional French design, this mirror’s iron-and-resin frame features delicate floral-and-vine detailing. Your reflection just got a vacation in Nice.

If the Pixar lamp got a glow-up, it’d look a lot like the Christie Floor Lamp. Thanks to a curving brass post, milk glass globe, and coralle stone base, it’s a killer source of mood lighting, but it’s also a whole mood in itself.

Whoever said recessed lighting was enough clearly hasn’t met this chandelier. Finished in antique brass with three layered tiers of glass that gently diffuse light, the fixture resembles a soft cascade of feathers. Showgirl glam or one with nature? Why not a little bit of both?

This dresser has a backstory: Mexican artisans collect ash trees felled by storms; cut them into cross-sections that show off their natural rings, cracks, and watermarks; and piece them together into a patchwork that has bits of sustainably-farmed European ash burl.

It’s okay—you can finally let go of the beige canvas you panic-bought for above your bed. Roam Homeware’s Shell Collector feels perfectly SoCal with soothing neutrals, interesting abstract patterns, and recognizable shapes (but no faces to scare you during a 3 a.m. bathroom trip).

Furniture made from rocks can lean a little Flintstones. Not here, though. The scalloped curves and shiny finish of this charming little nightstand coax an unexpected softness and romance out of natural stone.

Candles in a glass jar are so last season. Instead, pop some beeswax tapers into these sculptural sand-cast iron holders. Set them on a shelf, and you’ve got a touch of vintage charm without the fussy fragility of antique pieces.
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.
It’s a Self-Care Summer. Because your best self is our favorite self.
If you’re anything like us, it can be easy to get so caught up in taking care of everyone else, that your own needs get lost in the ether. But while this may be a cliché, that doesn’t make it any less true: You can’t give your best self to other people unless you’re taking care of yourself.
Sometimes, that looks like stopping in for your regular acupuncture or chiropractic appointment. Other days, it means giving your body the fresh, organic fuel it needs to truly feel and function at its best. And some other times still, it involves leaving your responsibilities behind for a weekend to pamper yourself at an incredible resort and spa.
Only you can decide what your truly need. We’re just here to help you find the best ways to get it.

Island living meets desert luxury at the Tommy Bahama Miramonte Resort & Spa in Indian Wells. When you step onto the 11-acre property, you’ll be surrounded by sweeping view of the Santa Rosa Mountains with olive trees and fragrant citrus groves decorating the grounds. In other words, everything about this relaxed but refined resort is primed to help you let go of the stress from home and enjoy easy sun-soaked days and gorgeous starry nights.
The rooms blend calming, woven textures with Tommy Bahama’s signature tropical prints and feature private lanais, making it easy unwind the moment you walk in the door. If you book one of the four Villa Suites, you’ll be treated to exclusive Tommy Bahama furniture and unique personal touches to further that feeling of instant ease.
At the award-winning Spa Rosa, the expert team will help reset and recharge your body and mind using methods and rituals inspired by the desert. The 12,000-square-foot retreat includes outdoor soaking pools, eucalyptus steam rooms, and outdoor cabanas, as well as massages, facials, and body masks—all aimed at creating a day dedicated to you. We’re particularly partial to the Day Long Escape, an indulgent all-day affair of CDBs soaks, renewing scrubs, life changing massages, and transformative facials.
Following your treatment, continue the experience with a meal on the patio at Grapefruit Basil. We love the Hamachi Crudo, a light, citrus-forward dish featuring premium yellowtail, house-made ponzu, creamy avocado, and fresh seasonal garnishes.
Whether you’re strolling the gardens, relaxing beside its saltwater pools, or indulging in a restorative treatment, you’ll be able to escape in style and relax in luxury at the Tommy Bahama Miramonte Resort & Spa.

There’s no shortage of ways to stay active in San Diego—but if you really want to enjoy everything the city has to offer, you’ve got to make sure you’re giving your body its tune-ups. Enter: Healcove Chiropractic. The board-certified chiropractors and wellness professionals at Healcove are experts at addressing that stage where you’re not injured, exactly, but you’re not at 100%, either. Maybe you’re feeling a bit tense or stressed out. Or it could be that you’re not quite moving the way you want to. Sometimes, it’s just that the accumulation of days, weeks, or even years of daily strain is starting to take a toll. No matter what stage you find yourself at, the Healcove Chiropractic team can provide integrated, preventative care centered on long-term, science-backed approaches that ensure you can always stay active and live the life you want to live pain-free.
This starts by providing truly individualized care. Every patient can expect a thorough 60-minute consultation session that includes a posture and movement screening. This allows the team to develop a completely personalized plan. That plan might include chiropractic care, acupuncture, or massage therapy, as well as functional fitness training, vibration and sound therapy, and Dynamic Neuromuscular Stabilization, a clinical rehabilitation method that retrains the body’s stabilization systems. Whatever the team recommends, you can be sure that it’s tailored to meeting your body’s needs today and the future.
There’s a reason that San Diego Magazine named Healcove the “Best Chiropractor in San Diego”—don’t wait until you’re struggling with an injury to find out why. Book an appointment today for holistic, integrated care that helps ground and heal your body before it reaches a crisis point.

West Coast wellness culture meets the community feel of Southern Appalachia at Juice Holler. Juice Holler’s menu consists of made-to-order smoothies and smoothie bowls, as well as grab-and-go cold-pressed juices, wellness shots, salads, and more. It operates from the blissfully simple premise that fueling up with food and drink that’s guilt-free and good your body should be simple, accessible, and, above all else, delicious. And if you haven’t yet made it out to the Encinitas café, which opened just this year, let us be the first to tell you: Juice Holler delivers on each and every of these fronts.
We love the Supercharger smoothie, a mood-lifting and body-fueling option made with banana, almond butter, blue spirulina, maca, grass-fed whey protein, raw cacao nibs, medjool dates, and coconut milk. We’re also partial to the Thrive Alive smoothie bowl, where avocado, mango, sea moss, spirulina, mint, coconut milk, and agave are mixed and topped with coconut, chia seeds, strawberry, mango, and chocolate drizzle. The wellness shots include the Detoxifier, a cleansing blend of kale, cucumber, lemon and spirulina, plus a shot specially designed to fight inflammation (named, fittingly, Anti-Inflammation). Probiotic overnight oats, lemon turmeric bars, and strawberry shortcake chia pudding are other standouts on the grab-and-go menu.
Much of the vibe feels beachy North County chic—think green tile with orange and pink accents, grounded with greenery and natural wood—but Juice Holler founder Kelly Sergott, a longtime Encinitas local, has also enfused the space with her Kentucky roots. In Appalachia, a holler is small valley between hills and mountains, where nature reigns, community is king, and nourishment comes right from the land. At Juice Holler, Sergott has created a holler for the busy modern times, using local ingredients to create a spot for people to come together and enjoy fresh, fast, feel-good fuel for their day.

We’ve all had that experience with a medical professional where we’ve felt rushed, ignored, or misunderstood—and ultimately, like we didn’t get the answers that we needed. But at Everwell, the holistic acupuncture practice located in Solana Beach, the care team wants to transform your understanding of what healthcare can look like.
Patients at Everwell experience care rooted in intentional listening and radical empathy—and trust us, those aren’t just corporate buzzwords. This place actually puts those ideas into practice. You will always be given the time you need to tell your story— initial in-take appointments are two hours long—and you can rest assured that your story will be believed. Every single question and concern will be addressed by a dedicated practitioner who wants to find the specific solutions that work best for you, and you’ll receive care that’s aimed at healing the body, mind, and spirit.
Everwell’s highly trained, doctorate-level practitioners blend evidence-based acupuncture with the practice of classical Chinese medicine. (If you’ve never tried acupuncture before or aren’t sure if the team will be a fit, we’d highly recommended Everwell’s complimentary 20-minute consultations.) Research shows that by stimulating specific points on the body, acupuncture activates a natural healing response in the body, helping to restore balance, regulate the nervous system, and improve overall wellbeing. This allows the practice to address an incredibly wide range of conditions from chronic pain and autoimmune disorders to digestive issues, from stress and burnout to headaches migraines, fertility and postpartum struggles, hormonal imbalances, sleep concerns and more.
At Everwell, you can expect to feel heard, trusted, respected, and cared for. This is a space that doesn’t want to be just another healthcare provider you visit; it wants to provide patients with dedicated partner who will be there for their entire health journey.