A 1927 home filled with flea-market finds, family stories and a whole lot of color.
When one door closes, another always opens. Sometimes, you just have to trust where the next one leads.
The Backstory
A couple of years ago, I received an unexpected offer to sell Flea Style’s headquarters in Deep Ellum. It was one of those offers that makes you stop, take a deep breath and realize you may be standing at the edge of a completely new chapter.
I was deeply connected to those buildings. They were part of the fabric of Flea Style—and my life.
I raised my children running through the aisles of our first Flea Style store. I built the business between those four walls. As we grew, I transformed the spaces to accommodate our first headquarters. I hired some of our longest-standing employees there. So much life and so many versions of our company happened inside those walls.
I never imagined I would sell them at that stage of the business. We had just invested five figures into a remodel to accommodate our growing hat business, for goodness' sake.
But sometimes your gut knows something before your brain catches up. The neighborhood was struggling with years of construction and crime challenges. As difficult as it was emotionally, I knew I needed to trust the process and say yes.
Once the deal was done, I had 60 days to figure out where to reinvest the money through a 1031 exchange. My eyes immediately went to East Texas. I was excited about a large piece of land that could eventually become a flea market and Flea Style destination.
And then, at the very last minute, it didn't work out. Suddenly I had just weeks left to figure out what came next.
I happened to be in California with my family, sitting on my parents' back patio over margaritas, telling the whole story. And somewhere between the storytelling and the second round, everything became crystal clear.
What if I didn't have to look near Dallas? What if there was a commercial property somewhere near my family that could make sense?
I'd never even considered looking an hour or so outside of Dallas. But my mom connected me with her realtor friend, and suddenly I was touring two properties—the only two on the market in my price range and in the area I was considering: Laguna Beach.
Why Laguna Beach
I’ve always loved Laguna. Maybe it’s because I grew up in Southern California, or because some of my happiest family memories have happened there, but it has always felt like a place where I could exhale. It’s creative and funky and a little bit wild, with the beach woven into everything.
My parents live just four miles up the coast, so being there has always meant being close to family, too. The kids and I had spent so many summers in Laguna together that it already felt like part of our family story. So when the idea of looking there came up, it didn't feel random at all. It felt like a little lightbulb going off.
Long into the purchasing process, during the inspection, I learned something that stopped me in my tracks: the house had been owned by one of my design heroes.
Her name was Arlene, a local legend who owned one of the best vintage consignment stores in Orange County. I had shopped there for years. I still have so many pieces from her store in my life.
And now, somehow, I was buying her house. This home was clearly meant to be in my life.
Then came the part of the story I still have a hard time putting into words. The week I moved our things in so the kids and I could enjoy the house for Christmas, my ex-husband unexpectedly passed away.
He loved Laguna Beach. We had gone every summer and Christmas. We spent countless days with the kids downtown at the beach, so many evenings having a cocktail at Splashes, or quick getaways at the Casa Laguna Hotel and Spa.
Knowing how much he loved Laguna Beach, I can't help but think he would be so happy knowing the kids and I get to spend more time here together—making new memories in a place that already held so many of ours.
This little house has felt like home from the moment I walked through the door. And as we’ve settled in, it has become a place for new memories, new traditions and a lot of really good living.
Meet the LBC
The house is a 1927 duplex cottage, just about 1,400 square feet, and it's celebrating its centennial birthday next year. It's one of the oldest homes in town, and it is funky—just like Laguna.
The ceilings have the most fun angles and pitches. There are cross beams and wood-covered details everywhere you look. Outside, enormous palms and trees tower over the house, making it feel tucked away and private.
You can be sitting in the backyard and completely forget you're in town. It feels like you're on vacation.
I did a small remodel, but my goal was never to erase what made the house special. I wanted to make it more livable while honoring its history.
We added new doors and windows, painted everything fresh (yes, in Flea Style’s signature Shoji White by Sherwin Williams), brought in light wood floors throughout and added wallpaper in a few spots—the bathrooms and upstairs bedroom—for little hits of personality.
And just like Arlene would have wanted, I filled every room with vintage lighting. There is something about old lighting that immediately makes a space feel collected and lived in.
I kept the original glass-clad front door. I kept the old door hardware anywhere I could. The cabinets are original. The marble in the kitchen and bathrooms was already there. Even the heavy textured walls stayed.
Some of those decisions were about budget. Others were about honoring the bones and soul of the house.
But where I really went wild was the decor.
Designing for Joy
I decorated this house during a time of darkness for my kids. Naturally, I wanted the opposite of darkness in here. I wanted sunshine.
I wanted it to feel joyful, colorful, comfortable and a little unexpected. Instead of my usual dusty sunset palette, I went for juicy, bold colors. Happy prints. Lots of pattern. Nothing too serious.
And above all, I wanted it to be comfortable.
If we're coming home from the beach with sandy feet, I don't want to panic. If dinner happens on the living room floor one night, that's just part of the fun. If friends come over and a kid spills something, life goes on.
Nothing in this house is too precious.
Vintage leather Moroccan poufs are footrests one minute and stools for games or puzzles the next. Fluffy Moroccan rugs hide sand and feel amazing on cold winter mornings. A pair of vintage black textured vinyl chairs look almost like surfboards and wipe clean beautifully after surf camp.
This is a house for living.
The Finds
Of course, I couldn't decorate a house in California without a healthy dose of flea market magic. Several of my favorite pieces came from flea markets and vintage hunts in Texas.
The huge iron seahorses on the front of the house and vintage marquee letters spelling COBB in the kids’ living area are Round Top finds. So was the chippy blush cabinet that now serves as beach towel and sunscreen storage in our main living area.
The colorful pillows on the living room sofa also came from Round Top. They add a big hit of color—and make the sofa the perfect spot for movie nights.
My vintage white rattan headboard was a $30 Lula B’s Design District score. The huge shell-encrusted mirror in the entry was an estate sale find in Dallas. I bought it nearly 12 years ago and had to have it when I discovered it was designed in Laguna Beach in the ’70s. Somehow, bringing it back to California all these years later feels wonderfully full circle.
I also spent a lot of time shopping local consignment stores with my mom in California. Supporting local collectors and makers was important to me, and there is something extra special about finding pieces in your backyard.
The kids’ living room fabric and bamboo screen, outdoor shower iron towel rack, hand-carved wood bench at the end of Landry’s bed and incredible mosaic tile patio chairs are all from shops we love to hit when I’m in town.
An amazing consignment store in Encinitas was another jackpot. The upstairs bathroom's wood-and-glass cabinet from the '60s came from there, as did an old koi fish water fountain that completely transformed our back patio.
The fountain has the most beautiful patina, and when it’s running, you can hear the gentle sound of water from inside the house. Those are the details I love most—the ones that aren’t just beautiful to look at, but add a little bit of magic to everyday life and make a house feel truly lived in.
The Long Beach flea market was also clutch. The incredible vintage iron hall tree upstairs came from there. It has become ground zero for my hat collection and our beach bags.
I also found a funky plastic hand chair in the dreamiest caramel color and a pale pink painted trunk with the cutest little gold feet that sits beside the sofa.
One of my favorite pieces in the house, however, was inherited. Arlene loved Mexico—another thing we had in common—and brought home relics from her travels, weaving them throughout the property. Her children took many of those pieces after the house sold, but they left me a pair of giant vintage wood corbels.
I was determined to find a way to use them—and honor her—in the house. I found a small vintage green marble countertop remnant and placed it on top of the two corbels to create a little entry table. It’s one of my favorite pieces in the entire house and the first thing that welcomes you when you walk through the door.
Just like at Flea Style, I love when the best things aren’t perfectly packaged. Sometimes they just need a little elbow grease, creativity and a fresh way of seeing them.
Little Stories Everywhere
Any chance I got, I hung art, displayed collections and brought in little touches of the sea.
Our living room bookshelves are probably the best example. They're layered with family photographs, old seashells, organic pottery and a beautiful painting from the Sawdust Festival, which is one of our favorite local events every summer.
The kitchen is tiny, so there wasn't a ton of room to decorate. Instead of a traditional window shade, I hung a vintage stained-glass window from the Orange Circle—the same area where I grew up roaming antique store aisles with my mom.
Above the kitchen cabinets, I tucked in some of my favorite things: a Chanel surf print, colorful pottery and an old abstract oil painting I found at a local pop-up market.
Everywhere you look, there's a little piece of a story: Texas. California. My childhood. My kids. Our travels. Our flea market hunts. The people I love.
Good Things Happen Here
Over the past year, the kids and I have continued layering in flea market finds, local art and, increasingly, surfboards. My son has completely fallen in love with surfing, so the collection is growing whether I planned for it or not.
And honestly, that's the whole point. I don't want this house to ever feel finished. I want it to be a melting pot of people and things we love. I want friends popping by. I want family staying over. I want sandy towels and wet swimsuits and late dinners and puzzles on the coffee table.
I've never loved a home like I love this one. The LBC—Laguna Beach Cottage, but also a little nod to my kids and our initials—has refueled me in ways I didn't know were possible. It has reconnected me to my roots.
It has reminded me of the things I love fiercely: my family, the beach, creativity, collecting beautiful things with stories behind them, and making spaces that feel like you. And maybe most importantly, it has taught me something about myself.
I pour so much output into each day—as a CEO, as a mom, as a creative, as a person who is constantly building something. This house taught me that I need the input, too.
I need places that fill me back up. Places that make me slow down. Places that reconnect me to my why. Places that give me space to be creative without needing to produce anything from it.
Looking back at how the LBC came into our lives still amazes me. The timing. The unexpected sale. The failed East Texas deal. The margaritas on my parents' patio. My mom's realtor connection. The fact that there were exactly two properties to choose from. Discovering Arlene had lived here. And then everything that happened just as we were beginning to make it ours.
It reminds me that sometimes life really does play out exactly as it's supposed to—even when, in the moment, you have absolutely no idea where the story is going. I'm beyond grateful this little cottage found us.
It gave my kids and me a foundation during a time when everything felt unsettled. It gave us a place to laugh and heal and make new memories. It gave us a reason to go back to the beach, to spend more time with family and to remember the parts of ourselves that can get lost in the everyday hustle.
Home is technically just four walls. But it's also where so much of life happens. It's where your people gather. Where your kids grow. Where memories stick to the walls. Where you find yourself again.
So I think it's important that our spaces feel good. That they welcome us. That they comfort us. That they energize us.
That's exactly what the LBC does for me and my kids.
