On January 7th, right about the time I was planning to launch my business, our “Fam” text chain lit up with this photograph. My sister and her husband, who live in Pacific Palisades, were told to evacuate from their home they built 15 years ago. Overnight, their town burned to the ground. Their community has been devastated, decimated, destroyed. I raised my children for four years in this same neighborhood. It is a community filled with smiles and joy, tradition and routine, generations of families and newcomers. Schools, churches, synagogues, the town library, offices, cafes, retail shops, banks, local businesses that were the heartbeat and charm of the town, all gone.

Friends have lost their homes. They have nothing. So when I thought about my business, celebrating the interiors of homes and the objects and heirlooms that live within them, all of a sudden it all felt so meaningless. I went out to LA to be with family and friends. So many tears, so much shock, such confusion, so many questions. Everyone has been displaced, living in hotels or with friends. Slowly, they are finding rental homes to live in for the foreseeable future.

As I write this, I am on my way back out to LA. My sister’s house was one of the few that survived but has severe smoke damage inside and out. They cannot return home nor take their belongings with them. They were fortunate and found a rental home…. but what do you put in it? 

My hope in going out is to try and make these temporary living situations feel as comfortable and cozy as possible. And I hope I can help them find a little warmth, a little joy, a little security. Because what I kept remembering is that while people are priceless, things aren’t meaningless.