I met Betsey Johnson. Like, in person. That is obviously the most important part of this post ostensibly about her house, because excuse me, fifteen-year-old me was FREAKING. OUT. (OK, 38-year-old me was freaking out, too.)
My first impression of her was as she rolled up to me in, of all things, a golf cart. Her ponytailed hair was piled with blue extensions, she was wearing something that was a cross between a surfer-girl look and pajamas, and her tiny wrists and fingers were piled – absolutely piled – with jewelry. All this at 10 o’clock in the morning.
Like a GODDESS.
I was on my way to Betsey’s house, a for-real mobile home located in Malibu’s Paradise Cove, to take a look around in advance of doing the marketing for its sale – it’s for sale! you can BUY IT! – but an hour later there I was, sitting at her kitchen table, talking about Mexico and book-writing and home renovation, and mostly just soaking in the pure Betseyness of it all. And then I wandered through her house snapping photographs (with her okay, obviously), and then those photographs ended up being published on MSN. And Curbed. And Women’s Wear Daily. And Town & Country. And Page Six. And about 10,000 other places, in addition to being MENTIONED BY ANDY COHEN ON ANDY COHEN LIVE.
Freaking. Out.
If you want to see the full tour – and the listing – it’s here, and it’s everything. (Please take special note of The Yellow Room, thanks.)
