Go look and dream like I do.
One of the best summers of my life was hanging out in this glorious little town. My darling friend, Joanne and I drove around endlessly in her dad's 1961 yellow classic "bathtub" Porsche convertible (because her old-ass Mercury Cougar broke down--he just HANDED her the keys! We were only 18 forpitysake!). I still have all of the pictures of our shenanigans. We ate, shopped, went to the beach, went to concerts, stalked Kenny Loggins (long before "stalking" became a crime--it was all in good fun!), we ate some more and laughed until we wet ourselves.
Montecito is referred to as the "American Riviera". All I know is, anytime I've had to go to my "special, quiet place" in my head (say, during a tattoo or having the stomach flu , for instance), I go to Montecito. I know they will rebuild. Sometimes "new" isn't "better".