Reba has always had a luxurious mane of auburn hair. However, as the years have passed her hair has become increasingly red. She always had the attitude – you know what I mean? Her first memory was of bouncing along a rutted dirt road in a yellow Cadillac convertible with a kindly old man who kept stopping and getting out of the car to check some dusty pipes. Years later when attending the gala opening of the Getty Center in Los Angeles it dawned on Reba that the old man in the Cadillac was none other than J. Paul Getty who, at the conclusion of his oil lease inspection tour, rewarded his little passenger with a grape popsicle. This Golden State girl was born on a tank farm in Central California, went to art school in the Bay Area in the late 60s, served in Peace Corps in the early 70s and taught art at universities in the 80s and 90s. She never lost sight of her humble California roots even when hobnobbing at the Venice Biennale or Art Basel with museum directors, artists, curators and art collectors who often like to pretend that they emerged from Athena’s head fully formed – she’d offer them a grape popsicle. Reba’s paintings and drawings can be found in museum and private collections throughout the west. Her gardening skills are legendary and if you are lucky enough to be invited to dinner at her art filled home in Rancho Mirage, you might be treated to a Malaysian or Moroccan feast while discussing the goddesses of agriculture that now populate her paintings.
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Rex has lived a global life of adventure and travel exploration. As a kid he helped Red Adair fight oil well fires in the Middle East, climbed Kilimanjaro and joined the Bakhtiari for their annual nomadic migrations from Susa to Shiraz. While living in Rome he was among the first to descend deep below Bellini’s Baldacchino to see what archeologists claimed to be St. Peters grave. Once, in Liberia he was held at gun point in an up-county village for not standing at attention during taps when there was no pole, flag or bugle within a hundred miles. Rex has driven M88 tank retrieving vehicles in the Mojave Desert one week and sipped martinis at The Ritz Bar in Paris the next. Artist, museum director, tourism marketer and destination management expert Rex now makes his home base at the end of his favorite bar in Rancho Mirage in the heart of the Palm Springs Valley. Watch for him – velvet dinner jacket, cocktail in hand telling the ladies yet another story…
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The love child of a mid-century silver screen legend whose identity has always been kept a mystery, Diana was born in Palm Springs and raised by her single mother, a cocktail waitress at the Palm Springs Racquet Club. After graduating from Palm Springs High School, Diana fled to Hollywood. Seeking to follow in her famous father’s footsteps, she dabbled in a series of odd jobs—extra, make-up assistant, receptionist—on various studio lots. When an unexpected (and surprisingly large) anonymous inheritance came her way, Diana left Tinseltown for extended stays in the South of France, Mykonos, Rio, and Bavaria. Throughout her globetrotting years, she was wined and dined—not to mention schooled in all the finer things in life—by the crème de la crème of well-to-do eligible bachelors (and more than a few flush, married family men).
Choosing to never accept any of many marriage proposals, she went around the world—twice—before returning home to the peaceful Palm Springs Valley. Settling in a sumptuous abode in beautiful Rancho Mirage, Diana—a longtime lover of alliteration—now spends her days writing, and donating her time and her fortune to the charitable causes nearest and dearest to her heart. Most generous of all with her coterie of loved ones, she remains Daddy’s Little Girl to this day—even if no one, not even she, really knows who Daddy ever was. Diana never asked, and Mother never told, taking the secret to that great big cocktail lounge in the sky.
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Born in Buenos Aires, the last of five children (oops!) to a Texas High Society mother and a wealthy Argentinean businessman father, bilingual Potter was at an early age shipped off to the best boarding schools in Europe, and summered at various Israeli kibbutzim. He finally came Stateside to earn a Harvard MBA, but despite his Ivy League education (and over his fiery parents’ strenuous objections), he yielded to his burning desire to travel and joined the ranks of none other than Pan American World Airways as a steward immediately after grad school. While crisscrossing the globe, he perfected his fluency of three additional languages (French, Italian, and German) and deepened his knowledge of—and appreciation for—food and wine, art and culture, and the most magnificent creature comforts money can buy. Following Pan Am’s demise,
Potter—an avid photographer—continued to journey throughout the world, guiding small groups on exclusive tours of the five continents: trekking through the Himalayas, leading African safaris, or taming crocs Down Under. Post 9/11, Potter still routinely indulges his passion for an extended transoceanic cruise or long-haul red eye to an outlandish locale, but can be found most days and nights right here in the Palm Springs Valley, where he uses his international savvy to earn a munificent living as a much-in-demand design consultant on everything from home décor and party-planning to art and fashion—all this from his small atelier in a secluded enclave of Rancho Mirage.
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