Discovering a collector’s paradise a stone’s throw from Santa Barbara

There’s something contradictory about a weekend escape in Summerland. The Inn on Summer Hill is so honeymoon-in-the-Poconos cutesy that you think you really should be there with a man. And then you realize that it takes a girlfriend to browse all of Summerland’s antique shops in a leisurely, respectful manner.

My friend Cynthia and I decided that the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it village off the freeway five miles south of Santa Barbara would be perfect for a getaway focused on antiquing and gabbing. I had recently overheard dealers at a flea market say that they sell their best stuff to the Summerland antique shops. Then I read in one of my favorite decorating books that Summerland is among the author’s haunts--she being Rachel Ashwell of the much-copied “Shabby Chic” (country cottage) look, shops and books.

Since I’m used to paying flea market prices for my treasures, I wasn’t sure I’d buy anything on Summerland’s antique strip. But I would get inspiration, at least. Cynthia, a longtime Summerland shopper, already had a favorite shop there, so she was the perfect traveling companion. As a bonus, she’s almost as big a fan of PBS’ “Antiques Roadshow” as I am.

Summerland was founded in 1889 by Henry L. Williams, who was searching for a place to develop a spiritualist community. Williams and his family lived in what is now the Big Yellow House, a Victorian wowser that houses Summerland’s best-known restaurant. The town has about 2,400 residents. In the ‘60s and ‘70s it was mainly hippies and surfers, but now the area is yuppified and boasts many expensive homes.

Poor Summerland hasn’t been the same since U.S. 101 came right by it in the 1960s. Everything we did, from sleeping to eating to antiquing, was within two blocks of the roar of the freeway. Maybe you get used to it after a while.

The Inn on Summer Hill seemed like the right place to stay. Its weekend two-night-minimum policy is occasionally waived when there’s a room available for Friday night only. (Rates at the inn are $160 to $325.) So we waited until we could book a single night. The other place to stay in town is the Summerland Inn ($90 to $160).

We had Room 3. It’s the only room in the inn with two double beds, so the guest book in the room contained deeply felt testimonials from mother/daughters, sisters, best buds since sixth grade and couples celebrating their 30th and 35th anniversaries.

The decorating sense at the inn is horror vacui. This is a term I learned at UCLA from an art history professor who said the ancient Egyptians had it--fear of undecorated spaces. That was our room: every surface covered with floral wallpaper, floral fabrics and floral pictures and bows, though expensively done. I counted 19 lighting fixtures, including in the bathroom. But it was all cozy and filled with good cheer and little treats--the cassette player speaker in the bathroom, cranberry water in the fridge, magazines (inspired!). I peeked into Room 2, and it looked slightly less goopy. But this is a more-is-more place, from dining room to lobby to guest rooms. Minimalists: Book at your own risk.

Cynthia had to meet me at the inn because she’s an actor and she got a last-minute audition. So I drove up alone and had a great, cheap BLT at Shacky’s Seaside, a low-key, vine-covered roadside cafe that seemed to function as a town square for the locals.

Cynthia arrived in time for the inn’s afternoon snacks, which were several notches above what was needed to get by. We filled up little plates with prosciutto and blue-cheese-stuffed mushrooms, tapenade on crostini and cheeses and brought them back to our too-cute-by-half room.

By accident, we stumbled on Summerland’s big thing to do at sunset--dog-walking on the beach--when we went to Lookout Park to watch the sun go down over the ocean. Hey, this isn’t Vegas. The park even has a machine that dispenses free “pick-up mitts” for dog walkers; everyone grabbed one on the way down the incline. Nice touch.

We had dinner at the Big Yellow House, which has kept its original room configuration and grand woodwork. We were shown to a table in an upstairs bedroom but it seemed too confined, so we pressed for a table on the enclosed sun porch. Much better. The menu is traditional--filet mignon with bearnaise, chops--with some updated dishes such as coconut shrimp, Cobb salad and Chinese chicken salad.

The best meal we had in Summerland was breakfast at the inn, again far beyond the call of innkeeper duty. Our choices: eat in the dining room (too small and hot and too many teapots on the shelves), order room service for $5 extra, or bring the floral room tray to the buffet, serve ourselves and return to our room. We did the latter. The chef had prepared piping-hot potato, onion and turkey sausage quiche sprinkled with diced tomatoes. We piled our side plates with pumpkin/chocolate pudding, crumb cake, raspberry crumble and chocolate chip scones.

Then we headed up Lillie Avenue to browse. The antique shop prices were, of course, not the steals of flea markets. They ranged from $10,000 cherrywood dressers (just like on the “Antiques Roadshow”) to collectibles in my style and price range. Three shops had the Shabby Chic book, “Rachel Ashwell’s Shabby Chic: Treasure Hunting and Decorating Guide,” propped up for customers to see, and the clerk in another told us, unbidden, how the owner was thick as thieves with Ashwell.

At Beau Rivage Antiques, Cynthia spied two French boudoir dolls ($145 each). Then she settled in a wonderful wicker chair and explained to the rapt owner the history of these dolls: The garish faces and clothing represented individual prostitutes, who used them as advertising in brothels. The story made them more tempting, I thought.

We made a pact that we wouldn’t make any purchases until after lunch, until we had seen every shop. I broke it at 11:58 a.m. when I had to have the Victorian-style print of Venice at the Urban Hunter ($40). Cynthia got back at me by taking tooooooo long at Summerland Hillside Antiques poring over a dish of charms (two for $5). This has been her fave shop (Rachel likes it too, according to her book), and she was a little put out that I didn’t gush more, a sure sign it was time for lunch.

We sat under magnolia trees on the porch of the Summerland Beach Cafe and had juicy burgers (sourdough for me, blue cheese for the dawdler). It’s a big, casual place with omelets, sandwiches, salads and served-any-time breakfasts. We debated whether Cynthia should go back for the dolls.

Beyond the antique shops, we discovered the bonus of Pan’s Garden--better than any garden shop I’ve seen in L.A., not so much for the plants but for the accessories: wonderful celadon pots, garden statues, mercury balls, candles. We could hear soothing piped music in every nook of the nursery.

I was sure we’d seen every antique shop, but Cynthia remembered another one up the hillside. Summerland Antique Collective was our nightcap. It turned out to be the most tempting place of all, a warehouse-size space filled with individual dealer booths and the calming smell of linseed oil. But we were shopped out. So we made another pact: On our next trip, we’ll start here.

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Budget for Two

Inn on Summer Hill,

1 night: $220.00

Gas: 10.00

Lunch, Shacky’s Seaside: 6.00

Dinner, Big Yellow House: 47.84

Lunch, Summerland Beach Cafe: 19.23

FINAL TAB: $303.07

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The Inn on Summer Hill, 2520 Lillie Ave., Summerland, CA 93067; tel. (800) 845-5566.