A Christmas Story

My plan for Christmas was staying in my flannel Santa pajamas, drinking Whispering Angel rosé, and finally binge-watching season 3 of The Diplomat. Man plans and G-d laughs.

At 6am my phone alerted that my store’s front door was open. I called BHPD and dispatch told me that it was only BHFD who broke the door. Fantastic! Not a thief, just a fire. How reassuring!

I ran to brush my teeth and leave my home when my boyfriend stopped and suggested that I change out of my pj’s. The adrenaline was pumping and I clearly wasn’t thinking.

We dashed over to my street, Canon Drive, and found it blocked off with fire trucks and engines. The ladders extended over the roof my business shares with Umberto’s salon. There was smoke billowing over my shop as it drifted north over my neighbor Peter’s restaurant Porta Via. I couldn’t understand where the fire was as flames were not visible from the street.

It never occurred to me to ask the battalion chief what was happening. I just stood across the street under a bare tree in shock watching BHFD work until I was distracted by a tiny bird landing above me. When my mom died, I learned that spirits visit in hummingbird form. They are messengers of hope and aggressively search for those who need inspiration and renewal. What felt chaotic and confusing morphed into calm and comforting when I realized mom was with me.

Around 8am, when the fire trucks pulled away, I saw the charred interior of Porta Via.

I was able to go into my shop which has spared from the flames because of our shared brick wall. However, my skylight was smashed open to release the smoke, water drenched the ceiling and walls, and everything in my shop was covered in soot and smoke. 

There was a group of onlookers on scene handing out their business cards for remediation and public adjustor services. One man approached me and introduced himself. He helped my mom with our insurance claim in 2004 when Tesoro was on Melrose. I was in Italy and my same neighbor Peter was building out his new bar. The jackhammering caused our walls to shake. Mom was nervous that the expensive handblown glass vessels would fall off the shelves, so she invited the workers in to explain the potential damage they were about to cause. That night, someone broke into the shop through the shared wall in the bar and emptied the store. This is the second time in 21 years that I’ve had to close because I share a wall with Peter. What are the odds?

On Boxing Day, I returned around 1pm to put up a closed sign and a group of yeshiva boys walked by. Every Friday they stop by my store around noon to do a little torah study with me and any customers who are interested in learning about the parsha. I couldn’t believe we all showed up at the same time. I know there are no coincidences and asked them for the lesson I needed to hear to be able to find peace in my situation. In this week’s parsha, Vayigash, Jacob receives a divine promise “Fear not to go down…for I will surely bring you up again.”

I left the shop feeling calm. Of course, everything will be okay. My head understands but my heart is broken. I’m reacting to the loss of my business much as I did when my mom passed. I would call them the “mom moments” when I would spontaneously combust into tears over something like seeing a woman at Gelson’s writing a check. “My mom would write checks!”

I went home and cleared my desk of 2026 catalogs. As the hefty tomes hit the trash bag, I cried. I wailed over losing my livelihood and my purpose of being every day. I connect daily with two communities, my retail and my neighborhood. Who am I if not a connector?

I’m going to miss my friends and vendors at the January trade shows, not discovering the latest product introductions, and not being a cheerleader in my retail community. I can’t imagine a day where I’m not a retail therapist nor a celebration expert.

The range of emotions I’m experiencing is all encompassing. It’s challenging to stay out of depression and search for the joy in each day. Did I mention the flood in my condo two days before Christmas? I lean on Judaism and comedy to keep me stable.

As if a biblical week of flood and fire weren’t enough, on Sunday morning a burglar was in my garage. Of course, being Jewish, there’s always one more issue!

Thankfully BHPD caught the thief who had hit multiple residences before mine. I’d like to credit my dog Vinny for alerting on the gate opening and my boyfriend for quickly calling the police.

Emergency services are amazing in Beverly Hills! I’ve already used them earlier this year for shoplifters and rushing my dad to Cedars. The BH community is even more incredible. It truly is a small city with a big heart. While the fire was burning, I received calls from city officials. Friends and acquaintances texted and called with “How can I support you?” “Let me help clean.” “What do you need?” A friend from high school and a customer showed up at the fire scene just to hug me. A city council member stopped by and chatted with me. “No counting inventory this year!” Tragedy needs comedy.

In trauma, you have tremendous gratitude sprinkled with a little disappointment and anger. What?! No one sent their plane to fly me to St. Barts or a box of Calgon to help take me away!

Seriously, I don’t have the luxury to run away as I’m dealing with insurance. Also, I just enrolled in a January hot yoga teacher training course over the next nine weekends. I’ve never had Saturdays off before so I’m jumping on the opportunity to use them constructively. I intend to spend as much time with my 83-year-old father as possible while utilizing the Roxbury Recreation Center. He keeps asking me why I’m not at work.

As I write this morning, I’m drinking out of my Beshert mug that I had commissioned after the January fires. I hoped an oversized mug, which takes two hands to hold, would be a ceramic hug to a fire survivor. It’s a symbol of hope that one day there will be a new kitchen cabinet for it to rest inside. For me, it’s a reminder that my store was more than a business. It was a place of comfort, connection, and celebration.

I don’t know when I can reopen. The biggest challenge is rebuilding my business during tariffs. I’m going to be on CNN New Year’s Day talking about unexpected costs and delays in shipments that will impact reopening. I may not have a storefront, but I still have the will to champion for small business!

What matters most to me is connection. So, please keep channels of communication open by following me on Instagram @BestGiftStoreEver and stay tuned for my eblasts.

If you have any stories or photos about the gifts from Tesoro, please share! I just received a picture of a baby pulling himself up for the first time by grabbing on to the activity play station he got for Christmas. It made my broken heart grow three sizes.

One of my favorite prayers, Oseh Shalom, says peace (of mind) is possible even in the darkest times. The word oseh means to make, do, create. There are three pillars in Judaism-prayer, learning, and kindness. The foundation is action.

So, please sing with me (in the happy tempo)

Oseh shalom bimromav

hu ya'aseh shalom aleinu

v'al kol Yisrael

V'imru: amen.

So, I’m not looking for answers like “How did the fire start?” It happened. “How am I?” I’m Jewish. I’m searching for tools to create light.

As we get ready to celebrate the transition into 2026, know this. You’re always at no if you don’t ask. Don’t be scared to try. When you ask for help, it doesn’t mean you’re weak. It gives the person helping you the gift of doing something good.

After all, what can be a better gift than making someone’s heart grow?

May your new year bless you with courage, a bigger heart, fantastic health, patience, and perspective to see the good in every day.