San Juan Capistrano
You're a RINO who voted for Obama twice and are frequently found lingering outside the Coach House whenever Donavon Frankenreiter plays.
Last month you became de facto leader of a performance art collective that leased a vacancy on Fourth and Main to open an arcade bar specializing in Donkey Kong and New Belgium beer. On Fridays you host improv and open mic. You have a secretly very depressing Tumblr.
Five years ago, when your late aunt left you the ranch, the horses, and a fat nest egg, you quit your Fashion Island publicity position, gathered up your Eagles and Joni Mitchell records, and disappeared in a retro-hippie haze to a secluded corner only your postman knows of. Some of the locals complain they can smell Burning Man jams 'round midnight every third Tuesday. Rumor has it you sometimes turn up at Trabuco Oaks for a seared rare ribeye, but your secret entrance and beekeeper hat keep human contact to a minimum.