The Art of Adaptive Reuse

Upon approaching the main entrance to Casa Iglesia, a new 37-room hotel at 1915 Chapala Street, one immediately gets the sense that, if the walls could talk, they would overflow with stories. Even without prior knowledge of the building’s past — built in 1924 and formerly the First Christian Church of Santa Barbara — the structure’s history feels palpable.

It was precisely that patina that captivated Arvand Sabetian, founder of ZenStay, the boutique hospitality company behind Casa Iglesia. For Sabetian, the building possessed an emotional resonance that simply couldn’t be replicated.

“A church is built to make people feel something the moment they walk in, and you can’t manufacture that later,” Sabetian explained. “The scale of the sanctuary, the light, the craftsmanship were all already there, a hundred years of it.”

ZenStay specializes in adaptive reuse, often taking on abandoned or underutilized properties and giving them new life. Its Santa Barbara portfolio includes Casa Jardin, Casa Riviera, Casa Valerio, and Casa de la Vina.

When approaching an adaptive reuse project, Sabetian and his team do not seek to erase a building’s past or turn it into a monument to what once was. Instead, they allow it to evolve into something new. “The principle we kept coming back to is that the most successful adaptive reuse doesn’t start with what a building can become,” he said. “It starts with understanding what made it worth preserving in the first place.”

Originally, Sabetian considered converting the property into apartments, but realized doing so would require gutting much of the church, effectively destroying the structure he had fallen in love with. “You can change paint and windows,” he said, “but once you alter the shape of a building like this, it stops being the landmark people recognize.”

Transforming the property into a boutique hotel allowed Sabetian to preserve many of the elements that define it, including the original church entry doors, the bell tower, and the steel trusses tucked beneath the attic roofline. Preserving those features, he said, was “non-negotiable.”

When I arrived one Friday afternoon for my overnight stay, the first thing that struck me was the substantial parking lot — a downtown Santa Barbara rarity. As someone who despises circling the block in search of parking, I appreciated not having to strategize about where to leave my car. The eight complimentary EV chargers for guests were an added bonus, reflecting the hotel’s commitment to sustainability. 

Approaching the entrance, guests are greeted by a pair of 100-year-old olive trees from Ancient Olive Trees standing like sentinels beside the original dark wood church doors. For a moment, it feels as though you’ve been transported to an Italian winery far from downtown Santa Barbara.

That atmosphere continues inside, where simple white stucco walls and white-and-gray tiled floors are punctuated by plants spilling from ceramic pots. It’s easy to miss the smart dog water bowl tucked off to the side — a reminder that Casa Iglesia is dog-friendly, with a $75 fee per pet, per stay.

Daniel Salatino, the project’s manager, walked me around the property, leading me to the third-floor atrium, which sits at the center of the hotel and serves as a communal gathering space in lieu of a traditional lobby. Salatino described it as a place where guests can work, take calls, or simply relax.

Forget hotel key cards that are easily lost or mysteriously stop working. At Casa Iglesia, guests access their rooms using a four-digit code texted to them upon arrival.

Accommodations range from studios to one- and two-bedroom suites, each equipped with a kitchen or kitchenette, a 65-inch Hisense Canvas TV, a reverse-osmosis water filtration system, and private Wi-Fi accessible via QR code, making the often-daunting task of connecting to hotel internet simple.

My bathroom, outfitted with a double sink, was stocked with many of the items travelers so often forget: a dental hygiene kit, makeup wipes, a hair dryer, a first-aid kit, and even wipes designed to remove tar from one’s feet. Perhaps the coolest feature was the smart toilet, which sensed my presence and automatically opened as I approached.

Though my studio was among the hotel’s smaller room categories, it felt surprisingly spacious — certainly larger than the average hotel room. The kitchenette included a microwave, Nespresso machine, and refrigerator, along with plates, cups, and utensils. I was delighted to find a bag of microwave popcorn waiting for me, the perfect companion to a hotel movie night.

After a restful night’s sleep atop a plush king-sized bed, I noticed a framed photograph hanging above it. The image depicted the church’s façade, a subtle nod to the building’s former life and a reminder that, even in its newest incarnation, Casa Iglesia remains deeply rooted in its past.

As I write this story, I keep returning to Sabetian’s words: “A guest staying at Casa Iglesia is staying somewhere that could only exist in Santa Barbara, because it grew out of Santa Barbara’s own history rather than being dropped into it.”

For more information, see casaiglesiasb.com.