Set atop a lush green promontory in Los Angeles’s exclusive Bel Air neighborhood is a home so cinematic you get the feeling there’s more to its story than meets the eye. In fact, if the striking modern structure—with its sweeping windows and dramatic shou sugi ban cantilevers—was the protagonist in any Hollywood film, its character arc would fit the three-act structure to a T.

“We took to calling it the Strata House because there are several implied epochs,” explains Michael Kovac, founder of the Los Angeles–based firm Kovac. “There’s the hillside we carved into, a layer of stone almost like an old castle rampart, a ’60s modernist component, and then the [contemporary] shou sugi ban piece on top that make up the layers.”

Roger Davies
The reimagined “Strata House” takes advantage of the sloped site and an existing midcentury modern structure for maximum square footage and views.

Kovac’s architectural concept aside, the narrative of the nearly 14,300-square-foot home—with its six bedrooms and eight full- and three half-baths—is even more compelling, given a star-studded tragedy and a subsequent reinvention that followed.

In November 1961, on the two-and-a-half-acre plot of land where the current house sits, Zsa Zsa Gabor, wearing a leopard fur coat, was famously photographed surveying the ruins of her own home, which had been destroyed—along with 500 others—by the historic Santa Ana wind–fueled Bel Air fire that ripped through the community and displaced many of Hollywood’s most famous names. In what LIFE magazine dubbed “A Tragedy Trimmed in Mink,” it also quipped that the destruction resulted in “the poshest exodus since the fall of the czars sent the Russian nobles fleeing.”

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Zsa Zsa Gabor inspects the charred ruins of her residence in 1961.

While many residents rebuilt, Gabor didn’t, and it wasn’t until six years later that renowned Canadian architect John B. Parkin chose the site to build his personal residence after relocating to L.A. to establish an outpost for his eponymous firm. Since its completion in 1968, the midcentury masterpiece remained in the Parkin family until it was purchased by Kovac’s clients—and that’s where the third act begins.

“The house was being sold by the architect’s heir,” Kovac says, pointing to the property’s obvious cultural significance and the seller’s likely interest in seeing it preserved to some degree. With stellar views and easy access from the Westside of L.A., the trick was for Kovac’s clients—a growing young family—to consider all their options.

Roger Davies
Milled walnut panels create a rich texture in the formal dining room. “We strive for things that invite touch, interaction, and patina, and the walnut very much does that,” says Kovac. “The way the room works is a bit theatrical in that it has a big carved walnut door that slides open, revealing the space and views over the Bel-Air Country Club and the city lights at night.”

“There was this [existing] white pavilion piece that was actually intriguing, and we said, ‘You know, we don’t think you need to tear this down,’” he says. “‘We can embrace the cooler parts of what’s here and build an addition around it.’”

Banking on the clarity of this vision—and at the broker’s request—Kovac wrote a letter to the seller chronicling his client’s intentions, which, in the end, secured the home (despite the fact they weren’t the highest bidders).

And after nearly six years of excavation, construction, and design, the result is nothing short of picturesque, not to speak of the killer views from Parkin’s updated pavilion.

Roger Davies
The view from the home’s primary bedroom.

“To the east you can see past downtown to the San Gabriel Mountains toward Palm Springs, to the west is the Pacific Ocean, and straight in front of you is Century City and, at night, you can see the lights as the planes land and depart LAX,” says Kovac. “But the pièce de résistance is from the deck of the primary suite where there’s a really beautiful view of the Getty Museum just perched in a notch of the adjacent hillside—it’s an unexpected treat to see.”

“And the home itself is roughly organized for wellness on the lower level, with public areas on the main level and bedrooms upstairs—so there are layers in that way too,” adds Thomas Schneider, Kovac’s partner in the design firm. “The whole thing took longer than usual because we also had to maintain the landscaping—there are surrounding oak groves that have a conversation with the building itself, so everyone was interested in keeping the site as green as possible.”

Roger Davies
“We knew we were going to do at least one conversation pit, and the pavilion was the prime location,” says Schneider. “You’re right at eye level with the floor and the view and, when day turns to night and the city starts to come alive, it’s just spectacular.”

Schneider also notes how the client’s design aesthetic was in perfect harmony with the home’s reimagined architectural style. “They have a real interest in midcentury modernism, particularly for interior design, and Eero Saarinen’s Miller House [in Columbus, Indiana] was a big inspiration. We discussed and debated almost every piece for the project, and we had a real blast doing it.”

From a Saarinen-inspired conversation pit in the pavilion with 270-degree views and an intimate terrace courtyard to a dining room hidden behind a carved walnut sliding door and a swoonworthy Mad Men–inspired bar, this family’s airy retreat is ready for its closeup.

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