Lindsay Eckardt: Beauty in the Becoming

Creative visionary Lindsay Eckardt shares a behind-the-scenes look at the journey to opening Salon Providence, a creative hub redefining the Santa Barbara salon experience.

By Maddy Sims

Photography Ryan Mayo

It’s a stormy Monday morning in Montecito. Rain pours down, pooling in the courtyards at The Post and softening the edges of the landscape. The air is fresh, rinsed clean and fragrant with wet cedar. I climb the stairs to a long balcony that feels like a private treehouse suspended in green.

Lindsay Eckardt arrives carrying a latte from Little King, bringing with her a brightness that cuts through the gray. She’s wrapped in a floral coat trimmed with a fur collar and greets me with a hug before settling beside me on a bench outside her in-progress Salon Providence. The rain drums on the roof above us. Behind us, saws buzz and hammers pound. But the commotion doesn't rattle Eckardt in the slightest.

What stands out first is how she listens. When I speak, she meets me with warm, steady eyes—a presence that gently disarms. As she begins sharing her story, I recognize the unmistakable composure of an eldest daughter in a big family. “I think that’s why I do what I do,” she says with a laugh. “Taking care of people is just in me.”

Behind that calm exterior is a career shaped by grit, courage, and reinvention. Now, in one of California’s most coveted enclaves, she’s creating what she calls her dream space: nearly 4,000 square feet dedicated to artistry, hospitality, and community.

Long before she imagined this, Eckardt found sanctuary in a salon. At fifteen, navigating her parents’ divorce, she took a job at a small wig shop, working with clients whose needs were as emotional as they were aesthetic—individuals exploring new identities or grappling with illness. “That job taught me everything,” she says. “It taught me what this work really is. It’s not vanity.”

After cosmetology school at Paul Mitchell, she moved into high-end environments, building her skill and absorbing the energy of the entrepreneurs who sat in her chair. “Being around so many entrepreneurs made me realize I could do it too,” she says.

Eventually, she and her husband, Austin, opened their first Bay Area salon. They tiled the floors themselves, assembled stations, and unloaded deliveries. “It showed us exactly what we were capable of,” Lindsay says. It grew quickly, and additional locations followed shortly after.

Then came their first son, Leland, and with him, a pull toward Santa Barbara. They planned to open another salon just as the pandemic upended everything. “We had a newborn and no playbook, so we pivoted,” she says. She transformed a tiny lingerie shop in Montecito’s Upper Village into Kismet, a boutique offering luxury lingerie, accessories, clothing, and gifts in a space that makes you feel oh so feminine. It was a manifestation of Lindsay’s creative talents—from branding to design. It became her introduction to the community.

She listened closely to what locals craved in a salon yet couldn’t find: room for stylists to grow, space for clients to linger before or after an appointment, and last-minute availability without sacrificing luxury. A creative ecosystem that felt polished, warm, and open simply didn’t exist at the scale Santa Barbara needed. Slowly, the idea for Salon Providence took shape.

When Eckardt first stepped into the future Providence space at The Post, she knew instantly it was right. Everything after that was less certain. “I don’t have investors,” she says. “No silent partners. It’s just me.” She and Austin approached the buildout with the same scrappiness as before, though the stakes were higher and the challenges more complex. Construction stalled. Budgets shifted. Each week delivered something new to solve.

She’s remarkably open about the difficult parts of the journey. Where most entrepreneurs tend to gloss over the challenges of starting a business, Eckardt shares them without hesitation. Sitting straighter, hands wrapped around her latte, she recounts the setbacks and the doubts she has faced. Through it all, she kept going. “You don’t wait until you feel brave,” she says. “You move scared.”

Inside, Providence reads less like a salon and more like a boutique hotel lobby: soaring ceilings, clean lines, and lots of natural light. Beyond the aesthetic, she’s building a genuine creative hub. In a town where waitlists stretch for months, she knows people crave spontaneity—a blowout before dinner, an updo on a whim, or a quick trim. Providence will offer that ease without compromising luxury, a combination surprisingly rare here.

Being part of The Post amplifies the experience. Clients can enjoy a latte from Little King in the chair, a dish from Ospi delivered mid-appointment, or a little shopping for an upcoming event. She wants a visit to the salon to feel like a day well spent, not another task to check off.

The retail area reflects her instinct for community. She’ll bring select pieces from Kismet—silky pajamas, fragrant candles, shimmery lip gloss—but the shelves won’t be hers alone. She imagines collaborations with local, women-led beauty and wellness brands. In an industry that can be insular, her inclusivity is refreshing. Providence isn’t designed to stand apart; it’s designed to gather.

But perhaps its deepest purpose is for the artists themselves. Eckardt envisions a space where stylists at every stage can evolve by shadowing, collaborating, and refining their craft. She remembers the hunger she felt early in her career and wants Providence to offer the mentorship she once searched for. “Talent grows when it has room,” she says. “I want to create room.”

Outside, the storm continues. Rain thrums against the roof as workers move through the unfinished salon, their tools echoing the weather. Eckardt looks around the space, her bright eyes glowing with pride and excitement. “Everyone wants to skip to the reveal, but this is where everything important happens” she says, glancing toward the half-built room. “It hasn’t been easy, but it’s worth fighting for.” There is beauty here in the noise of construction, the smell of wet paint, the determination in Eckardt’s eyes. There is beauty in the becoming.