I have spent a lot of my life not liking LA. I knew nothing about it, of course, and had been through the city on my way to Disneyland, maybe twice. It was the Hollywood stuff, the “epicenter of vanity”stuff that I didn’t like. The Kardashians aren’t helping the case.
I am here now, looking at sustainable fashion jobs, and sort of actually like it. I’m hanging out downtown, at a very hip coffee shop, trying not to stare. The coffee is great, the people watching is phenomenal, and I wish I showered this morning. Honestly, I just want to write about the people I’m looking at, but that’s weird, right? I shouldn’t do that.
Things that have happened in LA that make me love it:
The airbnb we are staying is right downtown and is about 3 floors up. It’s high enough to drown out the traffic noise, but not high enough to miss the drumming concert that went on for three hours the first night.
Getting up early to go to Eggslut only to find out that about 400 people had the exact same idea. Forced to walk around Grand Central Market and have one of the best bagel and smoked sturgeon (out of New York) at Wexler’s deli. Crisis averted
Met an amazing friend at the opera and saw La Boheme. Started the night with quesadillas and pink champagne. Ended the night with an old fashioned at a bar that felt like the Natural History museum had a baby with a saloon girl from the gold rush.
Bought a $5 chocolate eclair at Bottega Louie and destroyed it in an elevator. Not sorry.
This place is kind of fantastic, and it’s messing with all of my stereotypes. I’m going to have to find a new place to judge blindly.