Well, I am going to steal from Musette (if you’re going to steal, steal from the best right?) so it’s a Holiday Yikes for me as well. I did have a box of samples show up from StC on Friday so I do have some lovelies I should have been examining more closely, but didn’t (although I am now wearing and loving Violet Ida). I honestly don’t know what happened to the three day weekend: Musette can get practically a whole house rebuilt and I think I may have emptied the trash.
Well, not really. I did do some chores Saturday, including marketing at our local BH Market. I don’t know if I mentioned this place before but I love it and if you are in LA you should stop by. It’s an honest to g-d mom-and-pop local grocery store. It’s been there for decades, been run by the same family since it’s inception (and you’re likely to see one of them behind the counter) and they do a lot for the community. Even in only by existing- they could have easily become some Dean and Deluca Lite and made a fortune but they left that to Whole Paycheck down the street. They have reasonable prices for staples, cheap produce and other inexpensive items that serve the subsidized elder housing that is, oddly, right above that Whole Foods (and where I would dearly like to move to.) but also gourmet stuff and a good selection of expensive booze. So if I needed a bottle of Veuve Cliquot to wash down my cottage cheese with pineapple it is one-stop shopping.
On the way home I did pass one of our “colorful” locals putting on a rally with ten or so of her pals to protest something I won’t get into (if we are Facebook friends you’ve seen the post) but I suppose that it is, if ironic, in the spirit of Memorial Day that people exercise their right to free speech. I did have a rather vivacious conversation at the stoplight with a lady in a Mercedes about them, so that was pleasant. I do love BH.
My friend Tomas was in town for the weekend, partially for business and partially to visit his parents in Santa Monica. We decided to meet in West Hollywood for tea and cake on Sunday, which was a bit of a mistake, but one that I saw coming. During Covid, the city did something very good for the local bars and restaurants: they took over the parking on the boulevard and rejiggered it so those businesses could have outdoor seating since at the time they could not have it indoors. They also relaxed the rules so that people could consume alcohol on the street (previously illegal and for which you could be arrested) A very good thing that saved several businesses. However now that Covid is supposedly over and said businesses are allowed to have indoor seating again, they still have the “OutZones.” Which seems unfair to me- it’s a giveaway of parking that is used by other businesses on the street, like the clothing stores and other retail to sometimes double the seating capacity of the bar, for free. It makes the sidewalks almost impassable and with the competing shows and sound systems makes it LOUD. This sin’t just for Mardi Gras or Pride or Memorial Day or Quentin Crisp’s Birthday, it’s every day.
Now, I get it, I’m old and cranky. I was old and cranky when I moved here in my 20’s and specifically chose to live in my part of BH because it was within walking distance to that party but not right next door to it. But this “new” (as of two years or so) “exciting, vibrant” West Hollywood is a little much. So Tomas and I took our cake and strolled back towards my place where we could have a conversation that wasn’t over the sound of departing Jumbo Jets Lip Synching for their Lives, and he could call his Uber back to SM.
Monday I was going to be lazy. But duty called: a plumber had to show up for a back up (If you didn’t already know, I manage the building I live in, so that’s my job. Which has kind of put me off the idea of owning. The idea that I can live under rent control and eat bon-bons while “Tom” takes care of the plumber or the microwave or whatever is enticing) in one of the apartments. In the mean time my friend Marietta called up to chat. She and her spouse recently decamped from the ever-escalating not rent stabilized rents of Manhattan and settled in the burbs. They’re close enough to the train lines to have easy access to the city and have a charming little bungalow nestled in between larger houses in quite a tony little part of suburban NY. We had a lovely little catch-up and the plumber even arrived at the early part of his service window, and quickly took care of the issue. By noon I was (rather than paying attention to the perfumes that were sitting in front of me in the office) out on the road with the top down on the cool and overcast day, making sure that the car had it’s weekly ½ hour or so drive to keep things lubed and charged. Not at all because I love to drive and a trip along Mulholland with the top down is my version of chanting “ohm” while getting a hot stone massage. Oh no.
Then I got McDonalds on the way back. I will have the steamed bok choy, white meat chicken and brown rice tonight. Honest I will.
As for Violet Ida, jury is out. So far it skirts between rooty iris and Play-Doh on me. I am hoping that it will become more of the former and less of the latter (Portia loved it) but we will have to see.
See, I did get a bit of perfume in there, even if I put you in a coma before you got to it! So how was your weekend? What places in your ‘hood do you love? Is your version of a hot stone massage.. a hot stone massage? Tell us stories in the comments.
Photos are mine. Sample of Violet Ida is from Surrender to Chance.