Though the magazines Bikini, Grand Royal, and the now-defunct Sassy outlined “where it’s at” in Los Angeles, the information is scattered throughout interviews, test drives, personal bullshit, and knick knacks. That’s why I present to you below the cut and dry of the region’s haunts. Planning a weekend around these little ladies will make you days Los Andelicious.
Pool. Bel Age
Hotel on Sunset and San Vicente. We walked in straight faceed at 1
AM after taking in a Poi Dog Pondering concert at the Roxy (a friend’s idea and
surprisingly uplifting). Take the elevator to the highest floor, get out,
find a stairwell at the end of the hallway, and walk on up to a western
mecca. Pool, spa, and views of the electric grid below. White
towels are even provided.
Drink. Dublins on the
Sunset Strip. While waiting fifteen minutes for valet parking (more of a
necessity than for bougeosis reasons), Joe and I watched a tow truck perform a
miracle in hauling a car through tightly packed cars and across three boulevard
lanes. The wait made us thirsty and we found a table upstairs.
Everyone was dressed to impress. The bar had Guinness on tap, which was
good. Other than that and the name of the bar, spelled out in green,
there is nothing Irish about the experience.
Food. Swingers on Beverly, one block from Fairfax. Operating before, and
having no relation to, the movie of the same name, Swingers has welcomed flocks
of urbanites with its Warholian pink cow wallpaper and dining specials. I
am a softie for the choose your own omelette. The waitresses are nice,
the parking is manageable, and its open pretty late. Grillled hash browns
at 1 AM after a swim are always a special treat.
Dance Club. The Pink on
Main Street
at Ashland in Ocean Park.
Trip hop and related sorts. Nearby is some tasty grubbage at Holy
Guacamole. Go even if it hot sauces are not your hobby. The cover
of the club is around eight bucks. A carnesada taco will run you $1.50
with chips and salsa. The guy working the register is always reading some
classic literary work – Siddhartha, Merchant of Venice… Talk a little prose with the
man.
Beach. The beach rolls on two blocks
away, which is a great place to spend a morning. Grab some grub and drink
(I prefer Orgenia) at the nearby Noah’s and stroll over. Pick up an LA
Weekly on the way for some good reading to go along with the good eats. If you
tour LA in the fall, head back to the beach at dusk for some ocean
swimming. The Santa Monica pier ferris wheel’s lights glow through the
evening fog, a grey mood pervades, solitary and timeless, and the waves are
decent for body surfing. After the light becomes really low I head back
east to Main Street
for some more more tacos and say good night to the day.
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