LOVING ON LA
& Eve Babitz ✰✰✰✰✰
“LA is over” “LA is dead” — I’ve seen this sentiment bouncing around the Substack echo chamber for about a year, and as a mean-spirited Bostonian, it made me giddy that a city so far superior to mine was being dragged.
Then, I actually went to LA. It’s not “dead” and anyone who says as much is boring and needs to deploy some ✨nuance✨. To struggle is not to die.
Holly Brubach, in her 2015 introduction to Eve’s Hollywood (which, if you haven’t read…catch up) writes:
To those of us growing up in the Northeast in the 1960s, California was a foreign country and Los Angeles its capital. Actual foreign capitals like London and Paris seemed more familiar. At the root of our deep mistrust was the Yankee conviction that weather is a defining force in shaping human character — that harsh winters instill Calvinist rigor in those obliged to withstand them, that perpetual summer would inevitably corrode morals and the will to work. All those hillsides ablaze, those earthquakes rattling the china, struck us as fire-and-brimstone reminders that people were never meant to live in LA in the first place — reminders unheeded by the local residents, a bunch of confirmed hedonists who lived in the moment, turning their backs on Europe and the past, facing the sunset and the sea.
I think this feeling is still shared by most people from the Northeast. The amount of times I’ve caught myself participating in LA slander (even though I’d only been there once when I was 14 and so self-absorbed I couldn’t see straight) — “it’s too big, you have to drive everywhere, the smog, the Kardashians, the earthquakes” — we say as we pick at our dry goblin skin, one hand frozen around a Dunkin Donuts iced coffee that we are drinking for some reason in the dead of winter as we trudge through sub-zero windchill in the pitch black at 4pm to ride the MBTA which doesn’t even work.
So yeah, when I heard people saying “LA is over” it made me a little happy. But then I finally got out to LA a few weeks ago and had the time of my life, in constant awe over its beauty and history and produce and art scene and stylish, laid back people. It was a dream, at least to a tourist. I recognize I am speaking from that perspective and have no idea what it feels like to live there right now, beyond what I read in the news and hear from a few friends (who love it), so please feel free to jump in the comments. I know it has been a hard few years.
But, if LA is over, Boston has been dead in the ground for like 100 years. Boston aside — because I realize being smart and good at pharmaceuticals doesn’t make us relevant — I also enjoyed myself more in LA than I have recently in New York. Sure, you have to drive everywhere, but it’s gorgeous and you can roll the windows down… a treat for me, as I’m usually walking through a gale or fending off a claustrophobic attack on the Green Line.
Bountiful fresh produce and the chill energy/style of Angelenos also made for amazing restaurant experiences, and how I feel in a dining room is typically the benchmark for how I feel about a city.
What people mean by the boring “LA is over” line is that LA is traumatized. On several fronts, in addition to struggling with modern-day-big-city-problems. This is obviously not a new take, but being traumatized and a WIP is very different from being “over”.
On that note! —
WHY I ❤️❤️❤️ LA & WHY YOU SHOULD, TOO:
Reading Eve Babitz and Joan Didion, in that order. Babitz: Eve’s Hollywood and Slow Days, Fast Company. Didion: Slouching Towards Bethlehem, The White Album, Where I Was From, Play It As It Lays. Also, Didion & Babitz by Lili Anolik.
Martinis at the Beverly Hills Hotel (sighting: Jaclyn Smith with entourage) followed by dinner at Smoke House — more martinis, the “world’s greatest garlic bread” (which applies to all garlic bread and is therefore also true in this case) spinach and artichoke dip, calamari, prime rib, and lemon cake. Smoke House opened in 1946 and is one of the few remaining LA restaurants of that era, which is of course why we went and it was fantastic and I would choose it over a top 10 new restaurant any day. A group of five, a big red booth, too many drinks — is there a more fun Monday night? We had intended to go to Musso’s but it is closed on Mondays and it’s a good thing because we were completely raucous.
BHH & Smoke House Signing up for memberships to LACMA (sighting: Owen Wilson) so we could attend the previews of the David Geffen Galleries (who was a friend of Eve Babitz, btw). Our lovely “art friends” (one curator, one UCLA PhD) were speaking in hushed tones about how the space doesn’t work for the art — but as a layperson who responds strongly to ~aesthetics~ and ~vibes~ I was in heaven — the space is like nothing I’ve seen before and so fun to wander through, a surprise around every corner. Allegedly, the new galleries haven’t been well-received in the art world — the issue seems to be the curation, not the architecture (which is spectacular) — but don’t people love to whine over the new and the glamorous? Joan Didion’s essay “The Getty” discusses how Angelenos pearl-clutched over The Getty when it first opened. Time is a flat circle, etc.
David Geffen Galleries (LACMA) Having a liquid breakfast at Erewhon most mornings — in my defense, it is down the street from our friend’s apartment in Beverly Fairfax (where she generously let us stay), and the mango smoothie and life force juice shot are GOOD AND GREAT.
The flora. Jacaranda in bloom.
The Stahl House. One of the coolest travel experiences I’ve had. It is on the market ($20 million) for the first time since it was built in 1960, and no one knows how public access will play under new ownership. So the time to go is now. The Stahl House is one of the most celebrated examples of mcm architecture in the US and was designed by architect Pierre Koenig. It is famous for its dramatic position over the Hollywood Hills and was immortalized in Julius Shulman’s 1960 photograph. The house is so exposed it seems like you could just, well, FALL OFF. I was a bit unsteady/nauseous at the end of our allotted hour on the property. I think the Vermonter in me was scared of so much blue sky. Still — unmissable.
The Stahl House Taking Waymos after a copious amount of wine and laughing continuously because it’s very funny that no one is driving and even funnier how quickly you forget that no one is driving…
Dinner at El Coyote, which just celebrated its 95th anniversary and is owned by the third generation of the same family. I ordered a “mezcalita” and the server read me to filth — “You don’t need to do all that. It’s called a mezcal margarita.” Yes sir!! 🫡 Marilyn Monroe, John Wayne, and Harrison Ford were all regulars at El Coyote, as well as so many others. It serves better than average Mexican food in big portions, and has retained its character and decor to a spectacular degree — Christmas lights up year-round, red leather booths, eight rooms worth of signed celebrity headshots. I would absolutely be a regular if I lived in the neighborhood, as is our wonderful LA friend and host.
El Coyote A trip to Silver Lake and Los Feliz to visit Neutra VDL Studio and Residences and Hollyhock House, followed by lunch at Fred 62. I preferred Neutra to Hollyhock; it felt livable and (characteristically) connected with the landscape, as opposed to the palatial Hollyhock — which was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright for an oil heiress, and you can tell.
Viennese-American architect Richard Neutra built Neutra VDL Studio and Residences in 1932 to serve as his family home and studio. Over three decades it functioned as one of LA’s great architectural salons, drawing Frank Lloyd Wright, Julius Shulman, and many others through its doors. It was designated a National Historic Landmark in 2016.
Fred 62 was a perfect LA lunch — and in addition to serving a very good burger, gave me a glimpse into LA diner culture — it’s a big thing and a fantastic example of Americana.
The light. It’s not a myth that the light in LA is magical; it’s the result of geography and atmosphere. I noticed it constantly. LA sits in a basin ringed by mountains with the Pacific to the west, and a little research taught me that the marine layer diffuses the morning sun, the dry air keeps colors from washing out, and the city’s southern latitude means golden hour is long. Also, when the Santa Ana winds blow in from the desert they scour the basin clean, producing that eerie, hyper-saturated clarity that Didion wrote about and Shulman built a career on. Neutra and the Case Study architects understood it as a design material. But most people just call it magic, which it is.
Evening light / morning light Dinner at Quarter Sheets — some of the best pan pizza I’ve had, in fantastic company, with princess cake and rhubarb ice cream for dessert. I was shocked to see so many people out on a Friday night — spilling out of restaurants and bars onto patios and sidewalks, it reminded me of Europe and is so un-Boston it physically hurts. Another example of how I just can’t accept people saying LA is over — although I realize Friday night in Echo Park is far from the reality of the whole city, young people having fun is always a good indicator. We aren’t doing that where I’m from.
Quarter Sheets An afternoon at The Getty, including a tour of its archive through one of our best friends/our host/the UCLA PhD student in question. We saw a book made of pee and a dress made of paper-mache breasts — no wonder they keep some stuff in the basement. The Getty is the most unique major-museum experience I’ve had, from taking the little train up the hill from the parking garage, to the panoramic views of LA, to the 1.2 million square feet of Italian travertine, to the gardens, to the beer I drank on the patio (my first museum beer) — and, of course, it’s all free — minus the beer — thanks to Paul Getty's will that established a $6 billion trust.
The Getty Sitting in the backseat on Mulholland (after my museum beer) driving from The Getty to the Stahl House. I felt I had arrived — the Valley on one side, the Basin on the other, views of both, a long winding road, silly expensive homes that will one day crumble down the hill and into the sea, palms and flowers and greenery — anything is possible on a sunny LA Friday.
🌞🌞🌞🌞
Next time: Musso’s, Chateau Marmont, the Schindler House, way more tacos, The Getty Villa, a beach day, The Broad. Sushi.
Eve Babitz on LA:
“I wouldn’t leave L.A. if the whole place tipped over into the ocean.”
"In the Depression, when most of them came here, people with brains went to New York and people with faces came West.”
“Culturally, L.A. has always been a humid jungle alive with seething L.A. projects that I guess people from other places just can't see. It takes a certain kind of innocence to like L.A., anyway. It requires a certain plain happiness inside to be happy in L.A., to choose it and be happy here. When people are not happy, they fight against L.A. and say it's a 'wasteland' and other helpful descriptions.”