I don’t ever go Silverlake anymore. Come to think of it, I never really did. It’s the land of the lost, long haired indie rockers. Not to be confused with the long hairs of the Sunset Strip. In Silverlake it’s about flare corduroys on boys, and little sweater vests. Ironic hats and sunglasses, each pair cooler than the last. Expensive but delicious coffee. And salads.
I went to Tacos Delta this week, probably the best thing about Silverlake, and ordered the most delicious Chilaquiles on the planet. Not hungover, praying for my life, but with my husband and baby.
We strolled (for real with a stroller) to Intelligentsia, and ordered our expensive yet delicious caffeine. I admired the messy cool kids reading their books and writing their poetry. I mean I hope they were writing poems.
The torn wheat pasted posters, the cute unnecessary stores. The juice bar I went on a date with a pro skater who I’d refer to as “Juice” to my girlfriends, who has a secret skateboard warehouse downtown that’s not secret at all. Actually there’s two super secret downtown skateboard warehouses that aren’t secret at all. Lol idiots.
Sunset Junction music festival flashes through my mind. The time I wore a blue dress with GIANT white puffed sleeves and an entire group of an ex-boyfriends friends called me Alice (from Wonderland) for an entire year without me knowing. Probably Drunken Alice. Slamming giant Modelos with my friend Danielle outside convenient stores cause we couldn’t afford drinks inside the festival. Getting skulls and crossbones tattooed behind our ears for absolutely no reason.
Nights at grimy bars watching even grimier bands.
But I was never one of the Silverlake cool kids. I was more Hollywood trashy.
Santa Monica is for the people with money. Venice for artists. Brentwood for Lindsay Lohan. Beverly Hills for the Old Money. Highland park for the even older money. Malibu for famous people who want to hide, like Axl Rose, Lana Del Rey and Bob Dylan. Topanga for the hippies. Culver City for who the fuck knows. Hollywood for the rockers. Franklin Village for the giant hat wearing siblings of celebrities. Beachwood Canyon for Christopher Nolan. West Hollywood for the gays and actors. Downtown for the weird artists who also produce music and love drugs. Highland park for the Silverlake people who had kids. Echo Park for the Silverlake people who didn’t have kids but are over it. Los Feliz for the lovers, the Valley for the haters and people who enjoy being able to turn left on any street at any given time. Studio city for the people who want to pretend they don’t live in the Valley. The Hollywood Hills for the sellouts and Laurel Canyon for the dreamers.
I don’t really know what this post is about. But yeah. I can’t wait to sell out.
XO