Tuesday, 5 November 2013

The Bittersweet Sunshine State

Los Angeles may never be my favorite city (downing a double at the bar and stepping on the gas in your six-inch stilettos is probably safer than putting sober,  loafered me behind the wheel), but it does have its perks:
The constant sunshine, the diet one is forced into purely by judging stares alone, and, most importantly, the flexibility that wardrobes are given at all times of the year.

While all other fashion capitol-dwellers are busy rotating their closets at this time of year, the closets of Los Angeles stand unaltered. The beauty of this city lies in the fact that your XXL woolen sweater and combat boots are perfectly acceptable in July, just as your cotton, floral sundress is in January.

As November peeked into my life, I was excited to leave the seasonal states for a toasty weekend in LA. My friends had recently shifted locations from the West to East which was a nice change of pace. While the West-siders find a trip to the beach to be the solution to all of life's obstacles, East-siders share my opinion in that the beach is cool and all, but so is a double espresso paired with an incredibly unorganized thrift shop.

This babe knew what was up. After chasing her down at the Silverlake Farmer's Market, she had to set down the 80-year-old stand owner's hand-me-down cardigan she was interested in to indulge me with a shot.

While she rocked the Budwiser logo, we all know her broke beer of choice is PBR.

All these praises of the East side are not to imply that those who habite dans la plage are the scum of the earth. I love getting in-tune with my inner free spirit while dipping my toes in. Not to mention, the style by the water, while laid back, is also beautifully put together.

Take this lad I came across during lunch in Santa Monica, for example. He and his friend on the bench seemed to know every person that walked past them, personally; either that, or they spoke to every person that walked past them like they knew them, personally.


I'm just assuming he threw on perfectly fitted coral shirt after yanking it out from under his mattress. I'm also assuming that the professionally-faded-seeming Buddha purse was a result from a trade years ago with a gypsy on Venice for some rolling papers and coconut water, which were the only items he had on him at the moment.

Obviously, I'm just jealous these Cali kids can rock man purses and beer shirts while all the rest of us to work with are our oversized scarves and wool socks.

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