Los Angeles is a city that many love to hate. If only it didn’t have so many people, so many cars, so much traffic, so much pollution. Whatever happened to the valley filled with orange groves, where the beautiful were discovered in soda fountains and transformed into stars? And yet this polygot city of angels still draws the young, filled with dreams of making their creative mark on the silver screen, as well as the ambitious poor from south of the border and beyond, hoping to make a better life.
What I love about Los Angeles is the visual creativity that permeates this metropolis from the major fine arts museums (LA County Museum of Art, the L.A. MOMA, the Norton Simon in Pasadena, the Getty in west L.A. and Malibu, to name a few) to the quirky vintage stores and hip fashion and interior design shops of Robertson Blvd., Los Feliz and Melrose Avenues, and the graceful Spanish-style stucco bungalows and apartment complexes that dot the city.
Now that my daughter lives in L.A., I manage to spend a weekend there every few months. The best time to visit is in the winter when the air looks the clearest and it is even possible to see the hills that ring the valley.
Arriving on a Friday night, I suggest dinner at Cha Cha Cha’s, a West Hollywood restaurant with Caribbean-inspired food (coconut shrimp, jerk chicken, vegetable-filled sopapillas). Over a margarita, corn tortilla ships, fresh salsa or guacamole, we catch up while taking in the festive surroundings: statues of saints, strings of Christmas lights, punched tin star-shaped lanterns, and floral-patterned vinyl tablecloths in a riot of colors.
This city has endless possibilities for night life, but one of my favorites is the rooftop garden bar at the Standard Hotel downtown, where classic movies like “Cool Hand Luke” are projected on the walls and the dance floor is tiny but lively. If the crowd seems too much, there are small pods, complete with waterbed mattresses, to escape to. Downstairs is a coffee shop that is worth at least a look-see for the 1960s décor.
Saturday morning, we head to the closest Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf, a local chain that makes the best honey bran muffins. To drink, I like the green tea ice blend, a creamy concoction made with matcha, the concentrated green tea used in the Japanese tea ceremony. Or, if I’m off caffeine, I might have a tea latte with herbal Swedish berry tea. For brunch, we might go to Toast, a trendy place with delicious huevos rancheros (corn tortilla topped with beans, salsa and fried eggs). I find it sad and slightly ridiculous that so many of the patrons waiting to be seated have the same blonde hair, flawless tans, and surgically-enhanced busts. Other times, we opt for the organic and very French Figaro Bistro, for steamed mussels with French fries or a frisée salad with poached egg and a bowl of café au lait or a mimosa. I love browsing the fashion and interior design boutiques in the same neighborhood as Toast as well as the vintage clothing store next to Figaro. On my last vintage shopping spree., I found a Versace wrap dress for $119 for my daughter and a $14 cropped ladylike jacket in a lovely shade of blue with white top stitching for me. The latter perfectly matched the blue and white “Question Everything” button I found in the nearby independent Skylight Books, one of the best bookstores anywhere.
A trip to Los Angeles wouldn't be complete without at least a glimpse of the Pacific Ocean so in the afternoon we drive to Santa Monica, stopping first at the cupcake bakery Sprinkles for an afternoon pick-me-up. It might not be a quick stop, since there is often a line going out the door, but it will definitely be worth the wait for one of their red velvet cupcakes with vanilla icing, a Southern specialty, or any of the other dozen-plus flavors.
After we’ve on the beach or browsed the shops on Main Street in Santa Monica, I might suggest dinner at Raw, which serves vegan raw or “living” food. The term “raw” in this context means either uncooked or not heated above 118 degrees F., the temperature at which the food’s “living” enzymes die. Raw cuisine encompasses much more than green salads, gazpachos and fruit smoothies. Think Mexican pizza, pumpkin tortellini, spring rolls, cheesecake, apple pie, all made from such raw ingredients as nuts, seeds, sprouted grains, and coconuts, as well as fruits and vegetables, transformed by the low-heat of the dehydrator into reasonable facsimiles of the real thing. My favorite dish is the faux eel sushi, which has the same crunchy, meaty texture and salty flavor as the original. The chocolate parfait, made from coconut and raw cacao is also scrumptious.
Wandering around the farmer’s market is a fun way to spend Sunday morning. I like to check out the tables heaped with fresh produce and flowers and the booths with take-out food and drinks. We might try a strawberry lemonade or a bottle of sugarcane juice or a plate of Korean barbeque. Half a dozen or more artisans sell their wares as well, from handmade soaps to summer dresses to one-of-a-kind boxes and bags decoupaged with images ranging from Frida Kahlo’s self-portraits to Maxfield Parrish’s ethereal youths.
Sunday afternoon is a great time to explore the Getty, which now has two locations, the remodeled original Getty Villa in Malibu with the ancient Greek, Roman, and Etruscan art collection and the Frank Gehry-designed Getty Center on the west side of Los Angeles, housing European art from the Middle Ages to the present. The former (which is free to enter but requires advance reservations) is the home of one of my all-time favorite pieces of art: a 4th century Sicilian sculpture of Aphrodite (Venus to the Romans). Here in Los Angeles, a city permeated by a culture exalting youth and beauty, one might expect the usual image of the goddess as girlishly coy and scantily-clad. But instead, this majestic sculpture of Aphrodite, with one foot forward, her arms raised and her loose robes billowing, stands as an apt reminder of the awesome power of beauty, sexual desire, and love in human life, a power as unpredictable as that of the nearby Pacific Ocean.
A last glimpse back at Aphrodite, then the ocean, the freeway, the airport and then home again.
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