I generally try to stay away from Hollywood. Day. Night. No matter. My interest in the area is about as strong as my interest in eating fire. But this weekend, I managed to spend the better part of my days in the neighborhood known for its cheesy nightclubs and poorly decorated hookers.
I made a pit stop at the closing day of Poketo's Los Angeles, I'm Yours exhibit at Space 15 Twenty. The ping-pong tournament outside seemed to be in only partial swing, but the exhibit of found objects made pretty by some of LA's most awesome artists was impressive.
Perhaps stopping into Refinery 29's East West Tag Sale at the same venue was a mistake. And by mistake, I mean huge detriment to my wallet.
My pal needed to find wigs for an event so we made our way to the Boulevard. Spotted amongst the awful wigs and trashy lingerie: one Asian hooker being fitted for a wig by her middle-aged white customer. Also spotted, her bare crotch as her slinky pink dress slid up. Lastly spotted, me running nauseous out of the store.
Finally tried out George Abou-Daoud's Mercantile. It's market meets cafe on Sunset Blvd. And though the daytime menu is meager, we were able to indulge in an amazing cheese plate and wine.
Killing time during a car wash off Vine.
I've discovered the bottomless breakfast cocktails at Ivan Kane's Cafe Was. And, oh boy. I may never drink a Sunday morning away anywhere else again.
I have the feeling that Amoeba's windows haven't been restyled since the 90s. The early, early 90s.
And that's all one girl can take in Hollywood, folks.