Dirty hipsters finally get the media attention they deserve.

If The Hills met Spike Jonze, fell in love, and brought the homeless man from 7-Eleven in for a threesome...their baby would look like this terrible idea for a reality show about Silverlake's young, wealthy hipster set. Curbed LA reports that producers are now casting for this very show.

The Craigslist casting ad reads as follows...

A new Reality Show is casting Silver Lake's rich, wealthy, hipster GUYS and GIRLS 21-30 whose personal style is homeless chic: Guys with beards, ratty hair and raggedy yet stylish clothing – and Girls dressed in fashionable, vintage hippie-type garb accessorized with large sunglasses and oversized tote bags. You must be incredibly involved in the Silver Lake social scene, enjoy a sensational nightlife Silver Lake style and be very outspoken with a vivacious personality. You must also hang with a racially diverse, intriguing group of friends who all live in Silver Lake.

Wow. Finally a chance for the East side's trust fund kids to 'work' for a living. And bring their hipster minority friends into the mix as well. So they can all buy more ripped jeans to store in their manses. Classy.

[via Amber of Words Done Write via Curbed LA]
[Image via Yeah Right Radio]

Seattle - Day 1: Kind Strangers + Pike Place Market + Tourist Traps

Five and a half years ago I decided I wanted to move to Seattle. I think I'd seen an article in a magazine. I'm sure I didn't read the article all the way through. But it all seemed ideal. Artsy, down-to-earth people in a mini-metropolis. What could be quainter and lovelier and more perfect.

We all know how that story ends. I gave up on that fleeting whim and pursued the next one instead when I moved to Los Angeles in 2005. But when something enters my head, it generally doesn't exit easily. And several weeks ago when Virgin America emailed with news of discounted fares to--where else but Seattle--I took it as a sign and booked a ticket.

With the excited recommendations of some friends, a few emailed lists of suggestions, and a handful of post-it notes scribbled with bars and restaurants and people to call on in Seattle, I readied myself for the trip to this city where I don't know anything or anyone or how to get from point a to point b. Cause that's how I roll.

Here's a glimpse at Day One...

ZapCassettes is the project of the super cool guy I met on the bus coming from the airport into Downtown. Cool guy Alex and his friend Sarah had just arrived from Atlanta, GA to go to the Scion Garage Fest in Portland. Alex not only gave me a cassette. But he also wrote down the names of lots of cool bands and artists for me to check out since I'm music ignorant (amongst them - Wanda Jackson, Ty Segall, Yussuf Jerusalem, and Gino Washington. And he also gave me a napkin from his pocket, full of written notes of more spots to check out in Seattle. Lesson learned here: we heart strangers on public transportation.

Ed, the lovely front desk dude at the Ace Hotel, hooked me up with one of the biggest 'Standard' rooms. You can take the girl out of LA. But apparently LA artists will follow the girl everywhere. Wheat-pasted on an entire wall of my room are Shepard Fairey's Andre the Giant images (also featured throughout the NYC Ace where I stayed last time I was back East).

Pike Place Market is a huge, incredible outdoor/indoor farmers market cum food court cum fish outlet.

I cannot identify the long sea creatures with the odd tentacles here. I fear that they may be octopus arms.

My lunch at Matt's in the Market. Roasted Peppers: toasted macrina bakery potato bread, piquillo peppers, sweet peppers, olive tapenade, chevre.

When in Rome...get a Starbuck's Pumpkin Latte. (I did spot the very first Starbuck's at the Market. But authenticity = a tourist trap = a long ass line. This latte came from one of the many other Starbucks that line every street in Seattle.)

At Pioneer Square, an imposing bust of Chief Seattle himself.

I took the Undergroud Tour in Pioneer Square, recommended to me by a lovely lady on my flight. Old Seattle is buried beneath new Seattle. The story involves a glue gun, a fire, and poor city planning. Our tour guide may have suffered an identity crisis between high-level nerd and aspiring stand-up comic. I dug her.

The Seattle Waterfront is beautiful. I believe I was overlooking the Puget Sound. Please don't ask me to verify this.

Seafood joints rule the roost by the Waterfront.

Dr. Martens became a national symbol of grunge here in Seattle. And the boots are still very much alive and kicking (no pun intended).

Sometimes you feel like a nut. Sometimes you feel like a nut taking a picture of yourself with your cell phone, while trying desperately to hide this act from passersby.

My day just ended with dinner at Black Bottle, a chic tapas and wine spot down the street from the Ace. While I don't recommend going alone, it was a nice (translation: they had a seat and they had wine) end to a great day in Seattle, Washington.

I'm off to bed and looking forward to what tomorrow in this new city brings...

For more pics of Seattle - Day 1, visit my Picasa album. Believe me--it will be better than your average vacation slide show. *

* This statement is not a guarantee, nor a promise. The album could, in fact, suck.

Learnings from a 10 year old.

Last night I visited the temporary shelter where I volunteer twice a month with the younger residents. These children are pretty typical as children go--they are cute, they are full of energy, they can get pretty raucous after one too many Sponge Bob gummy candies (oops, that was my fault). Beside the fact that they're homeless, they are just your average kids. But the part about not having a home is a pretty big factor.

Between Hannukah word searches and paper plate Santa crafting last night, I asked the kids what they'd like for Christmas if the sky was the limit, so to speak. One of the younger ones was adamant in his wish for a Gremlin movie (at least I think that is what I deduced that he meant by 'gwomen'). One wished for a scooter. And one--one of the older kids who happens to be exceptionally bright--said very matter-of-factly, that she wanted a house for Christmas.

It's incredibly easy to take advantage of our fortunes. I have my own apartment that is consistently stocked with food and a wardrobe (even if I do shop for groceries at Target now and I'm Ebaying off my designer duds one by one). So, huge thanks to a 10 year old for putting my bitching and moaning in perspective. My wish for Christmas is that those kids get houses too.

We Like to Party: We went Doooowntoooown.

Cult classic Little Shop of Horrors got it right when they described downtown...

Downtown...Where the folks are broke.
Downtown...Where your life's a joke.
Downtown...When you buy your token,
you go...Home to skid row.

And here in Los Angeles, downtown still fits this description better than the downtown area of any other city I've visited.

Efforts to revitalize the area, made by neighborhood councils, development companies, and local businesses include frequent events meant to make downtown's new and desirable residents feel like there is indeed a community there--that they are not alone in their expensive lofts. That despite the remaining missions and shopping cart communities, the lack of schools or health facilities, the absence of all but one supermarket, they live in a vibrant, artistic, thriving neighborhood. On weekends like this past one, you almost believe they hype.

In honor of 'Repeal Day'--this year the 75th marker since the end of prohibition--Dewar's celebrated all around Downtown, a neighborhood where the brand has really made its mark. We attended the private party held by Dewar's at Seven Grand, Downtown nightlife empasario, Sed Moses' whisky bar. Complimentary hats, boas, whisky (courtesy of Dewar's), food (courtesy of Casey's Irish Pub), music (courtesy of DJ Daisy O and Foreign Born and others), and comedy was served.

Fun fact: Whisky can apparently be spelled 2 ways. I always assumed it was spelled with an 'e,' as in whiskey. On Friday, I noticed that all of Dewar's collateral spells it without the 'e,' as in whisky. In an effort to be open-minded, I've begun spelling it the latter way.

Not so fun fact: Apparently Irish food consists of very little vegetarian fare, as I discovered on Friday night when even the vegetables were wrapped in meat. Hence, my leaving early, before the fun was finished.

Last night, we travelled downtown again for the Old Bank District's holiday block party. Hosted by Gilmore Associates, the development company that essentially owns the entire district and Little Radio, the downtown music and party staple, the evening was a coming together of the restaurants, arts community and musical curators of the area. A light installation, pictured left added a festive feel to the streets.

Take a look closer and notice the parking restrictions that make having a car in Downtown such a pleasure. I guess this would be the optimum moment to plug the DASH. But seeing as I've never rode public transportation in LA, that would make me feel like a big, fat liar.

We popped into Bar 107, where I discovered for the first time, the incredibly kitschy and fun back room, complete with a van door-framed bar.

We stopped into one of the local gallery spaces where a cigarette-girl type accompanied one of the pieces. She was selling $10 chocolate bars, promising that one of the bars contained a 'golden ticket' that would win me the entire installation. The installation was comprised of a grafitied wall, cardboard boxes and, well, her. Ah, downtown arts.

Leaving the well-lit streets of the Old Bank District we headed further East into the less-developed Industrial District where architecture students and hobos still reign supreme. On a little block of 3rd Street, a few businesses have popped up, adding a glimmer of commercialism and tasty eats to an otherwise bleak area.

Upon leaving our darling friend Jackie's birthday party at Blue Dahlia Cafe, we encountered a homeless man pissing on the corner of a parked Prius. This is the downtown LA's known for years. This is the downtown LA that is being hidden behind street fests and sushi restaurants. Hey, if I were a bum that had been bussed here only to have a luxury loft condo built on my block a decade later...I might piss on your hybrid too.

Photo credits: Doo-wop girls - Little Shop of Horrors, Photos 2, 3, 4, 5 - Jessie B. R.

Giving thanks for yesterday's carb count.

Thanksigving 2.0 proved, on almost all counts, a success. The morning's turnout to Gobble Gobble Give was astounding. I'm pretty certain that every hipster in a 15 mile radius of The Echo turned out to pack, pass and send out hundreds of packaged meals to LA's homeless. Note for next year: rolls and pie do not a Thanksgiving meal make people. By the end of the day, we'd run out of turkey and were sending out whole pies in the stead of meals. But a pumpkin pie is better than nothing to eat. And I left inspired by the community's come-togetherness. And especially impressed by my very own DJ Scott T. Sterling's 2 hour set which had volunteers shaking their tail as they doled stuffing and pie out.

The rest of the day was equally satisfactory.

The centerpiece turned out...well, it turned out alright. A little gliterry for the occasion, perhaps. But now we've just got a headstart on decorating for Christmas...

Scott and I made a pumpkin pie. Because the one pie we'd already purchased, simply put, needed a pal. And because no Thanksgiving would be complete without pumpkin products...

We snacked on brie and my all time fave cheese, Cave-Aged Gruyere...

Heating up the dinner from Auntie Em's, picked up the day before, was quite the production for me and had me baffled more than a couple of times--further proof that I should never, ever attempt to actually create an entire meal from scratch. It also could probably have fed 4 people...

As you'll see by the amount of food leftover, which looks nearly identical to the amount of food which we started with...

Next year, perhaps we'll opt for a dinner out. Either that or the purchase of a stomach pump.

Til the next holiday. When we'll do it all over again...