THE
SEARCH FOR MR. ADEQUATE
Part XII
By SUSAN SILVER
All
the cliches are true about Los Angeles, and that is why I left
lo
those many years ago. The good ones and the bad ones. You figure
out which is which:
Your brain does turn to guacamole because of the sunshine. A
good friend of mine who has reached her golden years, has decided
to get a breast enhancement. Now? Why? Why bother? Because in
LA everyone has those large, hard, round things that pass for
breasts, I guess. And, if you never had anything ... I gather
it eventually can get to you. Fortunately I wouldn’t know.
In fact, I remember dating, long ago, right after my divorce
and while engaged in heavy “petting” (she said, really
dating herself in era references) the guy said, “boy it’s
sure good to feel real ones.” My friend wanted my “support” but
I can’t give it, thinking it is dangerous, and told her.
Besides, if she does it, she won’t be needing any kind
of support, including a bra ... right?
No one talks about anything other than show biz. We once had
a showerdoor man tell us his credits, ala he’d installed
Dolly Parton’s shower door the week before ours. Okay,
I confess. I do not know anyone who is not in showbiz in L.A.
But don’t these people ever read a book?
Your car is your identity. In L.A. people would drive their houses if they could. I rented a mid-sized, non descript thing as I
didn’t think it would be warm enough for a convertible.
I was wrong and regretted it, but I’m very good about sticking
to a budget. (Which is why I haven’t had to work for the
last decade.) But yes, I saw the looks of revulsion on the valet’s
faces at the Ivy. By the way, the traffic is so unbelievably
bad that it can take two hours to go somewhere on the freeway
that should take twenty minutes. And once on the freeway, you
can’t get over to the exit lane anyway because they won’t
let you! Just to be mean.
One of the few things to do in L.A. is go out to the newest,
trendiest restaurants — which have a shelf life of
about two months. But just when those of us who are not “stars” can
get a reservation, they have closed. Stan told me Dan Tana’s
Restaurant was “hot” again ... he will be punished
... so I spent a horrific night with a bunch of Hollywood-want-to-be’s
partying-hardy all around me. A rapper, who actually was nice
and smelled really good, went around kissing total strangers,
of which I was one. His bling bling was blinding! He invited
me to a party which I didn’t attend, but hey ... it’s
always nice to be asked.
Of the old standbys, Nate and Al’s Deli is like the “home” without
the bedpans. Old comedy writers go there to die or hang out until
they do, and Larry King eats there everyday. He did his palm
trees up with lights for Xmas and it was very cute to see them
swaying in green and red.
Otherwise, there were giant chandeliers hanging as decorations
in Beverly Hills, kind of what everyday at Liberace’s would
be like I suppose. But somehow it didn’t feel like Christmas
at all, more like a Las Vegas re-enactment.
Shopping is really scary because in certain areas, like Robertson
or Melrose, the largest size is a small! And the next time I
hear some blonde bimbo say “Oh I have gained so much weight,
do you have a 2” ... well you can fill in the reaction.
When they go out to the “in” restaurant they must
not eat. Or do and then throw up. At least that’s what
it seems like they are doing, rushing off to the bathroom every
five minutes. Maybe it’s to do coke. Or most probably,
just look in the mirror. I have never seen such cookiecutter
girls: tight jeans and heels, tiny t-shirts with stupid sayings,
long, over bleached hair and big over pouty lips with over glossy
lip gloss!
Everyone does look like Goldie Hawn in First Wives Club, with
the botox and silicone in lips and tits and now that JLo has
made having a huge tush de rigueur, you see spandex and belly
buttons at your finest restaurants. And it’s not a pretty
sight on an empty stomach.
No one gets dressed up here. Guys wear flipflops and cut offs
to Spago. Ok, Dude ... maybe they were tourists, but they let
them in!! In fact, I am thinking that all the “pretty people” were
in Aspen, because the “ugly people” overran Beverly
Hills. All that was left were a lot of foreigners scooping up
the Gucci on Rodeo Drive.
I went to a ton of screenings, because that is the only
other thing to do in LA. The bad part of it is you have to sit
through
the end credits to “honor” your fellow out-of-work
craftspeople. But a free movie is a free movie. Though everyone
at the screenings is really old. And really unemployed now that
reality TV has killed off actors and writers. Ageism has always
been a huge problem in Los Angeles, and especially in show business.
A writer friend of mine was told to bring his son in with him
for meetings and let the kid talk and then the father could do
the writing when they got home. And he is just fourty-five. But
the good part of ageism is one can get the Senior discount for
regular movies at 60 rather than 65 like it is here in New York.
So “one” hears.
Fish and houseguests stink after five days.
In my annual Holiday routine, I stay with one friend for five
days, then go to a hotel with a spa for five, and finally down
to the beach with another friend for the last five. It’s
been my experience that more than five days as a guest is no
good. You get on each other’s nerves. Particularly with
my friends who like I, all live alone now and are used to it.
Okay, okay ... we are crotchety and too set in our ways.
I am fortunate to have really generous and good friends. My “in
the city” friend lets me come and go as if it were my own
house. Except it’s so clean and neat and perfect, it’s
more like a model home. She used to watch Martha Stewart everyday.
Need I say more? So, even though she is one of my best friends,
reliable, loyal, trustworthy ... she is a total perfectionist
and I am still kinda scared of her even after thirty years.
At the Beach, I had my own condo as my friend had bought the
one next to hers and was merging them. So I had a separate wing
and my use of three bedrooms and two great jacuzzi baths and
a panoramic view of the ocean from high glass windows that was
spectacular. Unfortunately, the sun, which had shown for the
first twelve days, disappeared the moment I got down there and
so I cut my trip short as rain at the beach is no good unless
you are cuddling with someone. My friend, who is divorced twice
and a workaholic, has no interest in dating or cuddling. No,
I don’t mean with me! In fact, neither of the friends I
visited dates anymore. Authors Note: I, however, still am interested.
Though I did nothing about it.
The Search for Mr. Adequate resumes.
So, even though it is perfectly possible to have a good time
without a date, I don’t want to make a habit of it and
become like my L.A. friends who really have given up. Of course
I think it has something to do with living where most of the
guys are superficial and only want to date twenty-year olds.
Here, in sensible sophisticated New York, there are more opportunities
and a better level of men ... (she said ingratiatingly ... if
there are any of the better level reading this ... call me.)
I must get back on track now before I, too, am unable to adjust
to anyone else’s habits. So when I got home, I immediately
went to the book store and got a few “guides” to
dating ... which I will explore in the coming weeks. It is
the New Year after all and you and I, Dear Reader, have started
down this path, so let’s see where it leads us this year
...
Respond to susan@newyorksocialdiary.com.
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