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Acknowledgements LA: the Credits….

March 16, 2011

Rudj and Liz jump for joy in the sunshine in Silverlake, outside Dusty’s for brunch (Photo and text by Susan M. Kirschbaum)

**The following should not be judged by rules of grammar. It represents a stream of consciousness and gratitude.

Los Angeles still remains the place to find fake boobs; girls who dress like hookers but don’t know it; guys who use hair gel; people who stand you up for dinner but never call to announce it;  and Less than Zero part twenty parties taking place in the Hills (read: cocaine, Michael Jackson music, guys in blazers with odd accents.) In other words, in many ways, it is still some pompous moron’s version of 1986……………………………………………………………………………………………..
But some folks should be mentioned for standing out, breaking through: Silvia, who gave me the micro mist treatment at Byu-ti salon in Santa Monica. She not only custom conditioned my dry locks but served champagne with a smile. Paul Sevigny, who has opened six month Hollywood club Paul and Andre’s. Paul, who commutes to LA for a few days each week from NYC, looks better than anyone in LA with his bespoke style suits and sometimes a vest. Very chic. Amanda Demme, who unbeknownst to many, shoots incredibly provocative photographs as well as videos that can alter moods and realities. Jennifer Gross, who heads Evolutionary Media. Jen’s clients span from the Annenberg Space for Photography to Gurmukh, the founder of  (kundalini) Golden Bridge Yoga. Angelyna Martinez Boyd, who throws the best parties. Not only does she fill her home with pink peonies,  candles, and booze, but she invites an array of talented artists and musicians who spontaneously sing and play in her living room. (To note: A lion’s share of these people reign from NYC and often are passing through Lala.) Venice Beach and my host Rudj Escobar because you can find jasmine, gladioli, other bold blooms and exotic plants in Venice. Freaks abound, but unlike other places in Lala, they seem open about it. The sun sets in ways that melt the sky into burnt tangerine and Robert Downey Jr. lives in the hood and hangs at the local bike shop. That’s enough for me…..
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