Earlier this week, I was in Los Angeles. I’ve already written about how I love the funky side of L.A., specifically Venice, where the photo above was taken.
But this past trip I was a little obsessed with the glam side of L.A., possibly because I was listening to The Fame Monster most of the time. Top of my hope-to-meet-someday list is Lady Gaga, the inspiration behind this idea of a new kind of travel blog.
All that happened before I was just inches from one of the glitterati also on my short list.
For the longest time, I have been trying to work out how to include Johnny Weir on newelty.
I know: Figure skating? Really? But Johnny is to figure skating what Lady Gaga is to crappy 80s hair-band pop. From the little I’ve seen, lots of skaters create boring, predictable, hit-the-set-marks routines. (When I did tune in to the Olympics, there seemed to be a preponderance of cheesy cowboy outfits–never mind this racist train wreck.)
There’s not a lot that’s truly new and original. Remind you of anything we keep talking about?
Meanwhile, there’s Johnny, who just puts it all out there and takes no prisoners.
I heart him for his boldness, and his punk rock heart in a glittery shell. He reminds me of a matador. He’s huge in Japan, of course.
So when I came out of a dressing room at Fred Segal and saw him there–buying skinny jeans that I couldn’t fit into, no less–I was totally gobsmacked. I figured that even celebs want a break, though, and didn’t bug him when he shopped.
Happy ending: I bought the dress I was trying on, and now it’s my Johnny Weir L.A. souvenir. Yay! Those kinds of quirky moments are what make little jaunts to L.A. funny, weird, and fun to me.
P.S. In case you’re wondering what the post title refers to, here you go.