Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Nobody Walks in LA


They say LA is a dastardly place, full of cultural cliché, sacrificial altars, and abstruse, cabalist codes.

One of these codes has to do with walking.

In a peculiar geographic perversity, the ratio of sunny days to miserable ones (roughly opposite that of, let's say, northern Minnesota) does not equate to the Angeleno wanting to engage in perambulation. To do so would be to refute the idea of the place as a brain trust of high intellectualism and supernal values. In other words, a complete and utter waste of time.

Blame it on the smog, that's the refrain. Slicing through aphotic brown goop when descending into LAX, dung-breath of the Santa Ana winds the only thing between tiny you and terrible terra firma, and it feels like the end of the world.

Here, a pair of boots for slipping like a newt down a rain-soaked Rodeo Drive storm drain. Winter, she will have her anyway. Like when we get out of our dopey, nice-day chairs.

Louboutin botte 946, $1,320 at Barney's

5 comments:

WendyB said...

That chair looks like it has an evil plan. Like it's being all smiley to lure you in and then it jabs you with one of those sharp points.

Suzanna Mars said...

The chair is a classic example of 1960s SoCal surrealism. And it does have an evil plan as you intuited: subliminal guilt!

Eli said...

More like, no one walks in Downtown LA. Theres plenty of people who still walk though, the song didnt apply then, still doesnt apply now.

Suzanna Mars said...

Eli, file it under creative license.

Sally Jane said...

I live and work in LA and I don't even own a car! I'm certainly the exception to the rule.