Thursday Evening

An evening with a few hours of unexpected free time finds me making my way to the coffee shop to work and to study. As the California sun sets behind a blanket of clouds (for once!) I make my way down the escalator from the parking garage. This development (very chic, modern mixed residential/commercial) is the sort of place I could go on a philosophical tangent against. Its gaudy, fake-big-city in the Los Angeles suburbs. Its a cheap substitution for community, a-historic retro with no real roots.

And I love it.

I can't help it. I love the old-fashioned elevators and doormen in funny caps. I love the huge hotel-like lobby open on one side to the outdoors with its marble floors, overstuffed chairs and player piano. I love the huge bouquet of stargazer lilies and pink orchids in the woman's restroom, the heavy paper-linen napkins, the bottle of William-Sonoma hand lotion next to the sink.

It makes me laugh to watch people riding the replica trolley around the one square block of shops. It is driven by a conductor in a black hat and double-breasted uniform. The passengers sit straight in the wooden seats, looking anything but comfortable.

In the center square there's a huge fountain with dancing water on the hour and on the half.
The fountain is my favorite. I am glad they don't use coloured lights, there is something more truly beautiful about the simply lit water coreographed to familiar big-band standards. Something exciting about the sound of the water as it laughs and bubbles about the fountain. Even if I did complain about modern development, I wouldn't criticize the fountain.

I like the little permanent booths situated around the lawn, selling all sorts of treats from cheeseburgers and pretzels to crepes and gelatto. I like the perfectly manicured grass. I like the retro streetlights with the tiffany glass in their lamps. I even like the ridiculously gaudy crystal chandelier that hangs over the street.

Despite myself, I find myself admiring the window-displays in Tiffany's or Armani Exchange. I watch the diners in the dimly lit restaurants. They are dressed in clothing more expensive than I will ever own, sipping drinks more expensive than most meals I will ever purchase.

Everything about this place is extravagant, overpriced, overdone. Its neither small town nor big city . . . nor even quite something in-between. There is nothing authentic about the development and probably very little authentic about many of the diners and shoppers. But that doesn't mean they aren't interesting. In fact, there is something fascinating about the whole spectacle.

So fascinating that I think I probably shouldn't come here anymore when I'm trying to study. I'm not getting anything done.