It's good to back in LA. With all the things: the dirt, the sunshine, awwwl dees skinny bitches, the hobos, the health nuts, the bullshit, the terrifying feeling we'll never make it coupled with the opportunity to make it big.......and hipsters.
Jonny had his first art show in LA with his pal, Cairo, a few nights after we arrived. It was all the way in North Hollywood...which looks a lot like Hollywood, but newer and more northy. Because of it's northy-ness living costs are lower than LA proper making it particularly more young and hipster-y (particularly in the arts district).
The show was a success! Jonny sold two pieces, but the gallery was literally PACKED with 90's vintage-clad 20-somethings. Not just a ditsy floral dress here or neon there, but FULL ON Clarissa Explains it All EVERYWHERE. Gals taking selfies, punks present solely for the free PBR. I was pumped at the huge turn out, but as the music got louder the crowd thickened and so did the warm, beer-breathy air. The room began to close in.
I felt old.
Why did I wear heels to an art show like a dick?
This music's reeeal loud, y'all.
I stepped outside.
As I peered back through the gallery window at the impending hipster dance party, it made me happy and thankful and sad and nervous. I remembered when I was that age, and I was that pumped to be out and about watching my friends play music and do art. I was thankful they were all there with all of the fires in all their bellies. Then I remembered I'm almost 30. Then I was like, "those kids better not fuck up my husband's art". Official geezer.
But I'm good with it. With age comes taste refined, truer friendships, a clearer understanding of the things that stay, better sex, and an appreciation for one's self and style.