Amanda Beth Brown is a multi-hyphenated individual in the rich tradition of her hometown city, Los Angeles. She’s a musician-artist-novelist-business owner, and is always opening doors on new creative projects. Currently she records and tours globally as LA Vampires, has a book contract with Harper Collins, as well as co-runs the long-running independent vinyl/cassette record label Not Not Fun, and its dance imprint subsidiary, 100% Silk. All of which qualifies her as a sage guide to the hidden gems of LA’s sunshine sprawl.
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Expertly curated, singular avant-art pieces for the asymmetrical fashion dare. Ethno-futurism, minimalism, the best of German, Japanese, and Belgian aesthetics, linen, ikat, raw silk, rayon, mesh, colors like oatmeal and clay and honey mustard and black, black, black. Visionary owner Brian and his model/right hand Jillian have created a haven for sideways dressers, us lovers of shifting shapes, lux fabrics, architectural design, organic cloth, and pleasure/leisure abstract-wear.
Prince says the Internet’s a fad, and I say so’s Netflix. Videotheque has all your obscure teenage delinquent films, bonkers animation, micro-docs, bizarre BBC, silly splatter, cult-offerings, bootlegs, auteur love, kids crack, and the less esoteric stuff like Jennifer Aniston’s latest bomb. Quietly judging but uber-knowledgeable staff, epic celluloid-geek posters on the wall, the Maysles Brothers on deck, and you’re ready to spend a splendid night in.
Hazy/dazey sound and picture quality, but who cares? Pure independent reminiscent of a 90’s film underground heyday; see all the Holocaust dramas, French farces, muted Mumble-cores, festival faves, and anything else the Goliath mega-plex down the street won’t show. Woody Allen Sunday matinees are a must with the gray-haired Goober-munching Pasadena oldies. If you want the house to yourself try Friday night Miranda July openers and Tuesday morning droll documentaries. No stadium seating, no snow-cone machine, no Sandler.
On the rooftop of Barney’s, not far from Rodeo Drive, this class-act deli-style restaurant makes the drive across Western almost bearable. Spot Laker forwards, Kardashian clones, lunching ladies, Hollywood heavyweights all wheeling and dealing over a club on rye. Eye-watering smoked fish plates, cavier dreams, big ol’ pickles, capers by the dozen, NOT TO MENTION personal-size champagne bottles and a world-wine list. Feels like LA royalty, way affordable, and oh mama the view.
Books are the best, and used books are the best-best. Historic, dusty, and full of random, unsold, cheap and pre-loved true crime, creepy self-help, and witchy YA. It’s a non-fiction party too – military histories, esoteric film theory, backstock biographies. Best bets and ever-classics: Mamet essays, Origami how-to’s, Garfield comics, Bret Easton-Ellis best-sellers, Vogue patterns, and Whit Stillman screenplays. Mozart on the stereo and a clean bathroom for reading.
Industrial modern furniture porn! A sign above the door reads: THIS IS NOT IKEA. Every stupid thing in here is fabulous. Spend lots of your money on rusty lockers, chipped wooden benches, art deco lamps, broken neon signs, steel stools, pop sculptures, luxurious lighting fixtures, space-station mod chairs. For cool homes, broke-down palaces, and lived-in lounges. Peeling paint and personality plus.
Gallerina Katie and Gallerino Chris run this tiny white bunker featuring handfuls of under-represented artists around the globe each year. Contemporary and how, with barf-art video screenings, puffy/stuffy fabric sculpture, digital mixed media messages. Wood, yarn, crystals, pixels, acrylic, lacquer mash-ups; post-art school curiosities. Sometimes live music, performance, strobe lights, projection, full-on artmosphere.
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