“I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here?”

I was doing some window shopping today on a posh street that celebrities like to frequent. Hence, why I was window shopping. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one with my eye on things I had no business to be eyeing.

It was a nice day after the morning fog had cleared and I was strolling along when I got to a crosswalk. One of my many pet peeves about walking around in LA is that crossing the street is a bitch. It’s not like New York where you just look both ways and hustle across at will. Here, the streets are multi-laned, two-way and the drivers are unlikely to be paying attention (putting on makeup, talking to agents, petting their lapdogs, who knows why?), and I’ve heard people actually get tickets for jay walking. So, I was dutifully waiting for the cross signal when this car pulls forward a little ways onto the crosswalk. At that moment, my signal changes and I start walking. I’m barely one foot off the sidewalk when I hear “HELLO” coming from the driver. I ignore it, of course.

Then for the length of the crosswalk, this guy proceeds to try to get my attention by shouting at me through his open window. I don’t look back, but his zeal makes me start to wonder if I didn’t drop something or have a tear in my pants or if he was hopelessly lost and needed directions to the hospital or someplace equally important as to warrant his neediness. By the time I’m across the street and in a store, I’ve already forgotten all about it when lo and behold, I hear “HELLO” again. I look up from the rack of dresses, and it’s the guy. I guess he parked his car and followed me into the store. What made him do this I can not fathom, but he proceeded to apologize for yelling to me in the street, that must have seemed so rude to me, he said, and he was so very sorry. I tried to make as little eye contact as possible while communicating with a blank face, “Don’t worry about it, it’s ok.” In other words, “Go away, creep, this is not normal behavior”. He continued profusely apologizing, repeating his spiel a couple more times as I inched away from him slowly. I suppose he sensed forgiveness because his next move was to ask me, “So are you married?”

Unbelievable.

If I’d been in New York and not in a boutique when this happened, I’d surely have shouted “Seriously?! Are you for real? Get away from me!” but under the circumstances, I mumbled “I’m not available”, to which he replied “Oh, ok… Well, tell your boyfriend he’s a lucky man”. Yeah, ok, sure, I’ll do that… Creep.

Hope in a Jar

While my boyfriend was in line to get the new iPhone last week, I decided to pop into Saks to use the ladies room. But before I could beeline it to the loo, something caught my eye. The La Mer counter. I’d heard about this miracle cream from countless magazines where celebrities talk about their beauty regimens – it is the “it” moisturizer for the jet set, and it costs a pretty penny. I figure it’s the same people who buy their underwear at La Perla who buy this stuff too. Out of my La League, sad to say. But there I was at that moment, and I thought, this is my one chance to try it, to see what all the hype is about. I unscrewed a jar of eye cream. It was empty. I opened a pot of face cream. Empty. A bottle of serum? Empty again. I was starting to see a pattern here. The people at Saks were no fools – they had people like me (people in the store for the sole purpose of using the restroom) pegged. The jig was up. …Or was it?

I guess the rattling of the jars coupled with disappointed sighs caught the attention of the sales lady, because she came over to ask if I needed any help. I struck up a friendly conversation with her, explaining that I’d just moved to town, and my eye cream had run out and I was looking to try something new. I added (perhaps for credibility of my worthiness of premium products) that “I’ve been using Jurlique, which I love because it’s all natural – it’s grown on the company’s farm in New Zealand – but it’s hard to find here”. She offered up some product suggestions, and, to my amazement and delight… some free samples! I’d won the fancy face cream lottery! (also known as: four mini testers worth about $60)

I carefully applied the eye cream that night, smiled, and went to bed pretending to be somebody who could afford a face like an Oscar winner. The next morning, I approached the mirror with excitement and suspense, eager to see the clock turned back and the eyes of a bygone era looking back at me. Carefree eyes, pure eyes, eyes devoid of signs of the trials and tribulations of adulthood. I gazed carefully at my reflection. From the front, from the side, from the other side. I squinted and stared and searched for my miracle. But alas, if it was there, it was invisible to the naked eye. I’d applied at least $10 worth of product – surely a microscopic miracle had occurred?

That’s ok, I thought, it’s not like I can actually buy this stuff. It’s really better this way. Then yesterday, I thought I saw a change. I asked my boyfriend and he didn’t notice anything. But I thought my eyes looked a little less tired, that maybe my micro miracle was growing. And today, I’m almost convinced that something is different, better somehow. Sigh. How’s a girl like me to win this game? If it works, how can I turn my back on a miracle, knowing I’m failing to live up to my potential? Am I doomed to the life of La Junkie who prowls Saks Fifth Avenue’s across the state in search of my next sample sized fix?

Romancing Me

I had a great date today. With me.

I didn’t set out thinking I’d be spending the entire afternoon solo, but as my luck would have it, I did, and it was a most delighful day. Carved to my exact specifications and exceeding all expectations.

I headed downtown to the Museum of Contemporary Art to check out the opening of the Pacific Standard Time exhibit. Admission was free today – score! I got a parking spot in a flash and happened to enter the museum at 12:59pm, just as a one o’clock tour was starting – score again! I’m not normally a tour person, but being on my own, I welcomed the company (and knew I could bail at any point I wanted to). The tour turned out to be fantastic – the docent engaged us in a conversation whereby our tour group (of four) was set up to think, share, and derive our own ideas and perspectives about the work. I guess it wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea because by the time we got to the third piece, we’d lost 50% of our group, but my fellow friendly tourer, John, and I, didn’t miss them. Along the way, we even gained a second docent who seemed to enjoy the dialog as much as we did. After exploring the rest of the exhibit on my own, my stomach lead me to Little Tokyo to a ramen joint I’d been wanting to try. Notorious for long waiting lines, I experienced a shortened queue due to being a party of one – score once more! – and got the best seat in the house, at the counter in the thick of the action. I slurped my ramen while gleefully wedged in between a punky teenage girl and an elderly Japanese woman who smiled sweetly at me and surprised me by devouring every last bite of her huge bento box. After a satisfying and porky meal, I went for a stroll through Little Tokyo’s themed streets. The time passed quickly as I window shopped, popped in to gift shops, ice cream shops, bakeries, and sat in the sun sipping Hong Kong style milk tea. As the day drew to a close, I vowed to return again soon, and toted home some sweet treats to share for dessert later.

Today reminded me of something easily forgotten: even though I’m 50% of a couple (romantically and otherwise), I’m 100% of me. I’m not always going to be able to count on having a partner to be enthusiastic about my interests, and in all honestly, I enjoyed myself more on my own today that I would have with someone else in tow. Because today was all about me. I got to do things on my own terms: I dressed how I wanted (like a happy hippie with a feather in my hair), took the scenic route (which sadly for LA is not saying much), went at my own pace, ate what I wanted, conversed with new people (and got a free dessert out of it – score four!), and decided when I was ready to come home. The whole day cost barely more than $20 and it was simply perfect. I do believe I’ll be asking myself out more often.