A recent study shows that Los Angeles would suffer more in a long-term writer's strike than New York City would! Isn't that a shock. (Apparently people in LA make T.V. and movies? And New York makes magazines and books!!??? This we had not heard!) Fortunately, the Times calls in our sociologist pal Elizabeth Currid for context. [NYT]
Faded it-boy Fabian Basabe has left our city for his true spiritual home, Los Angeles, and he's finally stopped "furniture shopping, car shopping and well... tanning" long enough to update his Paper magazine blog. But now he's encountering some culture shock! At a recent awards show, he was confronted not only by fashion faux pas like the aforementioned "experimental, unknown sneakers" that "even the boys from 'NSYNC would have ditched," he also faced "an extravaganza of sushi next to pasta next to cookies next to caramelized apples the size of a New York studio. A selection that would make any self-respecting New York girl with body issues (and some boys — you know who you are) purge from ten feet away." He and his "posse" "took off for saner pastures." But wherever you go, there you are, Fab!
New York mag puts the "late" in "latest" today to chime in on the story of Theresa Duncan and Jeremy Blake, the bicoastal artist-lovers who each died at their own hands a week apart in mid-July. Just like every other piece on the duo so far, this is about "why" they killed themselves. Not unexpectedly, no one as yet has an "answer." I do! You know why they killed themselves? Because they were fucked in the head. Just like everyone else who's ever killed himelf. Probably not their fault, either—surely the fault of natural chemicals or other chemicals that they put in themselves. Because you know what else is weird?
So, I just got back from a week in California! What a strange land. I didn't see Arnold Schwarzenegger once. But all those things they say about Pinkberry are true! There was a line out the door at the one I went to in L.A., and it was populated by teenagers wearing Penn sweatshirts and carrying Louis Vuitton bags, and talking about when their parents would be out of town. Also, very skinny women saying that the 8 oz. Pinkberry yogurt has 40 grams of sugar! Put down the spoon, lady. I also went for a walk around Brentwood, and came across a first-floor apartment with a large window facing the street. It had several of those cat play-structure things stacked on top of each other. It looked like they took over the whole room! And there was a cat staring at me from the window. WEIRD. But the best part of my trip to California was a conversation I overheard at a Carl's Jr. on Highway 5.
Every weekend around this time, we ask ourselves, "why are we here?" Then we crack open the Times and learn about places that remind us "at least you aren't there." Take Los Angeles, featured in tomorrow's Arts section. Not only does the town seem to lack necessities like zoning laws and a newspaper, the ocean's garbled vomit by the shore also leaves rather anemic the lifeblood of any respectable post-industrial metropolis: i.e., art-school grads! Yet, reports Edward Wyatt:
Yesterday, as you may have seen but probably did not, Marketwatch's Jon Friedman published a short profile of LA Weekly columnist and Deadline Hollywood Daily blogger Nikki Finke. Friedman had contacted us — or, at least, half of us — for a quote about Finke, whose work we admire. We obliged with this: "I think what makes Nikki so compelling is that she's clearly at least a bit crazy — and you can never quite figure out if it's good crazy or bad crazy. She's a great reporter and a fun writer, and God knows I wouldn't want to be on her bad side." We intended that as a lighthearted and complimentary appraisal, and we know that Friedman, among several others who've mentioned it to us, took it that way. But Finke, who has written on her blog about her contempt for Friedman's entirely positive article, had a different read. She thinks we have defamed her, and she has repeatedly demanded a correction and apology. So here it is: We're sorry, and we in no way meant to suggest that Finke is actually, clinically crazy. Indeed, after the jump, please find our entire email exchange with her on this matter, which will show that she's not crazy in the slightest.
Half of us was on vacation in Los Angeles last week — oh, that's sweet; we missed you, too — and so you can imagine our excitement when, walking back to the car in Santa Monica, we found ourselves passing the original Michael's.
LAist, the west coast spawn of Gothamist, has an interview with journalistic hitwoman Vanessa Grigoriadis — who has famously profiled the likes of Lizzie Grubman (in New York) and Paris Hilton (for Rolling Stone), often knocking her subjects down several pegs in the process. A successful journalist on this coast, Grigoriadis claims to have defected to Los Angeles a year ago to live with her fiance — but we don't buy it. A more likely reason to leave New York:
A Gawker correspondent very temporarily relocated to Los Angeles noticed this establishment on Ventura Boulevard yesterday. It's a schlep to get to, sure, but any journalist patronizing the shop leaves clipped, trimmed, shaved, refreshed, and — best of all — newly ethical.
It's amazing that it's been 15 years. But it must bring Mr. King great solace to know that in that time his dream has been realized: Everywhere across the world, we all can just get along.
Oh, Miss K., we know it hurts, but any high-flying woman will find shopping in Los Angeles — specifically, at the hipper-than-thou Fred Segal boutiques — to be quite the reality check. Driving up in a rented Jaguar simply isn't going to do it:
We here at Gawker cover New York City, and we cover media. So you'd think we'd have nothing to say about a story in today's Times recounting the tale of a JetBlue flight that took off from the Burbank airport, in Los Angeles, discovered a problem with its landing gear, circled for several hours, and then quasi-crash landed at LAX. But you'd be wrong. Because, naturally, there's a New York media angle to the story, buried at the end:
Uh-oh. As New York remains vague on whether it'll try for the Olympics again for 2016 — quite smartly, given that virtually all New Yorkers hate the idea, Bloomberg says he'll wait till after the election to decide — now Los Angeles says it's in the race.
