Lifestyle
Paradise lost along Pacific Coast Highway
Everyone knows California is disaster-prone, but there’s a familiar logic to the calamitous geography in this high-maintenance beauty of a state.
Wildfires are supposed to be in the hills — in the wild — not on the beach, and certainly not inside the borders of one of the biggest and best-prepared cities on the planet.
The devastation from the Palisades fire extends for miles along Pacific Coast Highway.
(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
But the fire that tore through coastal urban Pacific Palisades this week was driven by the kind of unholy wind speeds typically confined to high mountain passes or the crest of the Sierra Nevada. Astonishing gusts of 70 to 80 mph blew all of those preconceived notions away.
“I never thought we’d have to evacuate, because we’re so far away from the mountains,” said Denise Weaver, who lives on a bluff overlooking dozens of burned houses on the Pacific Coast Highway. She struggled to find words to describe the tragedy, and the irony, of friends losing everything to fire on the edge of the world’s largest water source.
“We’re, like, 100 feet from the Pacific Ocean,” Weaver said. “It’s just nuts.”
What amounted to a flaming hurricane erased all of the presumed safety advantages of fighting a fire in a well-equipped city.
The small air force of nearby tanker planes and helicopters was grounded. Powerful streams of water from a veritable traffic jam of firetrucks were snatched by the wind and carried away as mist. And with so much sudden demand on the city’s water system, hydrants quickly ran dry.
At that point, all of the affluence, urbanity and privilege in the world wasn’t much good. Desperate residents might as well have been alone on a remote, flaming mountainside.
“Fires under those conditions are essentially unfightable,” said UCLA climate scientist Daniel Swain. “The best you can hope to do is get people out of the way.”
To understand what made Tuesday so shocking, so confidence-shattering, think of wind like flowing water. In the usual Santa Ana storms, most of that flow streams out of the desert, through mountain passes and into the valleys along predictable pathways, like water coursing down riverbeds.
To the north, the strongest winds flow through the Newhall Pass, in Santa Clarita, and into the San Fernando Valley.
In the center, they flow down along the Santa Ana River — for which these storms are named — past Riverside and Anaheim on the way to the coast.
To the south, the wind comes through the Cajon Pass, between the San Bernardino and San Gabriel Mountains.
But on Tuesday, there was so much wind high in the atmosphere that it all just flooded over the tops of the mountains and came crashing down into the valleys like a massive wave against the shore.
It was “geophysically chaotic”, Swain said. “You didn’t just need to be in those gaps between the mountains to get the strongest winds.”
Then, just like a tidal wave, it went everywhere. In this case, it literally bounced over the Santa Monica Mountains — Swain called it a “hydraulic jump” — and crashed down along the coast of western Los Angeles County, straight into Pacific Palisades.
There have been windstorms like this before, including one in 2011 that caused a lot of wind damage in the San Fernando Valley, Swain said. But, fortunately, they didn’t spark catastrophic fires.
On Tuesday, the city wasn’t so lucky.
By Thursday, neighborhoods still smoldered for miles up and down the Pacific Coast Highway, more than 5,000 homes and businesses scorched. Residents, desperate to see what had become of their homes, argued with cops who had been ordered to keep people out of the evacuation zone.
It was a scene reminiscent of the aftermaths of so many other tragic fires — the Camp fire in Butte County in 2018, the Lahaina fire on Maui in 2023 — but this time the landscape seems oddly familiar, even for people who have never actually been to the Palisades.
That’s because, for anyone who grew up in the Midwest or on the East Coast absorbing images of California served up by shows such as “Baywatch” and films such as “Point Break,” this was the Los Angeles of their dreams.
A slow, sad drive up the coast on Thursday revealed so much of that familiar territory reduced to ashen ruins.
The ruins of beachfront homes smolder along the Pacific Ocean.
(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)
Remember Moonshadows, the restaurant perched over the Pacific where Mel Gibson got drunk in 2006 and launched into a nearly career-ending anti-Jewish tirade when police pulled him over just down the road?
Gone.
So is Gibson’s $14-million house in Malibu, burned while he was in Austin, Texas, doing Joe Rogan’s podcast. “Well, at least I haven’t got any of those pesky plumbing problems anymore,” he quipped to the Hollywood Reporter.
Paris Hilton, Billy Crystal and Jeff Bridges — who played the title role in “The Big Lebowski,” a classic film in which Los Angeles’ Westside is arguably the real star — all lost their homes, too.
And that chubby-cheeked guy all over social media, bathed in an apocalyptic orange haze and pleading with people to leave their keys in their cars when they abandon them so he could move them to let firetrucks through, that was actor Steve Guttenberg from all those “Police Academy” movies in the 1980s.
How L.A. is that?
That “is this real, or a movie” sensation persists, even while you’re sucking in the acrid air and rubbing the ash out of your reddened eyes, as aerial tankers skim water off the ocean and lumber into the sky overhead. It feels like the set of a disaster film.
It gets real again, quickly, when a regular guy comes shuffling down Temescal Canyon Road in a Dodgers hat, N95 mask and dusty surgical scrubs.
Paul Austin, 61, is an orthodontist. He’d left at 6 a.m. Tuesday to go to his office in Simi Valley and straighten a few teeth. While he was gone, his home of 20 years and almost everything in it was “totally, totally destroyed,” he said. He hadn’t changed clothes in three days.
He started the interview joking that the only thing left on his property is a giant Santa in his frontyard, a holdover Christmas decoration that he thought for sure would have blown away.
“I don’t think for any of us, really, it’s even hit home what we’ve lost,” he said, and then he paused, overcome by sudden sobs behind his mask and his goggles.
“Everything.”
Lifestyle
‘The Invite’ is a marriage comedy with sex and heart
Lifestyle
L.A. Affairs: It’s hot when a man drives to me. But would this new guy make the trek from the Valley?
I met Dan on Hinge.
He lives in Woodland Hills, and I live in Venice. In Los Angeles, this is considered a long-distance relationship. In another city it might be nothing. Here, it’s a factor.
But I believe that with the right person, you can make anything work, so I stay open. I’m a native New Yorker, and if I were living in Brooklyn and a guy lived on the Upper West Side, that would be a 45-minute subway ride, which is truly nothing in New York. So with that same logic, I try to have flexibility with men in L.A.
When we started planning our first date, Dan suggested three options: a hike on mushrooms, a wine tasting or a walk on the beach.
A hike on mushrooms is something I’d only do with someone I already trust, not someone I just met online. I don’t do first-date hikes because I don’t like feeling trapped if the guy’s a dud. So I chose the wine tasting.
Then I learned the wine tasting was in West Hills.
On a Friday night, driving there from Venice would be insane. So I said I didn’t want to meet there because of the traffic. He suggested Malibu. That was also not ideal on a Friday.
I was getting annoyed — this was a pink flag because in my dating world, the guy is supposed to come to the woman’s neighborhood in the early days. I’ve gone out with plenty of men from the Valley who effortlessly suggested they come to me. It’s not rare or impossible.
I suggested he come to the Westside. I didn’t specifically say Venice, and in hindsight, I probably should have. He landed on Brentwood, which was manageable for both of us. On our first date, we met at an Irish pub on Wilshire Boulevard. He was cuter and more interesting than I had expected, and with the Guinness flowing, we had fun.
When I got home, he texted me: “Well, I like you 🙂 Less the tik tok and the lack of rock music in your life, but it’s not a deal breaker — there are other qualities 🙂 What are your thoughts?”
I noticed the slight negativity but was mostly dazzled that a man texted immediately after the date to say he liked me. In the modern dating economy, this felt rare.
The next day, both of our evening plans fell through, so we made a last-minute date. The wine tasting he originally suggested still sounded like fun, and although it meant me driving to the Valley, I was up for it now that we’d met.
We sipped flights at Malibu Wines & Beer Garden in its airy, romantic courtyard and played a flirty version of Truth or Dare. Halfway through, he dared me to kiss him.
We ended with sushi on Ventura Boulevard and a short make-out session in his car. He invited me to Thanksgiving at his uncle’s, which felt too soon, but also sweet.
After the second date, he texted and said he had his kids that week and was also hosting an event on Thursday, so his only day to meet was Wednesday. I said great.
On Tuesday night, he checked if we were still on, and I said yes.
Then he texted: “I’m flexible on time but not on location. I have a big event on Thursday, hopefully you can come to me again.”
My stomach tightened. This again?
So I texted back: “I drove to you last time, which was a bit of an exception for me especially in the early days, but the wine tasting location sounded special. Usually guys come to my area. How about we switch it up this time?”
He replied: “I appreciate the effort! Because of my event, I’d rather be close to a computer just if needed … Here is what i offer:
— I’ll come to your area anytime next week/end
— Lunch/dinner on me
I want to continue where we stopped last time 😉 No pressure of course, but let’s snuggle”
I responded: “Ok let’s meet next week. Snuggles sound nice … let’s see what happens …”
Then he wrote: “So I won’t see you tomorrow?”
I replied: “Unless you wanna come to me and bring your laptop along, let’s rain check until you have more flexibility.”
He said: “Dang, you are hard. I’ll let you know tomorrow around midday if it’s ok.”
And then — surprise — he decided to come.
He drove to Venice for a 5 p.m. date. He said his ETA was 5 p.m., and it ended up being 5:25 p.m., typical 405 Freeway.
When he showed up, he was in a cranky mood. On our way to KazuNori in Marina del Rey, I thanked him for picking me up and told him I think it’s hot when the guy comes to the girl.
“You’re just saying that because you want me to come to you more,” he said, not playfully, but aggressively.
That was basically the end for me. But there I was, in his car, heading to dinner. So I stayed pleasant and tried to make the best of it.
I shared that in the early stages of dating, I find it’s good etiquette for the guy to come to the woman’s neighborhood. He immediately disagreed and started ranting about how dating rules are ridiculous and how they swing in women’s favor. He resented paying for dates and declared he wasn’t looking to “sponsor a woman’s life.”
“If women want equality and equal rights,” he said, “then it should apply all across the board, including dating, and the man shouldn’t have to pay.”
I said women don’t actually have equal rights because we get paid less than men and often receive lower salaries than men in the same position.
I tried to change the subject and reset the mood, but he insisted we keep hashing it out.
I tried to explain masculine/feminine dynamics: providing and protecting, giving and receiving.
“What does the man get out of this arrangement?” he asked.
It was like watching someone’s personality warp into Mr. Hyde. Then he brought up another point: He’s a single dad of two kids, so he gets tired; and because I don’t have kids, that should factor into who drives where.
At this point, I was barely engaging and focused on eating my hand rolls, and I couldn’t wait to get home.
The check came, and I happily split it, wanting nothing further from him.
In the car back to my place, he remarked: “It’s obvious we’re never gonna see each other again.”
Obvious, but did it need to be stated?
Then he showed me a Spotify playlist he’d made for me of his favorite electronic music, because he knows I like EDM.
“Oh, that’s sweet,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s how I show interest. Through things like this, not who drives to who,” he replied.
When I got out of the car, we wished each other luck, and I headed inside and shut the door.
Two hours later, he sent me the playlist. I’ve yet to listen to it.
It wasn’t the distance that ruined it. It was the resentment. I’m not looking for a man who feels burdened by the effort. I’m looking for a man who sees the value of courting a woman in the first place.
The author is a writer, comedian and former psychologist who lives in Venice. She is the creator of the new vertical series “Manfari.” She’s on Instagram: @solange_neue and @manfari.show.
L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.
Lifestyle
Smithsonian chief emphasizes ‘accuracy and integrity’ after White House report
Lonnie Bunch III is the 14th Secretary of the Smithsonian. He’s pictured above in September 2017.
J. Scott Applewhite/AP
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J. Scott Applewhite/AP
In a memo addressed to staffers sent Tuesday, the secretary of the Smithsonian, Lonnie G. Bunch III, defended the institution after the White House issued a 162-page report that characterizes the National Museum of American History as a place which has become “subject to institutional capture by a radical, activist ideology that is fundamentally opposed to telling the noble, honest story of the great country we know and love.”
In his email, which NPR has obtained, Bunch wrote in part: “While there will always be room for improvement, this report is not a fair characterization of the work and totality of the National Museum of American History. At the Smithsonian, our work is driven by scholarship, accuracy and an uncompromising commitment to tell the fullness of America’s story. As public servants and the keepers of this institution, we are charged with helping a nation find understanding, hope and clarity and as part of that duty, we are dedicated to excellence, reflection and growth.”

He continued: “We remain focused on what grounds us: a steadfast commitment to scholarship, nonpartisanship, independence, accuracy and integrity. For nearly 180 years, the Smithsonian has worked alongside partners across government — from the White House to Congress to our governing Board of Regents — guided by our enduring mission to increase and diffuse knowledge. That purpose remains: to pursue knowledge with rigor and to serve the American public with clarity and care.”
The White House report was issued on July 4 by the Domestic Policy Council under the title “Saving America’s Story: How Ideological Capture at the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of American History Erases Our Heritage.”

The council faults the National Museum of American History on a multitude of fronts, saying it underemphasized the Founding Fathers and early colonial and Revolutionary history; was not sufficiently celebratory of the country’s 250th anniversary; and that it engaged in “anti-white,” “illegal alien” and transgender activism.
It also accuses the museum of trying to “indoctrinate” teachers and students through its exhibitions, programming and teaching resources.
In the report, the council also specifically criticizes museum director Anthea Hartig, who has led the National Museum of American History since 2019 and is concurrently the president of the Organization of American Historians, calling her “an activist advancing an ideological agenda contradictory to the museum’s founding purpose of fostering patriotism.”

The Trump administration has made the Smithsonian museums one of its primary targets in its efforts to reshape cultural narratives to align with its viewpoints. In August 2025, the White House requested a “comprehensive internal review” of eight Smithsonian museums, including the National Museum of American History, following an executive order issued by President Trump in March 2025 in which he called for the removal of “improper ideology” from the Smithsonian’s offerings.
According to the Smithsonian’s charter, all of its 21 museums, 14 education and research centers, and the National Zoo are meant to be run independently of the federal government. The Smithsonian is overseen by Bunch and a board of regents, which includes Vice President Vance, Supreme Court Chief Justice John Roberts and other members appointed by Congress.
In an interview with NBC’s Meet the Press on Sunday, Bunch spoke about the Smithsonian’s 250th anniversary special exhibition at the Smithsonian Castle, which is called “American Aspirations.”
He told NBC: “It’s really important for people to understand that America is much an ideal as it is a place, that it’s a series of aspirations that have really shaped who this country is. And so for me, what is so powerful is to say, ‘Let us honor the words of Thomas Jefferson and the founders, but let us use those to challenge us to be better.’”
Jennifer Vanasco edited this story.

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