Connect with us

Lifestyle

A completely subjective ranking of Los Angeles neighborhoods by walkability

Published

on

A completely subjective ranking of Los Angeles neighborhoods by walkability

Admit it, you’re here because you want to see how walkable your favorite (or least favorite, I suppose) L.A. neighborhood is. You want bragging rights, you want your biases confirmed, you want a totally unscientific, more than a little opinionated ranking of Los Angeles neighborhoods by walkability. And we’re here to give it to you.

L.A. really is a walking city.
Explore our ground-level guide to the people and places keeping our sidewalks alive.

Why unscientific? For starters because those kinds of number-crunching rankings already exist in urban planning master’s degree projects and on apartment-rental websites such as walkscore.com. And let’s face it, while data tells a story, it doesn’t tell the whole story.

Advertisement

That’s why I put together this list: to highlight the things that make walking in a neighborhood, and in our dear city, especially unique. Those include celebrity adjacency (Will I see someone famous?), L.A.-ness (Is there an instantly-recognizable palm-tree dotted backdrop?), pedestrian density (If I saw someone walking here, would I immediately suspect something’s amok?). I also consulted many a friend and colleague — folks who’ve actually lived in these neighborhoods.

Finally, as an Angeleno who’s lived here for 27 years and likes to explore the city on foot after a few drinks (or a puff or two of the herb), I took a few — how shall I put it? — personal liberties. In short, this is my highly particular list. Perhaps you have one of your own?

Be forewarned: This is not an exhaustive overview (L.A. is big! And many neighborhoods are mostly residential.) but one that touches on the four least- and most-walkable neighborhoods (at the top and bottom of the list, respectively), along with some handpicked in-betweens you’re probably familiar with.

Illustrated black Prada platform loafer shoes
Swan Lake at the entrance to the Hotel Bel-Air located at 701 Stone Canyon Road in Los Angeles.

(Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)

18. Bel-Air
It’s a fact: L.A.’s wealthiest neighborhoods are, for the most part, the least pedestrian-friendly, more concerned with privacy hedges than the safe passage of foot traffic. Exhibit A: this sidewalk-free enclave where people once, presumably, moved about without vehicular assistance, but no longer seem to. I’ve never once seen a pedestrian here. Nor have I met anyone who has. Are there celebrities to be found on these icy manicured streets? Undoubtedly, but chances are you won’t have the opportunity to lay eyes on the likes of Rupert Murdoch (who recently tied the knot at his winery here), Joni Mitchell or Jennifer Lopez. Unless, that is, you’re a paparazzo who’s specifically called on to do so. Oh, and don’t bother looking for the original “Fresh Prince” house either. That’s actually in Brentwood.

Advertisement
A hiker at Inspiration Point in Will Rogers State Historic Park in Pacific Palisades.

(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)

17. Pacific Palisades
No one walks to — or from — anywhere in the Palisades. And, if anybody looks like they’re walking, it’s probably because they’ve just parked the car or are popping from one store to the next at Rick Caruso’s Palisades Village. I walked here — just once — and felt like I was sporting the scarlet letter (“P” for pedestrian, naturally) the entire time. And what good is a stretch of coastline if you can’t walk there without taking your life in your hands? Even so, the neighborhood has plenty of idyllic, Californian backdrops and its fair share of celebrity residents. You could easily find yourself next to a soup-slurping Cheech Marin at Casa Nostra Ristorante or crossing paths with Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson, who have a house here.

Drone view overlooking the Hollywood sign in Griffith Park in Los Angeles.

(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)

16. Hollywood Hills
A rabbit warren of steep, narrow, twisty streets and near-total lack of sidewalks make foot traffic in most of this hilly neighborhood not just challenging but downright dangerous. And, since it’s overwhelmingly residential, places — other than hillside homes — to walk to and from are all but nonexistent. While plenty of celebs call the hills home, your best bet at laying eyes on a star is to find a spot where you can gaze out at the Hollywood sign on nearby Mt. Lee in Beachwood Canyon. (P.S.: No one likes to admit it, but there’s also a serious rat problem in them there hills. And the last thing I want to worry about if I’m trying to outrun a rapacious rodent is dodging traffic.)

A couple walking in Elysian Park

(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)

Advertisement

15. Elysian Park
Notably home to two things: Dodger Stadium — itself so inaccessible on foot that there has been a years-long effort to build a gondola to ferry people there from Union Station — as well as the neighborhood’s namesake 600-acre park, which may put it toward the top of a strollability index. But as far as access to shopping and dining options, not so much (the seasonal Dodger Dog notwithstanding).

Rodeo Drive shopping mall

(Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)

14. Beverly Hills
A dense concentration of high-profile places to go and things to do in the Golden Triangle certainly make this swanky slice of Greater L.A. seem walkable. Which it is — up to a point. But most of Beverly Hills is, well, hills. North of Sunset Boulevard and the part known as “the flats” are mostly residential, so neither really lend themselves to robust pedestrian traffic. The only thing that keeps it from ranking worse on the list is that you’d be hard-pressed to find a better backdrop for the socials than the shops of Rodeo Drive. Case in point: I recently watched a a young influencer-type stick her smartphone to the front window of the Gucci boutique— literally, using some sort of suction cup phone case — so she could step back and beam her whereabouts to TikTok.

A view of Sua in the neighborhood of Larchmont in Los Angeles

(Shelby Moore / For The Times)

13. Larchmont/Hancock Park
It pains me to give one of my favorite neighborhoods in the entire city a sub-par rank but the delightful meander that is two bustling blocks of Larchmont Boulevard isn’t enough to offset the quick transition into full residential territory just a block in either direction. But if you are strolling that one lovely thoroughfare, be on the lookout for Kiernan Shipka, who likes to grab her coffee at Go Get Em Tiger, or Emma Roberts, who stocks up on periodicals at the newstand there. The farmers market, held on Wednesdays and Sundays, isn’t bad either.

Advertisement
Fountains in Grand Park in Los Angeles

(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)

12. Downtown L.A.
I have a theory: Downtown L.A. ranks near the top of a lot of walkability rankings because it’s just expected that a dense urban core that serves as a major transit hub would, by default, be a great place for people to live their best car-free lives. But here we’re grading on a curve — and factoring in the reality that the same place where we can easily dash out on foot to grab a French dip sandwich or take in the symphony is also a place filled with enough dark alleys, vacant storefronts and litter-strewn sidewalks to make the on-foot feel on guard after dark.

Street scene on Western Avenue in Koreatown

(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)

11. Koreatown
This is a neighborhood that ticks all the boxes for walkability — it’s densely packed with shopping and dining options (like a lot of delicious dining options), it’s easily navigable on foot, and parking is so scarce, having a car is more a liability than an asset. But it’s densely populated too, and that combination of pedestrian traffic and the cars zooming along the main arteries of Wilshire and Olympic boulevards and Third Street, take a little bloom off the rose.

Edo by Edoardo Baldi at The Grove in Los Angeles

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

Advertisement

10. Beverly Grove/Fairfax
The Grove shopping center, the Original Farmers Market, LACMA and the Academy Museum combine to give this part of Mid-City a solid score. The biggest hurdle here — literally in some cases — are the handful of root-busted, near impassable sidewalks. The only thing more quintessentially L.A. than posing for a photo in front of Chris Burden’s “Urban Light” installation (in front of LACMA) is doing it in a room full of Oscar statuettes at the Academy Museum next door. This is also where you’ll be able to amble through the grassy greenspace around the La Brea Tar Pits (super fun when you’re a little baked, BTW) where gooey asphalt can be seen bubbling up and oozing out of the ground, thick and smelling like a freshly resurfaced roadway. An alluring, distinctly Angeleno perfume, if I’ve ever smelled one.

Tourists checking out the stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

9. Hollywood
Out of necessity — and opportunity — there’s a direct correlation between tourist popularity and walkability in L.A. neighborhoods. That puts Hollywood in the top half of this list — but just barely. It’s pedestrian-heavy and mass-transit-accessible with something to eat, buy or take a photo of at nearly every turn. Though A-list celebs are usually in short supply (but for the occasional movie premiere or awards show), there are legions of spider-folk, Jack Sparrows and other costumed characters along Hollywood Boulevard who will gladly play the part (for a “donation,” of course). And, no matter how skilled a driver you are, you’ll never be able to explore the Hollywood Walk of Fame from behind the wheel.

Unfortunately, the same draws that make it a walkable gawk for touristas of every stripe makes it a frustrating exercise in perambulation for locals — kind of like New York’s Times Square with balmier weather. A lot of the shops traffic in tacky souvenirs and most of the eateries are of the soggy pizza sort (beloved old-school Musso & Frank’s the rare exception). And, statistically, when you get that many people prowling the sidewalks, the chances for shenanigans are high. That’s how I found myself (in a somewhat altered state, I’ll admit) being screamed at — and I mean screamed at — by a ghoulish-looking clown in full face paint as we passed each other in a Hollywood Boulevard crosswalk.

The Culver City EverWalk Walking Club

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Advertisement

8. Culver City
If you don’t immediately think of Culver City as walkable, it’s probably because you’ve only driven through it on the way to somewhere else. In addition to myriad dining and shopping options that are thickest where Washington, Culver and Venice boulevards intersect, there are also a few pieces of walk-by Hollywood history. One is the wedge-shaped Culver Hotel — where the actors who played the Munchkins stayed during the filming of “The Wizard of Oz,” and the Washington Boulevard entrance to Culver Studios, which can be seen in the opening titles of “Gone With the Wind.” A cliché photo op? Perhaps. But frankly, I don’t give a damn.

Hungry customers in line at Villa's Tacos in Highland Park

(Mariah Tauger / Los Angeles Times)

7. Highland Park
There’s a reason why L.A.’s legendary Bob Baker’s Marionette Theater decamped to Highland Park in 2019. Not only does it sit on York Street across from a children’s playground with a rattlesnake slide, but it’s also on the edge of a bustling commercial stretch where you can find gourmet bagels, lengua tacos at low prices and delightful trinkets for nearly every person in your life. The flow of pedestrian traffic is strong day and night both here and on Figueroa Street (where you can also access the Metro A Line). If you hang around enough, you might even pass by an NELA-dwelling celebrity or two (my colleagues have spotted the likes of John C. Reilly and Eric Warheim in these parts).

People walking around Echo Park Lake in Los Angeles

(Dania Maxwell / Los Angeles Times)

6. Echo Park
The crown jewel of this neighborhood — and the big pedestrian draw — is Echo Park Lake, where walking one loop will get you about a mile closer to your step goal (and it’s especially beautiful during lotus season). But that’s not all that makes this a good place to forgo your four-wheeled transportation; there’s also the vibrant, explorable bend in Sunset Boulevard that runs from Taix to to Quarter Sheets (past El Prado and the Time Travel Mart) and the stretch of Echo Park Avenue just north of Sunset (look for the mural-covered buildings at the corner) that takes you toward the Echo Park outpost of Jon & Vinny’s Cookbook market.

Advertisement

You might think that bordering the not-so-walkable Elysian Park (see above) would negatively impact Echo Park’s walkability, but several of my colleagues assure me it’s actually the opposite — using it as a kind of pedestrian base camp for a 20-minute walk to Dodger Stadium (gondola plans be damned). The one thing that does cut into the walkability (or at least some of the enjoyment of walking) around these parts are the steepness of some of the streets as they rise toward the hills north of Sunset.

The Swan Stairs zig-zag up the hillside from Westerly Terrace to Swan Place in Silver Lake.

(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)

5. Silver Lake
The meat in Silver Lake’s walkabilty sandwich is Sunset Junction, where Santa Monica and Sunset boulevards converge and there’s plenty for pedestrians to peruse, including Mohawk General Store and Taiwanese noodle shop Pine & Crane, a twice-weekly farmers market and one of the best Erewhons to people-watch in. Bonus: There’s also the Silver Lake Reservoir — for that kind of walking — and some serious cardio-elevating staircases in the mix, including the historic Music Box Steps, made famous by the silent-film comedy duo Laurel and Hardy in the 1930s.

The Los Feliz Theatre

(Glenn Koenig / Los Angeles Times)

4. Los Feliz
What gives this neighborhood the walkability edge over its seemingly similar neighbors? Two retail- and restaurant-heavy streets for starters — Hillhurst and Vermont Avenues, home to a pedestrian-pleasing assortment of restaurants, (Little Dom’s), bars (Ye Rustic for some of the best chicken wings in the city, the so-hip-it-hurts Dresden Room bar and lounge for martinis and some live music) and shops (Skylight Books for the printed word). Keep your eyes peeled because you could easily find yourself downward dogging next to Sandra Oh in a Pilates class or bump into Aaron Paul at Albertsons. This urban walker’s paradise also gets extra points because of its location — right at the base of Griffith Park — making it a gateway, nay a biped’s launchpad, into one of the largest urban parks in North America.

Advertisement
People are entertained by a magician as they enjoy a sunny day at the Santa Monica Pier.

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

3. Santa Monica
Thank the 10 million tourists that trek to the pier here for helping make the city — particularly the stretch along Ocean Avenue and the three car-free blocks of the Third Street Promenade — among the Southland’s most walkable. It gets extra points for the pedestrian bridges over the bustling Pacific Coast Highway that help folks get safely from the shops-and-restaurants part of town to the beach. Pro tip: Leave the pier and its immediate surroundings to the out-of-towners and channel your pedestrian energy on the less-trafficked, local parts of town. (There are plenty — Wilshire and Pico boulevards east of Lincoln Boulevard and stretches of Montana Avenue for starters.) Grab dinner at nearby old-school haunt Chez Jay or head a little farther afield for a knee-wobbling mai tai at the Galley. When you leave you’ll be happy you arrived on foot.

A surfer walking on the Venice Beach Boardwalk

(Luis Sinco / Los Angeles Times)

2. Venice
Another tourist-heavy, pedestrian-friendly part of town — with a view of the Pacific Ocean thrown in for good measure. You might need to get here by car, but the sooner you ditch it in a (probably overpriced) parking spot the better. That frees you up to dip into the human soup of the boardwalk for people-watching at its finest: pigeon-training, python-handling carnies, vendors who can write your name on a grain of rice or balance your chakras. (During one visit, I spent the better part of a half-hour doing nothing but watching a guy dressed like an escapee from a “Where’s Waldo?” book — bold-red-and-white-striped shirt, black knit cap, skinny-leg jeans — popping in and out of shops.) Who knows, you might even glimpse Arnold Schwarzenegger or Owen Wilson pedal past you on a bike.

From the strand it’s a win-win for the walking class no matter the direction, thanks to a wide swath of sandy beach and the mighty Pacific on one side and quaint, artsy neighborhoods with mural-covered walls and funky yarn art trees on the other. Another short stroll to the Venice Canals can transport you seemingly worlds away to a network of European-style canals and past a magical, people-powered carousel for kids — neither of which are accessible by car.

Advertisement
Illustrated pair of golden, sparkling new balance tennis shoes
A couple holding hands in West Hollywood

(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)

1. West Hollywood
I’ll admit it — I’m wildly biased about WeHo’s walkability for a couple of reasons. It was the the first place I lived when I moved to town more than a quarter-century ago and it was here — in a liquor store at the corner of Sunset Boulevard and Larrabee Street — that I had my very first celebrity sighting (“Goodfellas” actor Paul Sorvino eating a powdered donut). That felt like peak walkability — the original Spago, Tower Records, the Viper Room and Whiskey a Go Go all within walking (and occasionally stumbling) distance of each other. And the assortment of walkable wonderment has only increased in the years since. In addition to the dense concentration of places to eat and drink (heavily clustered along Sunset and Santa Monica boulevards) that make this a pedestrian-friendly destination any time of day and late into the night, this compact neighborhood/city , is home to five of the county’s six open cannabis consumption lounges — most clustered along a two-mile stretch of Santa Monica Boulevard. Being able to light up a joint at a place like the leafy jungle oasis that is the Woods (the dispensary and weed lounge co-owned by Woody Harrelson) or grab dinner and a bong hit at the sex-shop-adjacent PleasureMed and not have to climb behind the wheel makes West Hollywood the unbeatable holy grail of L.A. neighborhood walkability — and the recipient of the most vaunted honor of this unscientific endeavor: a pair of golden sneakers.

Standalone illustration of a person walking

Lifestyle

It Started with a Midnight Swim and a Kiss Under the Stars

Published

on

It Started with a Midnight Swim and a Kiss Under the Stars

When Marian Sherry Lurio and Jonathan Buffington Nguyen met at a mutual friend’s wedding at Higgins Lake, Mich., in July 2022, both felt an immediate chemistry. As the evening progressed, they sat on the shore of the lake in Adirondack chairs under the stars, where they had their first kiss before joining others for a midnight plunge.

The two learned that the following weekend Ms. Lurio planned to attend a wedding in Philadelphia, where Mr. Nguyen lives, and before they had even exchanged numbers, they already had a first date on the books.

“I have a vivid memory of after we first met,” Mr. Nguyen said, “just feeling like I really better not screw this up.”

Before long, they were commuting between Philadelphia and New York City, where Ms. Lurio lives, spending weekends and the odd remote work days in one another’s apartments in Philadelphia and Manhattan. Within the first six months of dating, Mr. Nguyen joined Ms. Lurio’s family for Thanksgiving in Villanova, Pa., and, the following month, she met his family in Beavercreek, Ohio, at a surprise birthday party for Mr. Nguyen’s mother.

Ms. Lurio, 32, who grew up in Merion Station outside Philadelphia, works in investor relations administration at Flexpoint Ford, a private equity firm. She graduated from Dartmouth College with a bachelor’s degree in history and psychology.

Advertisement

Mr. Nguyen, also 32, was born in Knoxville, Tenn., and raised in Beavercreek, Ohio, from the age of 7. He graduated from Haverford College with a bachelor’s degree in political science and is now a director at Doyle Real Estate Advisors in Philadelphia.

Their long-distance relationship continued for the next few years. There were dates in Manhattan, vacations and beach trips to the Jersey Shore. They attended sporting events and discovered their shared appreciation of the 2003 film, “Love Actually.”

One evening, Mr. Nguyen recalled looking around Ms. Lurio’s small New York studio — strewed with clothes and the takeout meal they had ordered — and feeling “so comfortable and safe.” “I knew that this was something different than just sort of a fling,” he said.

It was an open question when they would move in together. In 2024, Ms. Lurio began the process of moving into Mr. Nguyen’s home in Philadelphia — even bringing her cat, Scott — but her plans changed midway when an opportunity arose to expand her role with her current employer.

Mr. Nguyen was on board with her decision. “It almost feels like stolen valor to call it ‘long distance,’ because it’s so easy from Philadelphia to New York,” Mr. Nguyen said. “The joke is, it’s easier to get to Philly from New York than to get to some parts of Brooklyn from Manhattan, right?”

Advertisement

In January 2025, Mr. Nguyen visited Ms. Lurio in New York with more up his sleeve than spending the weekend. Together they had discussed marriage and bespoke rings, but when Mr. Nguyen left Ms. Lurio and an unfinished cheese plate at the bar of the Chelsea Hotel that Friday evening, she had no idea what was coming next.

“I remember texting Jonathan,” Ms. Lurio said, bewildered: “‘You didn’t go toward the bathroom!’” When a Lobby Bar server came and asked her to come outside, Ms. Lurio still didn’t realize what was happening until she was standing in the hallway, where Mr. Nguyen stood recreating a key moment from the film “Love Actually,” in which one character silently professes his love for another in writing by flashing a series of cue cards. There, in the storied Chelsea Hotel hallway still festooned with Christmas decorations, Mr. Nguyen shared his last card that said, “Will you marry me?”

They wed on April 11 in front of 200 guests at the Pump House, a covered space on the banks of Philadelphia’s Schuylkill River. Mr. Nguyen’s sister, the Rev. Elizabeth Nguyen, who is ordained through the Unitarian Universalist Association, officiated.

Although formal attire was suggested, Ms. Lurio said that the ceremony was “pretty casual.” She and Jonathan got ready together, and their families served as their wedding parties.

“I said I wanted a five-minute wedding,” Ms. Lurio recalled, though the ceremony ended up lasting a little longer than that. During the ceremony, Ms. Nguyen read a homily and jokingly added that guests should not ask the bride and groom about their living arrangements, which will remain separate for the foreseeable future.

Advertisement

While watching Ms. Lurio walk down the aisle, flanked by her parents, Mr. Nguyen said he remembered feeling at once grounded in the moment and also a sense of dazed joy: “Like, is this real? I felt very lucky in that moment — and also just excited for the party to start!”

Continue Reading

Lifestyle

L.A. Affairs: I loved someone who felt he couldn’t be fully seen with me

Published

on

L.A. Affairs: I loved someone who felt he couldn’t be fully seen with me

He always texted when he was outside. No call, no knock. It was just a message and then the soft sound of my door opening. He moved like someone practiced in disappearing.

His name meant “complete” in Arabic, which is what I felt when we were together.

I met him the way you meet most things that matter in Los Angeles — without intending to. In our senior year at a college in eastern L.A. County, we were introduced through mutual friends, then thrown together by the particular gravity of people who recognized something in each other. He was a Muslim medical student, conservative and careful and funny in the dry, precise way of someone who has always had to choose his words. I was loud where he was quiet, messy where he was disciplined. I was out. He was not.

I understood, or thought I did. I thought that I couldn’t get hurt if I was completely conscious throughout the endeavor. Los Angeles has a way of making you feel like the whole world shares your freedoms — until you realize the city is enormous, and not all of it belongs to you in the same way.

Advertisement

For months, our world was confined to my apartment. He would slip in after dark, and we’d stay up late talking about his family in Iran, classical music and the particular pressure of being the son someone sacrificed everything to bring here. He told me things he said he’d never told anyone, and I believed him.

The orange glow from my Nesso lamp lit his face while the indigo sky pressed against the window behind him. In our small little world, we were safe. Outside was another matter.

On our first real date, I took him to the L.A. Phil’s “An Evening of Film & Music: From Mexico to Hollywood” program. I told him they were cheap seats even though they were the first row on the terrace. He was thrilled in the way only someone who doesn’t expect to be delighted actually gets delighted — fully, without guarding it. I put my arm around his shoulders. At some point, I shifted and moved it, and he nudged it back. He was OK with PDA here.

I remember thinking that wealth is a great barrier to harm and then feeling silly for extrapolating my own experience once again. Inside Walt Disney Concert Hall, we were just two people in love with the same music.

Outside was still another matter.

Advertisement

In February, on Valentine’s Day, he took me to a Yemeni restaurant in Anaheim. We hovered over saffron tea surrounded by other young Southern Californians, and we looked like friends. Before we went in, we sat in the parking lot of the strip mall — signs in Arabic advertising bread, coffee, halal meats, the Little Arabia District — hand in hand. I leaned over to kiss him.

“Not here,” he said. His eyes shifted furtively. “Someone might see.”

I understood, or told myself I did, but I was saddened. Later, after the kind of reflection that only arrives in the wreckage, I would understand something harder: I had been unconsciously asking him to choose, over and over, between the people he loved and the person he loved. I had a long pattern of choosing unavailable men, telling myself it was because I could handle the complexity. The truth was more embarrassing. I thought that if someone like him chose me anyway — chose me over the weight of societal expectations — it would mean I was worth choosing. It took me a long time to see how unfair that was to him and to me.

We went to the Norton Simon Museum together in November, on the kind of gray Pasadena day when the 210 Freeway roars in the background like white noise. He studied for the MCAT while I wrote a paper on Persian rugs. In between practice problems, he translated ancient Arabic scripts for me. I thought, “We make a good team.” Afterward, we walked through the galleries and he didn’t let go of my arm.

That was the version of us I kept returning to — when the ending came during Ramadan. It arrived as a spiritual reflection of my own. I texted: “Does this end at graduation — whatever we are doing?”

Advertisement

He thought I meant Ramadan. I did not mean Ramadan.

“I care about you,” he wrote, “but I don’t want you to think this could work out to anything more than just dating. I mean, of course, I’ve fantasized about marrying you. If I could live my life the way I wanted, of course I would continue. I’m just sad it’s not in this lifetime.”

I was in Mexico City when these texts were exchanged. That night I flew to Oaxaca to clear my head and then, after less than 24 hours, flew back to L.A. No amount of vacation would allow me to process what had just happened, so I threw myself back into work.

My therapist told me to use the conjunction “and” instead of “but.” It happened, and I am changed. The harm I caused and the love I felt. The beauty of what we made and the impossibility of where it could go. She gave me a knowing smile when I asked if it would stay with me forever. She didn’t answer, which was the answer.

I think about the freeways now, the way Joan Didion called them our only secular communion. When you’re on the ground in Los Angeles, the world narrows to the few blocks around you. Get on the freeway and you understand the whole body of the city at once: the arteries, the pulse, the scale of the thing.

Advertisement

You understand that you are a single cell in something enormous and moving. It is all out of your control. I am in a lane. The lane shaped how I drive. He was simply in a different lane, and his lane shaped him, and those two facts can coexist without either of us being the villain of the sad story.

He came like a secret in the night, and he left the same way. What we made in between was real and complicated and mine to hold forever, hoping we find each other in the next life.

The author lives in Los Angeles.

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.

Advertisement
Continue Reading

Lifestyle

The Nerve Center of This Art Fair Isn’t Painting. It’s Couture.

Published

on

The Nerve Center of This Art Fair Isn’t Painting. It’s Couture.

The art industry is increasingly shaped by artists’ and art businesses’ shared realization that they are locked in a fierce struggle for sustained attention — against each other, and against the rest of the overstimulated, always-online world. A major New York art fair aims to win this competition next month by knocking down the increasingly shaky walls between contemporary art and fashion.

When visitors enter the Independent art fair on May 14, they will almost immediately encounter its open-plan centerpiece: an installation of recent couture looks from Comme des Garçons. It will be the first New York solo presentation of works by Rei Kawakubo, the brand’s founder and mastermind, since a lauded 2017 survey exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute.

Art fairs have often been front and center in the industry’s 21st-century quest to capture mindshare. But too many displays have pierced the zeitgeist with six-figure spectacles, like Maurizio Cattelan’s duct-taped banana and Beeple’s robot dogs. Curating Independent around Comme des Garçons comes from the conviction that a different kind of iconoclasm can rise to the top of New York’s spring art scrum.

Elizabeth Dee, the founder and creative director of Independent, said that making Kawakubo’s work the “nerve center” of this year’s edition was a “statement of purpose” for the fair’s evolution. After several years at the compact Spring Studios in TriBeCa, Independent will more than double its square footage by moving to Pier 36 at South Street, on the East River. Dee has narrowed the fair’s exhibitor list, to 76, from 83 dealers in 2025, and reduced booth fees to encourage a focus on single artists making bold propositions.

“Rei’s work has been pivotal to thinking about how my work as a curator, gallerist and art fair can push boundaries, especially during this extraordinary move toward corporatization and monoculture in the art world in the last 20 years,” Dee said.

Advertisement

Kawakubo’s designs have been challenging norms since her brand’s first Paris runway show in 1981, but her work over the last 13 years on what she calls “objects for the body” has blurred borders between high fashion and wearable sculpture.

The Comme des Garçons presentation at Independent will feature 20 looks from autumn-winter 2020 to spring-summer 2025. Forgoing the runway, Kawakubo is installing her non-clothing inside structures made from rebar and colored plastic joinery.

Adrian Joffe, the president of both Comme des Garçons International and the curated retailer Dover Street Market International (and who is also Kawakubo’s husband), said in an interview that Kawakubo’s intention was to create a sculptural installation divorced from chronology and fashion — “a thing made new again.”

Every look at Independent was made in an edition of three or fewer, but only one of each will be for sale on-site. Prices will be about $9,000 to $30,000. Comme des Garçons will retain 100 percent of the sales.

Asked why she was interested in exhibiting at Independent, the famously elusive Kawakubo said via email, “The body of work has never been shown together, and this is the first presentation in New York in almost 10 years.” Joffe added a broader philosophical motivation. “We’ve never done it before; it was new,” he said. Also essential was the fair’s willingness to embrace Kawakubo’s vision for the installation rather than a standard fair booth.

Advertisement

Kawakubo began consistently engaging with fine art decades before such crossovers became commonplace. Since 1989, she has invited a steady stream of contemporary artists to create installations in Comme des Garçons’s Tokyo flagship store. The ’90s brought collaborations with the artist Cindy Sherman and performance pioneer Merce Cunningham, among others.

More cross-disciplinary projects followed, including limited-release direct mailers for Comme des Garçons. Kawakubo designs each from documentation of works provided by an artist or art collective.

The display at Independent reopens the debate about Kawakubo’s proper place on the continuum between artist and designer. But the issue is already settled for celebrated artists who have collaborated with her.

“I totally think of Rei as an artist in the truest sense,” Sherman said by email. “Her work questions what everyone else takes for granted as being flattering to a body, questions what female bodies are expected to look like and who they’re catering to.”

Ai Weiwei, the subject of a 2010 Comme des Garçons direct mailer, agreed that Kawakubo “is, in essence, an artist.” Unlike designers who “pursue a sense of form,” he added, “her design and creation are oriented toward attitude” — specifically, an attitude of “rebellion.”

Advertisement

Also taking this position is “Costume Art,” the spring exhibition at the Costume Institute. Opening May 10, the show pairs individual works from multiple designers — including Comme des Garçons — with artworks from the Met’s holdings to advance the argument made by the dress code for this year’s Met gala: “Fashion is art.”

True to form, Kawakubo sometimes opts for a third way.

“Rei has often said she’s not a designer, she’s not an artist,” Joffe said. “She is a storyteller.”

Now to find out whether an art fair sparks the drama, dialogue and attention its authors want.

Advertisement
Continue Reading
Advertisement

Trending