Lifestyle
How to have the best Sunday in L.A., according to Kate Berlant
On the stand-up stage, comedian Kate Berlant is a lot — a lot of exaggerated faces, a lot of abrupt free-form physicality and a lot of on-a-dime thematic pivots.
She’s brought that same frenetic theatricality to both the small and big screens, including last year’s Emmy-nominated sketch comedy special “Would It Kill You to Laugh?” co-starring her friend and frequent collaborator John Early, as well as scene-stealing roles in HBO’s “Search Party” and the Boots Riley film “Sorry to Bother You.”
Now her exuberant extra-ness is on full display in her off-Broadway one-woman production “Kate,” running through Feb. 11 at Pasadena Playhouse.
Written and performed by Berlant and directed by Bo Burnham, (who also directed her 2022 Hulu comedy special, “Cinnamon in the Wind”), the quasi-autobiographical play is, in her own words: “kind of like my ridiculous clown show. It’s an absurd, but also sincere, theatrical experience.”
While she’s a blur of hyperactivity during performances, she’s considerably more mellow outside of the spotlight.
“I’m a hedonist,” she says. “I chase pleasure openly and rapidly and it’s not difficult for me to relax.”
In Sunday Funday, L.A. people give us a play-by-play of their ideal Sunday around town. Find ideas and inspiration on where to go, what to eat and how to enjoy life on the weekends.
Born and raised in Santa Monica and now residing in Silver Lake, her version of relaxation is anything from low-key lounging at Silver Lake Meadow to an hourlong cold-plunge contrast therapy session at Pause Studio in West Hollywood. And when it comes to pleasure, her mind goes straight to food: “I guess I don’t know what else drives people!”
She concocted an ideal Sunday itinerary in which her cravings would guide her on a crosstown comestible spree. She would unabashedly hit up much-ballyhooed eateries and not one but two trendy health-food stores, as well as a couple of old haunts from her adolescence.
This interview has been lightly edited and condensed for length and clarity.
9 a.m.: No rush to rise
Seeing as the weekend holds no meaning for me because my life doesn’t adhere to the rhythms of a normal life, I guess there’s just a little bit of a feeling of “The office is closed.” I would love to sleep until 8:30 or 9. I need at least eight hours of sleep and I truly, honestly want to get 10. I like being able to freely sleep and have nowhere to be. I’d wake up and stay in bed for, like, an hour.
10 a.m.: Play barista at home
I’m obsessed with my new coffee machine, which is a Breville Bambino espresso machine. I have to say, it’s changed my life. It makes better coffee than I can ever get out in the world. Also — I’m sure this is a habit that will dissolve probably in the next two weeks — I’m currently hyper-fixated on making green juice every morning, just as a natural symptom of living in Los Angeles.
11 a.m.: Make a breakfast decision
I love Sqirl — it’s still one of the most dependably delicious meals you can get. I also love Courage Bagels, which is obviously extraordinarily covered in the press, but it lives up to its reputation. The line at Courage is often overwhelming and impenetrable, certainly in the face of hunger. There’s this rare occasion where, if I can handle waiting in line, it’s Courage. I’m often starving and, typically, if I need food, I need it within 20 minutes. If I go to Sqirl, I really like the sorrel pesto rice bowl, or the frittata thing they do is beautiful.
Noon: Embark on a Westside trek
I’d probably go to Santa Monica to visit my parents, which I do pretty frequently on a Sunday. It’s a shocking sacrifice I make as an only child who loves their parents. You have to completely surrender to the traffic and get over it. I’ll just be listening to the same songs on a loop, typically, because I’m such a creature of habit. (Right now, some songs on repeat are “Let ‘Em In” by Wings, “When the Morning Comes” by Hall & Oates, “Number One Fan” by Muna, “What It Is” by Doechii and “Party 4 U” by Charli XCX.) Or I’ll use the opportunity to make phone calls. When I bemoan the traffic, I realize how very lucky I am that I can see my parents — they’re just an annoying traffic ride away. We’ll just be sitting at the dining room table, chatting. I often bring them food, so I’d bring them some from Sqirl, or I’d pick up Tacos Por Favor, a Santa Monica place from my youth that’s still there. Their chile rellenos are a staple of my childhood; my parents would order them in bulk for parties.
3 p.m.: Comparison shopping
I go to Erewhon — as the government requires me to do — at least three to five times a week. (I have a habit of buying their soups that come jarred, as emergency postshow food if I’m home late from the theater.) It would not be unlike me to go to two different Erewhons in one day and have it kind of be a ridiculous indulgence. I’ll go to the Silver Lake one and look around. Then, I’ll truly go to the Santa Monica Erewhon just to kind of compare and contrast. And if I’m in Santa Monica, I would do a nostalgic stop by the Brentwood Country Mart, to peruse how the 0.5% live and maybe some shopping could happen. [Growing up] I spent a lot of time there.
5 p.m.: A dinnertime vibe check
If I wanted a burger, I’d go to Lowboy in Echo Park. If I wanted pizza, I would go to Quarter Sheets. I love to eat really early; my partner and I both want dinner at, like, 5.
7 p.m.: Sidle up to an atmospheric bar
As a date, we’d go to Café Triste in Chinatown and have a nice glass of wine and hang outside. Ambiance is key and Café Triste is kind of sexy and has a nice energy. Or, I also love Capri Club. I have no qualms with just fully embracing, loving and adoring the most heavily media-hyped places in Los Angeles. I could rack my brain for a more specialized list to, you know, portray myself as someone who traverses their own path. But I am on the Commoner’s Trail!
9 p.m.: Back home to gaze at homes
Honestly, on a Sunday, it’s really nice to be home by 9 and then, realistically, watch like an hour of Architectural Digest videos. I’m aesthetically driven and obsessed with people’s homes and spaces and how the rich reproduce a certain aesthetic. To catch people in that “performance” of the Architectural Digest tour, it’s some of the most haunting material you can find. To be clear, I’m raucous, wild and I love to be out late. I love to party, I love glamour and I love Hollywood, but I also love to eat at 5 and then be completely entering REM [sleep] by 11.
“She’s like a female Willy Wonka,” Sakief Baron, 36, said about Kendra Austin, 32, after she explained that her personal style had a playful and cartoonish spirit.
Dressed in loose, oversize layers in blue and neutral shades, the couple were walking on the Upper East Side of Manhattan when I noticed them on a Saturday in April. There was a symmetry to their ensembles, so it wasn’t too surprising when she noted that he had influenced her fashion sense.
Before they met, she said, she was “less sure” about her wardrobe choices. “I also have lost 100 pounds in the time we’ve been together,” she added, which she said had helped her to recalibrate her relationship with clothes.
His style has been influenced by hip-hop culture, basketball players like Allen Iverson and his mother’s Finnish background. “I just take all these pieces and then it kind of comes together,” he said.
Both described themselves as multidisciplinary artists; he also has a job at a youth center, mentoring children. “I want to make sure that I look like someone they want to aspire to be every time they see me,” he said.
In my L.A. Buy Nothing group, I started noticing how some objects, given for free from neighbor to neighbor, carry emotional weight. An item was more than it appeared. It was a piece of personal history, perhaps one with generational memories.
From one person’s hands to another’s, objects find new life through the free gift economy on Facebook or the Buy Nothing app. Buy Nothing Project, a public benefit corporation, reports having 14 million members across more than 50 countries who give away 2.6 million items a month. There are more than 100 groups in Los Angeles alone.
Buy Nothing reduces waste by keeping items out of landfills. It also builds community. When our lives are increasingly online, Buy Nothing encourages us to get out of our cars and make connections with neighbors, even if the interaction is no more than a wave when picking something up left by a doorstep. Researchers have found that even small social interactions can foster a sense of belonging.
Still, Buy Nothing has its challenges. For years, some have complained that the groups shouldn’t be limited to neighborhoods, but rather have more open borders. Last year, many longtime members complained about the project enforcing its trademark, leading Facebook to shut down unregistered groups even if they were serving people under economic strain. Critics saw the tattling as a shift from mutual aid toward control and branding. For its part, Buy Nothing says its decisions are based on building community, trust and safety.
Despite those disagreements, Buy Nothing offers a platform for special connections. As much as there are jokes about people offering half-eaten cake, many have passed along treasured items. Buy Nothing items may feel too valuable for the trash or too personal for Goodwill. The interaction between giver and receiver becomes just as meaningful as the object itself.
I set out to document these quiet exchanges in my Buy Nothing group, drawn to the question of why people choose to pass their belongings from one neighbor to another.
Tiny builders, big exchange
Lidia Butcher gives a toolbox and worktable her two sons used to Chelsea Ward for her 17-month-old son.
“We’ve had the toolbox and worktable for the last 10 years, it’s been very special. When I told my youngest son we were going to give it away, he was a little sad. He said he was still playing with it, but then I explained that it’s been sitting untouched for a year and that if we gave it to someone else, maybe someone else would be happy about it. So he felt joy about giving it to another child who would want to play with it. I have this little emotional feeling letting it go, but at the same time, it’s a good feeling. Like a new beginning.”
— Lidia Butcher, 35, joined the group several years ago when someone told her a person in the group once asked for a cup of sugar.
“We’re getting a worktable. Benji is now old enough to be interested in playing with tools. I’m going to move my drafting table out of his room. His bedroom is my office. So that will go into storage or the Buy Nothing group and the worktable will go in its place. We live in an apartment, and as he’s growing, his needs change but our space doesn’t. Buy Nothing is really helpful to be able to cycle out of stuff.”
— Chelsea Ward, 38, has found the Buy Nothing group extremely helpful since becoming a mom.
Something borrowed
Abby Rodriguez lends Sophie Janinet a veil for her wedding.
“Sophie had asked for a wedding veil on our Buy Nothing group and I’m lending it to her because I wanted it to have a second life. I hate the idea that precious things just sit there and never get touched. My wedding day was one of the best days of my life. At one point the power went out and now we have this amazing picture with my husband and I and everyone using their phone to light up the dance floor.”
— Abby Rodriguez, 40, discovered Buy Nothing when she moved to her northeast L.A. neighborhood in 2020.
“I moved to Los Angeles from France four years ago. The day I joined Buy Nothing was the first time I felt connected to the community. It played a huge role in my adapting to life here. I’m receiving a veil because I want my wedding to look and feel like my values. I thrifted my dress, I chose a local seamstress to alter the dress but when I tried it on, I felt something was missing. I wanted a veil but I didn’t want to buy new because I didn’t want to add anything to the landfill. So I posted a request for the veil on Buy Nothing.”
— Sophie Janinet, 37, is recreating the low-waste, slower-paced values she once lived by in France through her local Buy Nothing community.
2
1. Abby Rodriguez, left, holds her wedding veil that she is lending Sophie Janinet, right, for her upcoming wedding. 2. Michele Sawers, left stands with Beth Penn, right, while giving her a decorative owl.
A pigeon-spooking owl gets a second life
Michele Sawers gives Beth Penn a decorative owl.
“Coming from a place of luck, now I have plenty to give. The owl has been with me for 26 years. I bought the owl soon after I bought this house. The owl was purchased because I had a pigeon problem, they would camp out under my eves and I would have bird poop everywhere. The owl must have worked because they’re gone and they haven’t come back.”
— Michele Sawers, 58, uses Buy Nothing regularly to connect with her community and support her low-consumption values.
“There are things I don’t want to own. So borrowing those things on Buy Nothing is really nice. There is a person who I borrowed their cooler twice and their ladder twice so I feel like they are my neighbor even though they are not [right next door]. We get these birds that poop on the deck and the recommendation online was to get a fake owl. When it was posted on Buy Nothing, I thought, ‘I have to have that owl!’ It’s going to have a good home with me on the deck with some cats, a dog and some kids.”
— Beth Penn, 47, once helped build her local Buy Nothing group and now experiences it from the other side, as a member.
Stuffed toys find a new purpose
Magaly Leyva, left, stands with Tatiana Lonny, right, with the stuffed toys and play balls she is gifting her.
(Dania Maxwell/For The Times)
Magaly Leyva gives stuffed toys and plastic play balls to Tatiana Lonny.
“My mother-in-law gave the dolls and plastic play balls to my daughter, but she has so much. My daughter is not going to play with them with the same intent that another kid would, because she’s really little. I’d rather another kid use these things.”
— Magaly Leyva, 35, joined Buy Nothing nearly four years ago to find clothes for her nephew.
“I’m taking these new items to a township called Langa in South Africa. I know the kids there will be so happy. They have so little there. I’m doing this all by myself, I’m just collecting a GoFundMe for the suitcase fee at the airport.”
— Tatiana Lonny, 51, began using Buy Nothing in hopes of finding resources to support the animals she rescues.
A second helping
Laura Cherkas gives Aurora Sanchez a cast iron pan.
“Buy Nothing gives me the freedom to let go of things because I know that they will stay in the community and the neighborhood. I’m giving a couple of cast iron items that my husband and I got when we were on a cast iron kick, probably during COVID. We determined that we don’t actually use these particular pans and they were just making our drawers heavy. So we decided to let someone else get some use out of them.
“I hate throwing things away. I want to see things have another life. Sometimes I take things to a donation center, but I like the personal connection with Buy Nothing and that you know that there is someone who definitely wants your item.”
— Laura Cherkas, 40, has built connections with other moms through Buy Nothing and values it as a way to cycle toys in and out for her child.
Laura Cherkas, left, holds the pan she is gifting Aurora Sanchez, right, through Buy Nothing.
(Dania Maxwell/For The Times)
“I wanted a cast iron pan because I cook a lot of grilled meat. I’m excited to try this style of cooking out and it will help me when I cook for only one or two people. I got lucky because I was chosen to receive it.”
— Aurora Sanchez, 54, has spent the past two years engaging with Buy Nothing, finding in it a sense of neighborly support that makes her feel valued while strengthening her connection to the community.
Next player up
Joe Zeni, 70, is using his local Buy Nothing group on Facebook to give away a basketball hoop he used with his son when he was little.
(Dania Maxwell/For The Times)
Joe Zeni first offered a basketball hoop on Buy Nothing in 2023, where it remains unclaimed.
“I’m giving away a Huffy basketball freestanding hoop because it’s just taking up space. We used to play horse and shoot baskets together. My son is now 35, he doesn’t live here anymore.”
— Joe Zeni, 70, uses Buy Nothing often to give items away, believing many of the things he no longer needs still have purpose.
In the year since his death, there has been no hard pivot at Armani. The shadow of the founder has stayed in place over the Milan HQ, where the brand seems happy to leave it. Armani is not just plumbing the past for continued inspiration, it’s reselling it.
Today, Giorgio Armani is announcing Archivio, a grouping of 13 men’s and women’s looks, plucked from the brand’s back catalog and remade for today. (And, yes, at today’s prices.) There’s a jacket in pinstriped alpaca of 1979 vintage; a buttery one-and-a-half breasted jacket with a maitre d’s flair that first appeared in 1987; and an unstructured silk-linen suit that will activate ’90s flashbacks for die-hard Armani clients and those who want to capture that era’s nostalgia. The advertising campaign was shot and styled by Eli Russell Linnetz, who has his own label, ERL, but always seems to be the first call brands make when they want sultry photos with the aura of Details magazine circa 1995. (He did a similar thing for Guess recently.)
Linnetz’s images are a reminder of how Armani’s work still reverberates decades later.
Archivio is also a canny recognition of what shoppers crave now. On the resale market, Armani wares are as coveted as can be. Every week it seems as if I get an email from Ndwc0, a British vintage store, announcing a new drop of meaty-shouldered ’90s Armani power suits. They sell for less than $500. At Sorbara’s in Brooklyn, you can buy a tan Giorgio Armani vest for $225.
That vintage-mad audience is in Armani’s sights: To introduce the collection, it’s staging an installation, opening today, at Giorgio Armani’s Milan boutique. It will feature the hosts of “Throwing Fits,” a New York-based podcast whose hosts wear vintage Armani button-ups and shout out stores like Sorbara’s.
It’s prudent, if a bit disconnected. Part of the charm of old Armani is that it can be found on the cheap. I’m wearing a pair of vintage Giorgio Armani corduroys as I write this. I bought them for $76 on eBay. Archivio is reverent, but its prices, which range from $1,025 to $12,000, may scare off shoppers willing to do the searching themselves.
If you ask me, the next frontier of this archive fixation is that a brand — and a big one — will release a mountain of genuine vintage pieces. J. Crew and Banana Republic have tried this at a small scale, but a luxury house like Armani hasn’t gone there. Yet. Eventually, Armani (or a brand like it) is going to grab hold of the market that exists around its brand, but through which it gets no cut.
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