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L.A. Affairs: I had casually known her for 5 years. Was I finally ready to make a move?

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L.A. Affairs: I had casually known her for 5 years. Was I finally ready to make a move?

In Fairfax, nestled on Beverly Boulevard near Pan Pacific Park, I ran a modest yet beloved pan-Asian restaurant called Buddha’s Belly. More than a place to eat, it was a gathering spot where our team and loyal regulars created an atmosphere of warmth and community. Every day, we exchanged stories about our guests, the generous, the quirky and the kind souls whose smiles lit up our little corner of L.A.

For five years, one regular stood out. The Buddha’s Belly team referred to her as “Aloha.” She had a familiar and beautiful face and she adored our shao bing finger sandwiches and pad Thai. During those five years, all I ever said to her was: “How’s your pad Thai?,” “Nice to see you” and “Thanks for coming in!” Her friendly smile and presence were the highlights of our routine interactions.

Then one hectic afternoon changed everything. Rushing to a meeting and about to leap into my car, I caught a glimpse of Lynda sitting at Table 64, smiling at me through our bamboo-lined patio (a.k.a. “bamboo forest”). I went over to say a quick hi.

“How’s your pad Thai?” I asked, and then I was off.

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A couple blocks from the restaurant, I was struck by the feeling that our brief encounter was different this time. There was a spark — a look in her eye. So I did something out of character: I called the manager on duty and asked him to go to Table 64, Seat 3, and ask for her number.

The next day, I found a business card on my desk with Lynda’s cell number. It was on! That small gesture signaled the start of something extraordinary.

Eager to seize the moment, I called and invited her out for a date that same weekend. However, it was her birthday month, and that meant her calendar was booked solid for the next three to four weekends. Not wanting to let time slip away, I proposed an unconventional plan: to join me and an octogenarian friend at our annual opening night at the Hollywood Bowl. Little did I know this would turn out to be equal parts amazing and mortifying. My friend was so excited — she had no filter.

Shortly after picking up our dinner at Joan’s on Third, my friend started asking Lynda questions, first light questions like “Where are you from?” and “What do you do?” Then once seated at the Bowl, her questions continued. But now they were more pointed questions: “Have you ever been married?” and “Do you have kids?”

Amazingly, Lynda didn’t flinch, and her honesty, unfiltered yet graceful, was refreshing and alluring. She had been through life’s fires and knew that when it’s a fit, it should not be based on any false pretense. Although I did manage to get a few questions in that evening, I still chuckle at the memory of myself, sitting back, legs extended with a note pad in hand taking notes!

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After dropping her off, she didn’t know if she would hear from me, as she didn’t know anything about me. But I didn’t wait three days to contact Lynda. I called her the next day to make plans to see her again. With it still being her birthday month, I asked her to join me that night for a surf film at the Ford with my best buddy. She said yes, and there we were on another chaperoned date.

By our third date, we were finally alone. We ventured to an underground gem affectionately dubbed the “Blade Runner” restaurant. Hidden on Pico Boulevard behind no obvious sign and characterized by hood-free mesquite grills and stacked wine crates, the place exuded a secret charm. Sharing a bottle of wine with the owner, our conversation deepened, and the electricity between Lynda and me became undeniable.

Our story took another turn when I was opening a new bar named Copa d’Oro (or Cup of Gold) in Santa Monica that was similar to a bar down the street called Bar Copa. The owner of Bar Copa invited me to discuss whether the concept was going to be too like his own. While we waited in the packed room, I instinctively put my hand around the small of Lynda’s back to steady us from the ebb and flow of the crowd of people around us. The intensity of our closeness and the energy between us was palpable, and we soon found ourselves at a quieter bar called Schatzi on Main where we had our first kiss.

Our courtship continued, and it would be defined by ease and grace. There were no mind games or calculations. One of us would ask whether the other was free, and it was an easy yes. Our desire was to be together.

I fondly remember being at a Fatburger not far from where Lynda lived, and I phoned her to ask if she wanted to sit with me as I scarfed down a Double Kingburger with chili and egg (yum!), and she said yes. By the time she arrived, I was halfway through eating the sandwich. But I was practicing a new way of eating a sloppy burger that my brother taught me. Why bother to continuously wipe your mouth when you’re only going to mess it up with the next bite? To save time and energy, wipe your mouth once at the end.

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I was practicing this new technique with a smear of sauce on my face, and it didn’t faze her one bit. I could only imagine what her internal monologue was!

After six months of effortless companionship, I asked Lynda to move in, and a year later, while at Zephyr’s Bench, a serene and cherished hiking spot in the Santa Monica Mountains behind Bel-Air, I asked her to marry me.

Now, more than 17 years later, with two beautiful boys and our pandemic dog in tow, I can say I found my own aloha right here in the vibrant chaos of Los Angeles.

The author lives in Santa Monica with his wife and two children. They go to the Hollywood Bowl every chance they can. He’s also aspiring to make it into the Guinness World Records book.

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.

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We’re having a main character summer. Are you? : It’s Been a Minute

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We’re having a main character summer. Are you? : It’s Been a Minute
Are you ready for a whirlwind summer romance?Making plans to capitalize on summer can get overwhelming – from finding the right spot to hang or feeling comfortable in your clothes in the sweltering summer heat. So what does it mean to approach summer with a romantic joie de vivre?  Brittany is joined by Carly Olson, freelance journalist covering architecture and business, and Garrett Schlichte, writer and chef, to walk us through how to have a rom-com summer where you’re the star.Want more on how to be the best version of yourself? Check out these episodes:How to make friends & get good gossipIt only takes 30 minutes to be a good momSupport Public Media. Join NPR Plus.Follow Brittany on Instagram: @bmluseFor handpicked podcast recommendations every week, subscribe to NPR’s Pod Club newsletter at npr.org/podclub.
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Vintage-obsessed millennial parents are driving L.A.’s booming kids’ clothing resale market

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Vintage-obsessed millennial parents are driving L.A.’s booming kids’ clothing resale market

Kids’ vintage clothing sales are experiencing a remarkable boom at in-person markets and online, where prices for clothes for little ones have shot up on websites including Depop and Poshmark. Millennial parents are looking to outfit their kids in the clothes and TV and film characters they loved (or coveted) when they were kids.

The result? There’s a new generation of kiddos hitting the playground looking incredibly cool. Take Amari Case, a SoCal toddler who spent a Sunday afternoon this spring ambling around a vintage market in a West Hollywood warehouse clad in baggy jeans and a ’90s-era tee emblazoned with the “Dragon Ball Z” character Son Goku.

When she wasn’t scribbling on a Lorax coloring sheet, she’d been cruising around the market with her dad, Aaron Munoz Case, snapping up new pieces destined to make her the flyest kid at the preschool playground.

Neil Wright, from left, Kristine Nite Scalzo and Brandon Rosenblatt, co-founders of Elemeno Kids Vintage Market.

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Showing off Amari’s new vintage satin L.A. Raiders jacket and tiny teal Grant Hill Detroit Pistons jersey, Munoz Case, who was also impeccably dressed, noted that while Amari went through a phase at about 18 months where she wanted to dress herself, eventually she gave up and went back to letting her dripped-out dad dictate her wardrobe.

Munoz Case found Amari’s first vintage piece at the Rose Bowl Flea Market and got the bug, going back every month to pick up something to add to his little’s wardrobe.

Trendspotters and researchers say Munoz Case isn’t alone in his quest. The market for kids’ vintage clothing has heated up precipitously over the last few years, perhaps hitting a boiling point in January when an Eeyore romper from the ’90s sold for over $3,000 on EBay. (It was new with tags, but one without tags still went for almost a grand about a month later.)

The thirst for tiny throwbacks is so popular that first-ever, all-kids market Elemeno — named after the “L-M-N-O” bit of “The Alphabet Song” and where Amari was toddling and shopping — drew 17 vendors and over 2,000 attendees over a single weekend in March. (There are plans for another Elemeno Kids Vintage Market pop-up later this year in New York, as well as plans to bring the event back to L.A. sometime next year.)

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A child and mom seated.

2 A child wearing an Avirex jacket from the ’90s.

1. Cameron Scalzo, wearing a vintage McDonald’s T-shirt from the ‘90s, and mom Kristine Nite Scalzo. 2. Cameron Scalzo rocks an Avirex jacket from the ‘90s.

Eye Speak Vintage’s Kristine Nite Scalzo, who co-organized the event and is opening an all-kids vintage store in Pasadena this month, says she fell under the kids vintage spell in 2020 when she was pregnant with her son. She’d always been a vintage shopper for herself, so she knew she wanted to pass the passion down to the next generation. She started filling up her son’s closet, and soon enough, she found herself selling her other finds out of a bodega in her garage.

She has a by-appointment space in Pasadena now, where she draws everyone from Rihanna’s stylist to out-of-town moms who make a point to stop by on their way to Disneyland. “The community around kids vintage has really skyrocketed on Instagram over the past six years,” Scalzo says. “We want to know who we’re buying from. We want to know that we’re doing good with buying secondhand. And it’s a hobby for people that can turn into a possible business on the side. Because knowing there’s a big group that’s interested in vintage kids clothes, you can always pass an item [your kid outgrows] to someone else or resell it.”

Scalzo says some parents are out digging through bins at the Goodwill Outlet looking for the perfect piece, while others are content to pay up for, say, a ’90s Simpsons T-shirt or a mini-size Harley-Davidson jacket. Scouring the racks at the Elemeno market, most pieces cost $15 to $40, though there were special pieces pulled to the side in some booths with price tags that could make a parent’s eyes pop. (Think $275 for a set of well-worn Spider-Man overalls from the ’00s or $150 for a pair of Cross Colours denim shorts from the ’90s.)

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In kids and adult vintage alike, mint condition is highly valued. No matter the era in which they were raised, kids tend to be messy. They get strawberry juice on their shirts or scuff up the knees on their Bugle Boy jeans. Vintage kids clothes that look pristine are more expensive, and while plain kids clothes do sell, items with characters on them or cool prints tend to draw more attention and dollars.

Brandon Rosenblatt, another of the Elemeno organizers, says he’s had his eye on a specific kids “Back to the Future” shirt for some time, but notes that it typically sells for about $1,000. He’s partial to McKids clothes for his daughter, from McDonald’s short-lived kids clothing brand, noting that he’s even snagged her a vintage official McDonald’s-themed aloha shirt from Hawaii, something he says he’s never seen anywhere else.

1 Siblings Amora and Milo Castilo wear vintage cowboy hats, jackets and chaps.

2 Thalia Castilo and her kids Amora and Milo.

1. Siblings Amora and Milo Castilo wear vintage cowboy hats, jackets and chaps. 2. Thalia Castilo and her kids Amora and Milo.

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Other collectors, he says, might be a little less obscure, leaning into mainstream characters such as Strawberry Shortcake or from ’80s and ’90s properties including “The Land Before Time” and “Rugrats.”

“A lot of millennials are having kids — like everyone who’s in their 30s and 40s — and they all want to put their kids in the same IP they grew up in,” Rosenblatt says.

“It’s the thrill of the hunt that gets everyone so excited,” Scalzo says. “Once you find that perfect nostalgic piece, you’re like ‘Holy s—,’ and you just want to chase that feeling again and again.”

Mia De La Rosa, a reseller who was at the Elemeno market, says that like Scalzo, she started buying kids vintage clothes when she was pregnant with her daughter, Liv, who’s 6 now, very into everything on PBS Kids and has a closet full of thrifted vintage garb covered in characters such as D.W., the annoying little sister from the ’90s show “Arthur.”

Everything Liv wears is “completely her style,” De La Rosa says. “She dresses herself every day and she gets compliments on what she’s wearing at school all the time.”

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Other vintage-wearing kids — and in particular younger ones — might simply be sporting what their parents like or might just like the look of the shirt even if they don’t know what it’s advertising. (An 8-year-old boy at the Elemeno market, for instance, chose to wear a pristine T-shirt highlighting the ’90s Jim Carrey movie “The Mask” because it featured his favorite color: green.)

Derrick Broaster, a vintage enthusiast turned full-time reseller, says that while he chooses to put himself in clothes from the ’60s and ’70s, he outfits his two sons in clothes from the 2000s. (“How Bow Wow used to dress when he was a kid,” he says.)

Although his younger son tends to rebel against Broaster’s vintage picks, opting for whatever Spider-Man shoes happen to be in his eyeline, his older son has leaned in, letting his dad advise him on what vintage pieces could work and what would be the most stylish.

1 Brothers pose for a portrait wearing vintage clothing.

2 A family poses for a portrait wearing vintage clothing.

1. Julian, left, and Javier Gutierrez show off their vintage clothing. Javier says his mom always tells him to keep his vintage outfits clean. 2. Mom Priscilla Guzman, clockwise, Dad Javier Gutierrez and sons Julian and Javier Gutierrez enjoy the vibe of vintage clothing. Guzman says she’s been buying and selling kids’ vintage since her oldest son was born eight years ago.

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Rosenblatt says a good portion of what vintage finds he sees in the market now has returned to the U.S. from places in Central America and South America or Asia where those pieces were likely sent decades ago after they were donated or given away.

“There’s a real underbelly of this vintage game with rag houses getting access to bulk product overseas and letting people sort through it,” he says. “There are companies now that rip through 20, 30 or 40,000 pieces of vintage clothing a week. It’s a really interesting ecosystem.”

For many kids vintage sellers, finding their stock is just as fun and interesting as getting it back into consumers’ hands. “Anywhere we can find clothes, we’re there,” says Matthew Carlos, owner of Long Gone Youth. He started selling vintage clothes 11 years ago, when he was 15, switched to kids vintage at 20 and has spent the last six years scouring flea markets, websites and swap meets.

“The kids market is definitely growing,” he says, “but I still feel like we haven’t even gotten close to where we can go. It’s just getting popular now, but the more events [like Elemeno] we can do, the more it’ll go mainstream.” Even now, some major brands like Gap and OshKosh B’gosh have recognized the interest in some of their styles from the ’80s and ’90s, moving to re-release the looks in limited runs.

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Jackie and Frank Oropeza with daughter Rumi Mae shop at Elemeno Kids Vintage Market.

Jackie and Frank Oropeza with daughter Rumi Mae shop at Elemeno Kids Vintage Market.

Kids resale is also leaning into streetwear culture. Rosenblatt, who worked in the streetwear industry, says that he’s noticed that a good portion of those interested in kids vintage — particularly, male shoppers — tend to be fans of streetwear brands like Supreme, Fear of God Essentials and Bape. At Elemeno, for instance, a good portion of the parents we saw pushing strollers were well-dressed dads seemingly on solo missions, something you don’t always see at kid-centric events.

“I just want my son to feel like I did as a kid,” said Justin Nguyen, while watching his toddler, Jayden, play with bubbles. “I want him to be happy, carefree and joyful, and I want to be able to spend time with him. My mom and dad were always working, even on the weekends. Now that I’m a dad, taking my son out on weekends to do stuff like this just seems like a blessing.”

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‘Hellions’ author Julia Elliott wins $150K fiction prize

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‘Hellions’ author Julia Elliott wins 0K fiction prize

Author Julia Elliott won for her short story collection Hellions.

Forrest Clonts/Tin House


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Writer Julia Elliott has won this year’s Carol Shields Prize for Fiction for her short story collection Hellions. The award honors work by women and nonbinary authors in the U.S. and Canada.

Elliott, who also authored the novel The New and Improved Romie Futch and the short story collection The Wilds, is known for blending elements of Southern gothic horror, surrealism and fairy tale. Hellions, published in 2025, includes stories set against backdrops like a plague-stricken medieval convent, a feminist art colony, and small Southern towns.

“This eerie, eclectic, genre-leaping collection takes no half-measures; every sentence of Hellions crackles or crawls,” wrote the prize jury in a statement. “Here, human folly moves against a backdrop of horror and magic … But for all its wildness, there is tremendous control.”

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The prize, named after a Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist, awards $150,000 to one winner each year. Novels, short story collections, and graphic novels by women and nonbinary authors are eligible.

This year’s finalists included Quiara Alegría Hudes (The White Hot), Lee Lai (Cannon), Megha Majumdar (A Guardian and a Thief), and Sonya Walger (Lion). They will each receive $12,500.

The Carol Shields Prize went to writer Canisia Lubrin in 2025.

You can listen to actor Donna Lynne Champlin read Elliott’s story “Hellion” on the Death, Sex & Money podcast here.

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