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Recession Dispatch from…a New Yorker in Santa Monica
As a New Yorker, whenever I travel to California, I’m ever hopeful that I will adopt the effortless, easy happiness of the sunny residents. On my last visit two weeks ago, I wondered if the recession had made its mark the same way it has sent a dark hazy cloud over Manhattan. I stayed with friends, a talented singer-songwriting couple who live in the cozy, creative bungalow community of Santa Monica. They had just landed a very promising project, and living in their hotbed of musical activity, recessionary Manhattan felt far away.
The raw food restaurant next door to the yoga studio I frequented was doing brisk business. From my observation, the Santa Monica crowd thinks nothing of paying $8 for a smoothie or $22 for a yoga class. At an enchanting store called ZenBunni, run by an artisan couple who produce amazing raw chocolate, the whimsical cattle skulls adorning the walls and the Peter Max scarves festooning various hooks got me wondering if creative Californians are faring better than New Yorkers.
On Sunday late morning, lattes in hand, my friend and I cruise the Farmers market. It’s hopping with more contented, prosperous, Prius-driving, organic families than you’d find on a Sunday stroll through Park Slope. As we parked the car, we were accosted by a ruggedly handsome homeless man with a leathery tan. Truthfully, even some of the homeless people look better out here – this guy looked like a character from Boogie Nights, and was much more outspoken than any homeless person I’ve seen in New York. Santa Monicans seem comfortable co-existing alongside the rough and tumble seedy side of town. I pass by the “Sober Inn,” noticing that they even have cute monikers for their rehabilitation Centers. Even the pharmacy that sells medical marijuana is elegant and green in that California sort of way. There’s none of the ever-present grimy, stench of bong water that emanates from the head shops of Venice. At no time during my stay did I overhear anyone really discuss the state of the economy, the loss of jobs, the closing of stores or any other hardship in the community.
Nearby, in the bohemian enclave of Venice Beach, I visit Abbot Kinney Boulevard, which reminds me of the Lower East Side, filled with pretty boho dress shops. I could picture myself pitter pattering on my Macbook in one of the garden patios rather than in my dingy Hell’s Kitchen apartment. For the habitues of Abbot Kinney, hanging out is an artform: it’s hard to tell if people are working deals while tapping on iPhones, or if they have just mastered the art of looking cool while unemployed and struggling.
It is clear that this group of knit-capped, expensively- sneakered hipsters is very into “open bar” at the open galleries of “First Fridays.” Freeloading is obviously one way the young and trendy survive. On Abbot Kinney Blvd, I discovered one serious oasis in the sea of frivolity – Equator Books. This bookstore, with its collection of rare and hard-to-find books, doubles as an art gallery and a record store with old vinyls in the back. I Googled Equator and an article popped up on Huffington Post sounding the alarm: the owner is demanding help and funding. Equator Books, it seems, is another victim of the Recession. Not everything California is as easy-breezy as it appears.
On Saturday night, I join friends and head to the open galleries at Santa Monica’s Bergamot Station. The prospect of free wine at the Bergamot Station gallery shows draws hundreds of people to this converted former train station. There’s live music, video art screened on a wall, free wine and beer – all the dynamics of Bushwick without the hazardous waste and the prospect of being mugged. After we have our fill of the decadent last ramblings of Mr. Bukowski and Mr. Burrowes, we make our way to an even more promising exhibit and opening at the Los Angeles Community Museum of Art.
Hundreds of Los Angelenos are lounging without a care in the outdoor patio at LACMA. There’s an arts & crafts table set up to make puppets. No one is engaged in the pretentious overintellectualized banter I so adore at the Chelsea galleries. I’m craving a conversation about neo-realism while my new-found friends are engaging in ironic jokes about what a “bad mood” some guy must have been in when he painted himself without limbs. Bad moods are unpopular in California.
I leave feeling healthy, toned and rejuvenated, but I’m kind of longing for a grey spring day in Manhattan. Time to start wearing black again and bitching about the recession.
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4 comments for “Recession Dispatch from…a New Yorker in Santa Monica”
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If you can afford to live in Santa Monica in the first place, you’re not going to be affected by the recession. It is not, however, representative of other parts of California, such as Silicon Valley which is facing over 10% unemployment.
I have to disagree with you Target-Addict. Not everyone in Santa Monica is loaded and unaffected by the recession. I challenge you to look up the Santa Monica homelessness, crime & unemployment rates. Also, you’d be surprised at the amount of apartments under Rent Control. That being said I feel our community has a positive attitude and welcome all the travelers (like the NY’er who wrote this piece)with open arms.
There are multiple lines in this article that give me douche chills.
But thats just me, nothing against Amy.
so well written!! I am a californian (not far from santa monica) hit pretty hard by the recession and i love this piece nonetheless.