Week two in LA and we’re heading just north of downtown to Echo Park.
A neighbourhood that, pre-WWI, was the Hollywood of LA, the place all the film studios called home. Charlie Chaplin, Westerns etc.
After the ‘white flight’ post-WWII, Latinos and gangs moved in but more recently in the last decade it’s been artists and hipsters, seeking a cheaper alternative to neighbouring uber-hip Silver Lake.
Echo Park’s main drag is on Sunset Boulevard, which, despite all the romantic imagery those two words conjure up, is pretty run-down in parts, with the occasional hipster-friendly shop or cafe. Much like Sydney’s Paramatta Road, around Annandale, for example. The hilly bits above Sunset, on the other hand, reminded me of some parts of Sydney’s Northern Beaches.
Now, apparently it’s still a real mix of people but truly, everyone we met – the non-Latinos at least – were all writers, musicians or actors.
But by “everyone” I mean, ooh, maybe ten people. As the guy in the bookshop explained, LA isn’t a “sidewalk culture” (okay, maybe Venice Beach is, but not here).
In other words, people were very thin on the ground, literally.
So, given the lack of bods and the fact we’re in the land of make believe – and that Echo Park has some relationship of one kind or another with various LA writers like Raymond Chandler and Bukowski – I decided this post would be a little different…
Lights, camera, action…
FADE IN
Irene, a passionate landscape architect and vintage collector from Arizona, has arrived in LA to pursue her dream of becoming a famous actress. She narrates her story…
I had come to LA to become a big time actress.
Sure, I loved plants and my vintage clothes but I was hungry for fame.
I got a place in West Hollywood, just big enough to fit me and my precious wardrobe.
But Lady Luck didn’t do me any favours and I had to move my stuff to cheaper digs at Echo Park.
I liked Echo Park more anyway, the folks were less uptight there.
But my dream of making it in Hollywood was going nowhere fast.
Then one day I got a call from a big shot agent. Come up to Silver Lake and we’ll talk, he said.
I tossed my vintage bag in my 1965 Cadillac Coupe de Ville and headed up Silver Lake Blvd.
Soon as I stepped out of the car a hideous creature lurched at me – “Can I give you a hand, muhahaha!”
Then a woman who looked like Frida Kahlo came out of the house but when I looked back she wasn’t there.
Suddenly from behind the Golden Barrel Cacti a man leapt out with a gun.
The light was blinding but I could see this fella meant business.
I kicked him where it hurt and the gun landed near the cacti. I hightailed it to the car and sped off.
Who wanted me dead? Was it Karate Kid, the proud Chicano who didn’t like the artists moving into Echo Park?
Or was it one of my ex-lovers, like moody Mike?
Or his jealous girlfriend, lonely Lola, who lived down the road at Silver Lake Palms?
Or my other fellas, Eddie, Bill and Jack (I’d been busy).
Maybe it was Philip, the landscape gardener who felt threatened by my knowledge of Euphorbia cacti.
I started having nightmares of finding a skeleton in the boot of a car.
I’d recognise those teeth anywhere, it was sweet John, the musician who lived next door to me!
My nightmares were also filled with ghoulish faces.
I saw ancestors I didn’t know I had, and made offerings like they do in Mexico.
In the nightmares I was Cuban so I set up coffee and a cigar for my dad.
And chrysanthemums for my mum.
And I prayed and wept at their graves.
What did it all mean?
Then one night at the Gold Room I met a woman with a quote from Bukowski tattooed on her arm, ‘Don’t Try’.
Suddenly it all made sense. Later that night I met a man who smoked a pipe. It was love at first sight.
The fact he smoked a vintage Corn Cob pipe just made me love him even more.
On a stormy night over a bottle of bourbon at the Olive Motel we made plans to live a life together.
Two days later we got hitched at the local church.
We invited everyone from Echo Park, including Juan the fruit guy.
We both loved vintage as well as plants so we decided to start up a business together combining the two.
Unlike my acting career, our business, ‘vintage + plants’, took off like my Cadillac up Sunset Blvd.
And we bought a pug too. ‘Cos you gotta have a pug when you live in Echo Park.
The End.
CREDITS
Cast, in order of appearance:
Maya Stein (student and fifth generation of the original Mexicans in LA from the 1700s) in intro image
Irene (vintage mannequin), appearing as herself
Andy (musician) and injured dog Whelan, as themselves
Maria (unknown career), as Frida Kahlo
Matthew (pathology assistant), the guy with the gun, as the hit man (Yes, real gun, he has… three)
Gerado (17 year old student), as Karate Kid
Ned Casual (musician, actor, painter), as moody Mike
Rosie (from England, out here with punk rock dad), as lonely Lola
Unknowns as Eddie and Bill
Manuk (actor, photographer), as Jack
Unknowns as Ghoulish faces
Dominga Perez Padron and Jose Ramon Padron as dearly departed Mexicans in photographs at an early Day of the Dead celebration in Echo Park
Eric (stage actor, newly arrived from Chicago) as the Man who Smoked a Pipe
Unknown as Juan.
Bronson the pug as himself.
COSTUME
All vintage clothing by Flounce Vintage, Echo Park.
The Wrap
Pretty kooky huh? Well, silly it may be but it was kind of fun to do. I didn’t have the idea until after I’d shot 99% of the shots so it was like piecing a storyboard together, albeit with limited images.
To anyone who I photographed, I hope you don’t mind that I’ve cast you as a character in this strange little production. As I said, I didn’t know at the time that I was going to use your photos like this. Please email me if you’d prefer not to be involved. (I may then have to kill you off… oh dear, it’s all getting rather complicated…)
Anyway, to round out the picture of Echo Park, I should say that it has more than just seedy, run-down motels/apartment blocks (which I personally love for some reason). There’s a range of architecture there, from the grand Victorians in the area called Angelino Heights, to some nice Modernist homes. It also has a major sports stadium, a huge park and a lake that would be filled with lotus flowers if it weren’t for the fact it’s currently under renovation and looks more building site-ish than anything lovely.
playing dress-up at Flounce
On the ‘home front’
Coco had a ball at Echo Parks’ Flounce Vintage, trying on pretty much every pair of shoes in the place as well as all the lovely old hats. And she also loved all the dancing at the Mexican Day of the Dead celebration we stumbled on while we were in the neighbourhood.
But the real highlight of the week? Disneyland! She has my friend Fiona to thank for that – if it’d been up to me, we’d never have gone. But Fiona offered to take Coco and then I felt I had to go too, so off we all went, with Fiona’s 13 year old, Katie, in tow. How was it? Hugely fun. Except for Space Mountain. It was terrifying. Not the spooky imagery but the way you hurtled through complete darkness at unbelievable speed, violently jerking this way and that at every turn. Coco and I clung on to each other, me screaming “JUST SHUT YOUR EYES!” and Coco screaming back, “IT DOESN’T HELP!”, totally convinced she was about to be thrown out of the cart at any moment. I swear it was the most freaked out either of us have been since we left Sydney more than 10 months ago – at Disneyland!
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This suburb has been brought to you by Triscia from Fresco Creative
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See you next week.
