Archive | May, 2013


29 May

CityBaby LA PremiereHi you guys!

So, this week, I’m packing up my things and moving 15 minutes away to Hollywood proper, with my boyfriend Ervin! It’s OFFICIAL: We’re cheap bastards who like lower rent! As much as I will miss my first ‘hood in LA, Los Feliz, with its Little Dom’s and its Alcove and its Vista Movie Theatre (and the new Scientology building that’s about to pop up a block away… thank Xenu, because the previous nearest location was THREE blocks from me. I mean, – walking? Gross), I’m also ready to try something fresh and new!

I’ve been spying on my new building and so far, I know that one of my new neighbors may or may not be a hobo, and another one of my neighbors dries his wetsuits on our shared balcony. Not for long, my friend… not for long. (Me, drying flesh-tone nylons on our shared balcony. All the time…)

And speaking of HOLLYWOOD, GUESS WHO’S COMIN TO TOWN! Everyone’s favorite hipster flick “CITY BABY” for the Dances With Films Festival!! You guys — if you are in LA, and you’re free Wednesday June 5th at 9:30p, to come down to The Chinese Theatre on Hollywood Blvd and hang with the stars of the film (I’m not speaking about myself — I haven’t turned into a total douche!), and also us supporting cast (OK, that part’s ME), scoop up some tickets while they last!

This movie is SO beautiful and features some really great performances. And a story line that you’ll be all, “wait – are they talking about me?” in places. Yeah. It’s lovely. It’s Portland-y. It’s totally worth $11.

Tomorrow night is the Festival’s Opening Nite and YES YOU ARE RIGHT — I get to walk the GREEN carpet!! Green’s the new red, bitches! I’m doin the shmooze-n-pose for City Baby. If you will be there, look for me! I’ll have a small tear in the corner of my eye because my heels are murdering me, toes can’t wait for this. Please come support the film if you can! It’s a good one. I recently saw Fast & Furious 6 and that was also good. So. You can trust me. AND Vin Diesel. We got your back.




Mannequin Whisperer.

22 May

mannequin-book-hilfiger_02Hey you guys!

I don’t have anything exciting to write about. A lot of little stories, but — nothing that’s jumping out to me.

Do I write about how I got trapped inside Kelsey Grammer’s Bel Air mansion gate? (No, it’s not fun because I got out eventually.) Or how my roommates got me all hopped up on Mario Kart (the second time in my life that I’ve binged on the *one* video game I will ever want to play). OR, I could blab on again about how hard LA is, or how I haven’t had any auditions, or how there are a couple cool things in the works and how I’m making my OWN projects happen, and how I’m in the market for a large piece of green fabric to use as a background for a sketch I wrote, self-reflection, should I meditate?, juice cleanse, sunshine, traffic…

Snooze. Everyone’s doing that.

Maybe I’ll post a picture of a macaron. So I can get 5 million hits on my blog just because I like, LIKE-like, what we all like! #MACARONBITCH

So, here’s something else. My obsession with taking photos of mannequins. I drive around Beverly Hills almost every nite. And after all the store lights are down, and the fashionistas have gone home (or out to fancy restaurants with their sugar daddies because they’re tie-tie from shopping all day at GucciPradaVenetta), the window dressings are left alone, arranged in the dim evening lights, in their haute couture, looking out. Silently speaking to me.

I post these on Instagram. (Mom: download the Instagram app on your phone and look for user: ilikelauren. That’s me.)

mannequin-book-hilfigerThis is Hilfiger, if you can’t tell by the “nautica”, and the faces that seem to say “Well, I’m not gonna feed myself vodka and oysters on the yacht, YOU are.”

This is jeweler Van Cleef and Arpels. Now, you can buy bejeweled ballerinas, inspired by a collaboration with dancer Benjamin Millepied (Natalie Portman’s hubby/babydaddy/professional dancer/choreographer — ok, yeah – we get it, Benjamin. You can do everything).

mannequin-book-van-cleef-and-arplesNeiman Marcus. They were doing a thing with dogs.
mannequin-book-neimann-marcusFrederick’s of Hollywood. You don’t have to be smart if you look hot in a bikini. Am I right or am I right.
mannequin-book-fredricks-of-hollywoodI can’t remember who’s window this is… mannequin-book-beeLOFT, Beverly Hills.mannequin-book-loftMy favorite Foreign Soap Opera Bridal Boutique. Next time, on “Shadows of Russia”…
mannequin-book-brideSaks Fifth Avenue. On not-Fifth-Avenue.mannequin-book-saksAnd finally, Agent Provocateur. It’s so nice to see mannequins that look (and feel) like real women. I mean feelings-feel…mannequins-book-agent-provocateurAnd that about wraps it up for today.



35 Is The New Elderly.

1 May

rhobh-taylorAn occupational hazard of working in Beverly Hills is that I am constantly surrounded by “youth”. The relentless pursuit of it, anyway. It appears in many forms. Baggy leggings, luxury convertibles, Botoxed earthworm-lips, so glossy you can check your own teeth in them, and of course, see-thru foreheads.

I spend a lot of time hanging out with beautiful hostesses in their early 20s (ACTUAL young people), while waiting for delivery orders. We talk about many things including their upcoming holidays in Cannes, their adorable outfits and where did you get that!, and did you see Kim Kardashian’s sitting at table 5 and doesn’t that guy in the cheetah print hat look like Ryan Phillippe – it has to be him — it has to. (We all Google him.)

Lately though, there’s been a weird shift toward “How old are you?” They lean in all secret style. God forbid someone might pass by and hear MY NUMBER and silently condemn me to invisible old lady Hell. “You don’t have to say,” but their eyes stay on mine. Waiting.

“Oh. I’m 35.” I say it in a normal speaking voice. It’s the facts.

Their creamy skinned jaws drop open and their pouty lips go “NO WAY. Oh, girl. I thought you were 28.”

Sweet. This might buy me a pilot season in this town.

“You hide it SO well,” they coo. Or, “You wear it so well”, which makes me feel like I stole someone else’s skin and it fits great, almost like it were my own!


“Seriously, I would have never thought. Like, the way you dress and – yeah. No way.”

It’s probably the food I spilled on myself earlier. Or the way I don’t seem to know what’s going on. Ever. Really, I’m just being myself. It looks like 28, it feels like Kindergarten, and it’s trying to get comfortable in its skin.

I’m glad I recently learned that “laying out” in the sun makes wrinkles and melanoma and ages you really fast. That Hawaiian Tropic SPF 8 is basically just coconut cooking spray. And that a good night’s sleep, drinking enough water, and an apple a day keep the Rejuvaderm away.

But I also think these Beverly Hills ladies make a mistake when they lie about their age. We all do. Not only are you putting a lot of pressure on your face when you subtract a few years (better to look like a HOT 55, than a ROUGH 32), you’re also disregarding how lucky you are to be here. Right where you are.

Maybe it’s because in my family, my sister died when she was 8, my uncle died when he was 40, and my grandmothers are still kickin it. And that I’m in an industry that I think is changing to be inclusive of older women (Thank you Meryl and Helen for being talented and beautiful).

But, it’s made me appreciate my age a little more. Not everyone gets the chance to live this long. And I get to be here for a purpose. (WHAT IS IT?? Still figuring that out.) That’s not to say there aren’t days when I’m all “Remember when I could eat pizza-and-beer-only, 7 days in a row and it didn’t matter, intestines?” “Where are the abs I used to—?” “Why doesn’t this adult acne make me feel YOUNG and ANEW!”

A couple months ago, Ervin, his brother Manuel and I drove up to San Francisco to celebrate his Uncle Juan’s “Juan Hundred-th” birthday. (For the first hour, I thought “How cool that his last name is Hundred! How often does this happen?!”)juan-hundred-birthday-signmanuel-juan-ervinI’ve never been to anybody’s 100th anything, and to see Uncle Juan dancing and eating normal people food, and completely surrounded by the legacy of his family, was inspiring.juan-hundred-birthday-familyjuan-hundred-birthday-starsjuan-hundred-birthday-dance

Who are we to say who’s too old and when it’s too late.juan-hundred-birthday-balloon

I think the hostesses would agree: Uncle Juan totally wears it so well.

Oh. And there were clowns at the party. It was held at an Elk Lodge in the Bay Area and the bar was called “The Cork Room”. These portraits (of some real corkers??) were all over the wall:juan-hundred-birthday-clownsI thought about “Dilly Cork” for a long time afterward.

A real long time.




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