Soul Diva Discovery: P.P. Arnold

Wow! Thanks to Richard Metzger of Dangerous Minds for illuminating me about the heartbreaking voice and staggering genius of L.A. native and former Ikette P.P. Arnold. This spectacularly wigged-out photograph is from a session for P.P.'s second solo album, 1968's Kafunta, recorded for Andrew Loog Oldham's label, Immediate.

Born Patricia Ann Cole, P.P. was a teen mom who went from working the night shift at an egg factory in Fresno to supporting the Rolling Stones with the Ike and Tina Turner Revue. And if you read this interview between the lines, it's possible to infer that she got to know Mick Jagger quite well. She also says that Jimi Hendrix, a fellow black American living in Swinging London, was "like my brother."

Back in London since 1982 after returning to Hollywood for a while in the '70s, P.P. had a couple hit singles, mostly covers (including one of my favorite Bee Gees songs, "To Love Somebody") but never approached the great heights of her former boss. The good news is she's still performing live, and she is also a Reiki healer, without which she says she "would not be the woman she is today."

Here's hoping she comes home for a visit soon.

Cool World

Sunday afternoon refuge in Los Feliz

Sunset Sisters

Look who joined us yesterday on the sand, to watch the hot sun go down in a burning land.

Can't Stop Til We Get Enough

Does anybody else find the tenacious hold of '80s fashions utterly perplexing and even a little bit disturbing? When Michael Jackson died I jokingly said that it was only a matter of time before black penny loafers and white socks (which I wore back in '84) were cool again, but clearly I wasn't reading my fashion trade rags because I would have known about Opening Ceremony's footwear collaboration with Bass Weejuns, available NOW.

O.C., which is opening a huge new outpost in Tokyo this weekend, sent this image to my inbox yesterday with an announcement about Chloe Sevigny's latest collection for the store, which apparently is inspired by St. Marks punks as well as her preppy dad. Not only is Chloe wearing said Weejuns and white socks here, her pants, if you can't tell, are knitted fair isle sweatpants (note the fabulous fit)! And she's paired a menswear blazer with one of those low-armhole tanks that cheesy guys with braided tails used to rock back in the day, and all of it is topped with Wayfarer-esque sunglasses, a look I really thought we'd seen enough of, classic or not. It's almost as if she knew John Hughes was going to die too!

It's one thing when some 20-something hipster loads up with predictably ridiculous retro gear but it's another thing when someone whom I truly admire as a fashion original seems more interested in presenting an attitude than a good design.

What We Have Made is Real: We Are in Xanadu

I just had dinner with an old Yippie punk who'd never heard of Xanadu, the sublime roller disco flop that was Olivia Newton John's 1980 follow-up to Grease. "I didn't listen to Olivia Neutron Bomb!" he told me indignantly, and when I protested that the soundtrack was produced by ELO's Jeff Lynne, whose music is candy sonic heaven to my ears, he said he didn't like him and his 100-cello string sections, either.

It would be hard to claim that the film stands the test of time. ELO's "I'm Alive" may be ringing out joyfully, but the roller disco fantasia "grand finale" still looks like it was filmed in a gymnasium with cardboard sets, and frankly, nobody, not even Olivia, is very skilled on their skates. The presence of a legend like Gene Kelly is just embarrassing for everyone. But still, despite the myriad flaws, there is something genuinely special about this silly movie. Part of it, of course, is the combination of ONJ's wide-eyed blonde beauty and that aching, angelic voice that defies any wooden acting or clunker lines, but I think the other big factor is the brilliant Los Angeles location scouting - the Pan Pacific Auditorium being the icing on the cake.

This Streamline Moderne masterpiece, which opened its doors in 1935 and burned to the ground in 1989, was abandoned and in ruin when it was immortalized in the film, transformed into the "Xanadu" of the title with a little ingenuity, some elbow grease, and Gene Kelly's cash. Pictured here is the "album cover" on which Michael Beck's Sonny first spots Olivia's Kira before she - a muse and daughter of Zeus (hence the "Nine Sisters" title) - skates down from Mt. Olympus to bewitch him with a kiss. (Upon hearing that plot detail, the old punk declared that the writers must have been smoking pot when they came up with the story, and I have to say I think he might be right.)

But forget all that for a minute. Look at those deco spires that feel so awesomely '80s, that airbrushed rainbow sunset, those supple, slouchy white boots, Olivia's witchy stare and the dazzling neon halo around her. When I see all that I still get an electric tween thrill. You might call it nostalgia but I have to believe it's magic.

My Blue Crush

Sadly, my day looks nothing at all like this photograph. I am not at a picnic table on the beach in East Hampton, eating lobster and drinking ice-cold Coronas with Blue Crush star Sanoe Lake and other Billabong champion surfer girl cuties. Nah, I'm just here on deadline at my desk in Echo Park, remembering that summer afternoon a few years ago when I "got up" my first time ever on a surf board (the waves were barely perceptible), and decided that when I moved to California I, too, would become a surfer girl. Packed in my boxes were not one but three books about girls and surfing, two farewell gifts (apparently my New York friends had the same fantasy for me) and one a gift from Sanoe, who wrote her own, called - take a guess - Surfer Girl. I must confess I still haven't read any of them.

Number of times I've been surfing since that day: 1. I do have a pretty cute rash guard, though, so I'm ready. Can you blame a girl for dreaming?

Inner Circles

The lovely and inspiring Amely Greeven, meditation teacher, progressive thinker and author, and high fashion wordsmith (yes, one can be all these things!), took a bit of time away from her Laurel Canyon hillside home this summer to go visit family and roam around the English countryside. What she never expected was a "front row seat" on the crop circle phenomenon, as she just happened to be in Southwest England, which has a concentration of sacred sites including Stonehenge, at peak season for these massive formations. "The proximity of these forms to my kitchen table is breathtaking," she writes in a piece about the experience just published in Reality Sandwich. In the story, Amely matter-of-factly dismisses the idea that crop circles could be man made, and explains what it feels like to walk within what she believes are physical expressions of the cosmic intelligence. She also compares them to a "tattoo on the rump of a very attractive lady."

In the Realm of the Scents

I finally made it to one of the natural perfume salons that Persephenie Snyder has been hosting monthly at her charming apothecary, Blunda Aromatics in West Hollywood. Natural fragrances are nothing like your typical hippie oils; most are exquisitely crafted blends of rare botanical oils and essences that are fixed with organic oils and alcohols. Often made by traditionally (i.e. French) trained noses, they have none of the heavy qualities of so many synthetic perfumes.

Blunda carries all of the most coveted lines - Joanne Bassett, Ayala Moriel, Velvet & Sweetpea, YOSH, Mandy Aftel - as well as Persephenie’s own body care collection (try the rich, yummy body butter!), which debuted earlier this summer. This month Joanne Bassett, who lives and works in Palm Desert, was there premiering two new fragrances, the delicious spicy floral, Indulgence (which Persephenie said smelled “like candy, in a good way” on me) and Memories, a woody citrus. I chatted with Bassett, who is also an aromatherapist and a healer, and she told me that her quartet of female fragrances, Camille, Colette, Chantelle and Contessa, came to her in a vision and she blended these four very different perfumes in one afternoon. “Maybe these are people I was in a past life,” she smiled mysteriously.

These are the kinds of conversations you get into at Blunda, which also carries some incredible crystals and jewelry, addictive Japanese incense, essential oils and attars and other perfume making supplies. If you’re feeling the urge to mix up your own magic potion, Persephenie also teaches perfume classes in her studio/laboratory in back.

Vida in Venice

Baby Vida, age 3 weeks, took her first trip to the beach yesterday afternoon. When she got fussy, mommy Lee, who's been calming her with "ocean sounds" CDs, just walked down to the shore and the little love was instantly soothed. The same goes for the rest of us, who played in the surf and soaked up those glorious late summer rays. I drove back home on a traffic-less freeway with an iced coffee in my hand and a smile on my face.

As Above, So Below

Hard to believe, but the Jesus theme of last night’s Bless-ed Event art exhibition to benefit fashion designer Tara Subkoff, who was recently diagnosed with a brain tumor, was conceived of completely independent of Subkoff and her line, Imitation of Christ. But that’s not to say that there wasn’t a little bit of divine intervention going on.

Artist Petecia Le Fawnhawk, who organized the show with jewelry designer Shahla Kareen, started painting images of Jesus when a voice in a dream asked her, ‘is 144 Jesuses better than one?’ Her fascination with the relationship between Jesus and Mary Magdalene inspired a line of “religious lingerie” which includes a wine-dyed pair of rosy panties studded with a silver cross and matching pasties (pictured here, in a photo by Ryan Rickett).

Around the same time, her friend Mark Maggiori announced that he was ditching the script he’d been working on, and was starting a new film project called “Johnny Christ.” Maggiori’s large-scale Jesus paintings, “stills” from the film, show the savior looking very much like a couple of the bearded, long-haired surfer/artist types who were walking around the opening at Studio 724.

About this “blasphemistic pop art” Le Fawnhawk says, “I was a little nervous about whether I was gonna get struck by lightning or not, but I think if there is a holy spirit out there, they don’t mind.”

And in case they did, the angels from the L.A. Ladies Choir came down from heaven (or Silver Lake) in their white vintage dresses to bless the scene with tunes including Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.” The choir was started by Lavender Diamond’s Becky Stark and Aska Matsumiya, and has around 30 members today. Simone LeBlanc, a member since March, told me that the only rule is that one must “sing joyfully”; this is also the name of their EP, coming this fall.

I’m pretty sure I saw Shahla Kareen, who was wearing a stunning human heart locket of solid gold - one of her own pieces - wipe away a tear.

The Bless-ed Event will be up for one month at Studio 724, 724 S Park View St., near MacArthur Park.

Found Altar

Location: Elysian Park between two pink pepper trees
Artist: Unknown

All in the Family

There are just a few more days to catch the Gallery 15Twenty exhibition connected to L.A. photographer Lauren Dukoff's new book, Family. She's been photographing her high school pal Devendra Banhart for the last 10 years, and the book is a beautiful document of this mystical, musical moment in Los Angeles. The photo above is Devendra and his band's homage to the Cockettes, a flamboyant, gender-bending late '60s San Francisco performance troupe who lived communally and liked to cover themselves in glitter.

I wrote a piece about the book for the L.A. Times, and Devendra told me that the whole impetus for the photo was to "lead people to the Cockettes...it’s like covering a song. You don’t cover a song to try to do it better."

Maybe not, but the boys sure look awfully purty.

Read the L.A. Times story HERE

Kustom Kar Komandette

Coming home from a walk this evening, I encountered Chuckles (pictured, holding canine friend), parallel parking her Nissan “Chuk Wagon” on Echo Park Ave. The side of the car reads “Everything is Horrible,” and was painted by a friend of hers who “knows too much about the government,” she told me. Chuckles said she hadn’t really thought about the attention this paint job might attract, “but I guess it’s kinda noticeable.” Luckily, considering her name and all, she added that she did not share the sentiment. “I’m actually pretty happy.” I believe her.

Bhagavan Das: Still Here Now

It was so good to see Bhagavan Das in the beautiful, rather astounding film/musical journey, What About Me? that screened as part of the Topanga Film Festival on Friday night. Now 64, Bhagavan Das actually coined the phrase "Be Here Now," and introduced Ram Dass, author of the famous book of the same name, to his guru, Neem Karoli Baba, on a wild mystical journey the pair took throughout India in the '60s. As if he needed any more cred, in 2002 Bhagavan Das released an album of Hindu chants, Now, produced by Mike D. from the Beastie Boys.

I've been privileged to spend some time with this legendary spiritual teacher and Laguna Beach native (!); I have interviewed him, sung kirtan with him, and spent five days at his feet in a puja workshop at the Laughing Lotus yoga center in New York. The man is a bubbling fountain of wisdom and insights about the modern world, able to guide us through our struggles with materialism and self-doubt, although he renounced all that crap decades ago and lives, essentially, to serve. For those who are acutely feeling the precariousness of these times, take these words to heart: "There's nothing like a good destruction to help you begin again. Empty your bowl so that it may be filled with flowers."

Fallen Angel: Tate by Chappell

Today is the 40th anniversary of Sharon Tate's death. In researching a story about her that ran in today's L.A. Times, I came across a rare series of photographs by Walter Chappell, taken in Big Sur in 1964. Although Tate was only 21, the dreamy, meditative images have a soulfulness and a wistfulness that feel even more poignant considering her fate. Rediscovered by Chappell's family after his death in 2000, the rarely seen series was exhibited in 2001 at the Roth Horowitz Anderson gallery in Los Angeles, which then published a 15-page portfolio that you can still find used on Amazon.

Rest in peace, beautiful Sharon.

To read the L.A. Times piece click HERE

When Dov Cries

Figures it would take New York magazine to alert me to the New York art blog, Animal, which posted a whole slew of American Apparel critiques/fake ads by New York-based graphic designer Stereo Hell. As Animal is quick to note, the text, which reads "Los Angeles. The morning after," is real American Apparel ad copy. Not surprisingly, the Animal site is now loaded with banner ads for American Apparel corduroys, African-inspired leggings, and the New York Public Library series, because Dov Charney, of course, knows that all publicity is good publicity. And how could he possibly object to some nice, stylish, dirty posters rendered in his name? My second fave was the one that urged, "Legalize ANAL."

I actually interviewed Dov wayyyy back when he was still talking about things like T-shirt quality, and hadn't begun masturbating in front of journalists. After the interview he walked me to subway, continuing to talk my ear off, but he didn't hit on me for even a second. I still take pride in that.

The Revolution Will Be Read

Yesterday I met a friend for lunch at Echo Park's super cute, new-ish book store/cafe Stories, which is the only place I know of where you can get a tuna sandwich and a Jane Austen action figure. I also picked up Mark Harris' Pictures at a Revolution, which is now in paperback. Harris traces the journeys of the five Academy Award nominees for Best Picture in the pivotal year 1967: Bonnie and Clyde, The Graduate, Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, In the Heat of the Night and Doctor Dolittle, from conception to that single acceptance speech. Of course, I've only gotten to page 50, but already I've learned that Bonnie and Clyde was written by two Esquire magazine staffers, Robert Benton and David Newman, who didn't know the first thing about screenwriting but nevertheless had their hearts set on Francois Truffaut as the director. And Truffaut seriously considered doing it and gave them extensive notes and ideas about the film, which ended up being directed by Arthur Penn.

I was also reminded about the bluegrass in the soundtrack (the pair wrote while listening to the Foggy Mountain Boys), which felt so fresh to me in Michael Mann's Public Enemies this year but now seems kinda derivative of Bonnie and Clyde. But I guess it's nearly impossible for a genre picture to not be derivative. And I'm always a sucker for a sharp-dressed rogue.

Peachy Keen

This peach tree is a mere step from my door. Last year the peaches grew to be the size of baseballs but were mealy and flavorless; this year they're the size of golf balls and are firm, sweet, and juicy (go figure). Until the figs ripen I'll be having arugula, peach, and goat cheese salads like the one I just finished. Yum!

Maybe it's the New Yorker in me, but I never cease to be amazed that you can just pick something like a peach, for free, from a tree in your very own yard, and eat it. It's not just pretty, or defiantly inedible, like the wormy crabapples in my grandparents' back yard, or the sour mulberries that used to stain my bare feet purple in the summer.
If you don't have your own personal tree, the sweet boys of Fallen Fruit have made it easy for us all to enjoy the bounty of this city, with groovy, color-coded maps of public fruit trees. Happy picking!

Welcome to Golden State!

What better image to launch with than this heavenly photograph from artist (and dear friend) Zoe Crosher's LA-Like series? It was used as the back cover of a CD on which the talented girl sings LA-themed songs, like a sweetly sinister version of Bad Religion's "Los Angeles is Burning". Zoe finds constant inspiration in the mythology of Los Angeles, and I am constantly inspired by her perspective on the city. Visit her site to hear the songs and see the entire LA-Like series, as well as some of her Michelle DuBois book/archive project, which yours truly will be writing an essay for.