Sunday, December 23, 2012
still-sound 134. Bar Marmont
Rob asked me to house-sit for him while he spent the weekend in San Francisco. He feared that his apartment would be burgled, making it the Christmas without gifts. I didn't think he had much reason to worry but I took on the task nonetheless. Rob's place is around the corner from Chateau Marmont - a legendary Los Angeles hot spot I've never visited.
I wondered if my friends and I would be admitted to Bar Marmont - as we arrived, two guys were standing around the door having been denied entry. We were greeted warmly and made our way in. I found that my friends had shared the same anxiety as me a minute ago. I was relieved we made the grade, though I later wondered what the grade was exactly. A man next to us wearing very low hanging white jeans spoke loudly in French on his phone. I didn't understand what made him more Bar Marmonty than the guys who had been rejected at the door.
The lighting was dark. There was an oil painting of a Chinese girl above the bar. Think 1950s Hong Kong. The waitresses were blond and wore red silk Chinese dresses. The ceiling was high and was papered in a style that made me think of an attic. I didn't expect any of this. I thought there would be large plate glass windows overlooking palm trees, a pool and bungalows. I thought Helmut Newtony men would be quietly chatting in a corner.
We all drank Penicillin cocktails except Laura. She had something else with a nice name, although I've regrettably forgotten it. Evan and I had one more round of Penicillins before we left Marmont and walked through the West Hollywood nighttime air.