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.

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