Series: Love Letter to LA Part. 2

I wish I had something better to title this second installment. To be completely honest with you, I’m not even sure how many installments of this there are going to be— I was there for five days and so far we’ve only gotten through one. Then again, I am also historically long-winded. 
Welcome to Day 2!

We planned a full-blown itinerary before we even landed in Los Angeles, so we did have some idea of what we intended to do each day we were there. When I tell you we made the most out of every waking pacific time second, we did. On the docket for Thursday was Beverly Hills. And where better to start than Rodeo Drive? 

(Again, the street names are cooler than I will ever be). 

Jackie was the only one of us who had ever been to LA before, so she was our go-to gal for recommendations during the day when we were without D. By the time we were all up and functioning, had fought each other for the shower, picked out our outfits, finished our makeup, and hauled our sorry behinds into the Uber, we made it to Rodeo for, shall we call it, brunch. I wish I could tell you the name of the Italian place we ended up at for lunch (it was noontime, so despite the Broadway production required to get us all ready each morning, we did actually make decent time) but all I remember is that the name of the pasta dish I ate had something to do with Justin Bieber and their iced tea was dang good (see thumbnail photo— courtesy of Bella). 

The highlight of this meal came in two parts (three if you count how delicious the food tasted). One: we decided that at each meal one of us was going to give a toast. Two: Jackie said, and I quote, “every time I come here I weirdly always see Gigi Hadid’s dad.” 

No more than twenty minutes later, who comes to sit right down at the table next to ours? 

“Don’t look now, but Gigi Hadid’s dad is right behind you,” Jackie said. 

Ask, and you shall receive. So it goes in LA. 

The night before, purple-sweater-and-pinstripe-overall-clad if you’ll remember, we saw Liza Weil at dinner. I say “we saw,” but really Nicole saw, and informed the rest of us. I very much saw the woman in question, I just had no idea who she was (for those in this camp with me, I take it you’ve never seen Gilmore Girls, either). I googled Weil as I walked past her to the bathroom (subtle, I know) to see if her face matched the face on google. It did, and to my delight I found that she was married to Paul Adelstien.

Now, Paul Adelstien is a name I recognized right away— I was knees-deep into binging Private Practice on Netflix, and Adelstien played my favorite character. (Private Practice happens to take place in LA, so I really had a moment in the bathroom of Mama Shelter where I thought I was about to meet Dr. Cooper Freedman). To my despair, the man she was sitting with was most definitely not Paul Adelstein. Turns out, upon reading the fine print of Wikipedia, they’re divorced, and Liza Weil is very much allowed to have dinner with men who aren’t Paul Adelstein. 

But I digress, and there I sat one table away at lunch on Rodeo Drive from the man who basically built Beverly Hills. 

After lunch, we proceeded to walk past every luxury store you could ever imagine, and we even went into a few--Chanel, Hermès, Alice + Olivia— for fun. You know when you drive by cows or horses and you can’t help but say “cows” or “horses” out loud? Well, walking down Rodeo Drive goes something like that. Every single store you walk past, you feel the need to point out to those around you. Except you aren’t browsing farm animals, you’re browsing a bajillion dollars and magical storefronts in the flesh. 

And, though I’m sure after learning about the purple-puffed-sweater-overall disaster, you’re all set with hearing about whatever else I wore, I’m going to continue to tell you anyway. The sequin, sparkle jumpsuit I wore to my senior prom was my favorite thing I’ve ever worn, yes, but the black and white flowy dress I wore with my leather jacket and fuzzy black fanny pack while I walked up and down Rodeo Drive really was just one of those outfits that worked. 

(Thank god, since I had been planning outfits for weeks and night 1 was already a bust). 

As we approached the end of Rodeo, we found ourselves walking up the cutest cobblestone street. I don’t know what happened, but we went from drooling along the ritzy streets of Los Angeles to strolling through what felt like a charming little European town in the span of about 30 seconds. 

We stopped for refreshments at a little corner restaurant, and soon we were right back in an Uber on our way to meet D at her apartment. In addition to driving past Pink Taco and determining it would be our dinner destination, we also passed a “Cycle Bar” right next door to a Mexican cantina bar. 

“Can we go to that bar later?” Casey asked. 

“Isn’t that an exercise place?” said Jackie. 

I’m not even sure if it was that funny then, but I’m still laughing about it now. 

Back at D’s apartment, we had just enough time to try on about 85 different outfits a piece, only to all end up leaving the house in Casey’s clothes. The green “shirt” I wore was actually a silk dress that I had stuffed into my jeans. Let’s just say that each trip to the restroom that evening was nothing short of a project. 

This past fall, I think a Pink Taco opened in Boston, but this one within walking distance from the apartment was my first foray into the restaurant chain. 

Pink taco produced the best tacos I’ve ever eaten, yes, but that night was also the most fun I’ve ever had while out to eat. 

Daniella gave the toast. 

You know when Pam Beesly says she feels God in this Chili’s tonight? Yeah. The toast went something like that.