I may have cringed at the thought of flying to Los Angeles earlier this week as visions of bleach, boobs, and traffic swarmed my naturally colored head. There may have been nightmares involving Paris Hilton, a locked room, and me perishing from ego asphyxiation. I wasn’t sure if my forthright Midwestern self could survive two days in the very land that invented smoke-and-mirrored secrets. I don’t, after all, believe in being too rich or too thin. But I had to sally forth. My mother and I made this long trek for the sacredest of life fashion statements: The Wedding Dress. And I quickly learned that beneath the literal and figurative Los Angeles veneer lays a spunky yet vital playground.
Vintage is my favorite word, so what better way to explore LA than sifting through antiquarian treasures? We visited Sielian’s Vintage Apparel, Golyester, and American Rag, all of which carry stunning handpicked assortments of clothing, shoes, and accessories. If you find yourself in the City of Angels and fancy 1940’s dresses more than star addresses, I recommend perusing all three of these style-crammed havens.
I got star-struck once during our stay — and the star wasn’t even present. Yours truly lolloped like a schoolgirl at the public park restroom that was deflowered, and consequently memorialized, by my life crush. You bet your Blahniks I barged in there and took a picture. This means that he and I have now stood in the exact same place, which practically makes us BFF’s. It also makes me somewhat of a celebrity stalker, but that’s ok. It’ll be my little secret.