This jetlag is really getting to me. I slept at 8 and woke up at 2. AM.
Celebrity, celebrity, celebrity. Chanel, Kitson, Melrose Avenue, The Wasteland, Robertson Boulevard. Names synonymous with materialism and celebrity, two of my top ten favourite things. But LA is rife with the word ‘celebrity’. Every corner, every angle, every fucking tourist destination. The novelty of celebrity has worn off after one and a half days already (Nicole Scherzinger just broke up with Lewis Hamilton, btw). it’s not all that glamorous, honestly. There are plenty of dilapidated buildings in downtown LA, shutters down but paint still intact. A lot of people ask, “why doesn’t LA look like it does in the movies?” and then they have to sorta realize the existence of Photoshop and post-film editing. Still. I want to walk down Rodeo Drive in the style of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman with my patent Docs and shiny tights. As if I don't look scary enough already.
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