Need to duck a dinner. Silver Lake Wine wine tasting; a nearby scene, Xers drifting in from Glendale Boulevard like good summer weather. Not drinking but there anyway.
Bemused LisaExit, leaning on a tabletop wine display, evaluating shoes more closely than wine. I spot some on a beauty: black halter, black polo pants, black beaded necklace with topaz, brass hoop earrings, touch of vermillion in raven tresses like so many these days. Nude lipstick. Shaved eyebrows, penciled to curve a little more than they actually do. Navy blue patent leather clutch. Now for the shoes: open toe blood orange pumps with a sling back, sturdy heels. Shoes! Nice work.
Someone asks if we're a couple: initially flummoxed, good laughs ultimately emerge.
Ms. Exit discovers a wine blogger, Mike Brosnan, at the bar; I hone in. Serious, takes copious notes. Knew Cinnabar; good sign. Has a wine locker in the building. Like all good bloggers, he arrives in entourage (think: Cathy Seipp, who lived within a tee shot of this place). Orbiting about are Amanda from Kansas and Debbie the writer and a guy who tells me I'm brave for wearing flipflops and wonders where I get my pedicures, which he calls manicures.
The pedicure guy wants me to add polish to one toe; no thank you. He is pleased to learn I don't write television; sporting of him. He also broke a full glass of wine---or maybe even a bottle, I never saw it---but handled it as an insouciant good time. Bottle and all traces of it vanish in seconds. He goes to counter for some reason; Amanda whispers to me: "paranoid streak."
Amanda, a Leo, has retro glasses and a quarter-size heart on her forearm, like a stick-on tattoo; Amanda not in Kansas anymore. I asked her what she's listening to this summer, but forgot.
Merely took sniffs of wine. Favorite scent of mine was I Perazzi---a wine Nancy Silverton or her partner Mario Batali imports for La Mozza. Ms. Exit and I speculate about what perazzi means: I win, it means something like a pear.
Isn't Madamina doing a lot of Tibetan prints for next year? Ornate curlycue Cost Plus elephants are seemingly on every other tee-shirt; one, in fact, on a heroic-looking sandalwoody AA, is so rash as to add "Free Tibet" on the back. Speaking of rash: another woman has a tattoo on her bicep of Picasso's Girl Before a Mirror. It's at least ten inches tall, an honest representation. Girl Before a Mirror! Unrepentant narcissism, good luck with that.
Ms. Exit and I walk off. I show her through the roads of the north edge of Silver Lake, the northwest passage that gets you to Griffith Park. Bye-bye, I had a good time too, as good a time as you can have on water. You're not buckled in, she notes. She means it literally, but it's a good metaphor too.