Calling all gals! Calling all fellas!
Are you looking for love? Do you work in entertainment, TV, music, or the
movies, but you’re finding it difficult to find the man or the woman of your
dreams? Is toiling in the dream factory destroying your mojo?
My
advice is to leave Hollywood and enter Los Angeles. True, one is a subset of
the other, but it’s also a mind-set. I have concrete advice that will get you
on point immediately.
Working
in the entertainment industry is exciting and wonderful, but when you’re in
Hollywood and everyone is chasing the brass ring, a few attitudes can sneak
into your life without you realizing it. Years ago I read a line in an article
in LA Weekly that stuck with me -- “If
you’re at a Hollywood party, half the people there are worried that there’s a
better party somewhere else that they’re missing.” I remember witnessing
this first hand, when I was at the MTV Movie Awards, which was by far the
biggest Hollywood party of that particular week, yet dozens of people were on
their cell phones checking out what else was going on in town and planning
their next move. It’s a fun roller coaster, but ten years can disappear in an
instant. When my wife Robin left entertainment and joined the regular world
again, she felt relief, and said -- “I’m
looking forward to finding out who my real friends are.”
On
the flip side is Los Angeles. I remember being at an art opening at the old
Wacko Soap Factory and Luz de Jesus art gallery on Melrose, and a movie star
showed up with a camera crew in tow. The publicity was going to be mutually beneficial to the
movie star, the artist and the gallery, but people resented the feeling that
the camera’s presence somehow legitimized the event and only then made it real.
I heard mutterings from the crowd -- “I hate
it when Hollywood invades Los Angeles.”
Now
take that tension between the dream industry and the city, and lay it like a
blanket over the single dating world. The over-judging, self-doubting and
ceaseless worry can drive you crazy. I see so many talented and attractive
young people with whom I work, torturing themselves with their Hollywood
blinders on, just like I did fifteen years ago. But here’s my advice for you:
If
you want to find someone -- leave Hollywood and go to Los Angeles.
Forget the screenings,
mixers, clubs and bars. Los Angeles is vast and confusing, but she’s getting
better at providing a way into her mysteries. Here’s one coming up:
Dance Downtown, at the Music Center
Starting
Friday evening, May 16th, and continuing every second Friday night through the
middle of September, you can come to the open plaza between the Dorothy
Chandler Pavilion and the Mark Taper Forum and dance with complete strangers.
Imagine
this --
After
a long week at work, you knock off early on Friday, let’s say 5:30. You have
nice set of evening clothes with you, so you can change outfits at work. Guys
trim their beards and don their small fedoras while girls slip on colored
skirts with long sleeved lace tops and a statement necklace.
You
head downtown early. The earlier you go, the cheaper the parking is, but you
can arrive as late as 6:30 and pay 8 to 12 dollars to park at the Music Center
itself.
The
weather is perfect in a way that only happens in Southern California. It’s warm
with a light breeze, and there are no bugs. The sky is golden as the sun starts
to set, lighting up the Grand Park and City Hall in the distance below you.
You
know those temporary moveable dance floors you see at weddings? They put one of
those down, but big enough for two hundred people, right in front of the
Lipschitz stature to World Peace, and a night of open air dancing ensues. Every
second Friday is dedicated to a different dance style. This year the schedule
features 60‘s dancing, Colombian Cumbia, Tango, Two-Step, Bollywood, K-Pop, Samba, Disco, Salsa, and more.
From
6:30 to 7:30 an instructor will come on the microphone and teach you the basics
of that night’s dance style. As the sun begins to set and the sky darkens, they
turn on strings of Chinese paper lanterns that they’ve strung across the dance
floor, so it really does feel like a wedding for two hundred people. There’s
beer and wine for sale, some people bring picnics, some people bring cakes and
dessert to share, just to strike up conversation. Wander around and chat and
have fun. You’re now in Los Angeles.
And
then, you notice the women. Or, if you are woman, you notice the men. You’ll
spot the dance fiends in the crowd right away. They’re wearing beautiful
tailored clothes in colorful silk and linen, usually sharp retro fashion from a
better-dressed decade, but loose and comfortable enough for dancing. Yeah,
they’re showing off, but they’re pulling it off too. Almost everyone else is in
their version of their Sunday best, and men and women circle the perimeter of
the dance floor, checking each other out and making eye contact. It feels like
a cross between a Sunday promenade in Mexico or Italy, and a dance from the
1940s. You spot someone you like on the dance floor, and you and your wing
woman (or wing man) move in.
You’re
supposed to line up and pay attention to the instructor, but you spend as much
time glancing around and smiling awkwardly at the people around you. Relax,
it’s okay, because everyone else is doing it too.
The
instructor makes you rotate partners, even if you came with a significant
other, so you‘re forced to meet a lot of people. And you’re forced to touch
them. You’re supposed to touch, folks, it’s dancing. Hands hold hands and you
twirl. A man puts his hand on a woman’s back and they both say “hello.” You’re
allowed to stand close and move in rhythm. It’s not just allowed, it’s
required. A foot steps on a foot, you laugh and apologize, and you try to pay
attention to the instructor while you look into your partner’s eyes and trade
small talk. It’s a safe and easy way to meet someone disguised as a dance
lesson. Plus, I think you can size up someone pretty fast on a dance floor.
From
7:30 to 10:00, it becomes a public open-air dance, with men and women just
having fun. Some people are slick show-offs, and others hang on the edge of the
dance floor, afraid to reveal that they have two left feet. The men look rakish
and sharp, and the women are chic and well-coiffed. It feels grounded and
natural, and it gives people an excuse to meet, talk, and to stay together
longer, or to move on. There are people from every decade of life, from every
background and race, and you will spot someone alluring who is within five
years of your age and you will feel a magnetic tug. Let celestial gravity draw
you close enough together to fall into each other’s orbit. Trust me, you won’t
regret it.
People
dance, people eat, people drink, people talk------people hook up. I’ve seen it
every time my wife and I have gone. And there’s no pressure. There’s another
one in two weeks, so if people want to see each other again, but don’t want to
trade numbers, they’ll be another one soon enough. As the sun sets you can stay
and dance, or go out to dinner -- and there’s plenty hip eateries downtown.
When
I’m there I always feel like I’m part of Los Angeles. It’s quaint compared to
the high-powered Hollywood party going on somewhere in the hills above Sunset,
but it’s fun. Both are good and both have value, they’re just different.
Robin
and I had our first date down at the Music Center. It wasn’t this event, but
the fact that our first date was in Los Angeles and not in Hollywood made a
difference, I think. I was out of the dream factory and in the real world long
enough to be awake and see what was around me. It was also when I started to
fall in love with Los Angeles.
And
it’s FREE!! You just pay for parking, or for the subway if you ride Metro.
Guys,
girls, pick your outfits, pack your picnics, bring your desserts and be ready
to dance and meet someone awesome. It’s funded by the James Irvine Foundation,
it’s all to benefit the Music Center, the arts, and downtown Los Angeles:
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