An LA History
Living Alone//Los Angeles
I grew up in the suburbs of Los Angeles. It was idyllic and it was safe. I was bored. The monotony of the suburbs made life feel common and I craved something more thrilling. My mother wanted my sister and I to do all the things emblematic of a Southern California childhood. Dance, soccer, swimming, tennis, piano, and yes—getting an agent. She brought us to an open casting call with an agency that specialized in young actors and models. We both signed. We proceeded to get headshots done and attend improv workshops. My mom would take me out of school early for auditions. Finally it felt like there were possibilities. Not for stardom—I’ve always been a realist—but for the many lives I could one day lead.
Not a single one of these auditions sticks out in my memory. I had no idea what I was doing. I do remember the strange duality of the experience—feeling hyper aware of my body and feeling completely detached from it. I never knew what they were looking for and surely I couldn’t be “it.” By middle school, I was done with my Hollywood stint. I had booked a few jobs but nothing that made me feel inspired to continue. I preferred disappearing into stories from the comfort of my solitude rather than being the face of them.
I am now in my early 30s and have lived in LA for several years. It is home. I recently hit the one year milestone of living alone in this city. No roommates, no partner, no family. The first time ever. I have endured roaches, parking tickets, ceiling holes, no hot water, lost keys, and ultimately, the aftermath of my breakup. This all probably sounds terrible and in those moments, it did feel that way. But what I have come to understand in my 30s is that no feeling is permanent. And everything I’ve learned in this year of living alone has made me grateful and self-reliant in ways that I couldn’t have imagined for myself if I had stayed in that safe suburb.
This was meant to be a newsletter about LA and its history and it became one about my own LA history. I struggle to articulate the details of my infatuation with Los Angeles. It’s a city that has always made many lives feel possible. It’s less about things and more about feelings. These feelings are the ones I search for in movies and books that are set in LA. Engage my senses, transport me to the past. I needed a resurrection post-breakup to remind myself of my belonging. LA does love a comeback.
Here are the movies I revisited:
The Long Goodbye (Robert Altman, 1973)
Shampoo (Hal Ashby, 1975)
Chinatown (Roman Polanski, 1974)
The Player (Robert Altman, 1992)
Magnolia (Paul Thomas Anderson, 1999)
Xoxo
Lauren