Snapped last week at Bar Marmont, celebrating the launch of Perfumehead’s latest extrait de parfum, LA LA Love. A place most befitting a fragrance crafted of and in the city’s very essence—Los Angeles after dark and just before dawn—as a love letter to the dreamers who chase eternal sunshine. Ironic, isn’t it then, that the magic happens when everyone else is asleep? When the air is smoky and everything feels sticky and boozy and buzzy with possibility. Smudged lipstick. Gloss imprinted on the lip of empty glasses. Leather seats in some random booth, hot from hosting too many people for too many hours, but for just enough time that you’re on the precipice of the next something. Fresh fries for the vegans, burgers for everyone else. Hold the salt; water, no ice please. (Why is everything closed so early, and how come it’s impossible to order a double espresso during witching hour?) That’s right, Toto. We’re not in New York City anymore. You’re out on Sunset waiting for a Lyft instead of hailing a cab.
It’s a Tesla, of course. That snaps you right back into reality, but for a few moments under the influence of LA LA Love and in the hazy, disco-lit walls of the Marmont’s hallowed halls: you get a glimpse of Eve’s Hollywood.
. . .
xx
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