Grew up in a small town, and after traveling, I've officially decided that a big city is the only place to be. You know, with revolving doors, late-night cabs, street vendors, all that good stuff.
From LA to Beijing to New York, and back to LA again. Where to?
Los Angeles is one of the most bizarre places on Earth, and it has an equally singular smell. The clear, alluring track of its scent is arresting. There’s the ocean breeze from Santa Monica that can travel as far East as Silver Lake; a dry desert air that comes West over Downtown and South Central; the astringent balm of eucalyptus, pine, honeysuckle, and jasmine from the hills; and car exhaust from catalytic converters, which is, in its strange industrial way, beautiful. It’s like the jolt of a drug: shifting, comforting, cool like a blanket. The lonely smell of the marine layer burns off and you get this flashy perfume of hot asphalt, engines, and sun block that you can find nowhere but in L.A.