A couple of weeks ago, my high school lady loves and I successfully completed our second annual girls trip. Which is a big deal for us. Planning a trip with four ladies, at various stages in life, in separate states in America, with liberty and justice for all, takes some major planning. It also takes multiple forms of childcare, significant other compliance, dog sitters, flight coordination and lots and lots of group text messaging. But we did it and it was so much fun and now it’s over and I’m depressed the end.
Last year we hit up Austin. This year was LA’s turn. And she did not disappoint. Although the weather could have been a teensy bit warmer? (I should not be complaining because the weekend I was gone, Portland received 2 inches of snow and the city subsequently shut down for 3 days. Amateurs.)
We kinda did it all when we were there. Except not really because it’s LA and you could do something different every day for 12 years without repeats. But still, we kept it moving. We played super tourists at the Hollywood sign and the Chinese Theater. (Who knew that Adam Sandler had such dainty feet?….. We ate our faces off (Umami Burger, Villa Blanca and Lemonade won the weekend. And chocolate chip cookies everywhere.) We shopped hard at places like Marc Jacobs and Topshop and the Grove… and Dylan’s Candy Bar. Because candy. Ya know.
We also pampered ourselves at Drybar… or in my case, went through some kind of torturous hazing at Drybar. Among many other things… my stylist dropped foam on my shirt, then told me I should take my shirt off so she could wash it before it stained, then seemed confused and surprised when I didn’t immediately comply with her pushy demands to disrobe. But seriously, I was wearing that one ratty, hole-y tank top underneath my shirt… you know the one we all have but it’s not worth throwing because it’s worn in juuuust right… but anyway there was no way I was wearing just that in front of a salon full of strangers so I ended up just wearing my leather coat with nothing else for the remainder of my visit while someone washed and dried my vintage shirt in a shampoo sink. Sigh. But don’t worry everyone, I powered through and didn’t let my professional blowdry/styling appointment ruin my trip. Hashtag middle class problems.
We also hit up the Laugh Factory, front row style, where we were heckled by no less than 6 comedians. One of them being Dane Cook. Who might want to invest in some more forgiving t-shirts. But MAYBE he got hair foam on the shirt he was planning to wear and then his only option was to wear his tightest one? I hear it happens?
We also spent a good chunk of our last day in Malibu at Zuma Beach. I love Malibu with the force of a thousand suns. It was the perfect way to wind down the trip and contemplate moving down the coastal ladder from Portland to Los Angeles. Wouldn’t that be something? But don’t worry family, we’re not going anywhere. For now.
And a special special thanks to Kali B for hosting us. Your home became our home and it was perfect.