Languages in LA

I love the Coffee Bean on Robertson and Beverly. This is the juiciest part of West Hollywood. To get there, I stroll from my apartment down to Robertson and window shop for three blocks till I get to the corner. It’s sort of a foreplay activity before my coffee.

I pass the interior décor boutiques, lush with satins and brass, or clean and spare with white leather and chrome. All have shocking prices. An embroidered pillow for $100. A tiny oil painting for $495. The plate glass windows are smeared with my drool.

 
At the Coffee Bean, I perch on a stool, sip my vanilla latte and surf the internet. Normally. But yesterday, as I was surfing I glanced out the window and lo, there was an attractive young man dressed only in a plush taupe housecoat and flipflops standing out by one of the tables.

 
This was odd. I sat up straighter and looked around, finding a pretty blonde girl near him, also in taupe housecoat. After a moment, I realized there were about six people out there, all young and pretty, all in plush taupe housecoats.

 
I was not the only patron staring out in bemusement. Finally, when the blonde came in, we asked her if she was in a cult. She smiled and said no, that they were promoting the opening of some new condos nearby. She offered a napkin printed with www.therobclark.com and a brief description of the “swanky” new condos for sale.

 
I have not seen the word swanky used without irony since 1975. But then, anyone who would pay people to stand around in bathrobes outside Coffee Bean in Weho is probably not terribly sensitive to irony.