reg. bev. wil.


Thursday: I had the all too pleasant experience of being seated in front of an Indian family who reeked of fried food.  The smelly family also had a infant who clearly sided with me, and hated the smell of her relations so much, she decided to scream at the top of her lungs for all of the flight.  I began to laugh, actually, turning to my neighbor and asking him, "can you please just kill me now, and put me out of my misery?" 

Once in L.A., we had lunch outside at Chin Chin, walked around sunset plaza, did Nicole Miller, got some coffee at The Coffee Bean (which tasted very different from my usual Fourbucks).  To the Mondrian hotel, then down to the Sky Bar for a looksee.  Shower power, Smelly Clarkson at the top of our lungs… singing the wrong lyrics…"Since you’ve been gone, I CAN’T breathe for the first time" seemed more appropriate.  Come nightfall, we hit Dolce for dins, had champagne at Jeffrey’s pad, then we hit Geisha House.  We returned to Sky Bar, where I actually took photos without being given the boot.

Friday: I awoke before the girls, so I slipped downstairs to sit poolside in my pajamas. In the sun, I made some phone calls, bragged about the weather, then went to work, writing Straight Up & Dirty.  For lunch, we hit The Ivy (where I photographed Ellen), then we did damage at the stores on Robertson.  That night, we did dinner at Asia de Cuba, then had many a drink with many a stranger at Sky Bar until 3am… where we became known as "the camera people," then we had our friends back to our room… where I passed out, waking in the morning to an emptied minibar.

Saturday: Kim and I "cleared out for Guam," driving without direction, passing Dianetics establishments as big as football stadiums.  "What the hell is all this L. Ron Hubbard stuff about anyway?"  I’m not at all clear about this doctrine of clarity.  "I’ll read about it when we get back to New York."  Had lunch at Sushiya at Sunset Plaza because Matsushisa and Sushi Nozawa weren’t open on weekend afternoons.  I then went to Sky Bar by myself to write, meeting many a new friend.  I was amazed by how friendly everyone was.  The two tables beside me were all men, and each table made it a point to approach me and say hello, talking it up, offering me business cards, "in case you’re bored later."  No one in Manhattan does this.  The women I met were genuinely helpful, too, offering not even the slightest raised eyebrow.  Saturday night, I was showered and ready, writing by the pool, under a tree, eating a calamari salad from Asia de Cuba… drinking–hold onto something–a Chardonnay!  Kim finally joined me, bringing with her, the most annoying yet lifeless group of men I’ve met in a long damn time.  The cute one had no personality, the actor didn’t shut up, and skater-boy must have been taking a mime class because he only nodded and fiddled with the blond streaks in his hair.  Ah, and then there was my favorite man of all: "I have a girlfriend" boy.  He wasn’t ugly, but he wasn’t cute.  He was the kind of guy who’d have to win you over with a killer personality.  He killed me all right. 

"How long have you and your girlfriend been together?"  I genuinely wanted to know.  I was about to go off; I couldn’t take him anymore.
"Five months, and we’re in love. We’re already talking marriage. I just know. Wait–why do you ask?"
"Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’ve started the last five sentences with my girlfriend.  You know, I’m sure there is more to you than your identity as boyfriend."
"Oh, sorry, I can’t help it. I’ve been single so long that now that I can actually say girlfriend, I do it any chance I get.  But there’s no point in going out anymore, especially to places like this where the girls and drinks are expensive.  I keep telling my friends we should’ve just stayed at Cabo Cantina where they’ve got $2.00 pitchers."  Did he just say the girls are expensive?
"You do realize I’m not interested in you, and you become all the less interesting when all you can talk about is your girlfriend, right?  I mean, it’s one thing to mention her, but it’s quite another when you bring her up when I ask you what you do for a living."
Kim chimes in, too, "You can relax; we’ll try to keep our hands to ourselves and not attack you."
I interject, "I swear, you’re like Billy Crystal in City Slickers when Bonnie Rayburn thanks Mitch for standing up for her. She says, ‘Listen, it took a lot of courage to do what you did.  Thank you.’ and he responds like a jackass, ‘I’m married.’  So presumptuous."
"Yeah, I gotta stop doing that." He sips his drink. "So, got any interesting ideas of how I can keep our relationship exciting?" This is exactly when I leave to go heave.

Sunday:  The girls wanted sun time.  I couldn’t do another minute poolside, so I walked Hollywood Blvd., then took the metro to Universal Studios.  I had been there before, but it was better than soaking up skin cancer.  The ladies picked me up in the car, then we drove through Santa Monica, up to Malibu, had lunch at Geoffrey’s, drove to Marina Del Ray, had drinks at The Viceroy with a quick stop at Shutters.  We then headed back to West Hollywood and had dinner at The Standard Hotel, followed by the Bay of Pigs dessert at Asia de Cuba.

Monday:  We lunched at Sushi Sasabune, deciding to go for it with the Chef’s Choice tasting menu.  Then we walked the streets of Beverly Hills, singing Roy Orbison’s "Oh, Pretty Woman" as we paced Rodeo Drive Baby… for the good stuff on him.  Okay, so we didn’t sing "Oh, Pretty Woman," but we did have a looksee at the Reg. Bev. Wil.  I skipped Fendi but belted, "When I was young, I never needed anyone.  And making love was just for fun; those days are done.  All by myself, don’t wanna be, all by myself, anymore." It’s the song piped into the background of Clueless when Cher, while navigating those same steps on Rodeo, realizes she’s in love with her ex-step-brother.  I don’t have a brother.  Monday night, just before sunset, we grabbed our In ‘N Out double doubles, animal style, and ate them at a rest stop on Mulholland Drive, winding up at Cold Stone Creamery for dessert.  It was a total chubb fest, and we were running late for the red-eye flight back to Nueva York.  "We’re dying here people!  Don’t you have a shuttle driver?  We’re going to miss our flight."  In the shuttle, a man with two small children read from The Phantom Tollbooth with an ennunciated voice, which bordered on a British accent.  "If you’re going to find your way, you must begin at Expectations.  Oh, and if you happen to find my way, please return it as mine must be getting rusty in all this rain."  I hate having expectations; so often mine lead me to destination Disappointed.


Now, I’m back in New York, destination poor and cranky.  Back in New York means going to the gym, means fixing this crapass iPod.  It means laundry.  I’m feeling sad tonight, the kind of sad no one wants to hear about because there’s nothing to solve.  It’s just something to sit through, to sleep on.  I’ve tried good music, a movie, almost even tried a shower, but come now.  It’s really hard to be happy being back here with so much so different.  Maybe I just need to watch some Woody Allen or some Pretty Women.  At least here it’s okay to feel cranky.  I will wear black tomorrow, and then I’ll be back after my iced grande skim caramel machiatto.  I’m looking forward to getting back to work. 

Work it.  Own it.   Return what you can. (Next stop Gucci: I can’t justify $475 on clogs)

LA Trip 2 >> (now complete)
LA Trip 1 >>



  1. Welcome back to NYC! Great pics — and *where* did you get that scarf-print halter? Do tell!

  2. The halter "move" is one of my "go to moves." I take a rectangular scarf (I hear Hermes makes nice ones, ahem), and I tie opposite points together (here I also slipped a cartier panther ringover the knotted points), then I slip the knot over my head, so it sits on the back of my neck… then just pull the other two points together at your lower back, and voila! There's also many a book out there on how to tie scarves.

  3. Did you go to closing day at Santa Anita when you were in Los Angeles? Or how about opening day at Hollywood Park? That's where I always go when I'm out there. I also like to take a drive up Coldwater Canyon to Cielo Drive where Sharon Tate was murdered. Another good place to visit is the old Ambassador Hotel where Robert Kennedy was killed. And in Los Feliz near Griffith Park is the house Frank Lloyd Wright's son designed where the Black Dahlia murderer lived supposedly. Yup, race tracks and scenes of famous murders are the best stuff Los Angeles has to offer

  4. I, too, always get a bit cranky when I get back to New York from LA.

    However, give it a few hours. You'll be wearing all black and singing the praises of public transportation in no time.

    They have sun, but we have snark. We win. (Though, um, we could totally use some In-n-Out Burgers.)

  5. Ask for Raole at Giorgio. BTW, Kelly Ann Collins may be out your way and you two should make a point in meeting up for a drink.

  6. It's nice to hear that you met some nice people in LA since your last post gave many (not me) that you hated LA. People really are that friendly here. I guess because you never know who's going to be the next IT girl or boy.

  7. More pictures of any purchased clothing or shoe items, please. Having just paid off my credit card bill and have sworn to leave the thing at home for the next two weeks. So, I could use a little vicarious shopping rush.

    Much appreciated.

  8. -Have- just paid off my credit card bill. HAVE just. Couldn't stand to leave that in cyberspace uncorrected. God. I'm still annoyed. And clearly anal.

  9. Stephanie, I hesitate to post on your blog because I know that, were you sitting in front of me on an airplane, I'm sure you would be doing something so typical of your attitude here that I would find it teeth-grindingly obnoxious. So much so, in fact, that I would feel the need to say to my seat partner, "Can you please just kill me now, and put me out of my misery?" Then I would probably go and sit behind one of those "smelly ethnic families", as you imply, and inhale deeply, satisfied that I had gotten away from you.

    I know I should just do myself a favor and not check your bloggings about, but it's such a train wreck that I have a hard time looking away. You can nail me on that one; I know I'm guilty. But I find your degree of self absorption totally mysterious. It's like you are a different species.

    Anyway, I thought I'd be constructive here and ask you, in all seriousness, have you ever thought about living a less vacuous, superficial life and seeing if that has any affect on this vague malaise that you feel so often? Maybe you could do your own personal science experiment and approach your life differently for a bit to see if that slight, constant depression goes away…

    For example, you could try to read some good, but difficult books, have some challenging conversations that don't revolve around narcissism, urbanity, or fucking. Write a letter to your senator. Etc. Basically, just try and focus a bit more outwards than inwards.

    For your own sake, it would seem like something reasonable to try out. I think that living it up boys-cocktails-shopping-jetsetting style is a good idea if you are truly a vacuous, superficial person. But maybe your problem is that you've just fashioned a personality for yourself that is vacuous and superficial when you are actually smart and sensitive. It fits like a pair of badly oversized shoes. The lack of genuine substance in your life seems to be driving you a bit stir-crazy.

    Just an observation. I'm sure you'll probably take this as an attack rather than an opportunity to truly reflect on yourself and what might make you more contented in life…but that just means all the more train wreck for me.

  10. How do you rock the white slacks like you do? Talk about owning it.

  11. Angela, that was a well thought out arguement. I never thought writing a letter to a congressman would bring so much fullfilment into one's life. I have just informed Sen. Schumer about my gripe with spitters. A great recommendation. Thanks! I feel like a million bucks. Strike up the band, cuz I'm going for one or two of the DIRTIEST martinis after work. Ah…to be 26, dashing, and soon to be slightly intoxicated in Manhattan…I love life!!

  12. Could Angela possibly be more jealous than I am of Stephanie's lifestyle? Stephanie, did you get laid in L.A.? Just curious.

  13. Oddly enough, Angela's comment actually sounded heartfelt and nonpresumptuous. It seemed more like a suggestion than a diatribe.

    If your friend had said what Angela said, instead of a stranger, how would you respond?

  14. "an attack rather than an opportunity to truly reflect on yourself"

    Angela, the only thing 'true' about any of that was that it was truly passive aggressive.

    If you meant to offer any insight — and i mean, truly (ah, that's such a sincere word, isn't it?) — you'd probably not have gone about it like that. But then, maybe YOUR problem is that you've just created a persona for yourself that is bitchy and self important when you are actually a decent, broader minded person.

    Why don't you take this as an opportunity to reflect on yourself, hmmm? Oh, and by 'reflect on' i mean 'fuck.'

  15. I think the fundamental problem – other than the misspelling of "In-N-Out Burger" (sacrilege I know) is something I see a lot of from people posting comments – they miss the point.

    A blog is what you make it. It can be a place to post a litany of info from various sources – see, a place for political commentary – see, a place to talk about life, the universe, and everything, see, or a place to ramble on about yourself … endlessly. (Or a combination thereof.) It really doesn't matter.

    To post a comment in a way that presumes to know someone based on their blog is a little ridiculous. (Especially, if the person is even moderately famous or if they have a publicist because what you're likely to see is what the publicist or agent wants you to see – image, baby.) You will never know the reality behind a blog – whether the commentators are real or just the author disguised behind a different facade or any of it. It's like a static version of a chat room.

    Angela, you in my opinion reflect something that is terribly wrong with America, in general – you can't help watching it, reading it, or listening to it, but you blame the creator, author, or orator. Give it up.

    Maybe you should try and get out more and realize there's more to life than someone else's blog.

  16. Speaking of genuine substance, I keep reading this blog waiting to hear S. Klein's solution to the Social Security problem. Life might be all cocktails and smart Nancy boyz right now for our Ms. Klein, but before she knows it, she's going to be long in the tooth and the boyz and dancing gyrlz will have all called it a night and will never return again. That, of course, is the moment when wisdom finally arrives, as Charles Bukowski said. But still, you want to make sure you're receiving a hefty Social Security check in your sooner-than-you-would-have-ever-imagined dotage–even if you have no teeth to tear the envelope open.

  17. Mike: as indicated by the little " marks, the "fuck" was to replace the entire "reflect on."

  18. I'm a registered Democrat, but fiscally I believe the economy is naturally cyclical, and as such, the government ought to embrace laissez-faire principles. I vote the person, not the party. I volunteer at City Harvest, and as I've said before, "My idea of charity isn't stuffing money into a pocket. I spend time doing annoying shit, toting things through diagonal shards of hail in heels, during my lunch hour. Don’t talk to me as if I don’t know from homeless.

    For over four years, I volunteered at a family shelter, tutoring homeless children and their mothers, scrubbing floors, organizing cans in musty basements. I worked to find a family a mattress. Taught a girl what a circle was. Took a homeless mother and her two children to Great Adventure in my first car. I don't need to be lectured on my own blog about charity or homelessness."

    And as for Miss Mighty Angela, I offer you exactly what I serve up to all the readers who call me a train wreck:

    "I never write on this blog hoping you'll like it. It's an outlet. This blog is my throat clearing. MINE. This isn't 'the news.' It’s my observations, recounting of stories, memories, and mindshare. It’s for me, not you, as much as you might be INFATUHATED with it. You can love to love me or love to hate me. My experiences are as real as a cast-iron skillet, and they're mine, the way I tell them. Right down to where I place a period… or three."

    So, my dear, gigabite me.

  19. Much of the market's cyclical movement, many have thorized, has much to do with the cyclical involvement of government in it. Of course, one could argue that it's vice versa.

    Interesting thought anyway.

  20. Is there such a thing as an "animal style" burger at In N Out?…and what is that exactly?

  21. i heart stephanie klein and her blog.

    just because someone enjoys nice clothes and a martini doesn't make them shallow. isn't that idea old and tired yet. and judging by her writing skills, i'm sure miss stephanie klein has done her share of reading.

    maybe angela needs to reflect on herself.

  22. Angela's just mad because a few months back somebody smeared dog sh*t on her car when it was parked in New York…

  23. Iris,

    Yes, there is a Santa Clause … err … "Animal Style" burger at In-N-Out (note the spelling). It's part of their "unofficial menu". It basically means that you are ordering the burger with lettuce, tomato, extra spread, pickles, grilled onions, and mustard fried into the patty.

  24. Brian – hahahahah!!! I remember that one – it has to be my favorit post ever, on any blog. Stephanie – when is your sister going to start blogging?

  25. Steph-

    But I have a girlfriend
    But I have a girlfriend
    But I have a girlfriend
    But I have a girlfriend

    Actually, she's a fiance…but your slacks still bring the awesome. Very attractive.

  26. Another wonderful post. Your writing is such fun to read.

    This post made me want to move to New York. Someday…

    And those people who hate your blog need to get a life. If you don't like it, don't read it. It's as easy as that. Ugh.


    And I just tried the scarf "move"…PERF for the impending (if it *EVER* gets above 50 degrees in Boston!!) warm weather:)

    Thanks once again for the vicarious living!

  28. Yes Fish I know rhetroical questions don't work as well in electric form. In response to Angela…were we thinking of making Denmark a state once but found it a better source of national to put up Walmarts everywhere? Also if the .de in her e-mail stands for Germany (as in Deutchland) and not Denmark, then I happily and willing admit that I am stupid, and sometimes smelly…GO USA!!!

  29. Yes Fish I know rhetroical questions don't work as well in electric form. In response to Angela…were we thinking of making Denmark a state once but found it a better source of national pride and use of resources to put up Walmarts everywhere? Also if the .de in her e-mail stands for Germany (as in Deutchland) and not Denmark, then I happily and willing admit that I am stupid, and sometimes smelly…GO USA!!!

  30. sorry for the double click. Work is making me bang my head repeatedly…I've developed a tick.

  31. Is your friend pictured in Dsc_9178 a model? If not, she really should consider it. Not sure her height or age, but having been in the modeling industry for awhile I believe she could get some work, especially living in NYC.

    Just a thought….and a compliment as well.

    This comments section needed lightening up :)

  32. Ha! Thank you Brando.

    I can't stand bickering, not sure how SK deals with all the fuckwits.

  33. Great pictures Stephanie! I'm glad you had fun and hope you got a well rested vacay. Rodeo Drive has always been my favorite hang out. As much as I hated LA when I lived there, your pics made me want to go back, even for just a week. I don't think I could take much more than that.

    As for the guy who kept mentioning his girlfriend? That's what's known in insecurity. Insecure in that he's trying to tell you that yes, he knows he's good looking but he's taken and can't really handle another pass from any woman because he's PW'd without the embarassement of actually saying it. Dropping the girlfriend hint keeps him and his ego at a safe distance and the wolverines at bay. The same happens with married men as well. I remember several times I was just being friendly and trying to have normal convo's with married men who mistook my words as a blatant pass and dropped the marital status hint. Their nervousness began to show because every sentence after that mentioned their wife. I really don't give a rat's fuzzy behind and I'll tell them. If they don't know the difference between being friendly and a come on, they need to get a clue. I'm too old to play games, especially with younger men.

    But I digress…

    Welcome home!

  34. so what if the indian family you sat next reeked of fried food? Don't you eat fried food?

  35. Hey Jess, if you don't like the comments, don't read them. Simple as that. Ugh.

    I had the displeasure of sitting in front of Stephanie Klein. She smelled like vodka and semen. Not too pleasant for the people around her.

  36. I am a regular reader and infrequent poster. I've learned something today. As much as many people would be quick to say "I don't judge", they're full of shit. Every day, we make judgements, hell, every hour. Each opinion, each conclusion, each observation is a judgement in itself. Objective, Subjective. Subjective is a judgement, always colored with our own opinion, seen through our eyes, created with our own set of information complete or incomplete. I too have made my own internal judgements about you, Stephanie. They ranged from fabulous to shallow, bitchy to romantic. I may have even shared some of the opinions that Angela expressed. Thanks for sharing with us these other aspects of yourself. Other things it's nice to know about SK besides he undying affection for Linus, shopping and flowers from Takashimaya. And for those of us who think we can get to know a person through a blog should realize that we're only getting a glimpse. The special stuff is reserved for those special people.

  37. There is no right or wrong with creating or commenting on a weblog. Klein appears to me, at least, to be a pretty typical Manhattan girl. Angela is like, WTF mate? Then This Fish rushes to Klein's defense – perhaps in hope of some intangible benefit in Klein's or her own social order. Klein makes random inconsistent market commentary/bantor. Part of me wishes she would date Jim Cramer to see what would happen. Here's my pointless point: You would have far less people on the site if not for the ability to comment. It's the cost of doing 'blog business. You need each other, like black, grey and white do to exist they way they do in our minds. Otherwise, there would be no lines, shapes or colors here, and what good it that?

  38. This Fish: Why do you not have just that one pic on your blog?

  39. Boyz, booze and shopping are fine, but more importantly, who is S. Klein picking in the Derby?

  40. WOW! This post has truly taken on a life of its own. I wonder how long it could go under its own momentum.

  41. Justin- Thanks for the info…and I already know there is a Santa Claus. ;0P

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