a pop culture education

Over Spring Break, my brother’s girlfriend, Cindy, took us on a “pop culture tour” in LA, since my brother and I know virtually nothing about it. Our main destination was Hollywood Boulevard, to see the Kodak Theatre, Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, and the Walk of Fame. We also ventured into the shopping extravaganza of Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, picking up some cupcakes at Sprinkles, “The Original Cupcake Bakery,” (according to their website). We ended the day with a three and a half our drive back to Claremont – how perfect! As it turned out, Sprinkles cupcakes are magical – after an hour and a half of traffic, we decided that we should eat one of the cupcakes, the “Black and White.” To our surprise, the traffic started moving after we ate it. It slowed down a few minutes later, so we decided that we had better eat another. Who knew that a Lemon Coconut cupcake would speed up traffic like that?! Unfortunately, our last two, the Red Velvet and the Double Chocolate, didn’t do the trick.

Anyways, this was my first time in Hollywood, and I was surprised at what I saw. I expected to see a red carpet, maybe some movie stars, at least some upscale restaurants and stores. What I saw instead were average-looking people on an average-looking, dirty street, a kitschy souvenir store, and a McDonald’s. While I might have been standing on a piece of cement where Clint Eastwood left his hand and footprints, the only people I saw looked basically like us. Maybe my surprise is part of my ignorance about pop culture, similar to how I wrote a three-page letter to Jim Carrey when I was eight, fully expecting a written reply with answers to all of my questions. What is it that made me expect these cultural icons to be more accessible? The closest I came to seeing a member of the rich and famous was on Rodeo Drive, where we saw a yellow Rolls Royce. Most people stopped to take pictures with it, almost as if the car itself were a celebrity, when really it was just evidence that there was someone rich nearby, perhaps watching us, vicariously enjoying the attention through his car.

Reflecting on the roots of my expectation that “the life” or at least those who are living “the life” would be somewhat accessible, I am reminded of booster promotions of Los Angeles, discussed by Deverell throughout Whitewashed Adobe. The Hollywood that I imagined sprang from popular media representations that have been carefully constructed to include only certain elements of society, similar to the exclusively expensive Rodeo Drive shopping extravaganza. In reality, both Hollywood and Beverly Hills foster populations that are largely absent in conceptions of Los Angeles as the “white spot,” the place where anyone can pursue the good life.