The strange thing about the celebrities were that they were mostly TV actors – I do not have a TV, I have never had a TV and I have never worked on TV. So how Brad Garret got into my dream, I’ll never know (mind you he was just running down the hill with his dogs on his cell phone. We didn’t really chat).

But before I was to cross the PHC highway to go up the hill to my place, my name was called. I whirl around and there is Suzanne Somers with her 3 young children and her mother, Connie Stevens.

“Why Miss Alex! Come and say hi!”

“Hi Miss Somers what a nice surprise to see you out here.”

We hug. She’s bundled up because it’s winter and we’re on a rocky beach. So I fix her scarf and she hands me her cup of hot milk. We talk real estate. I point to the direction I’m in and how I love it here. How I felt so judged in Kirkland but out here was a breath of fresh air.

“I don’t know how you lasted so long!”

Then she introduces me to her mother and I say we met last weekend at the picnic. The one Marcia Cross hosted (in fairness, I do see her around town all the time and her hair dresser is a good friend). Oh right, says Connie, all cute in pigtails.

As we’re talking we see a couple of celebrities whiz by in the back of a pick up. We say how it’s changing here and how they’re building mansions into the rock cliff. But that for the next few years it should stay the same and that’s good for now.

I then wake up into reality.

I do my morning routine, then I check my email and there’s an email from a place I’ve never visitied online or on TV – HSN.com.

Coincidence? I think not.

Things I love about living in Santa Monica/Los Angeles:
- living 6 blocks from the beach.
- Never having to use my car because I can walk to Whole Foods, a favourite cafe, the post, shopping, the beach, the bank
- having California near the top of those pull down address menus
- Not needing air conditioning
- The weather (72F most days with cool nights)
- Luke Wilson
- access to anything and everything
- a little fancy
- free premieres and screenings
- Anthropologie
- My BFF & hairdress extraordinnaire, Jessica T @ Frederric Fekkai
- Diversity
- Disneyland
- a little glamour
- Easy flight access to anywhere in the world at any time.
- living two turns and one road and twenty minutes on a good day from the airport
- Cafe Dana on Montana @ 13th
- Elixir on Melrose
- Spanish Latte’s from Urth
- Maki at Ole Henriksen
- Driving up the coast to Malibu or Santa Barbara
- Colours everywhere
- Driving San Vicente in Santa Monica from 7th until 26th
- Montana Ave {especially Shabby Chic’s first store and their sales}
- Palm Trees
- access to healthy eating {important to a gluten-free girl}
- Squirrels that terrorise me in my flat
- Saying that I live in LA

Things I do not love about Santa Monica/Los Angeles:
- the people
- constant horn honking
- cell phone drivers
- selfish, superficial souls who always have an agenda
- the barista at Starbucks and every othe place being a frustrated actor
- traffic
- smog/air quality (Air quality is measured on a scale of 0-100, 0 being the worst. Los Angeles is a 0)
- weird black film on everything in my flat from the air
- relationships always being businessy
- crazy high rent even in a rent controlled flat
- cost of living
- cost of doing anything
- everyone “on” and trying to “be”
- Noise. So. Much. Noise.
- Living right over a back alley and hearing people go through the rubbish 24/7
- The stupid girl voice.
- Small dogs everywhere
- Neighbours all over you (I live in one of the most dense 15 blocks in the US)
- Street parking
- Valet parking
- Brentwood Whole Foods; always crazy, insane because of terribly self-absorbed “Brentwood” people
- “glue gun” fancy
- having to either keep secret about who you know or what you do or having to be all about it
- insincerity
- not being able to rely on anything or anyone
- the beach
- Hollywood
- the fact that a size 2 is huge and pale is sickly
- squirrels that terrorise me in my flat
- saying I live in LA

Driving down Wilshire, horns honking continuously from Mercedes cars with cell phone drivers. Negotiating six lanes of traffic like you’re sipping coffee. Getting your hair done with Charlize, your hair dresser is your friend and your facialist is on speed dial. Lunching with Jennifer, giving Tori Amos advice at the grocer, getting advice from Ellen on not waiting for anything, running into Orlando so much he starts to say hi. Stepping out of the building on Rodeo late at night to jam packed streets and 70F weather while wondering what you bought that sweater for. Flip flops on the beach, expensive health drinks from Fred Segal and always carrying bottled water that costs $2.

Feeling comfortable because wearing skirts all the time doesn’t make you stand out but realising you kind of do because you don’t have “the look.” Having credentials not matter so much as who you know and being thankful you know a lot of people but also bothered that you do. Knowing that you can plan for that party outside in a month because the sun will shine and when it does nothing beats driving up the coast no matter how many times you’ve done it before. 3AM becomes the favourite time because the homeless don’t go through your trash and the streets are finally quiet though early mornings seem strange because the lean, tan and beautiful are all running like it doesn’t hurt.

Being on set just to sing a song and being treated like a rock star – only to feel bad about it all when they bring you something you could have gotten yourself. Eating dinner in Melrose with the star of Melrose Place and recognising Mr. Sheffield even though you’ve never seen the Nanny. Private screenings, the need for several party dresses, and learning how to small talk with just about everyone only to feel like you need a shower when you get home.

Spending far too much on a tiny flat like everyone else and not being able to afford much for it inside like everyone else. A new kind of poor is happening in one of the poshest neighbourhoods. Seeing how $600,000 buys just an ok one bedroom flat and that $7,000 can buy a purse.

Everyone assuming you belong because you just happen to be at the party or can hold your own with the waiter or the millionaire but knowing that even though sometimes it’s fun, this isn’t home. For every day is the same, the people fast talk, connections are lost, everyone’s nice to everyone but no one trusts a soul. And the scariest thing seems to be starting to accept the surrealness of it all and not blinking twice that Kinkos has valet.

On Tuesday afternoon she arrived in simple jeans, t-shirt and flip flops and I with tired eyes and a drained personality. Little did we’d know that this trip would change us both enormously.

The first order of business after leaving the airport was to fuel ourselves at Whole Foods for lunch before hitting the Pacific Coast Highway for our two nights in Santa Barbara. After with drinks and snacks in tow, it was time to roll the windows down, crank the music and begin out week long chats and laughing as we cruised alongside the ocean for the next couple of hours.

Arriving at the wonderful Hotel Andulucia just before dinner, we had only a few minutes to quickly change and prepare for what was supposed to be a tour of the farmers market with the Chef of 31 West. Truthfully, though, we weren’t in the mood to meet with him for driving, sunshine and too much time apart had us far too giggly for public interaction. Luckily it turned out that the Chef was too busy for us which gave us time for something much more important – Emily’s first trip to Anthropologie.

There I was her personal shopper; picking out clothes upon clothes that had her modeling for hours. I pushed her out of her comfort zone (something she wanted) and showed her that a skirt can be just as relaxed as pants. By the time the store closed, she agreed, carrying her pretty Anthro bag with ease and a new addiction.

After all that work we were ready for our dinner at 31 West. Wine, good food and conversation though truthfully we ended up being tired, wanting to really go back to the room, slip on our robes and watch cable – something that had become a guilty pleasure to both of us since we had both forgone cable for so long. But rest in comfy duvets was what we needed; the day had been long and the next morning we’d be up early for a good cause – a wine tour through the Santa Ynez Valley.

Cloud Climbers Jeep Tours picked us up at 10AM at our hotel. Instantly smitten with our driver, we knew the trip would be fantastic – and it was. We hit four wineries and by the last we couldn’t do more than 2 tasting’s. The sun, the laughter, the open air hit us hard but good. Going up old stage coach roads, singing the theme to the Greatest American Hero (despite the fact that neither of us is American) lead to a wonderful evening. We wouldn’t have wanted the trip to end were it not for the fact that LOST was premiering that night and we couldn’t miss it. In fact, we couldn’t stop talking about it for hours after.

The next morning we went to a little farmers market, picked up some Girlfriends Booty and went to the beach for a breakfast picnic where we promptly realised we did not like booty.

Driving back to LA along the coast we saw beautiful beaches filled with driftwood in which people had made make-shift shelters. We had to play, and did. Jumping in the waves, hiding under forts, writing messages in the sand. We felt five, which was good because we were really far from it.

Emily’s not a fancy girl but I wanted her to have just a little of it. So we headed to one of my favourite LA hangouts – the Beverly Hills Hotel Fountain restaurant. It was an experience, as always. To see her reaction to people greeting us and treating us well was funny and giving her the best veggie burger on the planet was the best. When Rene Russo walked in she couldn’t believe it – she had just finished watching the Thomas Crowne affair and kept saying “I just saw her totally naked!”

With full bellies it was time to head to The Getty Museum. For $7 the two of us had top views of LA and excellent art. As an art graduate and amazing artist, it was a real experience to see all of it with her. It was even more of an experience to watch her draw there and then to pose her like a model (which she so could be).

After several hours we headed back to my place in Santa Monica, walking the promenade where she shopped even more (which surprised me) and bought the amazing “Holy Moly” shirt from Fossil. Then it was time for dinner and more talking before an early bedtime because the next day was the biggest day – Disneyland.

Put two girlfriends together in Disneyland who love rides and it gets dangerous. I don’t know what we loved more – all the coasters or the fact that twenty-year old guys kept checking us out and hitting on us. I must confess that we loved it. Some things never change.

On one of the coasters there was an older prissy couple in front. Being the mature girl I made the most beautiful and amazing vomiting noise ever. Without missing a beat Emily exclaimed, “Oh no! It’s everywhere!” The best part? They were video’ing the whole thing.

So much screaming, laughing, talking that by the time we left at midnight my voice was gone completely. That, however, did not stop us from opening up the Disney Karoeke CD, playing it and singing along as we drove home that night. While other cars shook with bass to the latest, we were singing The Bare Necessities.

Saturday morning I took her to my favourite cafe for amazing food and my favourite Chai Latte. Then it was a drive to Beverly Hills, the Grove and then to Elixir to relax in the back while getting some drinks to help us recover. When we’d had enough we drove up to The Ritz Carlton in Pasadena where we had dinner reservations.

At first, Emily was hesitant; she hadn’t ever stayed in a hotel like the Ritz or dined somewhere like The Dining Room. She was afraid she didn’t look right or know how to act. I told her that she didn’t have to act any way; there’s no game face to put on and no pretending to do. Borrowing my skirt and top she fretted because she didn’t have shoes – just her flip flops. I told her that was fine, besides, she’d be sitting down. The experience was more important than the shoes. She was worried though as we walked into the restaurant. However, we were greeted wonderfully and had an extraordinary time. In fact, we ended up seeing several girls entering – all with flip flops.

The Dining Room was an amazing, amazing experience – neither of us had ever had anything like it. Jared, whose only job was to order wines and do pairings, started us off with champagne. Then Chef came out because I have an allergy to Gluten and he was incredibly friendly and nice and knew what to do. Choosing the 5 course dinner Jared paired wines for every course and I am here to tell you it makes a difference.
After each dish was served we gushed about the food and wine. Three hours and $400 later were were quite content and even felt a little like rock stars (who are those girls that Chef keeps talking to?).

Feeling good we went next door to the bar where R&B was playing. We boogeyed it up and again got hit on by several men far younger than us. “They must think it’s cool to hit on 30 year old women” she said. “I don’t think they think we’re 30″ I replied.

We headed up to our room – larger than my flat – with two rooms, two balconies, and two bathrooms. We hit the bed and promptly fell to sleep, which was good. Our massages were at 8AM the next morning.

Because we were on the private Club Level at the Ritz, we were able to have free food and drinks literally all day. So at 7:30 we went to the club and had an amazing breakfast and mimosas before we went to the spa. For eighty minutes we were beaten by women but at least we had no knots by the time we dipped ourselves in the hot tub after. Lunch followed to give us energy to hit Old Town Pasadena where, being girls who love 50′s music, we could not help but sing Little Old Lady from Pasadena, over and over.

Later that night we went back to the room where somehow we got sucked into watching two hours of tv which consisted of two shows about people over 500LBS. But there was nothing better than watching it on an amazing bed, with a girlfriend, who would tell you when you could open your eyes and when to close them during the surgery scenes. God bless her.

After we headed back to the club where we had dinner and Baileys. Oh Baileys. Several hours later we went back to our room where, as a surprise to her, I had put all our skits and tapes onto a DVD. For the next 3 hours we watched ourselves from ages 17-21. So much history. It just really hit us that night.

To go away with a girlfriend is to remind you of yourself and that’s what happened on this trip. We each bring out the best of each other and remind each other of who to be. I encouraged her to do her art and she encouraged me to keep moving forward. There was never an awkward moment, no complaining, to trying – nothing. It was a week of ease, of fun, of beautiful, funny, heartfelt moments.

I adore this girl with all my heart and when she left and did her big kiss goodbye I cried. Tears didn’t stop coming out until I got home a half-hour later. I missed her already. But what was interesting to me is that we both said goodbye a little bit changed; she left in a new skirt, top and shoes and was using the word “fancy” and I was relaxed and far more talkative despite having no voice for the past three days.

Oh this trip was good. It was as though we were 18 all over again, just free to do as we pleased, literally laughing all the time, dancing like the morning would never come and telling jokes that only we’d find funny (and we did). We lived each moment fully without effort. Without analysing it, blogging about it, using self-help words or wondering how it fit into the grand scheme of things. Just lived life simply, easily. How it should be.

We agreed to take these trips once a year because it reminded us of all the traits about ourselves we loved then and shouldn’t hide now. And I’m so freaking thankful for that reminder.

Trip Photos.

And although I’d been to the Beverly Hills Hotel on several occasions (their soda fountain restaurant has the best burger in town, I swear) this was the first time I was able to step into a ballroom and, when no one was looking, twirl around and pretend to dance.

I was there on my own, no boy or friend to gush with, so I had to quickly learn to get over being shy and talk with people, which I did. I even laughed, told a dirty joke or two and toasted someone on their birthday. I met big Hollywood people from actors to directors to producers and listened to some very good speeches on media consolidation. I ate far too much and sipped good wine and all in all, had a very lovely night.

As I drove home along Sunset Blvd I played the Oldies station and danced in my seat to the Beatles. I realised how good I was feeling and knew it wasn’t because of the wine, the people, the music or the twirling of the dress. It was because I was able to go out and have a night on my own, a little private time, and have the only worry of if I was having a good time or not. I was able to participate in my interests without having to explain them or feel strange about them because I went on my own to a group that had the same beliefs. It was a rather freeing night.

So much of the last several years has been about other people and doing things for them or with them that it was nice to take an evening out for just myself. It reminded me of how I used to go to movies alone, fancy dinners by myself and even trips just for the hell of it. Then I became rather used to going out with someone else (boy and friends and family) and finding common ground and then doing an event based on that. Tonight was a little selfish and a heck of a lot of fun.

And I don’t think it was the last time, either.

One of my favourite romantic evenings didn’t start out that way. It started as cold, rainy day in Brugge followed by lots of sight seeing and a bout of crankiness that set in around supper. After a eating something to warm to try to soothe my soul, a box of chocolates was purchased on the way home from a little chocolatier, Leonida’s.

Back at the sweet, beautiful and oh so simple Bed and Breakfast, we laid in the bed and opened the box of chocolates and one by one, ate them in silence. Every bit was savoured, little pieces were shared, enjoyment was had. It probably took us an hour or two to go through a box and I swear, I swooned the whole way through. The evening ended the totally oppoisite way in which it had begun.

So when I saw that Leonida’s was here in Santa Monica and that they had their chocolates shipped via air express once a week, I knew it would be the perfect way to spend Valentines – a holiday I’ve never celebrated before.

After a hectic day in which I had begun rather exhausted, we walked to the chocolatier, picked out a small box of chocolates, walked home along the ocean and once again took a couple of hours to dine on the best. And I swooned all over again.

So when Mary Catherine and I decided to have a power meeting last week to go over our project, I decided to combine a writing assignment with our business meeting by having Afternoon Tea at the fabulous Hotel Bel-Air. For several hours we sipped tea, ate little sandwhiches and worked our asses off. The atmosphere was beautiful and quiet and although we were working hard, the surroundings and the event itself made it all very relaxing.

This week has already started with a bang; so much work to do and emails to catch up on. By noon this morning I had already been out doing so much and written up a list of to do’s 4 pages long. I rang up Mary Catherine to see if she would keep me company this afternoon whilst running errands and while I waited for her I worked a couple of hours. By the time she arrived I was feeling tired and drained, knowing that if I didn’t take a break, I’d be useless and cranky.

Arriving at Robertson Blvd in Beverly Hills, she pointed out a restaurant, The Ivy, which she had heard was a great little spot for breaking. I asked her if she’d mind stopping in to grab a little somethin’ somethin’ before we started doing all of the overwhelming bits. She said of course because we needed to both celebrate (we’re both going to be starting new jobs) and take a moment to replenish.

We ended up spending a couple of hours just sipping our latte’s and sharing a spectacular peice of White Chocolate Lemon Cake with berries (for celebration purposes of course), We dished, laughed and relaxed the entire time. By the end of it, I was feeling energised, excited and ready to go home and work some more. It was the break I needed during a very busy day.

I can’t forsee a time when things will slow down – in fact the pace will most likely pick up between my new work, my projects, and building a home – so I have to find moments to rest, slow down, and enjoy during the craziness. Catching my breath is up to me and perhaps it will only be found in a cafe or during a meeting and last no more than an hour or two. But I need to look for or create little moments of relaxation and carefreeness instead of running myself up for months on end and hoping for a week long break some time in the future, only to crash before that can happen. There can’t be extremes of either competely doing or not doing, there has to be balance.

The truth is, I moved for two reasons: warmth/sun and for a creative career. Los Angeles seemed the best place. However, I too, had reservations about moving here because of everything I’d ever heard about the city (none of which was ever good).

But on a visit in September and another in December, I knew that for right now, I belonged here. Specifically Santa Monica.

In North America I have only ever lived in Vancouver BC, Banff AB, Seattle WA, Nashville TN and Lexington KY and only the last 6 years in America. So when I compare, this is what I compare against. But from my experiences, LA/Santa Monica is by far the best place. Seattle was the most judgmental city I’ve ever been to in my entire life. There’s a certain kind of person that is supposed to live there (and loves it) and if you don’t fit into that, there’s something wrong. People judged you by how you dressed, I received more dirty looks from women than I can count and being different (even just by wearing something besides navy) made you an outsider. The weather? Crap. The city itself, crap. Jobs? Crap. I was so unhappy in that city, it wasn’t for me despite many, many efforts.

Canada, though nice on a lot of levels, always felt very limiting to me by the fact that taxation is so high and the red tape for companies even higher. Jobs there are limiting and jobs in the entertainment field even more so now due to the Canadian dollar rising and Arnold wanting companies to film in California. Vancouver, once a favourite city, has turned out to me, at least, to be very uncomfortable, too hip, too trying. It also seems as though it has a cap on what you can do and right now I want to break through the roof on so many levels.

When I first came to LA, the first thing I noticed was that nobody cared what I was wearing or doing. The staring that was so often done in the pacific northwest was not done here. No one asked where I was from, people weren’t bitter or even stupid. In fact, people here are the most genuinely friendly, helpful people I’ve ever met. In the two weeks I’ve lived here, I’ve met more people who have honestly helped me than I did anywhere else. And everyone I’ve made friends with are truly authentic, creative, helpful, kind people – none of whom are in the entertainment business. Most are artists but a lot have regular office jobs. A nice mix instead of only knowing computer people or corporate managers.

In Santa Monica, there’s a farmers market three times a week which would rival any in Provence. The streets are lined with small cafes that serve very good food and a very reasonable price and the best part? Just like in Europe they expect no turnover which means you can linger for as long as you like. No waiters trying to be your friend or bitter because they have to work. Everyone seems to take their job a little more seriously here (which is surprising because a lot of peoples “day jobs” are not what they really want to do) which makes for better service.

The sunshine is amazing – it’s currently 80F/25C. People are relaxed, happy, and casual. Yes, people are attractive here but it’s in a very natural European way (in fact, there are more Europeans here than in any other city I’ve lived in outside of Europe). I’ve seen more naturally pretty women here than anywhere else – ones with simple hair, makeup and clothes. But everyone seems put together. No slop.

I live in Santa Monica and must confess to spending most of my time here. I’ve been up to Pasadena, spent time in Beverly Hills, West Hollywood and Long Beach and there it’s probably more “LA.” But for me, Santa Monica feels so European – it feels like what Vancouver’s West End used to be like before it got all “cool” and in my opinion, lost a lot of that genuine feeling.

The downsides for me is that it’s very, very expensive. My rent has tripled and I live in a 700sf one bedroom without the usual ameneties and when moving I had to pay first months, last months and a pet deposit which equaled one months rent, my auto and home insurance increased, water/gas/electric/internet all went up as well and a lot of general services cost more. I moved with literally no furniture and have been holding off on repurchasing several things to do a lot of stores costing more here (so far, just the bed has been done but no frame yet). Gas is more and one tends to use more of it. I saved every penny for months before moving and have used up all my savings to be here – and there’s still more costs involved like switching car registration, licensing, parking permits and so forth. So financially, it’s been a challenge but I believe that the outcome will be worth it and that I will have more oppurtunities to create more money here than where I lived previously.

Will I live here forever? Most likely not. I still wish to move back to France and set up shop there but that’s not for years to come. Right now, I’m just so thrilled to be here – something I never expected I’d say. The possibilities are endless. Any job you can dream up you can have. Any place you want to go to is here. Or, if you just wish to hang out at a beach and quietly have a little picnic you can do that – even in January.

Stereotypes come from somewhere and there are jerks here like everywhere else. There’s the hustlers, the women with very large breasts and actors on every street corner. But L.A. is such a massive, massive place (it’s unlike any major city I’ve ever been to including London and Paris) that there’s little pockets of amazingness everywhere.

And I feel like I fit in perfectly here – Santa Monica specifically – without having to change one bit. In fact, I’m more myself than ever before.

Being close to the charming Montana Street here in Santa Monica has it’s benefits – a quick walk and I was sipping tea to fight of the forceful winds that were taking down palm trees everywhere. A little walk more and I was in a paper store picking out note cards of thanks. A block or two more and I found myself at the most wonderful store, House Inc, where I will purchase a set of bedding once I can wade through the sample fabrics I was given.

Coming home, the flowers were clinging for dear life on the tree but welcomed me just the same. And once inside the flat, I was relaxed, calm, and for the first time in a year, so very happy and hopeful.

So far as I can tell, I am home. Though I still have the lingering want to move back to France (and know I will eventually), I think I have found a place that fits me and a place where I feel like I belong (no one seems to judge or care who you are here, so many friendly people and lots of please and thank-yous. Plus sun!). It makes all the terrifying moments, the uncertaintity of moving and all the fear I had about it all so worth it when I wake up each day and welcome it instead of wanting to climb under the covers because I don’t understand the point of getting out.

Now, instead of wondering what life would be like if I kicked my own ass, I know. And it’s really enforced in me that there’s no such thing as failure, just experience. Oh things aren’t all settled nor easy but being OK with the process, the waiting, the figuring makes it all a bit easier. Making once good choice always leads to others.

Here’s to making more.