Skid Row Lemonade

Living in Los Angeles is like residing in a snow globe without the snow. Everything is perceived to be perfect until it’s shaken up by a wild fire or immigration march. And for me, this perceived perfection gets to a point of exhaustion and my soul gravitates towards the chaos of New York.

So, I started looking for a way out when I could no longer handle the pressure of having to apply make-up before going to the grocery store. Without even thinking about it, I put my loft on Craigslist and started my search for work in New York. But, after my mother re-assured me that every woman needs make-up, and a friend suggested I take a long walk to clear my head to get a new perspective on my life in Los Angeles, I put my plans on hold.

The next day, I honored my friend’s wish and in my true New York fashion, I donned the black uniform: knee length coat, knee length leather boots, black sweater and jeans. To add a little color to my ensemble, I added my favorite hand-made, Sicilian, plaid newsboy purchased at La Coppola Storta in SoHo.

There I was, dressed and ready to battle the streets of downtown LA – I even had my Ipod playing Bowies “Under Pressure” which gave me a confident Travolta strut. As my music drowned out the noise pollution, I really started to notice the amazing architecture of my downtown ‘hood. Buildings were slowly becoming works of art and their contents were of sudden importance to my life. For instance, I didn’t realize that the pagan ritual store sold scented candles and that there were at least three shoe repair shops around the corner!

This walk was turning into an adventure and amazingly enough, as I walked down 2nd, it reminded me of the West Village, I passed an area around Alameda and thought of the Meatpacking District; and then I walked through Skid Row and it reminded me of the sad souls along the Bowery … only the Bowery is cleaner with swank nightlife.

Anyway, as I stood on the corner in the middle of Skid Row, I remembered someone saying, “If you love something let it go and make lemonade”. And, it was at that moment, I realized I had to stop living in the past and start living in the present and embrace my Los Angeles life. But, should I embrace the woman who’s been following me for the past five blocks?

I turned around, and she gave me a little wave. I returned in kind. Then, just to make sure she was following me, I dipped down a short alley and with her granny cart in tow, she dipped with me.

My guardian angel was a black woman dressed in a thirty’s style coat and hat. Every step I took, she was right behind me. When my music picked up, my walk would quicken and so would my guardian angel. There she was in every reflection, and for some reason, I actually felt safe knowing I had a stranger following me throughout downtown. She even followed me to my front door.

As I pulled out my keys to signal this was my stop, I looked back at her and a wave of sadness overcame me ... I realized that her brief distraction to living on the streets was over.

I wonder if my guardian angel will find a way to make Skid Row lemonade.