Autumn has finally arrived in Los Angeles and it’s about damn time, too. I’m sitting here sipping one of Kevin’s amazing Bellinis at St. Felix Hollywood in a black velvet blazer and jeans, so thankful to finally wear some actual clothes.
It’s especially satisfying to be fully clad having just returned from our usual October trip to San Jose del Cabo, where we lived in swim trunks for a week. I know my kind of swim trunks aren’t for everyone but, as I thought to myself one afternoon while lounging by the pool, at least there weren’t so many obese Americans around this year. Then I glanced over at the swim-up bar where it looked like a herd of water buffalo had decided to take advantage of happy hour.
Once I got home, I immediately jumped into fall L.A.-style with Claire and David’s Annual Pumpkin Carving Party, a red carpet launch for my friend Doug Spearman’s upcoming film Hot Guys With Guns and a screening of Cloud Atlas, which is beautiful and brutal and quite a feat of filmmaking. With all this plus the last presidential debate and all the election stuff, it seemed a challenge to think much about fashion. Hell, there’s so much going on right now I can barely dress myself!
You see, I’d already had quite a day. For some reason, I took a hike in the Hills even though I was already dying from leg day at the gym. Then my spray tan was accidentally set at level two. I always use the lowest setting for completely natural looking color and never get clocked so this was potentially disastrous.
Tanning: Brazilians do it better (Photo: L.Luna)
Then, after an hour of negotiating a steamy L.A. while trying not to sweat—because, of course, perspiration is the enemy of the faux tan—my favorite bartender Kevin made me a couple of strong margaritas at St. Felix Hollywood as I navigated the dearth of images streaming in from the Paris shows. So you’ll understand that when I finally plopped down in front of the television Sunday evening, tired and a little fuzzyheaded, VH1’s Tough Love: Miami seemed like a really good idea at the time.
I thought I’d venture back into treacherous HGTV territory this week to share my experience of the new series HGTV’d. You see, hunky handyman Carter Oosterhouse was the featured designer this time around and there was a high probability that he might take his shirt off because that’s an important part of any television handyman’s job description.
Carter Oosterhouse demonstrates what real men use to trim their chest hair.
The show was moving along in typical HGTV style with the cheesy host, overexcited homeowners, and questionable design aesthetic. I was able to keep it together because there was still, you know, Carter at the end of the tunnel. Then, at the six-minute mark and very first commercial break, the perky host asked, “Can Carter live up to the homeowners’ expectations?” This was immediately followed by a preview clip of the lady of the house screaming, “Oh my GOD! I LOVE it!” as she walks into the newly designed room. Really? I give up now. Where is the suspense? Where is the drama? What’s the point of waiting around for another twenty-four minutes to see what they’ve already shown us? We could be developing vaccines for rare diseases or watching porn or doing the many other things one does when not watching stupid home design shows. I didn’t even stick around to see if Carter took his fucking shirt off.