Silly and sillier

I often referred to LA, affectionately, as somewhat silly. And thought that New York was a more serious place altogether. This rather simplistic opinion was confirmed on our first night here in NY at our local bistro. There were more heads of curly hair, pairs of spectacles, and polo necks in the Red Cat that night than in all the restaurants in Malibu put together. And not a permatan in sight. 'Gosh,' thought I, 'How clever everyone is, how serious, and how grown up.'

Happily I have now begun to realise that this is not the case. Chelsea is every bit as silly as Malibu, but just in a different way. I think the difference is that Chelsea is selfconscious enough to know it is silly.


Exhibit A: Check out this cunning new addition to our block. Cute, huh? And daft too.

Exhibit B: Our new favourite restaurant declares itself to be 'by artists, for artists'. On entry we were greeted by this large photo of a nearly naked ladyboy.

I took this photo from outside on the street in case he minded me taking a photo of his bottom. Which in retrospect was unnecessary. He clearly does not mind at all.

Only to then be greeted by the very same guy. Fully dressed this time. Disconcerting to see someone's naked arse before you see their face, but hey, that's Chelsea.

Exhibit C: There are just as many silly tiny little dogs out here. Back in LA they were carried in posh bags by women with big fake boobs. Here they travel in pairs, sometimes three of them, scuttling along the pavement alongside burly men with big (fake? I'm sure it can be done) biceps. Yes, the chiuauas of Chelsea are dafter even than those of Hollywood.

And just as I loved Los Angeles for - not despite - it's daftness, I love Chelsea the same way. Bring on the posturing, the edgy art, the downright silliness. Shades of Shoreditch... but are the idiots winning?