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Style vs. the Suburbs

August 31, 2009

My husband and I are homebodies. But not in a “home is where the heart is” kind of way. In more of a dwell magazine mindset. Except for her brand-new easel that has taken up residency in a corner of our living room (because who doesn’t want to encourage that inner Pollock??), you wouldn’t even know Little D lived here. We keep it clean, uncluttered and, in our humble opinion, pretty cool. Well, given the “current economy”, we have realized – along with thousands of our fellow first-timers – that we really need to wake up and start looking at buying something. And since we don’t want to lose sleep every night for the rest of our lives over our mortgage payment, LA’s pickings were starting to look really slim. That 50 year old “fixer” in the depths of the 100-degrees-in-October Valley? Pass. The “charming” condo in the up-and-coming neighborhood (ie. Inglewood)? Don’t think so. Yes, the Brentwood bungalow a stone’s throw from the Farmer’s Market was fetching. But its $1.2 million dollar price tag wasn’t. And so the suburbs beckoned (the real suburbs, outside LA). Let me put it out there – I like the suburbs. Grew up there, go back there for visits, heck I even like movies that take place there. But once we started looking, the glow from the strip malls, pick-up trucks and “my kid was student of the month” bumper stickers started to make us nervous. Could we give up Katsuya 2 Go, quick trips to Hollywood and those below-mentioned celebrity sightings just like that? So this weekend, we did some homework. We took a trip to a brand-new condo development just down the road from our current place, in the heart of the city’s Westside. It was shiny and new – green building, loft-like living, steam showers, self-closing kitchen cabinets (a hit with the hubby), definitely had that “wow” factor we like to wow over. And, per the sales rep, very family-friendly, complete with a beautiful courtyard Little D could call home. And she did. Ran straight across it, pigtails blowing in the wind, not a care in the world – until she lost control of her gangly little legs and went face-first. Into the concrete. Which made up the entire thing. Not a patch of grass to speak of. LA’s version of “family-friendly”. And so the strip malls beckon again…

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