Dear Diary,

Over the weekend, I spent a good amount of time doing my favorite thing in the world. Ogling. First, I ogled my boyfriend while he slept (Don’t worry it wasn’t creepy at all [Yes it was {No it wasn't}]). Then, I ogled the view I have of downtown LA out my bedroom window. Then, I ogled the collection of garbage with which I’ve filled my home, trying desperately to convince myself that it’s all treasure.

My man picked up these awesome side tables from Pepe’s. $250 for the pair.

Emily bought this for me while we were shooting Secrets. I still love it. It was $150 at a vintage store in Burbank.

Grabbed this high boy from the Rose Bowl for $200. The art above it is all vintage, except for the small Japanese print I got from my mom and the metal horse sculpture from Emily.

I found this quirky brass dish at the Goodwill in West LA.

This coral comes from Rose Bowl, $30.

This pink coral was $25, also from Rose Bowl.

These white lamps have confused me since I found them for $20 at St. Vincent’s Thrift Store. They are ugly, right? Or are they cool? Like in a Kelly Wearstler way? I’m confused. And scared. And worried.

This little deer holds all my bolo ties and necklaces. Everyone knows that a real gentlemen has a bolo tie collection. The wall color is Lost Atlantis by Valspar, but I might be changing it (for free, with their Love Your Color guarantee). Stay tuned.

An old Ralph Lauren fashion party invite I turned into a piece of weird art with museum pins. And some stacks of books. Did you know I love stacks of books? I do:

Found this awesome octopus footed bowl at the Santa Monica Flea Market for $20.

I got this awesome Yoshitomo Nara clock when I graduated from college. I still love it. $350.

Snagged this little etching from Rose Bowl a few months ago. Tiny landscapes rock my world. $10.

The small vase is from Anthropologie a few years back. You can still grab the lacquer toothbrush holder from West Elm for $9.

This shelf is supposed to be used as a closet organizer but I liked it enough to make it into bathroom storage. It’s from Pottery Barn. $249.

This Archipelago agave-scented candle smells delicious and costs $30.

And, most importantly, I snagged this beautiful Japanese Screen at the Rose Bowl for $200. Not cheap, but the framing alone is worth that much so I though it was worth it.

So as you go about your day today, working, being a normal person, I will still be in my apartment, alone, ogling my things. Forever and ever. Until I die.

Love,
Orlando

Dear Gays,

With Valentines Day upon us, many of us have couple-hatred on the mind. However, there is one type of couple it’s impossible to hate. Vintage Gay couples. Not only is their style totally unique and exciting, the fact that they were forced to love each other in secret makes these photographs all the more titillating. Sure, there’s no proof that any of these guys are actually couples, but what is the point of looking back on history if you can’t mold it to fit your modern-day agenda? Thus, for the purpose of this post I will be assuming all these guys are Gay, and that they had great relationships and loved each other until they died, happy as clams.

Take these happy sailors for example. True love.

True love on the American Frontier. Haute.

And these guys. Doing a total WeHo Party Photo Booth pose. Sidekiss!

I don’t know what is happening here but I think I like it. Or it makes me uncomfortable. Or I like it.

Vintage hotties. Hay boys.

I love these guys. On vacation. Together. Wearing matching swimsuits. Someday I will manipulate my boyfriend into doing this. Until then, my life will be incomplete.

Yes, the do look alike which is slightly creepy, but still a cute photo.

There is something inherently Gay about the sailor costume. I have no idea why. But gays have loved it since the beginning of time. Maybe it’s the cute hat and the fitted pants, I have no idea.

This is your classic Daddy with the Pool Boy combo. Yes, it’s terrifying. But also kind of sweet.

“They went to war for our country, but the true battle was for each other’s hearts.” That will be the tagline for the movie version I plan on making of this photo.

I bet they sent this out with their Christmas card. So adorable!

Gay and black at the turn-of-the-century. That must have been easy-breezy!

This couple looks like they had a cold, complicated relationship. But at least they had great clothes.

It’s funny how these styles have totally been recycled. I could totally see someone wearing these fashions today, with the same haircut.

More sailors, of course!

I don’t know what it is about these images that is reassuring. Maybe it’s that they are a reminder that Gays actually existed before the 80s, when I was born (But in all honesty, did anything really “exist” before I was born? Did anything really exist before you were born? Probably not). Maybe it’s that clothing was at one time more dignified and well-tailored than it is today. Either way I like to fantasize about living one of these antique love affairs. Even though in reality it would have meant the townfolk would have chased you with pitchforks while yelling insults at you through their toothless mouths (Coincidentally, that pretty much sums of my high school experience).

The moral of the story here is to look for love where you find it. Sure, lots of these dudes are probably just buds who had no idea that their bro-pics would someday end up on a Homosexual website. But wouldn’t you rather think of them as lovers, who lived a classic fairytale romance whilst wearing super cool vintage fashions? I would.

Love,
Orlando

Dear Andrew Salgado,

A few months ago, I was waddling around a holiday party hosted by Ken Dolls when I stumbled upon one of your brilliant paintings (“It’s Not About Love”) in their living room. I spent the rest of the party scheming how I would fit the painting under my winter coat so I could take it home. Sadly, I left without it. But I was happy to discover your work because I find it completely inspiring. When I see something done in a new way, such as a figure rendered in a way never before seen, it reminds me that there are discoveries yet to make and perhaps life isn’t as boring and prescribed as I thought. Not that I think that (Okay sometimes I do, but not often. Okay maybe often). Below are a selection of some of my favorite pieces from your body of work.

All images courtesy of Andrew Salgado.

Beams the Mannerist

The Opposite of Intention

Pink Study 1

It Ain’t Divine

Hold

The Silence Consumes Every Move

The Tide

King Is Dead / Long Live The King (Diptych)

Boy With A Bloody Nose

The Conversation

A Shapeless Doubt

It’s Not About Love

Playtime

The Bewildered Pursuit

I Wish I had Known About This Hammer Heart

The Deafening

One Man’s Joy Is Another Man’s Sadness

I Can’t Quite Remember But I Never Forget

A Dream Of The Sea

An Altered Peace

Thank you for making all these beautiful pieces. Someday, when I am a rich Gay man cackling in a giant house in the Hollywood Hills, I will buy one of your paintings and hang it above my fireplace, remembering fondly the first time I saw your work and how thoroughly it rocked my world.

Love,
Orlando

PS: See more gorgeous images at andrewsalgado.com. And then maybe buy something. For me.

Dear You,

You should follow me on Instagram. It will be totally fun for the whole family. Here is what I have been looking at:

This delightful Japanese panel, which now hangs in the bathroom.

This amazing vase I saw on a home tour.

This smarmy couples-themed cover article in LA Weekly.

These überglamourous espresso cups from Rose Bowl Flea Market. Now if only I had an espresso machine…

This gorgeous artichoke at Clementine Floral Works at Sunset Junction.

This lovely bakery in kindagloomy Salt Lake City.

The Grand America Hotel in Salt Lake City, where I attended a conference for hipster mommy bloggers. I have no idea what that says about me.

A leaning Seussian tree.

A detail of the screen my boyfriend found on Craigslist, which, coincidentally, is also where he met me. Just kidding. Not really.

The fountain at the Grand America Hotel.

Please, continue following me on Instagram. I promise to only look at pretty things. Like your face.

Love,
Orlando

Hi There,

Curious what sorts of ugly and/or disgusting stuff I’ve been looking at while shopping? Check out my shopping post on Emily’s Blog.

The End,
Orlando

PS: Read Shopping Post Here.

Dear Gym Lovers,

Did you know there is such thing as a “Gay Gym”? I did. A Gay Gym is like a regular gym except everyone is more attractive, there is a disproportionately male clientele, and there is 57% more body dysmorphia than at your traditional Straight Gym. Gay Gyms are normally located in homosexual neighborhoods in major cities. Two great examples include David Barton Gym in Chelsea in New York and Equinox on Sunset in Los Angeles. These gyms aren’t officially Gay, but the majority of the members are (some just don’t know it yet because I haven’t told them). Thus, they become a special world where Gays frolic and laugh whilst working on their CrazyGay bodies and avoiding eye contact.

Everyone has their pet peeves about what happens at the gym. Things that bother them, things that charm them, things that thrill and delight them. Below are a list of my Dos and Donts for the modern Gay Gym.

1. Do act modestly and keep yourself covered in the locker room.

A while ago, I was working out at a Straight-Themed gym in Santa Monica and I noticed something. All the straight guys were running around naked in the locker room, without a care in the world. In straight gyms, dudes can get away with waddling around naked in the locker room because no one cares. It’s totally different in Gay Gyms. In Gay Gyms everyone keeps himself covered, shamefully changing from towel to undies as fast as possible to avoid any unwanted ogling.

2. Don’t run around like a streaker, naked in the locker room. It wont end well.

The only people who walk around naked like it’s perfectly normal are super old dudes and really slutty ones. So unless you’re a super old dude, it’s best to be modest in the locker room. Otherwise, the weird Peeper standing next to you is going to think you’re hitting on him. And then you’ll have to explain to him why you’re not interested. And after you’ve explained it to him I will come over to you and say “Sir, you’re not wearing any pants!”

3. Do act with utmost dignity in the steam room.

In the steam room, most normal topics of conversation are off-limits. No talking about sex, parties, or money. Acceptable topics of conversation are limited to what you want to eat for dinner and what you ate for dinner yesterday. If necessary, you may also talk about what you ate for lunch, but even that could lead you down an inappropriate path. Anything that can be viewed as even remotely sexual could make you sound like a perv. And then everyone will get uncomfortable and leave the steam room. And then they’ll report you. And then you’ll be kicked out of the gym. And then you wont be able to work out. And then your life expectancy will drop. And then you’ll die.

4. Do not blow your nose into your towel in the steam room.

I know, the steam room releases some congestion that otherwise would not be released. But when you release your snot into your towel whilst sitting right next to me, it makes me want to release my barf all over your face. Just act like a normal person and wait to blow your nose until you’re in the shower. And do so in shame and isolation, thinking about how disgusting you are the whole time. That is the American way.

5. Do be friendly and courteous to your fellow gym members.

Go ahead! Wave to your friend Adam! High five his husband Steve! It’s fun to be social at the gym.

6. Don’t accidentally lock eyes with the town Peeper.

Are you ever staring off into space, wondering if Lark Voorhies and Tiffany Amber Thiessen ever hang out anymore, when all the sudden you realize that as you are gazing off into space you are staring at a scary man who is staring right back at you, salivating and biting his lip? This is to be avoided at all costs. As a gay man at the gym, you should never make eye contact with anyone. The best way to avoid eye contact is to awkwardly dart your gaze around the room, never settling on one area  as to avoid dreaded eye contact with an unwanted Peeper. Sure, this will make you look like a crazy person. But would you rather be a crazy person or be obligated to talk to the Peeper?

7. Do feel free to shave your face in the gym’s sink area.

Shaving your face is a normal and healthy part of living in a society that forces you to undergo strange and bizarre beauty regimens in order to conform to conventional conceptions of beauty and hygiene. Go ahead, it’s fun!

8. Don’t shave your back, chest, or nether-region in the gym’s sink area.

Like watching Twilight: New Moon, shaving your chest and/or back is something you should do at home. In private. While crying. In shame. No one wants to watch you shave your chest in the gym mirror. There’s something awkward and too personal about it that makes me feel funny inside. Like the same funny as when I see parents feeding their newborn babies hamburgers from McDonald’s. Also, I just learned that most men don’t like their guys to have shaved chests anyway. I read it in an amazing academic survey done by intellectual powerhouse ManHunt, so it must be true.

9. Do say hello to your  friend when you see her next to the elliptical.

Hay gurl. How are you? Luv ur top!

10. Don’t get into a conversation about how your father never loved you with the person sitting next to you on the abs machine.

Are you ever, like, working out totally normally, thinking about how sweaty your face is when your friend comes over and starts talking to you about his breakup. And then he starts crying. And then you start crying. And then everyone starts crying and it’s like Oh-My-God? Well this is why you should never talk about deep things at the gym. The gym is an inherently superficial space. Conversation should be confined to cute guys, the mall, Anjelica Houston, and neon tank tops.

11. Do blow dry your hair until it is fluffy and perfectly coiffed like this guy:

or this guy:

Fine. Using the hairdryer at the gym can help you get the perfect hair you’ve always wanted. Maybe. Actually, your hair will probably never look as cool as this guy’s. He has the best hair on Earth. I want to die and come back as his hair, just so that my life means something, so I have a positive impact on the world.

12. Do not use the blow dryer to dry your entire body, that is what towels are for.

I used to get incensed when I’d see guys blow drying themselves at the gym. “USE A TOWEL!” I’d scream at them in my head. There is something inherently sketchy and creepy about using a blow dryer as a towel. Firstly, its a waste of energy and bad for the environment. Second, there’s something kind of sexual and creepy about blowing air all over your body whilst rubbing yourself and looking in a mirror, pursing your lips. That being said, in recent years I have become sweatier and sweatier, and I have been known to blow dry myself to cool off from time to time. If you see me doing this, don’t say anything. Judge me quietly, and then tell your friends about how weird and gross I am.

13. Do wear appropriate workout attire that makes you and everyone else around you comfortable, happy, and thinking of physical wellness.

Normal workout attired includes tank tops, workout shorts, and tennis shoes.

14. Do not wear clothing that is inappropriately distracting, such as blue jeans, turtleneck sweaters, or nipple-exposing tank tops.

Any nipple-exposing tank top is a no-no. For some reason, in our culture we are not used to looking at nipples. Seeing them at the gym can be jarring and disorienting, leaving one incapable of working out. Other clothing items to avoid are jeans, high heels, and anything by Armani Exchange (side note: how did Giorgio ever let his name be used on such grossness?).

15. Do use your phone to make sure your dinner date knows what time you’re meeting.

Using your phone for totally necessary reasons is perfectly acceptable at the gym.

16. Don’t use your phone to have an hour-long conversation at full volume about how fun your weekend was and how much you liked that crazy party on Saturday.

The great thing about modern cell phones is that you don’t have to scream into them in order for the person on the other end of the line to hear you. You can speak at a normal tone about your private matters, venereal diseases, and hatred of your mother. And no one else has to hear. Everyone wins!

17. Do maintain your face with as many surgeries as you wish.

I don’t judge people who get plastic surgery. It’s your body, do what you want with it. Just kidding. I totally judge everyone who gets plastic surgery. Sure, many of them look fine. But lately I’ve been getting annoyed at the amount of duckfaces I see at the gym. A nip here? A tuck there? Who cares! But when everyone starts looking like cats and farmyard animals because their faces are pulled and pumped so much, I start to feel like I’ve been transported to an alien planet. Plastic surgery looks especially terrifying on older men, whose eye jobs can sometimes make them look like a cat head sewn onto a man’s body. Speaking of eye job, look at Lil’ Kim. She used to be a beautiful black woman. And now she’s an Asian grandma. Not that there’s anything wrong with being an Asian grandma. But now Lil’ Kim looks old and scary, when she could have continued to look 25 for the next 50 years. She is black, after all, and black people age better than everyone else. Chew on that, whitey!

18. Do not come to the gym immediately after said surgeries, no one wants to see that.

The other day I was on the treadmill and a lady with a nosejob bandage got on to the one next to me. I know it’s irrational, but for some reason I spent the whole workout worrying that her bandage was going to explode off and blood was going to squirt everywhere, all over my face. And then her old nose would grow back immediately. And she would run out of the gym crying. And it would be all my fault because I let her work out next to me. And it would haunt me for the rest of my life. Don’t let your plastic surgery haunt me for the rest of my life. Stay at home.

19. Do use the mirror to monitor your workout form.

Sometimes, the mirror is necessary to figure out if you’re doing the exercise right. For people who lack any physical coordination whatsoever (me), a mirror is a helpful tool to make sure you’re not doing jumping jacks when you think you’re doing push ups (if I had a dollar for every time I did that!).

20. Don’t use the mirror to monitor you awesome abs.

If an ab flexes under a shirt and no one is there to see it, does it actually exist?

Yes.

I know you are worried that your abs might have packed up in left in the six minutes since you last looked at them, but trust me, they’re still there. There is no need to constantly lift up your shirt to make sure they still exist. If you get worried that your abs are gone, come over and ask me and I’ll reassure you, they’re still there. I know this because I have ab muscles, but I’ve never seen them because they are covered with my belly. But every once in a while, I feel them moving, so I know they’re in there. Take solace in that. Your abs will always be there for you. There is no need to constantly stare at them. They can survive without your constant love and affection.

If you must ogle your abs, just wait until you get home, then you can spend all night looking at them in the mirror. It will be totally fun. Maybe you can invite someone over to look at your abs and compliment them. And then you can have sex. With your abs. Alone. In the mirror. By yourself.

So that is what I have noticed in my travels to the Gay Gym. What about you?

Love,
Orlando

Dear Baxter of California,

I attended the Vanity Fair/Baxter of California Oscar party last night and had a great time acting like the weirdo from American Beauty who goes around taking video of everything. Do you ever go to a party where you don’t know anyone, thinking to yourself that it’s a great way to meet new people? And then you get there and you’re the only one alone and it makes you realize you should have brought someone? So then you just awkwardly wander around taking pictures whilst eating (delicious) mini-hamburgers? Yeah, that’s pretty much what I did.

I’ve been a fan of Baxter since I started going to their Barber shop a few years ago. I’ve always loved the aesthetic and design of the place, but I recently came across their genius style bible for men, 50 Style Thoughts. Basically it’s a list of style rules every guy should live by. Read it, learn it, live it.

Baxter of California’s flagship barber shop is on La Cienega and feels magically old-school and modern at the same time. Like the barber shop I currently frequent, Baxter feels old-timey without feeling hate-crimey. You know what I mean? Sometimes barber shops are super cute and old school but the barber starts talking and you get the feeling there’s some weird white supremacy/homophobia thing going on there so you avoid them and go to the fancy salon instead, even though fancy salons don’t specialize in mens’ cuts like barber shops do. Baxter has that old school vibe while seeming modern, hip, and Gay-friendly, so no one feels excluded (except people with long hair, they don’t cut longer hairstyles there).

The party was a smashing success, super crowded at all times despite the rain. Which if you’ve ever lived in Los Angeles you know is a miracle. Because rain is technically considered a natural disaster here, causing schools to shut and people to cower inside, tears streaming down their quivering cheeks.

No barber shop is complete without that spiral barber shop sign thing.

Baxter also has a line of candles, which feature masculine scents like “cedar wood” and “California citrus.”

No great party is complete without a gift bag.

Baxter Finley Barber and Shop is a great place to pick up all the company’s products, many of which I live for. The following are part of my daily regimen:

Daily Moisturizing Conditioner, $15

Daily Protein Shampoo, $14

Daily Face Wash, $15

Atlantic Beach Soap, $8

Because the whole line is designed specifically for men, Baxter allows you to have fun with bath products without feeling like you raided your sisters makeup bag to find her Oil of Olay (not that there’s anything wrong with that, Olay is a classic).

I don’t quite understand the point of using these brushes to put shaving cream on your face (do you have incompetent fingers?) but they sure are adorable.

I love these portraits hanging in the shop.

Their pen, reading “I stole this cheap pen from Baxter Finley Barber & Shop,” is not bad either.

Every night, my boyfriend and I go back and forth about animal heads, taxidermy, and zebra rugs. He’s always been fascinated by nature and animals and loves the idea of hanging a corpse head on the wall. I grew up in the middle of Yosemite National Park and used to be a vegan. My childhood best friend is now a wildlife biologist in Yosemite who spends her days saving bears and other wildlife, so my desired to have a bearskin rug is pretty low. I understand this taxidermy trend but I’m torn. So I’m resigned to letting my boyfriend get his animal head, but I will probably apologize to it on a daily basis.

My favorite Baxter product, described on this “realistic” fake newspaper, is their Clay Pomade. It’s the only product that doesn’t immediately turn into oil the second I put it on my head. Instead, it stays matte and holds my 90s anime hair in place. Thus, I keep it on me at all times.

Clay Pomade, $18

I don’t understand how this cactus survives, it’s nowhere near a window. It’s kind of infuriating because my cactus is sitting directly in a window and it still screams “I’m thirsty!” at me every morning as I’m trying to run out the door to work.

Despite the fact that it caused me to act like a loner photographer weirdo (which I guess is no different than how I normally act), the Baxter/Vanity Fair party was a great time. It re-energized my enthusiasm for their delightful products while transporting me to a simpler time when barber shops threw star-studded Oscar parties sponsored by glamorous fashion magazines. That happened, right?

Love,
Orlando

Dear Diary,

I lost my wallet last weekend, which was totally annoying and devastating. Not really, but it did get me thinking about wallets. Because as much as I miss my California drivers license and the five different business/personal credit cards, I also miss my Salvatore Ferragamo wallet, a gift I got from a friend a few years ago. They don’t make the particular credit card sleeve I had anymore, so it’s time to move on. Wallets, like watches, eyewear, phones and other items you use every day are the one place I feel comfortable splurging. I believe that if you use something all the time you should invest in something you love, because you have to look at it multiple times a day and the potential for joy is multiplied if you have something that truly excites you. Thus, don’t be offended that many of these picks are fancy. It’s just because this is one item I think it’s necessary to spend a little extra time and/or money investing in. Here are options I’m considering to replace my beloved Ferragamo wallet:

Smythson, $210

Nothing too exciting here but classic, which I love.

Santiago Gonzales, $220

I love this color of blue. But the crocodile skin… Too much or just enough?

Salvatore Ferragamo, $250

This one is kinda sassy. But is it too sassy?

Lanvin, $195

Simple, basic, no-nonsense.

Bettanin & Venturi, $125

Love this color. And the washed out look.

Salvatore Ferragamo, $180

Another classic wallet that wont distract him from your beautiful eyes.

Smythson, $185

A basic option. Simple is best.

Gucci, $165

The Gucci logo seems a little ostentatious, but that gold/navy combo sure is delightful.

Smythson, $220

Hey brown leather.

Wincer and Platt, $150

I love this red wallet. It’s like the wallet from the future.

Tods, $125

Is red too feminine for a guy? Or is it a hot color to carry around? I’m undecided.

Valextra, $380

Same goes for yellow? Too ladylike? Or just perfect?

Herschel Supply Co, $19

Finally, a more affordable, yet still awesome option.

Most of these options were chosen for their simplicity and thinness (I believe this is the same criteria used in choosing contestants on ‘The Bachelor’). No one wants to carry around a huge honkin wallet. It makes you look like you’re walking around with a vintage Gameboy or a small box of cereal in your pocket. And then everyone will laugh at you. And then you will die alone, clutching your oversized wallet, sweating profusely. Don’t let that be you.

Love,
Orlando

Dear Hedi Slimane,

You are my favorite photographer. Everyone knows that. You have a wonderful fashion diary I look at all the time. It brings me great joy. But lately every time I look at one of your photographs they make me want to be an active participant in the awesome world you document because everyone looks so cool and aloof and glamorous. Below is a list of things your photos make me want to do:

1. Sit on the ground and contemplate my feelings.

2. Play a guitar on a diving board whist wearing skinny jeans.

3. Stand with a group and watch a non-existent ghost band perform.

4. Laugh with my awkwardcool friends whilst drinking a beer.

5. Be a mid-century abandoned building in Palm Springs, baking in the sun.

6. Cuddle on the sofa with my friends.

7. Give a concert while thinking about how misunderstood I am.

8. Be a cluster of balloons, beautiful yet forgotten.

There are plenty more images to stare at on Hedi’s Diary. Look at it every day. If it’s the last thing you do.

Love,
Orlando

Dear St. Vincent,

I’m in love with your music video for “Cheerleader” directed by Hiro Murai. According to Yatzer, the video was inspired by the art of Ron Mueck, an artist who makes enormous sculptures of humans in awkward positions. Annie Clark (AKA St. Vincent) looks beautiful. Like a giant porcelain doll. The whole thing is amazing. Enjoy!

Love,
Orlando

Dear Reader,

In cities all over the world, there are shopping districts where urban dwellers flock to meet up with their friends, stare at beautiful things, and perhaps even buy something they want (or, GASP!, need).

Paris has Les Champs-Élysées.

Tokyo has the Ginza.

And here in Los Angeles, we have The Grove.

But what exactly is The Grove? Is it a shopping mall where we find the newest treasure? Is it a community space where you take your children to play? Is it a terrifying dystopia where every childhood fear I had about the future comes true, in vivid color and sound? Where nightly, I am chased down alleyways by blasting Frank Sinatra tunes that harken to that Annette Benning mental breakdown scene in American Beauty? Yes. Yes it is.

I’ve always had a complicated relationship with The Grove. Some of my first memories of coming to Los Angeles in my teens involved going to the Farmer’s Market with my friend Alexis and getting fruit that we would eat whilst sitting next to her parents’ pool in Hancock Park while listening to the soundtrack to Run Lola Run and thinking about how arty and weird we were. A few years later, when The Grove opened, some of the charm of the Farmer’s Market was lost as the entire area became one giant traffic snarl. A sea of shoppers talking at elevated decibels about who slept with who and where you bought that statusbrand leather clutch.

While it has its faults, there is something inherently appealing about The Grove. For me, it’s pretty much grown up Disneyland. Which I like, since I always loved Disneyland as a kid. There is something very reassuring about going to a space where there is a collective agreement to believe in an artificial reality so that everyone can have fun and forget that just a few blocks away there’s a shopping district where smutty stores that sell Doc Martens sit next to pot shops (“We’re going to Melrose!”).

But seriously. What is The Grove? Why do we need it? Why is it so popular?

The obvious reason is that there is nowhere to meander in Los Angeles (aside from our wonderful hiking trails, which aren’t necessarily something you want to visit on a daily basis and/or a first date). Angelenos like The Grove because we can get out of our cars and walk around like people in more densely populated cities do. We can take a stroll to the bookstore, grab dinner, and maybe catch a movie, all in one tiny fake small Main Street USA.

The comedown at The Grove is always the same. After hours of walking around hand in hand with you friends/boyfriend/mom, you return to the massive parking garage, which holds the same number of cars you’d find in many small countries. Getting out of the garage is always a nightmare, winding through the labyrinth of “Exit this way” arrows, past waddling shoppers who somehow all happen to have a double-wide stroller, regardless of whether they have a baby or not. It is natural law that there is always traffic on your way out of the parking garage and that your erratic driving always incites an argument with your boyfriend. Or maybe that’s just me and my anxious “get me out of here right now” parking garage philosophy.

Here, I must admit a deep dark secret about myself. I am a reformed Grove Snob. I’ve always hated The Grove, looked down on it for being fake. We live in Los Angeles, why pretend we live in a corporate version of some small town’s turn of the 20th century main street, a main street where Gays would probably be looked at sideways if they held hands or flaunted their blatantly homoerotic Abercrombie & Fitch bags the way we do at The Grove?

I know what you’re thinking. If I hate The Grove so much why do I go there? If you are a social person in Los Angeles, who likes going to the movies, meeting up with friends, or eating, you will likely be forced to go to The Grove at some point or another. It’s unavoidable. Ultimately I’d rather hang out with people than sit inside fuming about how I don’t like a particular shopping center.

Yes, I’ve spent many a year hating and judging The Grove, belittling it as a bourgeois, suburban, and offensively unrealistic. And yes, it is these things. I probably am too. The Grove is an inherently superficial and money-oriented place. As it should be, it’s a shopping mall. But in addition to being a gross place that attempts to drive consumers to purchase things by surrounding them with a fake, idealized world,  The Grove also represents our very cultural aspirations. We want to walk around. We want to live amongst buildings that look like European-inspired early American constructions. Essentially, we want something completely different from the expansive, spread out world we’ve created in cities like Los Angeles and in the majority of the United States. We’ve realized that as car culture has given us freedom and mobility, it has also trapped us in our cars and prevented us from walking around the way human beings were supposed to.

The Grove has taught me many lessons. The first one, is maybe you shouldn’t overanalyze every single thing you do every day, fearful that you’re playing into some sort of terrible plot to destroy the earth and make tons of money for huge corporations owned by greedy Republicans (hint: you are).

The second thing I’ve learned is that hating The Grove is obnoxious and it bums people out. I learned this while visiting it with my friend Peter. He was all “I like The Grove.” And I was all “Like, actually, like, or like, ironically like, like as a joke?” And he was all “Like. Like, actually like.” (side note: we actually talk like this. Sorry). In the end I decided it was more important not to be a judgemental freak about The Grove and just get over my deep-seated hatred of it. I know a lot of intelligent, thoughtful people who like The Grove so it must be fine, right? Or have they been brainwashed by Mario Lopez and the cast of Extra? That show films from there on a daily basis, I’ve seen Mario there, his skin is so perfect it looks like flawless caramel.

As you get older you start to realize your adolescent cynicism needs some policing. This is not to say you shouldn’t think critically of the world around you. It is to say that you should pick your battles, and perhaps bagging on a Disneyfied shopping mall that everyone else thinks is fun isn’t such a good use of your time.

If you did a CAT Scan of my brain, it would look something like this:

I’m assuming that you’ve all seen Ghost World, from which this still, and most of my internal dialogue, derives. If you haven’t seen it you’re not truly a human being. Stop reading this. Find it on iTunes or whatever, watch it, and then come back and finish reading this long, drawn out post. Anyway, the two girls in Ghost World represent the two sides of my brain. There’s the Thora Birch side, which is cool, weird, and witty but totally a bitch. And then there is the Scarlett Johansson side. Which is nice and sincere but way less funny/interesting than Thora. Life is about finding the balance between Thora and Scarlett. It’s about being just witty enough to be interesting but not so biting that you hurt people’s feelings. So don’t bite people who like The Grove. They’ve just let Scarlett take too much control over their brains. In other news, how much do you miss that cute little Scarlett Johansson? Before she got all uber pretty and, like, vampy and over-the-top sex kitten-y? I kind of do.

Ultimately, my journey towards accepting The Grove has taught me to stop being so uppity about things that aren’t necessarily a big deal. Yes, it would probably be better if we all farmed our own organic food and lived in communes where we all raised our children together (that is my dream life, btw). But that’s probably not going to happen. Probably we will continue to live in cities where we go to places like The Grove and buy stuff. And the best thing we can do as people is to try out best not to destroy the planet while we are doing this.

So go to The Grove, enjoy it. But maybe make a snarky comment or two about it just to remind yourself that you are alive. Just so you know you haven’t lost your Thora Birch Ghost World edge.

Love,
Orlando

Dear World,

I came out of the closet when I was 15.

At the time, I lived in a house right under this waterfall:

I worked here:

And I went to this gross high school:

I’ve actually always hated that phrase, “coming out of the closet.” It implies you’ve been lying about something your whole life, when in reality you’re just a kid trying to figure out who you are. As much as I resented that term, however, I decided it was important to come out because I thought it would be beneficial for the kids at my isolated high school to know a gay person. I also told everyone I was Jewish for the same reason. Being that I am also partially Latino, I was a one-person diversity parade.

A fun fact about high school students is that they are, for the most part, terrible human beings. The mixture of insecurity and lack of experience cause kids to be horrible to each other, and naturally people who stick out end up receiving the majority of the bullying. Looking back, I’m kind of surprised at how open I was, considering I went to high school in a conservative, predominantly white and Christian community.

When I chose where to go to college, I chose the school furthest away from my hometown. I headed off to Cornell in upstate New York, an idyllic college that felt more like 4 years of sleep away camp than school. Being that Cornell was much more diverse and known to be liberal, I was surprised at how few out gay people I met when I got there. More pressing than the liberal bent of the campus is the preppy desire to be perfect. Thus, a lot of my gay classmates waited until they left that intensely competitive environment to come out of the closet.

And come out they did. A fun fact about Cornell students is that most of them move to New York City upon graduating. They do this to make peace with themselves for having spent the last four years in a tiny town that is constantly under a snow cloud. I moved there too, into a cute little apartment in Chelsea. I’d go out to crazy underground gay bars and for the first time, I started running into some of the guys I knew were gay in college but who were not out because they were in some fraternity or on Student Assembly.

And this is when I started to resent closeted people. Where had all these gay guys been when I was in college? Where had they been when I was in high school for that matter? I found it annoying that in the cut-throat, competitive college environment where it was trendy to be preppy and straight, everyone was. Meanwhile, me and the other dorky gays made up the visible gay community on campus. The closeted guys left it up to us to pave the way for them to come out of the closet in a city filled with gay bars and rainbow flags.

You get the sense when you come out early that you have somehow made it easier for everyone else to do so. This is likely true, as more visible gay people leads to a better understanding of the diversity within the gay community and greater acceptance from straight people. Knowing this makes it easy to resent people for staying in the closet. Another reason to be annoyed by closetedness is that closeted men make terrible partners. Firstly, they decrease the dating pool by not being visible as potential mates. Second, they force you to engage in all sorts of conspiratorial acts to conceal their true identity to those around them. So yeah, closeted people pretty much suck.

I’ve had a chip on my shoulder about closeted people for a long time. Mainly that I felt they were relying on people like me do their job for them. Their job being to go out into the world and be like “Hey There. I am a huge homosexual and I am also totally okay. Get over it.”

I’ve recently met a few guys who have challenged my ideas about coming out of the closet. These men, who didn’t come out until they’d hit their 30s, spent their entire youths clinging to the heteronormative fantasy life they’d always imagined they would have, always had been expected to have. Most gays experience some sort mourning process for the straight life they thought they’d have. Because we live in a society that defines success by our ability to fit into some kind of cookie cutter life (love, marriage, house, babies), it’s hard to say goodbye to the idea that you are going to grow up to be a heterosexual. I remember, as a 12-year-old, planning on being gay in college and then turning straight when I graduated. I have no idea how I expected this to happen, but I did. I believe many closeted guys believe in that kind of magical transformation, that if they just try hard enough their life will fit into the mold they want it to.

Most of the closeted guys I’ve met have had some sort of intense external pressure (or perceived external pressure) to hide themselves. One friend cites his father’s constant derogatory slurs about gay people as the reason he’s not out to him at age 34. As much as I think he needs to tell his dad so his dad can, like, meet an actual gay person, I understand his hesitation.

Hearing stories like his makes me realize I need to recognize my own privilege. My childhood looked something like this:

I was allowed to wear whatever I wanted. I was allowed to play with whatever I wanted, whether it be a doll or a pile of dirt (I liked both). I wasn’t raised to feel weird about any of that. It wasn’t until I got older that the other kids policed me on what was “normal.” Growing up like this gave me a sense of entitlement about acceptance. I’ve never understood homophobic people, because to me they just seem backwards and uneducated. I’ve always felt entitled to acceptance, and written off anyone who didn’t approve of my gayness as a bucktooth yokel (to be honest, most of the time they were).

I realize this is not the case with everyone. Some people have family members who are otherwise intelligent human beings that for some reason have a mental blockage against gays. These are the people who are likely to be closeted. And it just doesn’t seem fair to be mad at closeted gays who grow up around these types of weirdos.

So how do we deal with our closeted friends? The answer to this one is boring. I think the key here is to wait them out, while showing them that it’ll be okay when everyone knows they’re gay. Being intolerant about their decision to be closeted just gives them another reason to be alienated from the gay community.

Saying goodbye to the anger we have for those who remained closeted while we were out there being gay, making it okay for them to be gay is an act of liberation. Sure, it’s annoying to wait for people to step out of the closet. But as cheesy as it sounds, each person has his own journey. As much as we know it’s good for the community to come out, we can’t force closet gays to come out. But we can be patient, non-judgmental, and try to understand their reasoning for remaining closeted. Most of us clung to that closet door at sometime or another.

Love,
Orlando

PS: What is your story? When did you come out as a gay? As an ally? As a homophobe? Tell me everything.

Hey There,

Are you freaking out about the fact that your nightstand sucks and looks garbagey?Check out my post on Emily’s blog today about how I styled mine. You’ll be happy you did.

Read Post Here.

Love,
Orando

Dear Diary,

Sometime last year, I remember hearing that camo was back. “Camo” as in camouflage. I found this news infuriating, as I had just thrown away my camo thermal shirt the week prior, having decided it had its heyday in 2007 when I bought it, and I was over it. But this is the thing with trends, one minute everyone is all about them, the next they’re over it and you look like you’re wearing something totally lame and outdated. And now that information spreads so quickly, trends leave us and come back and leave us come back faster than ever before. So by the time you get back from work, the thing you were wearing that was totally on trend has already gone from trendy to outdated to retro to trendy again. It’s kind of annoying, but also a reminder that you shouldn’t follow trends. You should just buy stuff because you like staring at it.  That being said, there are some trends that came back way too soon that I just can’t get over. Below is a few that have sparked my attention.

1. CAMO

What’s the deal? Two years ago camo was a relic of Abercrombietimez (see below), when everyone wanted to be all butch and whitebread. You could only find it on lame cargo shorts and ugly jackets. The whole all-American military look was out. But now all the sudden we’ve forgotten that our country wasted a ton of money on a pointless war and we’re all into camo again. I think it’s a cute pattern and I like green, but I’d definitely not spend any real money on it. It’s going to be dead again in 6 months. Sorry Valentino (they’ve been putting camo on everything).

And there’s The Sartorialist, the baddest ass guy in the world:

Below are some camouflage finds you must buy. (Not really).

Camouflage Pants, Topman, $70

I’d totally wear these. Begrudgingly. And secretly like it. I’m so conflicted.

Camouflage Bag, Want Les Essentiels de la Vie & Nick Wooster, $695

Cardigan, Valentino, $1150

Because, why not spend $1150 on something that is going to be totally out of style by summer?

2. FLORALS

Floral patterns are a 90s throwback trend I could definitely get into. Mainly because it’s so gross and obnoxious and overtly-feminine. Like me as a high school student. Also, I love this ugly jacket (sorry):

Crazy Jacket, Balenciaga, $1535

Floral Shirt, Topman, $55

This faded print looks like the wallpaper you’d imagine in the brothel in East of Eden.

Floral Tie, Topman, $10

Hey tie, you look like a barfy Laura Ashley duvet from the 90s. But in a good way. I love you.

Floral Drop Crotch via FasionIndie

I hate it when I see people wearing ugly clothes and they still look totally good. If I could pull it off, I’d totally rock this outfit. Except those dumb shoes. Those can run off a cliff and die.

3. HAMMER PANTS

I love this drop-crotch pant trend. Mainly because it isn’t flattering on anyone. I love it when people are willing to wear something that gives them diaperbody. I honestly think hammer pants are really cool. I bought some last week. My boyfriend saw me wearing them and vowed to never touch me again. They are literally the LEAST sexy thing in the world. But sometimes you have to choose between being sexy and being cool. And I’d honestly always prefer to be cool.

Drop Croth Pants, Skingraft, $207

These are a great basic. Wear them to the mall, to the gym, to Chipotle, and to your  thereapists’s office.

Drop Crotch Pants, Etsy, $240

4. NEON

Anyone who has met me knows I love bright colors and neon. When I sleep at night, most of my dreams look like Nickelodeon tween shows from the 90s. Thus, I accepted the neon color trend when it happened in the early 90s, the late 90s, and now again in 2013.

How much do you hate Brad Goreski? It’s like his job to run around being adorable and stylish. (See above and below). And he has embraced neon colors by wearing them as accents.

Current luxurious neon offerings include the following:

Highlighter Bracelet, Luis Morais, $675

Highlighter Pans, Gant by Michael Bastian via TheDenimGuy

Neon Soccer Trunks, Charlie, $150

Warriors of Radness Spring/Summer 2013

5. JAMES DEAN HAIR

In the 90s, everyone wanted to pretend it was the 50s. James Dean was raised from the dead via his hairdo on Brandon Walsh. But if you look at this year’s GQ Hairstyle Guide, ALL the haircuts look like 90s throwbacks to the 50s. See below:

All images via GQ’s 2013 Hairstyle Guide

So there you have it. Five things that were trendy when I started writing this post. Then stopped being trendy because they became too ubiquitous, then became trendy in an ironic way, then stopped being trendy altogether, then became trendy again by the time I wrote this sentence. Yay?

Love,
Orlando

Dear Diary,

Most of the time when we think of fancy artists we think of people in a faraway place. I tend to imagine them standing, tortured, in front of a blank canvas in their downtown LA studios, wearing tight black jeans and huge white t-shirts. People don’t often imagine that they could be sitting RIGHT NEXT TO an artistic genius. I was recently made aware of this when I found out Tessa Neustadt, my colleague at Emily Henderson Design, makes awesome photographs I want to put all over my body. I mean all over my apartment. Here they are:

All of the delightful images above are available for purchase at ridiculously reasonable prices:

They can be purchased directly by Contacting Tessa here. I think I’m going to grab some of the treescapes. Or maybe a cityscape. I want all of them.

Love,
Orlando

 Dear Gays,

A few days ago, I was sitting next to my boyfriend playing with his beautiful hair, thinking about the future, and looking at facebook when I noticed a few of my friends were changing their profile pics to pink equal signs that look like this:

I didn’t really know what it was, but assumed it had something to do with the upcoming Supreme Court cases about gay marriage.

Cut to this morning when, slowly, my entire facebook feed turned pink and red, a collage of people changing their profile pics in support of gay marriage. This changing wave of photos led me through a tumultuous emotional roller coaster that occured in the following stages:

1. What is everyone doing? I don’t get it? What are those pics!?! Does not knowing what these are make me old? Or would knowing what they are make me old?

2. Wait everyone is doing it. Should I do it?

3. Wait, if I do it now am I just doing it because everyone else did it?

4. Is it wrong to not want to do something just because everyone else is doing it?

5. Is it wrong to do something because you’re worried about being a bad person for not doing something just because everyone else is doing it?

6. Wait, the fact that everyone has the same profile pic is starting to make my facebook wall look really beautiful. Should I change my pic just to improve the aesthetics of facebook? It’s kind of like a collective art installation…

7. OhMyGod that gross white trash girl who used to call me gay names in high school changed her profile pic. What is going on with the world?

8. Ok, now I just can’t do it because it’s too late and I’ll look like a straggler.

9. Is it wrong not to do something just because you don’t want to look like a straggler?

10. Fine. I’ll do it. But only if I can somehow figure out how to make an equal sign out of Anjelina Jolie’s exposed Oscar leg.

At that point I changed my pic to this Photoshop masterpiece:

Like any other rational human being, I am obsessed with that one time Anjelina Jolie Captain Morgan’d her leg all over the Oscars. It was the turning point at which I realized I no longer understood American pop culture at all.

I’m pretty sure changing our profile pictures is going to have zero impact on the Supreme Court rulings, which is why I didn’t jump on the bandwagon right away. This isn’t an issue of public opinion, so I’m not really quite sure what function changing our profile pictures is supposed to serve. I guess it serves some sort of emotional purpose. Like we all feel the need to do something. But does protest, even real, meaningful protest that involves more than changing your profile picture, even have a place here? Isn’t this about the justices interpreting the Constitution and figuring out whether it allows discrimination against gays? And deliberating. In a room? By themselves? Alone? Whilst not staring at my Facebook pics?

I’m not going to be one of those crabapples who sits to the side and grumbles about what everyone else is doing. I certainly have no problem with all my friends changing their profile pics, but there is a certain sense of safety in it that seems to negate the point of the whole thing. I can sit here from my West Hollywood (adjacent) apartment and safely update my profile picture so that everyone in my (highly edited) group of (entirely gay friendly) “friends” can see that I support gay marriage (duh).

Brian Moylan wrote a semi-scathing criticism of this Facebook profile pic conformity which I totally agreed with. His issue with it was that changing your profile pic is probably the laziest form of activism in the history of time. But our generation has a relatively lazy approach to activism. Mainly because we’ve never had any huge issues to get riled up about.

A long, long time ago, before Facebook and Grindr, gay people had to be, like, actual activists because they were all dying and no one knew what the fuck was going on. I was reminded of this when I recently watched How To Survive A Plague, a totally enthralling documentary about Act Up’s activism in the 80s, demanding that the government stop ignoring the AIDS epidemic. Those people were brave. They were emotional. They were out on the streets. And they were fighting for gay rights when being gay was frowned upon by the general public, when gays were pushed to the side, maligned, and swept under the rug. They were truly doing something brave. Modern gays owe them everything.

Flash forward to the only sliver of activism the Millenial generation has had the chance to feast on: the fight over the passage of Prop 8 in 2008. Our generation has been criticized for being apathetic and entitled and for the most part we have been. But that’s because we’ve never really faced a huge opposition (i.e. intense oppression in the 50s or AIDS in the 80s). But when Prop 8 was added to the ballot we were reminded that we were second class citizens, reminded that we still had a reason to unite and fight for something.

Prop 8 gave us the chance to stand in the street holding signs, to march in enormous groups and chant, to increase visibility. The rallies I attended in Los Angeles in protest of Prop 8 were exciting. It made us all feel like we were Harvey Milk-era activists.

Above art by Evan Ross Katz

And now back to the Supreme Court cases about gay marriage. Changing your Facebook profile picture isn’t activism. It certainly shows solidarity and support for the right to marry, but it’s not activism. And in this case that’s totally fine. At this point activism serves an emotional purpose, but perhaps not a logical one. We aren’t going to change the Supreme Court’s opinion on gay marriage. They have to figure out some sort of legal way to rationalize whatever decision they come to. While it made sense to protest Prop 8 because people were going to polls to vote on it, protesting a court decision before it even happens doesn’t make sense.

That being said, I think changing your profile picture to show support for marriage equality is great for a number of reasons. Firstly, it’s therepeutic and makes us feel like we’re doing something, somehow making us feel less powerless. My sister and her (female) fiance are waiting for this ruling with baited breath, being that their wedding is already scheduled for September. They have an especially vested interest in the outcome of these cases. And I know they felt a certain comfort in changing their profile picture and seeing how many other people follow suit.

The most heartening moments of this profile pic changing party has been seeing how many straight people showed up to support the gay people in their lives. My mom changed her profile pic, maybe yours did too. Seeing this felt good. Which I guess is the whole point of everyone changing their profile pics. Maybe it wont sway the justices, but it definitely gave people the sense that they were supported and loved. So yes, I do think it’s relatively useless as advocacy, but it serves as emotional enrichment for our community, a way for us to show we support one another. And I think there is inherent value in that.

Love,
Orlando

Dear Diary,

Have you wondered where I’ve been and what I’ve been up to? Me too. Most of my time has gone to decorating houses with Emily Henderson, pulling my hair out over taxes, and daydreaming about my boyfriend running on the beach in a Speedo. We have a big West Elm photo/video shoot coming up in our apartment, so things are changing daily here. As you may remember my apartment was shot for Refinery29 a few months ago. Here are a few of those shots:

Spring is a time for refreshing change, so I bought a few new books for the coffee table, including the glamorous Luc Tuymans book below. I also bought a book of Fabian Baron photographs called Liquid Light and it may be my favorite thing in the world. I love his images.

I sold my lady chairs. Here is what they looked like in case you forgot:

As soon as I sold the ladychairs I regretted it. They were so comfy and they provided the perfect counterbalance to my hypermasculine apartment. (Sigh, if only if I were as straight-acting as my apartment. [Just kidding I don't want to be straight-acting {Yes I do}]). My boyfriend recently found this beauty on Craigslist, which we bought for $500:

It’s Milo Baughman. Totally glamorous. Only drawback is that barf-inducing color. The worst thing about the color is that my boyfriend likes it. He loves browns, reds, and earthtones. Which is funny because those are my three least favorite things in the world. I hate them more than I hate child hunger. Ew I just said that. (No I didn’t). The typical conversation about how to reupholster the Milo chair goes something like this:

Me: “Blue.”
Boyfriend: “Brown.”
Me: “Grey.”
Boyfriend: “Brown.”
Me: “White.”
Boyfriend: “Brown.”
Me: “Gold.”
Boyfriend: “Dark Brown.”

That lasts for three hours until we get tired and watch Terminator 2: Judgement Day on Netflix.

A few months ago, long before we purchased the Milo chair (which still needs a partner by the way, I want a pair), I saw this guy at the flea market for $400/pair:

I showed him to my boyfriend and Emily, and both of them told me I was crazy for liking them. Cut to a month later when I saw them at Nickey Kehoe for $2650. Which obviously made me want them more. I hate everything and I’m never listening to anyone about anything ever again. Let this be a lesson to all of you to follow your hearts. Especially when your heart tells you to buy ugly 80s chairs at the flea market.

Luckily, after I missed out on those awesome 80s leather chairs at the flea market, I found a pair of delightful mid-century chairs at TL Gurley in Pasadena, a score for $150/pair.

I snagged this rug from Craigslist, but it was too long for my hallway (sad). At least it was only $150. Let this be a lesson to all of us to measure, and measure, and measure. And then measure again. Nevermind, don’t do that. Measuring is boring.

Working for someone who is obsessed with flowers has its perks. Emily sent me home with these beautiful Magnolias the other day:

Speaking of Magnolias, remember that scene in Magnolia where Julianne Moore freaks out because the pharmacist wont give her drugs? I love that part. Anyway, I moved this Japanese screen into the bedroom because we needed some warmth in there. Because that room is so sunny, it really glows in there. Sometimes I have a hard time going to work because I just want to gaze at it all day. Lately, I’ve been going to work out early in the morning while my boyfriend is still asleep. I’ll stand there looking at him, then at the Japanese screen. Trying to figure out which one I would save in a fire. I’m pretty sure I’d save the screen. I mean my boyfriend. I mean the screen. Okay fine my boyfriend (and the screen).

I’m nixing the lamps in my bedroom (or my living room I can’t decide) and switching them out for these rad sconces from OneFortyThree lighting. I’m obsessed with this company right now. They have tons of pretty, affordable, simple lighting that is unique and well-made. The pair I got were $145 each, which is a great price for new lighting.

Morgan (of The Brick House) is also making awesome/simple lighting for her new brand Camp. I saw some options I’m considering at Shopclass recently (sidenote: Shopclass is my new favorite place. In the world).

I love this geode I saw at Shopclass. It’s not for sale. Yet. But maybe they’ll sell it to me if I offer them enough of my millions (I have too many of them lying around anyway).

I found this dude at The Huntington Collection for $45. He’s so sad, but he makes me so happy.

I love my old pub chairs, but, gurl, they be creeky that they sound like they are going to break every time I sit down. Which any of you FFK’s (Former Fat Kids) out there will know is a legitimate reason to get rid of a piece of furniture. Thus, I’ve decided it’s time to say goodbye.

I’m opting for these beauties from West Elm ($239/set 4).

The reason I loved them so much is that they remind me of these beautiful Calder sculptures:

In the future I aspire for all my furniture to look like sculptures by famous artists.

Another thing that I got rid of was my sleeper sofa. Remember that guy?

I loved that sofa. I designed it myself and the color was a dream come true. The only issue with it is that it wasn’t big enough for two full-grown men to lay on together. And because snuggling and watching “New Girl” is so very important to me, I decided it was time to say goodbye to my beloved sofa. In its place, I got a sofa with a similar look, but deeper and more accommodating to prolonged cuddling.

The sofa is the Dunham Sofa from West Elm. Like Lena Dunham, for whom the sofa is named (not really), my new sofa is comfortable, outspoken, and a little bit edgy. I know I sound like a West Elm commercial right now, but I kind of want everything in there right now. I love my sofa so much I’m trying to force my parents to buy the same one but they’re all “I want a sofa with round arms because round arms are like pillows” and I’m like “Gross. Buy a pillow.” The version of the Dunham sofa I got was $1499. I will be writing more about it on Emily’s blog (including full details on color, etc) next month.

Finally, I found this old sailor dude at Shopclass (I told you, it’s my favorite store now). He kind of reminds me of what I look like on a typical summer Monday. After drinking by the pool all weekend without moisturizing. Oh summer, how I love thee and dread thy impending arrival…

Oh, and the old man painting was $25. Everything at Shopclass is a total bargain.

So, that’s where I’ve been the last month. Mainly just buying stuff. Like a real American. What have you been doing?

Love,
Orlando

PS: Full disclosure, aspects of this post are sponsored by the lovely people at West Elm, including the sofa and the dining chairs  (which were both provided gratis).

PSS: Please check back soon for the full story on my apartment’s extreme makeover, featuring professional photographs, more furniture porn, and shout outs to Emily Henderson, who made the whole thing possible.

Dear Lady in Nebraska That Reads My Blog,

When I’m not running off to DC to design makeovers for senior citizens with Emily or driving around LA looking for the perfect props for a photo shoot, I can sometimes be found designing spaces for my own clients. Lately, I’ve been concentrating on a family that lives in La Habra, a beautiful little town outside of Los Angeles that features mountains, trees, and happy families with adorable children that run around saying endearing things all day. I haven’t gotten to the styling part, so there is still a lot to be done, but I’m making progress.

I found this uberglamorous burlwood accent table at HD Buttercup and immediately fell in love with it. It’s a one a kind sculpture for the master bath. Somewhere, a tree is all “Where’s that huge chunk of my trunk? I needed that!” Sorry, Tree. I needed that chunk of wood to make my client’s life better on a daily basis. I put a simple white mirror from CB2 above it. Sadly, like my dignity, the mirror is no longer available.

This simple white table comes from Blu Dot ($399). The rug is amazing, from West Elm. $1299. The tray is from Crate & Barrel ($69.95)  and adds a little rustic/beachy nod to the sunroom (which opens onto the gorgeous pool/courtyard).

The homeowners had both these pieces already, and I love them so I decided to make them into a little vignette. I added a white vase from West Elm ($19).

The music room had a huge bare wall, so I added a gallery wall using their art supplemented with art from Shopclass ($10-$25).

We will also be adding this glamorous coffee table from Empiric to the music room. $2775.

The great room is shaping up, though the main component (the coffee table) is still in production.

This is the coffee table we’re going to add. $1395 from Restoration Hardware.

The giant wall was begging for some giant art, so I DIY’d a gold asymmetrical painting over an ugly landscape Emily had in storage ($300 from Craigslist).

This Parsons Tower ($549) was shockingly easy to style. We grabbed accessories from Empiric, HD Buttercup, and Shopclass.

We have a few more rounds of styling/waiting for coffee tables to arrive and then I will be doing a big photo shoot that makes the space look as pretty as it actually is. And then I will be moving in with the family that lives in the house because I love it so much.

Yay.

Love,
Orlando

Dear World,

A wise man once said the following:

“My brain lives in New York, my body lives in Los Angeles, and my heart lives in San Francisco.”

That wise man was me. San Francisco just feels like home, always has. My family visited quite a bit during my childhood so I have a lot of memories of being a little boy there, wandering around the SFMOMA with my mom or begrudgingly going to Giants games with my dad (I like them more now that there is beer involved).

I went to San Francisco a few weeks ago to visit family. And here’s what I saw:

The futuristic people mover at SFO:

The BART system, which, if your family doesn’t love you enough to pick you up from the airport, can take you to and from the airport (Sidenote: hey, LA, have you heard of this idea? Public transit to the airport? It’s super fun and, like, useful).

Chow, a great casual little restaurant in the Castro.

Venga Empenadas in the Mission, close to my sister’s apartment. I’ve never eaten there but I’m kind of obsessed with the signage.

My sister took me to a great bookstore where I found some amazing books at even more amazing prices. Phoenix Books in Noe Valley has tons of delightful books to ogle, including these two art books I bought for $20 each.

Mill Mercantile is a pretty store for the ladies. And if you’re looking for a $500 duffle bag, you’re in luck!

My favorite store by far in San Francisco is Monument. They carry a ton of mid-century furniture and accessories, all of it perfectly curated and totally amazing. It’s the kind of store that both excites you and fills you with rage, because I want everything in there but it all costs $4.7 million.

I coveted this globe:

And this awesome pine branch wall decor:

And this George Nelson pretzel chair.

And this ridiculous stool, that looks like it fell out of Kelly Wearstler’s handbag:

There is always a lot to stare at in San Francisco and I’m always sad to leave. I’ll be going back soon though. Hopefully to buy everything at Monument.

Love,
Orlando

Dear Sir or Madam,

Please visit Emily Henderson’s glorious blog to read my step-by-step tutorial on how to paint a giant painting. I promise you will like it. If you don’t, you can have your money back.

Love,
Orlando