September 7, 2006
She's California dreamin'
L.A. is her guilty pleasure, from the OC to Laguna.

Jill Brooks
INtake columnist

I have a few guilty pleasures: Maroon 5; Steak-n-Shake; extremely expensive shampoo; and Los Angeles.

But I just returned from the OC, and I've added Laguna Beach to my list.

I've "aged-out" of the television series, I'm afraid, and before I left for my trip, all I knew about The OC was that everyone there was beautiful, because my 15-year-old-sister (who owns the boxed set) told me so.

She and her friends probably discuss the characters via their MySpace accounts.

(Ah, MySpace: Couldn't you just, um, call or e-mail your friends? Does the world really need to see your daily notes?)

I visit Los Angeles every year. My girlfriend there lives in the guesthouse of a famous female singer whose name bears a popular, well-paid fruit.

Every time I'm there I meet people in the "industry." Everyone is creative and talented, and most of them are pretty cool about visitors from Indiana (because no one, namely bands, is really "from" L.A.).

Last week I had lunch with my girlfriend on Hermosa Beach. She said she had $56 in her checking account, but I noticed that she was sporting Gucci sunglasses.

That is a perfectly respectable Californian quality and I defend her.

After all, without California, The Red Hot Chili Peppers would have nothing to sing about.

Everyone in Los Angeles wears jeans and flip-flops, and that's kind of dressy. Make-up is subtle, hair is purposely disheveled and long, and people watching is first rate.

The last time I was in L.A. I went to a bar whose theme was national parks, and another that was a diorama of hair salons.

It is a wacky, dirty city, and I love it.

The battle between L.A. and Orange County pits the Jets against the Sharks, and until now I always sided with Hollywood & Vine.

But the rumors about Orange County are in fact true. It is the land of toned bodies and sun-kissed hair; myriad sports cars and overpriced art; but man, is it lovely.

Orange County isn't the Carmel/Geist, Ind., parallel I'd always heard it was; it actually has stuff to do.

Walking Newport Beach and catching the sunset at Laguna, I decided that I'm moving to California.

I crave endless days of summer, bodysurfing, wearing no make-up and seafood tacos.

I want Mischa Barton's hair!

Back in Indy, I'm currently daydreaming at my desk. I've begun saving my pennies, waiting for that day I too can pay $2,500 in rent for a two-bedroom beachfront shack.