Pony Venom: What blew our way today

Kara and I went into LA to go to galleries, eat at Millie's and generally just let the wind decide our direction. We walked around Sunset Junction and I talked with Laura Howe (who I had not seen in years) about Cuba. I was inspired by her creative drive. She is an artist and now also an amazing fashion designer for her store Matrushka where all clothing is altered to fit. I didn't dare try anything on for fear that she might make it fit like it was never meant for anyone else. I am operating on a $20 budget.
Next we tried to go to the Museum Of Contemporary Art and found no affordable parking and then we headed off to MOCA's Temporary Contemporary only to find it permanantly closed. Dang, end of an era. Kara used to work at Beck's mom and step-dad's Cafe Troy across the street and my ex-boyfriend used to be an art preparator at MOCA. Beck worked in the gift shop there where his co-worker Moises told him how to say "Soy un perdedor" or "I'm a loser". MOCA was the epicenter of our young world and I hope it manages to continue with as independant a spirit as ever.
We then dropped in for a visit with another special friend that spans back to those days. Back in 1990, there was a strange convergence of artists on the most industrial, dead end in Downtown L.A. It was Hunter Street, where Mac trucks loaded and unloaded pallettes next door to artists' shimmy shack, Peewee playhouse loft spaces. Some spaces had no bathrooms, and bags of doodoo had been tossed at the Amtrak trains just in back. Our friend Steve had a pond in his floor space filled with mosquito eating guppies and antique refrigerator doors hanging like trapeze artists serving as a white picket fence. Upstairs there were the beautiful, light filled spaces that are what one might think a conventional loft would look like. This was pre-downtown regentrification and the spaces were cheap and filled with limitless possibilities. We had many Icelandic friends. Our closest were Stella Dottir, a fashion designer extraordinaire and Friedger Helgason, her son, a talented artist/ photographer/chef. She and Friedger had spent many years, as many of our old downtown friends had, living in New Orleans. They are back and her store is at 430 S. Main St. in downtown L.A. Friedger's incredible b &w photos of Iceland are gracing the walls. Her clothing is indescribably luxurious, the materials very silky and plush or diaphanous and sheer. The styles mix vintage with medieval and modern. She's a haberdasher, too! She dressed me up like a doll and knew what I would like even before I had a chance to find it. These kittens assisted me in the dressing room with their cuteness.