This story is part of Image issue 18, “Mission,†an anthology of fantastic voyages — from L.A. to the world and back to the epicenter. Read the whole issue here.
Witness them. Going about their day. Dressed to the nines. The most fashionable people of L.A. walk among us. They post up against the stop sign pole, ascend from the underground on the Metro escalator, check their phones, put money in the meter, wave their hand in front of the motion sensor on the crosswalk as they wait to enter the intersection. No matter the destination or type of motion, the clothes stick to them — their bodies move in unison with the gear. The whole presentation matters. Everything feels like a part of the program. Nothing you see was chosen casually or randomly selected. No details were skipped. No: “I don’t know, I just threw this on.†What you see on the corner is vision, intention, execution. In a word — style.
There are more layers, too. Everything hits different in the wild. When you see great fashion — you know, fashun! — on the block, it’s an epiphany. Natural habitats have a way of revealing meaning. You see that style doesn’t just communicate into the ether; it communicates to others. There’s reciprocity. Giving and receiving is baked into the DNA of a good outfit. Clothes are meant to connect and to communicate — a good fit is an open-ended invitation to whomever chooses to engage. And something special happens when a creation meets its intended audience: It becomes a part of its surroundings. It joins in on the action of the day.
Street style is nothing without the streets. Which is why we looked to the ave to examine the many possibilities of this specific form of assemblage. What can a great outfit do? We asked 11 creatives — artists, poets and curators — in Los Angeles to show us what really makes the clothes sing. They brought the fits and picked an intersection that is meaningful to them. We then met each person at the location they chose, where they shared what inspires them every day. These dispatches are their testimonies, postcard messages delivered from them to you. — The editors
Designer & Co-founder of Freak City
Hollywood and Western: You are madness but you are magical. This is where we threw our first “Hollyhood†parties, for ourselves, our friends. All that energy congregated and gave birth to the chaos that is Freak City. There is this magic about L.A. You can be crazy, and it will be received — be yourself, be free.
Writer & Poet
Curator
While MacArthur Park earned a reputation of being quite rough in the 1980s, it became familiar to me as a place where an old lady felt perfectly safe taking her grandchild. Coming back to my halmoni’s MacArthur Park apartment after decades, I wanted to relearn how to sense and feel the world around me: engaging with the public, smelling the bakery, staring at people, the street, the art.
CEO Amalia Consulting
Most people that I know who live in London either haven’t been to L.A. or have a desire to come. The first thing they think of is the beach. I wanted to eat that stereotype up. I say to everyone who’s thinking about coming to L.A., “Everything that you hear is absolutely true†— the good, the bad, the fake. But you just have to find your spots. And when you do, it’s one of the easiest places to live.
Writer & Poet
Poet
Artist
When I think about a meaningful place in L.A., although there are many, none compare to my grandmother’s house — a historical Victorian house located in Jefferson Park, where family reunions have been hosted for the last 25-plus years. I wanted to capture the essence of our backyard gatherings. For my 7th birthday, everything was basketball-themed, so here you can see me in my Shaq jersey while my Mama Linda is making me put on a sweater someone gifted me as I unwrap presents.
Curator, Artist and Cultural Consultant
Greetings from La Pacific, the street that started everything. Walking up and down this block, passing by the quinceañera dresses and the trendy mannequins in the fashion store windows and the hustler mentality that created them, I think I saw something that was bigger than me.
P.S. Huntington Park is the only HP.
Multidisciplinary Artist
Compton and Century is my heart. Many generations of my family grew up here. This place gave me a sharpness and a nimbleness. It taught me how to move through the world, to ask for the things that I want and claim the things that I know are mine.
Wardrobe Stylist
There are so many corners that mean a lot to me in my youth, just growing up here, but this chapter of my life is family. I’ve seen my kids grow up at Cindy’s diner — from learning manners and the rules of Uno to meltdowns over sharing crayons. Cindy’s has become a second home (with a better kitchen).
Content Creator & Model
90032. Three generations of my family grew up right here. It’s not new. It’s not fancy. And part of me hopes that it will stay exactly the same forever. It’s the market where the signs don’t turn on or the lights are blinking. It’s falling apart, but it’s still intact, and it still means everything.
