Gettin’ freaky via your vehicle happens a lot in this town. It’s one of the reasons I love LA. However, there are a few pockets of exclusion– one of which is the Palisades. Perched casually above the Pacific between Santa Monica and Malibu, the Pacific Palisades is the New Canaan of LA. It’s rich, preppy and squeaky clean– which isn’t weird at all in Connecticut, but here in LA, it’s about as normal as Nova Scotia.
When you’re a Palisades mom, playing the part consists of a phenomenally toned body (preferably achieved through yoga, Pilates & a mean backhand), a rootless, perfectly straight head of blonde highlights and the latest Volvo wagon. If you’re edgy, you may be able to slide in with a Prius (“he’s in tech”) or a Cayenne (“they’re new money”), but you sure as hell don’t want to stick out with stuff like, oh I dunno…pink eyelashes:
She’s already coloring outside the lines with that Honda Odyssey, which in the Palisades is driving like a horse-drawn carriage. But this mama ain’t scared, she knows she’s gonna stick out, so she’s gonna stick out big! Thus she fires up the rainbows, peace signs and heart stickers, to ensure nobody misses her at drop off. This is Palisades parenting, Motorhead Mama-style!
And, as if it couldn’t get any better, this mini van mashup isn’t safely ensconced in a gated community in a cozy garage. Oh hell no. This mama waives her freak flag high by parking front & center on Sunset Blvd. That’s kinda like walking through Times Square topless..ain’t nobody gonna miss you. My only question is–How do I get in that carpool? I’ll bet it’s a ball! Whoever you are, lady, I salute you..you’re my Freak of the Week!