Tales From the LA Underground | Dominique’s Story

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Image via @xdomoarigatox on Instagram
Image via @xdomoarigatox on Instagram

1. Name: Dominique Joelle

2. Occupation: Freelance writer/Grad Student

3. Location/Neighborhood: Recently relocated from Minneapolis, MN to Hollywood, CA. And yes, I am aware moving to Hollywood was so transplant of me. I’m finding that out on my own each day.

4. Favorite LA Neighborhood Spot: Any available free parking space. Should I have said Harvard and Stone? I apologize I just moved back here like three months ago and still have no idea what will make me sound cool and experienced. SoHo House? Del Taco?


As a new girl in town, I have to say that nearly 99 percent of the things I’ve witnessed living in LA, thus far, have been worthy of the #onlyinla title. In fact, before I became an eager follower, the epic Love and Loathing Instagram took a liking to one of my OILA observations – a DJ casually spinning vintage vinyl to supplement the already elitist shopping experience that is Whole Foods. As if $16.00 pre-mixed vegan, organic, locally-sourced, kale salad with a maca root infused dressing wasn’t pretentious enough, let’s get Pavlov’d by the crackling croons of James Brown, into buying a $10 reverse-osmosis filtered water as well. In the great state of Minnesota, my hometown, one simply makes peace with the fact that grocery shopping goes hand in hand with the soft tones of early 2000s adult-contemporary gently melting out of the freezer aisle loudspeaker. But back to the point, perhaps the most terrifying of all things LA, aside from Whole Foods, or being required to valet your car at Chipotle on Vine, or discovering the existence of Sprinkles Cupcakes during your menstrual cycle; is dating.

It was 2008, and I was but a temporary transplant, interning at M.G.M Studios for the summer. While dining at a sushi restaurant in the depths of The Valley, I was approached for a date by a tall, dark, and trust-fund. Upon my arrival, I was warned by my LA-born peers that this breed of man, however attractive, may be too aggressive for my tender Midwestern tastes. I did not care. I became entranced by the gleam of the rhinestones on his Affliction tee-shirt, and before I knew it, I had said yes. Baby’s first date in LA!

Days after our meeting I found us on the patio of his favorite ‘I-Know The-Bouncer’ bar in Beverly Hills. We clinked lychee martinis under the glow of Maserati headlights, and spoke of nothing ever, the entire time. After an eternity of staring lifelessly at my reflection in the grease of his pomade-tipped coif, I asked him to walk me back to my Rent-A-Wreck. In a final attempt to recover from a denied invitation back to ‘his place’ in Bel-Air (that I would later find out was his parents backyard pool house), Shahs of Sunset handed me a stick of gum, paired with a pick-up line so epic, it could have only sprouted from the lips of Rico Suave himself; “Call me when the flavor runs out.” Much to his chagrin, I didn’t even so much as Blackberry Ping dat ass. To which, only hours later, I was met with a slew of texts, deeming me a worthless ho-bag, only after a free meal. Karma for spitting out the gum early, I suppose.

Follow Dominique on her own adventures in blogging:  http://dominiquexjoelle.tumblr.com/


And don’t forget! If you have your own “Only In LA” story to share, send it to me! More Info HERE

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