In Support of the In Between
There’s a sweetness to this shoulder of the year, when the sand still clings to your ankles and a hint of chill slips into the evenings. The crowds have drifted inland, the air feels lighter and the days stretch into something not quite summer anymore, yet not quite ready to be anything else. In our corner of Los Angeles, we’re holding on to that fleeting feeling. The unhurried lunches, the half-finished novels, the post-surf espresso and the dinners that happen outside simply because they still can.
Early Hours
Mornings begin at Maru with pour-overs (or matcha, if that’s your thing) strong and playlists stronger. When we’re chasing something Parisian, it’s Republique for a croissant and a slow hour at the counter. And when the day starts early, a lap around the Silverlake Reservoir before the city wakes or a class at Oblix sets the tone for a day that feels composed before it even begins.
At The Table
On nights we stay in, we’re halving the last of the late-season tomatoes, tossing them with olive oil, salt and too much basil. If we’re heading out, it’s Found Oyster for scallop tostadas and Sicilian crudo or Dudley Market for fish tacos and a burger, feet still sandy. A chilled bottle of Glou Glou feels right to round things out.
Stories & Scenes
Open Throat by Henry Hoke has us hooked. A strange, sharp love letter to Los Angeles that feels surreal and familiar. On the nightstand sits Sex & Rage by Eve Babitz. On screen, the coastal excess of Palm Royale remains our visual comfort.
The Soundtrack
Khruangbin still sets the pace for late light and open windows. Arlo Parks fills slower mornings. The Dare for late nights. Sade, always.
Objects of Leisure
By late afternoon, we’ve usually found our way to the Club Chair, a striped towel draped over the armrest. The Cloud Cooler sits close by, stocked for an afternoon that stretches longer than planned. The Club Umbrella paints in shadow as the evening unfolds.