Story: Right in the Great Wrong Place

People hate L.A.Some of it is jealousy, to be sure. But people hate L.A. for all sorts of seemingly good reasons, too. The smog. The sprawl. The superficiality. And they are absolutely right. All of these things are true. In fact, everything anyone has ever written, read, or thought about L.A. is one-hundred percent true.

This is precisely what makes L.A. great. It has looked every stereotype in the eye and said, with a friendly shrug, “that’s cool.” This is also the key to enjoying L.A. Surrender to the stereotypes and discover a city that elevates urban sprawl to an art form. (Thirty minutes to the ocean or two hours to the desert?) A city with natural beauty rivaled only by its unnatural beauty. (The beach or the bikinis?) A city with a melting pot that never comes close to melting. (Char sui bau, pierogi, or empanada?)

Nothing belongs in L.A. but everything somehow fits. W.H. Auden called L.A. “the great wrong place.” And L.A. will take that as a compliment, thank you very much. The greatness and the wrongness of the place make L.A. the perfect destination for travelers who want to experience something different—just as it has always been the perfect destination for people who want to become something different.

But reinvention doesn’t quite cover it. L.A.’s many identities, past and present, coexist side by side, block by block. Tourists flock to Mann’s Chinese Theater on Hollywood Boulevard with no inkling that a world-class chef is serving French-inspired soul food around the corner on the second floor of a strip mall eyesore. That Raymond Chandler’s great noir detective Philip Marlowe kept his fictional office up the street near Ivar. Or that six short subway stops away (there is a subway, you know), you can have a drink served by Kim Novak’s hairdresser in “Vertigo” at a nautical-themed bar across the street from the ghost of the Ambassador Hotel.

The surface of L.A. gleams so brightly under those perpetually sunny skies that it’s often a strain to see what lives and breathes beneath it. A city so inconceivably large has its fair share of secrets—some sordid, some silly. To decipher them, you need more than a pocket-size book with names and numbers and maps inside. Take a cue from Marlowe and do some detective work of your own. Pound the pavement. Trust your instincts. Get eyewitness reports.

If you succeed, you’ll reveal a city worth finding. A place where it feels right to be wrong. A child star who grew up and made good. More Jodie Foster than Danny Bonaduce.

Though either would probably work.