We drove miles through Hollywood’s darkest corners
looking for the kitsch, bitchin’ burlesque & bad girl
castoffs of body suits, the tightest choice of skin,
mile-high heels as glossy as mirrors, gold lamé
tops that plunged deep as the Santa Monica canyons
& chameleon-colored coats to cover them. But,
like any quest for transformation, you never get
what you expect. Here, we found the same tired stuff
from the Gap. Even the girl at the checkout stand
was yawning like the door at the end of the day.

(Los Angeles, August 28th)