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Summer is slowly coming to its final curtain call, and we Angelinos can feel our hearts breaking underneath our bikini tops. We here are defined by the sun. It gives us a purpose, a reason to continue paying for fancy cars, higher rent, and expensive clothes. Four Seasons only exists on Doheny in West Hollywood, it’s a concept we simply do not understand in Tinseltown. There is, however, one season where champagne kisses and oh-so-naughty-wishes slice and dice Hollywood like the wheels of a G-Wagon speeding down La Cienaga. Summer is the season of Los Angeles. We appreciate the sun rays and shirtless guys just as much as we do miniskirts and sky high Louboutins. It’s the only language universally accepted from Silverlake to San Diego. When the sun is high, our attitudes change from bitchy pouts and rolling eyes to the whitest smiles money can literally buy. Enjoy the last bits of Summer and brace yourself for temperatures less than 70 degrees. Life is about to become a little chillier because now it won’t just be your frenemies giving you the cold shoulder. It will be nature reminding you to put some “real” clothes on. Grab last season’s McQueen scarves you probably have in every color and call it something unheard of here…”Fall”.

Line Them Up To Knock Them Down,
Kevin

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