Follow the Yellow Brick Road…to The Edison

Local Tourist at The Edison with a bottle of pomegranate "absinthe"

It’s been quite a while since a post and I don’t even know where to begin. The Edison, Grilled Cheese Invitational, more food truck visits, another Downtown Art Walk, The Foundry on Melrose, Coupa Cafe, Yamashiro Farmers Market, and the list goes ON.

I also updated my website with more recent articles I wrote for EAT:LA, LA Downtown News, Pasadena Weekly, and Pasadena Magazine.

I’ve been busy logging enough hours on the computer to finally earn me one-armed “mild carpal tunnel” status. A finger tingles on my braced right hand as I type this on my new ergonomic keyboard, whilst sitting in my new office chair designed for intensive use, aka hours of sitting. Who needs to save for Local Tourist escapades when I can take a lavish trip to Office Depot? Sorry I have no photos to share.

It would be grand to get paid for blogging too to help support my typing habit. Anyone out there interested in helping the cause? [insert cutesy emoticon here] I’m just one of countless writers injured in the line of duty.

Another reason for my blog absence? Photos are such a big part of sharing my Local Tourist adventures, but looking through and editing the hundreds of new photographs I can take within a week or two is time-consuming to say the least. I love it, but it can be a black hole of time when I meticulously analyze whether a photo needs more color boost or antique shading. I know, it’s a travesty comparable to the BP oil spill. Kill, Baby, kill.

And, admittedly, I have yet to explore enough and figure out how to post more than one photo at a time on this blog–gradually overcoming some of my technologically-challengedness–so posting the necessary and slaved-over snapshots individually is another hourglass on its last grains of sand.

I picture the hourglass from “The Wizard of Oz” that the wicked witch puts in the room with Dorothy to count down the moments before she will be killed.

That red sand made it even more ominous, the red foreshadowing possible bloodshed. I swear, I’m not that morbid. I hate gory films. If anything, my relating of an hour glass to “The Wizard of Oz” is a testament to my pop culture junkie status. I will get theme songs to TV shows I haven’t watched in over a decade stuck in my head. Some recent tunes on the mental jukebox include the themes from “My Two Dads” and “Reading Rainbow”. Anything but the Lamb Chop theme song. And I’ll be considerate enough to not post a link to that one. Though I always found the puppets insanely adorable. I wanted Lamb Chop and Hush Puppy as pets. Okay, I still do.

Anyway, I am trying to keep in mind that even if I only have time to post something small, that is better than nothing. I like being thorough and can be a perfectionist, but a blog is meant to be updated, and I explore so much that fairly frequent updating is necessary.

I can feel conflicted about spending so much time at the computer reflecting on adventures I just had when I often want to be out having new ones. But sharing adventures is sometimes part of their excitement, even though the cyber sharing process is in itself solitary. Can you tell I tend to analyze things?

One of my favorite examples is when people proclaim on their facebook status that they are “SO busy!” yet apparently not too busy to be on facebook. Yours truly has been guilty of this from time to time. It seems there’s a special time compartment for facebook, no matter how busy you are. It’s like being full yet still having room for dessert. We’re resourceful beings.

After following that winding yellow brick road, we’ve arrived at another Local Tourist stop: The Edison. A couple months ago I was excited to go to The Edison for a friend’s birthday. I’d actually been planning to go there the week after since I’d wanted to go for about a year and a half so this was fortunate timing. At last I could travel back to the 20s in this large, underground, former power plant in the heart of Downtown.

I expected a snooty velvet rope scene, but was told to arrive early to avoid a line. It was a Friday night around 9 p.m. and I don’t know if I’d ever seen Downtown so dead. Granted, 9 p.m. is early for nightlife, but it’s still Downtown. I think I’d grown accustomed to being there around rush hour. A girlfriend and I drove through fairly vacant streets, got a spot at a nearby lot and didn’t even wait in line. Also, no cover charge, which is greatly refreshing, especially at a place that sells pricier drinks. The bouncer gave us a little attitude, asking if we were there with a party. We mentioned our friend’s name, but since there was no line, it was early, and my friend and I looked fairly fierce–I even busted out my era-appropriate sequined feathered headband–I assume he was just trying to make The Edison look uber exclusive. Whatever.

The Edison’s site emphasizes a strict, upscale dress code, yet I saw people wearing jeans and really casual outfits I wouldn’t even wear to a regular dance club, let alone one celebrating the old world glamour of the 20s. Most of the clientele were well-dressed though.

I soaked in the opulent scene. Screens playing old films, rooms decked out with comfortable vintage-y furniture and decor, jazz standards wafting through the air. It was as magical as I’d imagined it.

"The Edison" cocktail. Photo by Local Tourist

My new favorite drink just may be “The Edison”, their signature, comforting cocktail of Bourbon, pear cognac, honey, and fresh grated cinnamon.

A green fairy peddled whimsical bottles of–what else?–absinthe, flavored and regular. I tried a pomegranate bottle which must have had very little, if any, alcohol in it since I’m a lightweight and wasn’t affected at all. Thankfully, I wasn’t the one out ten dollars for a few swigs of pomegranate juice since friendly Dutch businessmen treated a couple of my friends and I to the drink of our choice. I hardly ever talk to men at a bar or club, but they had a classy, non-threatening demeanor that matched the surroundings. No harassment or attempts at bumping and grinding, thank goodness.

The Green Fairy's absinthe potions. Photo by Local Tourist

Speaking of dancing, one of my favorite activities when I’m not intensively using my office chair, the music transitioned to more modern dance songs but it was a pretty random mix of songs that were either popular and danceable, mediocre, or too slow. It felt at times like the DJ just hit shuffle and didn’t create a list intended to get people excited on the dance floor. I’ve experienced worse dance scenarios, but a popular Downtown club should have higher standards for its DJs.

Overall, I adored The Edison and would go back in a heartbeat, especially for happy hour. I love that LA has a place to embrace the 20s, not just people in their 20s who ascribe to the meat market mentality of many clubs. Granted, scantily-clad women perform at The Edison, contorting on bars or near the dance floor. But I’ll take the risk of possibly revising 20s history and say the burlesque performances were more for art sake. We’ll likely claim the same about Britney Spears when we’re lamenting society’s corruption 50 years from now.

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