Eleanor Moran’s LA Diary – Day 3! by Eleanor Moran
Welcome to Part 3 of Eleanor Moran’s LA Diary, written exclusively for Books and the City. Eleanor Moran’s novel A Daughter’s Secret is out this July.
It’s Mother’s Day in the US today and, as with all things, our transatlantic cousins like to do it bigger and better than us. This is a picture of my favourite bag store, which had been swamped by a huge florist’s table yesterday (I still managed to make a sneaky purchase round the side of the tulips). Today in Hollywood I saw a woman with her husband and two sons all wearing matching orange polo shirts emblazoned with ‘Team Sharon’. She looked mightily pleased with herself.
There’s been an unexpected cold snap here and some days it’s felt more like February in Woking than in May in Los Angeles. Unbelievably, someone stole my trench coat from the Chateau Marmont and I’ve been reduced to wearing an enormous brown cardigan, that makes me look like Richard Briers in ‘The Good Life’, which I have to whip off at lightning speed when I sit down with the next impossibly groomed, pin-thin American TV executive. I’m still struggling not to squeak like a squirrel who’s had its paw reversed over by a truck when they say ‘George’, as in George Clooney, without skipping a beat. Here is my cardigan, in all its brown woolly glory, in this poorly framed selfie.
Finally, though, the sun came out today so I read a couple of scripts for my meetings tomorrow lying flat on my back with a revoltingly virtuous green juice by my side. This is the sign by the pool. It is not ironic. When the sun went in, I fell prey to the desire to have a bit more Kevin (he of the Angel Cards) in my life and he very sweetly drove out to my hotel with his massage table. Then I had a complete panic when I told the front desk that I had a masseuse coming in case they thought I ‘had a masseuse coming’ – Kevin is incredibly buff and muscular, so he doesn’t exactly undo that impression when he arrives. They haven’t thrown me out, so hopefully I’m in the clear.
I finished my weekend with dinner with friends in Beverly Hills – at 5.30 pm. I love Californians but many of them keep similar schedules to toddlers. I was home by 8 pm, which is lucky because I still have a script I have to read for the morning (my first meeting’s at 8 – like I say, Californians are like toddlers). Until then…