bLAg: Kamsahamnida

My first week back in LA after the holidays, I was really grumpy.

I had been home in New York for three great weeks: I'd seen my family, cooked up a couple of great meals, hung out with good friends, caught up with my cats, seen the premiere of Dreamgirls and, of course, had loads of blissful uninterrupted time with Jody.

All that changed the evening of Friday, January 5. I was back in LA, on my own again, and—what else?—oh yes, I had lost my glasses on the flight.

Just a pair of glasses, right?

Wrong.

They were a pair of effing expensive, magical glasses.

There are very few things in life I will actually go out and spend real money on. But Jody convinced me long ago that it's wise, especially for someone in my profession, to invest in well-made glasses that flatter me: I wear them often enough; it's important that I look and feel terrific in them.

And these glasses had been more than just some vanity pickup for me; I swear, they had gotten me jobs. I had a run of several auditions where I wore the glasses because I felt they helped create the look I was going for (all lawyer/techie/professional types), and I booked all of them.

Can a pair of glasses get you a job? I don't know, but I know that these babies seemed to be working for me.

So after moping through a few days of desolation and letting it really sink in that they weren't coming back (I called and emailed JFK, Burbank Airport, JetBlue, the car service that I took in Brooklyn and the friend that picked me up here—all to no avail), I finally set about replacing them.

First I called the Upper West Side store where I'd originally purchased them. Yes, they still had that model, and they could replace them—for $720. "Um, that price has really gone up," I said, and they replied that everything goes up, and I'd had a coupon last time. I talked them down to $660, but that was as far as they'd budge.

Grrr. I had the feeling I was paying more for the shop's Broadway address than for the glasses themselves. So I got the style name from them ("The Advocate") and set about finding a replacement pair in LA.

I started at the manufacturer's website and found that they listed all of the local stores which carried their specs: 59 locations in a 10-mile radius. And I began working my way down the list, calling the shops one by one. But nobody had them: the model was no longer in the catalog, I was told, it was an old style that was no longer à la mode. Did I want to see some other pairs? No, I did not.

After reaching about a dozen places and getting a bunch of "NOs" and one "We'll call you back," I decided to call the store's own flagship boutique. Success! They had a new shipment arriving in two days, and some "Advocate" frames would be included in it. I could get them, no problem—for only $530.

Well, $530 was certainly better than $720, so I decided to suck it up. I made plans to visit them later in the week to get the glasses fitted and ground. And hanging up the phone, I felt a little better: I'd have to shell out a bundle, but at least I had been able to find them.

And that would have been the end of it, except..... the shop that had said they'd call me back actually called me back!

I'd been a little leery of them. When they'd answered the phone it had been in what sounded like Chinese, and there had been a significant language barrier during our conversation. I'd kept saying "Advocate", and they'd thought I was saying "Avocado". So when they called back, I seriously doubted they could help me.

"We found Advocate!" the gentleman said.

Mmm hmm? "Advocate", not "Avocado"?

     Yes.

In brown?

     Yes.

In stock?

     Also yes!

And I could get the frames, lenses, anti-glare coating, the works—everything I needed—for $380! Almost half off the original New York price.

When I first drove over, I got spooked again: the shop, smack in the middle of LA's Koreatown (so that's what they were speaking!) was renting space on the ground floor of a monolithic, windowless building that clearly had originally housed some entirely different kind of business. They had strung a big tarpaulin sign to one parking lot wall to announce their store's presence. There was no English to be seen anywhere in their parking lot except for the handicapped sign:

Then there was the sign that said something like (I'm guessing here): "These parking spots for tenants of 2880 West Olympic Boulevard ONLY...Violators will be towed!"

But inside, they were incredibly nice, and incredibly professional; plus, they threw in a free eye exam, and updated my prescription. And the glasses were ready two days before they said they would be. I just picked them up on Friday.

Awesome. I've got my mojo back.

So, to Jake and Julie, and the entire staff at 1001 Optical I'd like to give a very heartfelt "thanks"; or as you would say, "kamsahamnida":