PETER

Today I talked to Peter.

It’s a peaceful sunny day in Silver Lake. The cafés are crowded and everyone wants to seat outside. The neighborhood looks trendier than ever. Skinny jeans, funky hats, and moustaches.

I like it here. There is something European in the air.

The mission of the day is, of course, meet and talk to someone. But I would be really happy to find red earrings along the way. I have decided recently that I need red earrings to wear with my black and white 50’s dress.

I enter a shop attracted by colors in the window. There are vintage magazines, a collection of vintage cereal boxes, an authentic blackboard from a restaurant on the wall... Each object seems to have been chosen with care. At the far end of the store, dozens of earrings made of semi-precious stones are exposed on wire netting. And here they are, my red earrings! They are made of a bright red hoop with a red pearl that swings underneath. I love them.

“Is it a gift?” the salesman asks. “A gift to myself”, I answer. He smiles. That is Peter. He and his wife Donna are the owners of this gift shop called Serifos. She is the creator of the jewelry I just bought. But today she is out. Peter and I start to talk naturally.

I tell him about my blog and hand him a card. He is an active blog reader and seems to know more than I do about the subject. “I’m always impressed to see people do something and put it out”, he says. “I was so proud of my wife when she put her jewelry out”. He points towards her work. “The great thing about running a gift shop is that it’s a positive and fun place. People who come here are in a good mood. They’re doing something nice.” Peter likes helping people find the right thing for someone they love. “If you’re looking for something unique, you might find it here”.

A well-groomed man with a light green short-sleeved shirt and slicked hair enters. He is picking up a present. A strong and masculine smell fills up the place. “What is your perfume?” I ask the man. “Chrome”, he answers a little dumbstruck and proud at the same time. “I just got out of the shower”, he adds. Not many men still use perfume. It’s pretty old-fashioned but I like it. The man takes his purchase and leaves happily. The smell evaporates.

Something in the way Peter speaks and moves makes me wonder. “Are you an actor?” I ask. “I was in the last episode of Glee. I was the MC when they go to the championship”, he says. “That was fun to do but I don’t like talking about it too much”. Peter is a private and modest person. “We live in a strange world. People tell everything about themselves”, he adds.

We speak about what it means to be an actor in L.A. Peter thinks that a few of the actors love their art, but many only want to be famous. “They are completely self-centered, talk about them all the time because they got used to sell who they are, like you would sell a product”, he says. “They don’t talk about art, politics, or society”. He regrets how that impacts the image people have of his profession. “I think people got to hate actors because of that”. While he speaks, I’m filling pages in my notepad. “Are you writing about me? It’s way too much for the human race to know!” he says.

We go outside to take a picture in the sun. Then I take a quick glimpse at the picture. “Oh, no! Did you have your eyes closed?” I say spontaneously. “No, I’m Asian!” Peter laughs heartily. I feel bad. Why did I say that? Hopefully, Peter’s light-hearted and honest reaction saves me from any guilty feeling.

I want to take a picture of an object that represents the shop well. Peter hands me the Mister-T vintage cereal box. “This is the best one we have”, he says. I pick up the C-3PO one too.

During our conversation Peter speaks a few words in French. He can actually speak more than a few words. He spent three years in a school in Morocco. He loves ColCoa, the French film festival of L.A, and goes there every year. “It’s a different type of filmmaking. You get to be in France for two hours. You see the movie, and then you go home, have a baguette, cheese, and French wine. You extend the experience for one more hour.”

Two guys enter the shop. They are putting together an art-music festival in the street – The Silver Lake Jubilee - and are looking for sponsors. Peter is enthusiastic about their idea but can’t commit to be a sponsor. Even though he doesn’t express it, it’s in the air. Times seem tough and it would be a luxury to spend more money than you need.

I’m leaving. Peter promises to read my blog. I tell him that I hope I’ll be true to our encounter. He is totally confident. “I don’t worry too much about things I can’t control. It’s a little bit of oriental philosophy and another part of having, you know, crazy friends”.