Why I Keep Going Back to LA
It's not just for the croissants
After a magical flight, which consisted of a Delta Comfort Plus exit row seat, perfect bandwidth WiFi, and an Ess-A-Bagel from the Capital One Lounge, I touched down in Los Angeles, my home for the next three days. Still on a high from my productive & comfortable flight, I checked in on the Alamo Car Rental app, flashed my QR code for immediate car access, and bypassed 14 less tech-savvy individuals waiting in a clump, inches from the booth, as if their physical proximity to an attendant would make their car appear.
I made one stop to pick up essentials, which consisted solely of Gatorade Zero Cucumber Lime and Zero Sugar Monster Energy, before checking into my Airbnb. I was the first guest at this newly built add-on unit in Culver City, relying on the host’s 4.91 rating from other listings. Struggling with the key for a minute, I realized the door handle needed to be held up while turning it, and I was finally in the unit, with its new appliances, walk-in closet, and a beautiful loft with a queen-sized bed and TV.
Starving, I walked to Little Dynamite, just three minutes away, which was saved on my Google Map, meaning it was either featured on a list, in the old YouTube show Worth It, or visited by foodbaby. Nine dollars and ten minutes later, I finished the half I had cut for myself, then dove into the other half. How silly I was to portion out this pizza slice. I worked for a few hours before winding down with a yoga class and a bag of fried veggie chips from the Capital One Lounge. By 8:15, I was asleep, fully knocked out for almost ten hours, no snoring husband or acrobatic cat to wake me.
Fortified and fueled by sleep, I took Friday by storm, with a Pilates class, a visit to Lodge Bread for a croissant, and a four-hour in-person work session with a client in Manhattan Beach. I ended the day with a mani/pedi and a solo dinner of chips and guac at Madre.
Thinking I had another great night of sleep ahead, I let myself stay up until 10 P.M., only to rise at 2:58 A.M., with no hope of falling back to sleep, even though I tried. Three cups of Keurig coffee and five Substack posts later, I hopped in the car and arrived 45 minutes before the 8 A.M. opening of Petitgrain Boulangerie, having read that lines can get long. I was the first to arrive, but by 7:45, 20 people were lined up behind me.
I bought a pistachio croissant for myself and an assortment of other goodies to bring to my friend later that day. One bite into the pistachio croissant and my shoulders slumped in that combined feeling of tasty goodness in the moment, while knowing the moment wouldn’t last forever. After two bites, I put the croissant away to head to my free fitness class at Fitstop, one of the hardest classes I’ve done since my fibula break.
Now awake for almost seven hours, my adrenaline-fueled body drove to Zibby’s Bookshop, a bucket list item after hearing Zibby Owens’s great podcast interviews with authors. The morning proceeded with me driving around to Little Free Libraries and enjoying the sunshine before my eight-hour marathon friend session with Radhika. Luckily, my minimal sleep would pair well with her jet lag from her trip to India. Fueled by our deep connection to each other and desire to make every minute count, we dined, we shopped, we ate pastries, and we laughed until it hurt.
I fell asleep easily that night, with a 6 A.M. wakeup call to drive down to San Diego for a day of visiting friends and meeting clients for dinner. Putting the key back into the key box of my Airbnb, I felt grateful for my three days of LA fun, but also felt the need to bottle it up to take with me.
You see, I love LA Kerry. She’s got an energy, a smile, a vibe that feels infectious. And therapy Kerry wanted to get to the bottom of why LA Kerry is so happy. Only someone in therapy can’t simply accept happiness, but must instead understand the root cause in order to scale that happiness.
At first, I attributed my happiness to the weather, that guaranteed sunshine. But that feels so basic to say, so uninspired. When I told this to my LA-dwelling friend, he said, “It is not the weather itself you love—it is that everything is better because of the weather.” And that is so true! Dining, shopping, and even a workout are all better when the weather is great.
Maybe it is the food scene I loved, but I almost immediately dismissed that reason. LA has so many great bakeries, Asian food, Mexican food — everything you want, really, just like New York. I didn’t love LA because of the food scene, but rather, when I’m in LA, I can eat as well as I do in New York.
If it’s not the weather or the food that makes LA Kerry shine, what is it?
I thought back to my first LA trips. My first ever trip was when I was representing my law school at a college fair. I had dinner with old friends from a summer job, laughing our faces off for two hours straight. And then I dined alone at a Top Chef restaurant, The Gorbals. I didn’t see a lot of the city, but I enjoyed myself.
My next trip was with my direct report, Tanja, to meet with her clients. We stayed at Le Meridien Delfina Hotel in Santa Monica, where I found myself at the pool every day at 4:30, drinking rosé and eating the free snack mix. We worked out together every morning, losing our minds when a spin instructor kept yelling “get up and sprint!”, and laughing at our inability to walk up the stairs after a CrossFit class. We had so much fun that we questioned whether we were working. We both ended that trip feeling more like friends than colleagues. LA was our turning point. Ten years later, we’re still great friends.
My third LA trip was where I got my LA fairy dust. After 13 months in lockdown, living with just my husband and our cat or just my mom and her cats, I was desperate to be alone. Double vaccinated, my friends and I booked a trip to LA to eat our way across the city. I decided to go early, alone. I rented a tiny studio ADU in Venice Beach, walking distance to Abbott Kinney. With a Murphy bed and an alcove for a desk, I actually called it mi casa, even though I wasn’t planning to live there forever. I barely slept those first nights because I was so excited to be able to do what I wanted, awake for it as much as possible.
Each morning would start with a 6 A.M. call with my EST colleagues, followed by a mid-morning workout and an afternoon alone on the beach, journaling. The prior thirteen months consisted of losing my dad, buying my first home, getting married, prepping my Mom to move, and so many other big moments that made me feel like I had lived a thousand lives. To finally escape on my own and let the jumbled thoughts in my brain come out on the page, at a restaurant bar indoors, or while watching reruns of The O.C. at midnight felt so needed. I could have done this anywhere, but I did it in LA, when the sun shone brightly.
So why does LA make me so happy? The sunshine, the food, and the memories make it a special place for me. But really, it’s that deep, persistent feeling of freedom that I experience every time I return to LA. It pulls me out of my routine and puts me in a place where I can do some deep thinking. I can be alone, chase fun, spend time with friends, and I feel free.
Don’t get me wrong—it’s not like NY is a prison for me. But it holds all of the shoulds, all of the to-dos, all of the hustle.
LA loosens me in a way that any place I could live permanently could never do. I could move there for the sunshine and the food, but I wouldn’t feel the freedom anymore. Instead, I’ll continue to troll Airbnb for the cutest spots to stay when I visit, when I need that taste of freedom.
When you find happiness, find your why so you can hold onto it, replicate it, and cherish it.