Long Live the ‘70s!
The Place: Hollywood Moguls (an art space, performance space, screening room and cafe), 1650 N. Hudson Ave., Hollywood; (213) 465-7449.
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Atmosphere: Arty. This huge converted warehouse exudes a loftlike feel. Original artwork adorns the walls. Vintage lamps light cliques huddled in cushioned booths or couples perched on tall bar stools. They might order Italian sodas, coffees, artichoke dips, mashed potatoes or garlic bread.
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Serving Up Style: Male servers with neat ponytails or messy neo-hippie hair wear sweet, open expressions, plaid lumberjack shirts, jeans and heavy boots. Female servers adopt a ‘70s retro look: bead and shell chokers, long navy tops pulled over hip-huggers, long tresses parted down the middle and, in a nod to the early ‘80s, streaked with blond in the front.
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Customer Themes: Arty earnestness prevails. Reverent film buffs emerge hushed from screenings, blinking quietly behind the thick-framed, thick-lensed “nerd” glasses that are now hip. Others emerge speaking fervently in foreign accents and wearing brown leather jackets and black jeans. Acoustic-instrument fans in squashed ‘50s rain hats (with plaid bands) and dusty thrift-shop trench coats devotedly listen to the atonal rhythms of duets. French-waif types sit solo at the counter in their neat berets; striped, snug sweaters, and trim “Laura Petrie” pants. Or keep their distance from verbally assaultive performance artists while wearing puffier berets, ‘70s-style palazzo pants and long halter tops.
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Hair Apparent: Gleaming, shaved-clean bald heads; long, tangled tresses parted in the middle (men and women) and topped with little knit caps; tightly wound, teensy dreadlocks worn only on the crown and sometimes dyed yellow--as in the case of longtime scenester and semi-permanent Moguls denizen Tequila Mockingbird. Neatly trimmed goatees. Lacquered bobs for the painted mannequin look.
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Accessories: Chokers; Latin American fabric “wish” bracelets tied loosely; knit caps; oversized opal rings--to flash while pointing out the continuity discrepancies between cult films “Eegah” and “Face of Terror”; African good luck shells in bracelets, necklaces and hair clips; events programs, cigarettes.
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Cardinal Rule: If thou trieth to enter on the night of a private party, thou shalt nervously approach any person in the lobby and sayeth: “I’m on the list”--even if thateth person doth not know whateth you’re talking about.
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Observations: A multifacetedness spills over from the space’s eclectic events to the employees. The curly locked, sweet-faced young man who runs one of the film series also mans the projector, oversees espresso, tinkers with the sound system and even fixes customers’ broken jewelry. “Here,” he said one night, handing back a young woman’s troubled faux pearl bracelet. “It was the flexing--it should work now.”
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Overheard: “I don’t want to interrupt you guys--but when that guy sneezed, he simultaneously pulled his earlobe.”