Playing Fields

It could be called Beverly Hills High West, this Coffee Bean on the corner of Gayley and Weyburn in Westwood. It’s the unofficial meeting place of BHH students, especially on Friday nights, when they command the outdoor tables before and after some mega-party.

“ ‘Sup, Monique? Where’s your boyfriend?” a lanky teen asks as he sidles up to a gaggle of girls. The females sit five to a table, long straight hair parted in the middle, their soft pink faces dabbed with soft pink makeup. They share a fondness for black stretch bell-bottom pants and tummy-bearing T-shirt tops, despite the chilly evening breeze. Perhaps giggling makes them impervious to the weather.

Guys stand off to the side in their ultra-baggy pants, hems dirty from dragging on the ground. They pose and posture in their retro ‘50s bowling shirts, checking out a friend’s Japanese motorcycle, cigarette in one hand, the other shoved into a pocket.

No one ever seems to drink coffee.

Some other observations:

* As bad as they wanna be? Tough boys wear leather jackets--pricey ones from North Beach, giving the look of a rebel with a credit card.

* Adidas is the coveted sportswear logo, showing up on a girl’s black and white jacket and sneakers, and on a young man’s knit cap.

* Guys and girls never really mix, as in the awkward first hour of a school dance, but they are always keenly aware of each other’s presence.

* Nearly everyone has a beeper, the better to stay in touch with friends--and to let parents stay connected to their kids.

On the Green

Lawn bowlers look like a living poster for a perfect summer day in their icing-white clothes set against a backdrop of lush green foliage. On a recent weekday, members of Pasadena, Glendale, Santa Anita, Alhambra and Friendly Valley teams play in a tournament at Central Park, near Pasadena’s Old Town.

They’re happy to have observers but are quick to say the game is much more fun to play than to watch. And don’t think this is just a sport for the grandparent set: These lawn bowlers like to point out that it’s popular with young people as well.

White or cream clothing is required, and it’s interpreted myriad ways. Women favor boxy just-above-the-knee shorts and tennies with low socks. Tops are plain T-shirts or embroidered Jacquard blouses. Jewelry is small and tasteful: a delicate gold chain, small gold bracelet or tiny earrings. Men opt for pleated white pants or long shorts with polo shirts, long-sleeve button-downs or T-shirts. An occasional spot of color can be found in a pair of burgundy suspenders or embroidery on a shirt. And almost every man has a hat, be it a pith helmet, straw gambler, baseball cap or cotton golf hat. Most are embellished with an engraved name tag.

Lawn bowling isn’t a slow game, just a subtle one. Stick around for a while and you might catch:

* Small hand towels dangling from pockets and belt loops.

* Cases, lined up along the fence, that hold the wooden lawn bowls. They range from antique crocodile mini-suitcases to two-tone vinyl totes.

* Lawn bowlers love to talk about their sport almost as much as they love to play it. They’re proud to tell of its rich history, popularity around the world, dates of upcoming tournaments and the good friends they’ve made over the years.

* Players have various ways of coaxing the ball where they want it (without touching it, of course). They flap their arms, take hat in hand and wave that around, or talk to the ball: “Come on, come on! To the left! Just like the doctor ordered!”

In the Studio

The sweet-sad notes of Lorenzo Martinez’s guitarron waft up to the rafters of the Ma Gallery in Boyle Heights. He strums while artist Yolanda Gonzalez sketches his profile in pencil. “Face that way,” she admonishes him for the 10th time, then lets go of an infectious, ripe laugh.

The back end of Gonzalez’s gallery is her studio, where she not only paints but plays hostess to her friends: fellow artists, musicians and performers. It’s a modern salon without a trace of pretentiousness.

Her paintings are everywhere: on walls, propped on shelves and stacked on the floor, bold portraits done in intense colors. Their eyes seem to follow you as you gaze around the space, finding pin~atas hanging from rafters, carts holding half-filled jars of paints, a palette smeared with oils. Off to one side is a mini-shrine crammed with Day of the Dead figures, crosses, candles and other symbolic pieces. A small printed sign reads: “I am a creative genius.”

Gonzalez continues to sketch, her conversation gliding from English to Spanish. Martinez is soon joined by guitarist Juan Carlos Sorez--the two have been friends since high school. They begin to play together, an emotional ballad, and the combination of music and art is sublime.

* Gonzales is herself worthy of a portrait. Her sleek black hair, the bangs streaked gold, is piled atop her head. She wears a long black floral dress with a striped slip peeking out and impossibly high black patent leather platforms.

* Martinez is clad in a Panama hat and Sorez sports jeans and cowboy boots.