The Air That I Breathe

“You’re in L.A., man,” the blond host dude cajoles the visitor. “You’ve gotta try everything.” The New Yorker, unimpressed by the prospect of forking over $13 for a 20-minute hit of oxygen--no matter how “enriched”--exits. The blond host dude follows his charge out to Sunset Boulevard with an embarrassed shrug and an apologetic “Tourists . . . “ to those within earshot.

And so it goes at O2, the potentially trend-setting, description-defying oxygen bar/raw foods restaurant/herbalistic smoothie-serving West Hollywood hangout owned by hemp-proponent Woody Harrelson and a character who calls himself “Dr. D.” It’s not for everyone, this pure health scene, but those who do get it, love it. Dig the philosophy of Dr. D.: “Our ultimate goal is to change the perception of health from one that is work to one that is ultimately fun. And this bar is meant to be the clinic of the future, as well as the bar of the future, where you can heal while you party.”

The chic little rounded space kitty-corner to Tower Records features live deejays spinning a mix of exotic, electronic sounds and a predominantly Gen-X crowd slung out next to oxygen hookups, looking like Grandpa on his sickbed, if gramps had been 25 and terminally cool. Some enjoy the “free lunch with purchase of oxygen” special, and you’d be amazed at the number of ways to serve a zucchini. Others wash down a 2 a.m. hankering for organic carrot cake with an Orgy Smoothie, Love Laced Daiquiri or glass of Ozone Water (regular water with an extra hit of enriched air added to compensate for oxygen deprivation in smog-stressed L.A.).

The buzz is all-natural, babe, and the clientele refreshingly nonthreatening. Maybe it’s all that “enriched” oxygen floating around. Or maybe they just truly believe their T-shirt slogan: “Eat. Drink. Breathe. Love.” Or maybe it’s just hard to look all that condescending with an oxgen tube sticking out of your nose.

Speaking of which, I sucked on 40 minutes of “Clarity” (the air comes in six different blends of oils and oxygen). Matt Sinnett, the night manager, assured that it would help me focus, imbue me with vivid dreams and cut down my sleep time (no small boast; I love my sleep time). While unsure of its immediate effect as I sprawled out on the cushions inhaling, I did manage to finish that last tricky corner of the Friday New York Times crossword when I got home.

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O2, (310) 360-9002