Global Market

The trendiest shopping destination among stylists and fashionistas isn’t anywhere near Melrose Avenue or Beverly Boulevard. No, the place to be is Govinda’s, the gift shop at the Hare Krishna temple in Culver City, where you can buy a colorful silk ensemble that looks like something a Mogul princess would wear to her wedding--and for less than what you’d pay for a T-shirt on Rodeo Drive. No tourist would ever find this place, tucked away on a side street off Venice Boulevard, and the thrill of the shopping experience lies in discovering something few others know about--yet. On my first trip to Govinda’s, the riches within seemed all the more precious given that I had no idea such a treasure trove even existed. We hard-core shoppers, after all, have a touch of the conquistador in our blood.

“Shopping in Los Angeles is this endless adventure,” says Rob Campbell, author of “The Serious Shopping Guide: Los Angeles.” “You can be Marco Polo in a Miata here. I don’t think there’s any other city in the world where you find so much variety.”

Part of what makes L.A. a shopper’s paradise is that it is more of a buffet table than a melting pot. The ethnic groups that rub elbows here have each maintained a sense of cultural identity even as they integrate seamlessly when it comes to economics and education. Indians, Chinese, Koreans and other transplants have each created their own Mayberry within the metropolitan area, complete with a shop-lined Main Street where you can eat traditional cuisine and shop for authentic goods--goods that are more genuine, on occasion, than what you might find as a tourist in their countries of origin. Here are a few ideas for where to start.

Little India: A Visit to Oz

Western Europe was an achingly dull, drab place before Marco Polo brought back two things from the East: silk and spices. I try to imagine what he experienced the first time he walked into an Asian marketplace--the heady assault to his senses, and then the exhilaration as the taste and texture of his world changed forever. It must have been a bit like the moment when Dorothy woke from flat, gray Kansas into Technicolor Oz.

Speaking of Dorothy in Oz, I recently had a similar experience. When I returned to L.A. after two years of living in India, I was aware that there was a “Little India” in Artesia, but it sounded nearly as far away as Tamil Nadu. I never sought it out, thinking that, anyway, I’d already seen it all. Boy, was I wrong. When I finally made the trip this year, I was stunned. For starters, the $5 plate of food at a hole-in-the-wall place called Ambala Dhaba was the best meal I’ve eaten in all of Los Angeles, and as good as the food at my favorite restaurant in New Delhi. I soon found that the two-block stretch of Pioneer Boulevard that is the heart of Little India holds more quality goods to see, touch, smell and taste than I had found in all of Big India.

My first stop was Bangle Bazaar & Music Warehouse. Traditional Indian bangles are thin, bright-colored glass bracelets that Indian women wear stacked on their forearms, often mixed with bracelets made of precious metal. When a woman’s husband dies, she breaks all her bangles as a gesture of grief--surely one of the world’s more elegant and moving symbolic gestures.

You may have seen glass bangles popping up here and there in Melrose boutiques, sold in little bundles of three or four for $10 or more. But in India, bangles are considered disposable, and at Bangle Bazaar they’re properly sold in quantity--$3.99 for a dozen. You also can get CDs of Hindi popular music here, most of which sounds like a cross between Ravi Shankar and the Shirelles; it’s exuberant, cheerful freeway driving music.

Every woman in L.A. should have a silk sari to wear to parties when the weather is hot. Wearing a sari forces you to be graceful, and all that fabric offers distraction while you’re trying not to look bored during lulls in conversation. Tying one on is a bit like origami, but doable. Fashion Galleria has many silk saris for less than $50, which includes written instructions for tying, and a matching “blouse,” the tight-fitting, short-sleeved top without which a sari is pretty much useless as anything other than a tablecloth or a curtain. When you aren’t wearing your sari, you can drape it as a swag or valance over a curtain rod. My mother, who visited me in Calcutta, now has several of them hanging in her bedroom.

For handicrafts, linens and clothing with a slight hippie flavor--natural fiber textiles, cotton tunics and cute little spaghetti-strap tops sewn of sari fabric--Cottage Art has a superb collection at reasonable prices. Its jewelry is affordable, rustic, chunky and gorgeous, and the bedspreads and cushion covers are not to be missed.

Some of the best deals and discoveries in Little India are found in the nondescript shops between larger venues catering to Westerners, such as Cottage Art. One unassuming shotgun storefront carries voluminous hand-dyed scarves in silk and rayon and tab-top curtains made from sheer saris.

Sona Chaandi offers rack upon rack of salwar kameez--a suit made up of pants, a tunic and scarf that is the traditional north Indian costume, and which sophisticated Indian women, who dress to kill at all times, have adopted as career wear. The variations range from embroidered ensembles in crusted silk straight out of the Kama Sutra to a sequined one-shouldered blue crepe number with bell-bottomed pants that would be the envy of any backup singer in Las Vegas. We should all be this festive.

For accent pieces, Aly Mulji of Kirun Jewelers can fix you up with a traditional set of a 22-karat gold necklace and earrings so ornate they appear to have been crafted by an army of skilled fleas using flea-sized magnifying glasses. This is not to say that they’re small--just detailed. All of these pieces weigh enough to keep you from being blown away in a monsoon. Or a stock market crash: Necklace sets are investment-grade, and cost in the thousands. Mulji also offers jewelry that can be worn daily, such as drop earrings and pendants hung on a simple black silk cord for an attainable $100 to $800.

Cuzco by the Sea: Peruvian Artistry in Ventura

There is no Little Peru in L.A., but a short drive up the coast you can visit the studio of Hugo Ormachea, a third-generation jeweler from the ancient Inca capital of Cuzco. Until recently, his work was sold out of the storefront he and his wife, Bertha, share with his sister-in-law’s bead store, The Peruvian Bead Co., on Ventura’s Main Street.

Many of Ormachea’s regular customers come from the East Coast, having discovered him while vacationing in nearby Santa Barbara, but few Angelenos know that he exists. That might change, as he and his wife have rented the space next door to the bead shop and are opening an eponymous store, where he will work in an open studio.

Ormachea trained as an architect, and it shows. His rings, necklaces and earrings are a riot of colorful semiprecious stones arranged in gold and silver settings. The asymmetrical compositions are modern, sleek and delicate, but with an echo of the artist’s Inca and Spanish roots. Before my favorite Ormachea neckace was sold, I used to visit it every few weeks, admiring the long, thin needle of chalcedony--a bit like the spire of the Empire State Building--with tourmaline and diamonds hanging from a gold wire choker. Ormachea’s pieces are one of a kind, so I’ll have to learn to live with the fact that some stylish East Coast babe is now wearing my necklace.

Koreatown: For Trendy Girls With a Whole Lotta Seoul

In 1985, I bought an amazing Betsey Johnson suit that was a takeoff on the traditional Korean hanbok--the dress with the short jacket and voluminous skirt that begins just below the armpits and makes you look like one of the dancing flowers out of “Fantasia.” But beyond Korean weddings and special ceremonies these days, Korean women rarely wear the traditional dress. Indeed, a trip to the Koreatown Plaza shopping center on Western Avenue will leave you with the overwhelming impression that Korean Americans are exceedingly fond of Burberry and Gucci--and they are. There’s so much leather and plaid in this mall that it would be easy to miss a small store called Dalkis, which is filled with examples of Korean New Wave fashion.

Seoul is Asia’s new Milan, according to Korean club kids. Korea’s new fashion dominance is so new, in fact, that most Korean Americans haven’t heard of it. At Dalkis, you can see a selection of the clothes, shoes and bags du jour that Korean youths are wearing to nightclubs. Korea has a cold climate, and a lot of the fashions for sale at Dalkis seem to be derived from snowboarding gear, with an urban-Asian twist. They’re also priced on the high side, with jackets or pants in the $300 range. Also, unless you’re petite, this will be strictly a window-shopping expedition, but worth it, especially if you include a trip to the basement food court, where at least one restaurant is entirely devoted to dishes made of mushrooms.

Olvera Street: L.A.’s Best Tourist Trap

On my first trip to Olvera Street I ordered a taco from one of the stall eateries. I was served such a travesty of grease, iceberg lettuce and bland cheddar cheese that I vowed never to return to that strip of tourist flypaper. Then my friend Anne began raving about the shop where she bought her flamenco shoes, so back I went and discovered that Olvera Street is indeed an extremely charming tourist trap, with lots of treasures buried in the gaudy chaff. Silver jewelry hangs next to light-up yo-yos; an authentic velvet purse embellished with turquoise sits on a table next to $5 Raiders caps.

At Olverita’s Village I found the flamenco shoes, as well as some pretty, exuberant peasant dresses and a selection of lovely silver filigree hoop earrings and gold-plated pre-Columbian replica brooches and earrings. But my favorite finds were from Ramos Imports and cost $1 each: a miniature plastic woven grocery bag and a giant crepe-paper flower from Guadalajara. The flower is the perfect springtime accessory, a surreal boutonniere the size of a baby’s head or bigger, more alarming even than those big, droopy taffeta things Sarah Jessica Parker wore on her little Chanel jackets all through the third season of “Sex and the City.” It’s just the kind of unexpected treasure that makes adventure-shopping fun.

Leimert Park: The Florence of the African American Renaissance

When you walk into Ahneva Ahneva’s shop on West 43rd Place, you might notice a picture of the designer with former President Clinton. She has made him two tuxedos and has constructed magnificent outfits for a number of African American celebrities. Ahneva grew up in L.A., attended the Art Institute of Chicago and has been in business at the same location for 17 years. “I started with crowns and gowns,” Ahneva says, referring to the regal African-inspired formal wear you see upon walking into the store, and which can cost thousands of dollars.

Her clothes have the hallmarks of African dress--colorful fabrics and voluminous, flowing, architectural shapes--but with startling textures and classic lines. Imagine a cute little Jackie O dress and swing coat in white linen--but the coat is styled like something a tribal chieftain would wear, with a massive brocade shawl collar that gives the outfit a striking majesty. Or a fitted denim suit with panels of mud cloth--an outfit with a “chunky” tribal feel but a sleek and flattering silhouette.

The junction of West 43rd and Degnan Boulevard is dense with shops selling African imports and African American handicrafts from around the country. Culture Shock, next door to Ahneva Ahneva, carries a variety of imports. Around the corner on Degnan, Afrikan Colour Scheme has a huge selection of brightly colored imported clothing.

Zambezi Bazaar at 4334 Degnan is a two-story gift shop run by two sisters, Nzinga Kimbrough and Jackie Ryan, and their brother Alden Kimbrough. Alden stocks the upstairs bookstore/reading room with out-of-print tomes on black history, vintage back issues of Ebony magazine and the Black Panther Newspaper, as well as 78-speed recordings from artists such as Lena Horne and Bert Williams. Jackie specializes in African American greeting cards, and Nzinga has a particular interest in jewelry.

If you have a thing for really big earrings, a visit will provide an opportunity to grab the big brass ring--and I mean that literally. A pair of gold-dipped brass hoops with leaf-like shapes at least 5 inches in diameter, from the Fulani tribe of Mali, sell for $150 a pair. If they aren’t the biggest earrings you’ve ever seen, they’re certainly among the most beautiful--the hand-sized leaf-like shapes are delicate and fragile, as if just picked from some magical tree. Smaller versions go for less than $30. The store carries other shoulder-sweeping earrings in cow horn and mother-of-pearl. The designs are bold, graphic and would definitely up the ante on any deconstructed Comme des Garcons outfit. Zambezi also carries domestic designs, such as bamboo bracelets and colorful beaded earrings that incorporate cowrie shells and semiprecious stones, as well as pieces by other African American craftspeople.

Chinatown: Beijing Nights

There might not be many fabulous daytime outfits to buy in L.A.’s Chinatown, but opulent pajamas, robes and bed jackets are on offer--all of which can and should be considered evening wear, whether or not you’re leaving the house. The stores offer a tumult of silk tassels, ornamental bands and flashes of silk in shades of midnight blue, peacock teal, pomegranate, lava orange and lemon yellow, not to mention brocades shot through with gold and silver thread in patterns so complex they appear three-dimensional. A good place to start is Golden Dragon Gifts in the little mall with the wishing well. Once you have an idea of what you want, it can often be found cheaper at some of the wholesale/retail stalls on North Broadway. My Fashion and Top One Fashions both sell pajamas mixed in among the acrylic sweaters and other less charming items, and you can bargain.

On my first trip to Chinatown years ago, I bought a pair of tangerine satin pajamas with a mandarin collar and a floor-length robe in a heavy black and green brocade, intending to wear them out as an ensemble to cocktail parties and such. I never did--but only because I took to wearing them around the house day or night. I threw them in the wash repeatedly (did I mention that they’re wonderfully inexpensive?). The cuffs and collars frayed mildly, then reached a shabby-genteel stasis where they held up beautifully for years, as gorgeous as anything Nicole Kidman has worn to the Oscars and as comfortable as a sweat suit. There is something perversely healthy about being at your most fabulous and decadent when you are at home.

And, as long as you’re in Chinatown, consider beginning a collection of Chinese clay teapots, which are so small and precious--they’re almost like jewelry and are a perfect accessory to your pajamas. It’s best to use a different pot for each variety of tea, so collecting a number of them is justifiable.

There are other neighborhoods to explore, such as Thai Town in Hollywood and Little Saigon in Orange County, as well as countless unassuming storefronts peppered throughout the city, where exotic textiles and precious metals lie in troves, awaiting discovery. Chances are Aladdin’s lamp is somewhere in Southern California, lying in the back room of a gift shop in a mini-mall in Rancho Cucamonga or languishing in a basement in Westminster, perhaps even rolled up in a magic carpet. For the true shopping adventurer, finding it is half the fun.