Just going through a phrase

THERE IS a magical phrase that attempts to encapsulate all of Southern California life in four syllables. You’ve probably heard it before: “That’s so L.A.”

“That’s so L.A.” has crept into the vernacular of every Angeleno, native or transplant. I first heard it one night at an ultra-chic, ultra-dark Santa Monica bar. Pointing to the oversized sunglasses worn by one of the bar’s ultra-hip patrons, a friend said: “That’s so L.A.” As I squinted to see the culprit, I became intrigued by another knowing expression that I did not know. And when my 40-year-old, mother-of-two cousin joked that it was “so L.A.” of me not to return her phone calls, I knew I was on to something. (I have to remember to call her back and tell her that.)

So what exactly does this declaration mean? I began to investigate. Newcomers use it mostly to confirm stereotypes: Traffic on the 405 is “so L.A.” Inability to drive in the rain is “so L.A.” Crazy people on Venice Beach -- you get the point. Others had a more nuanced understanding of the phrase. It was “so L.A.,” somebody explained to me, to think that we nobodies were as important as the real somebodies in Los Angeles we all pretend to ignore.

Natives, however, take a less jaundiced view. A mohawked teen said it was “so L.A.” to be and feel different without fear of prejudice. A migrant father said it was “so L.A.” to have the opportunity to give his children a better chance to succeed.

For some, it seemed more like a bill of privileges. The privilege of skiing and surfing in the same weekend. The privilege to grumble when the weather dipped below 67. The privilege of having our mayor on the “George Lopez” show.

For others it was just a bill. I heard numerous stories of large cars with even larger rims, flatter TVs, smaller iPods. One Pacoima family was worried about being able to afford safe, decent housing. Another self-proclaimed shopper said she knew she was “so L.A.” because she was swimming in L.A.-sized debt.

These conversations deepened my appreciation for my hometown. I was amazed all over again at Disney Hall, indulged myself yet again at Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles.

Yet I also became newly aware of its need for change. How this patchwork of a city is as diverse as it is segregated. How natural disasters such as earthquakes and floods unite us, and man-made controversies such as the riots and the O.J. trial tend to do the opposite.

I now realize that “so L.A.” is so very misguided. After my chats, the term seems more like the white flag of surrender than any kind of cultural commentary. Everything can be “so L.A.”! Now when I hear that some one or some place or some thing is “so L.A.,” I think, well

Ryan J. Smith