Abbot Kinney is only a 10-minute walk from Venice Beach, but it somehow feels much farther. The ocean breeze doesn’t reach that far. You can’t hear the waves. Instead of the smell of the Pacific Ocean, inscrutable scents spill out of tiny, high-end boutiques.
So much is crammed into that half-mile stretch, running from Venice to Westminster, yet you’d be hard-pressed to find a swimsuit, much less a surfboard. You’ll sooner find a $200 wool poncho than a $12 pair of flip-flops. You won’t see Harry Parry, in his white turban, Rollerblades and bull’s-eye Stratocaster; you’re more likely to spot Tim Robbins riding his bicycle down the sidewalk, as I did one unseasonably hot winter’s afternoon, dressed head to toe in black, including a black beanie, like a cat burglar.
-via LA Weekly