Los Angeles Times - 07.09.2019

Coffee: Bloom & Plume (Filipino-

town)

Walk: Tree People/ Coldwater

Canyon Park (Beverly Hills)

Shop: Mohawk General Store

(Silver Lake, Santa Monica)

Gallery: Institute of Contemporary

Art (Downtown)

Bookstore: Book Soup (West

Hollywood)

Bar: O’Brien’s (Santa Monica)

Best of Maer

Roshan’s L.A. ...

with a nod to Los

Angeles magazine

Neighborhood: Downtown Arts District (Downtown)

Arkasha StevensonLos Angeles Times

Museum: Huntington Library

Exhibition Archive (Pasadena)

Kelsey DlelhantyAP

Hidden Spot: The Underground

Museum (Arlington Heights)

Jay L. ClendeninLos Angeles Times

Restaurant: Bavel

(Downtown)

Mariah TaugerLos Angeles Times

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HOME & DESIGN

and people that matter in this city.” Of
course the institutions and people that
matter in a place as sprawling and balka-
nized as Los Angeles depend on whom you
ask — or, more to the point, where you ask
— but Roshan insisted that stories like the
one on Sheriff Villanueva “have a payoff
that people will be interested in whether
they’re living on the Westside or the East-
side.”
As a monthly, Los Angeles depends on
its website for the currency Roshan cov-
ets. He has doubled the daily content of
the site, expanding its pool of contributors
and ramping up video coverage to “drive
the conversation,” whether it be politics or
entertainment or fashion. According to
Josef Vann, the publisher of Los Angeles,
web traffic is up 60% over last year.
In the interest of making both its online
and print editions “more lush, more visu-
al, but also smarter-looking and more
modern-looking,” Roshan recently hired a
new art director, Ada Guerin, the former
creative director of TheWrap. Whether
such changes are enough to buoy the mag-
azine through the turbulent digital age is
anyone’s guess.
“I’m glad I’m not in the business of
putting out a city magazine these days,”
said Kurt Andersen, author of “Fantasy-
land: How America Went Haywire: A 500-
Year History” and onetime editor in chief
of New York, where in 1994 he hired
Roshan as a senior editor. “But it’s not like
the DVD business. I think there’s probably
more of a reason — that digital has not
made obsolete — for a beautifully pro-
duced magazine about a place like Los An-
geles to exist than there is for lots of other
magazines to exist.”
Another former boss of Roshan’s is
convinced that he’s more than equal to the
task at hand. “I’m so happy to see him land
in a place where he can really show what
he can do,” said Tina Brown. “Maer is truly
one of the most talented editors I know.
Even when he was at Radar, plagued by a
lack of funds, he always managed to make
a splash.”
One thing about making a splash is
that it sometimes involves a fall. In the
Radar years, when Roshan struggled to
put out issues as the economy tanked and
investors bailed, he developed a serious
drinking problem. After the publication
folded, he was in and out of rehab, ulti-
mately getting sober at a hard-line facility
in North Hollywood called Cri-Help. He
went on to launch the Fix, an addiction

and recovery news website. He’s a sur-

vivor, in other words, primed for self-rein-

vention, much like the magazine he now

runs.

Well-traveled

As a boy, Roshan spent his summers

with his paternal grandparents, who

moved to Los Angeles in 1982. His favorite

activity was walking from their place on

Beverly Glen to Rodeo Drive, not to shop

— although he remembers buying a tie

from Bijan once, for his father — but to

people-watch. (His father, who escaped

from Iran on horseback several years after

the rest of the family emigrated, died in

1991.) His mother and two brothers have

lived in L.A. for years. Roshan himself

moved here in 2014 — making it official last

year the way ex-New Yorkers do, by belat-

edly selling his apartment in the city.

He has lived in Venice, Brentwood and

Hollywood. Not long ago, wanting to be in

a more pedestrian-friendly neighborhood,

he leased an apartment on the eastern

fringe of Silver Lake. Roshan is no home-

body. Town & Country recently named

him one of L.A.’s “most coveted guests” —

although he’s as likely to hit an after-hours

club downtown as a fete for the new Indo-

nesia consul general here. But on a warm

Saturday night three weeks after he

moved to Silver Lake, he threw a small

housewarming party.

His 1950s-era triplex is camouflaged by

noirish vegetation — giant birds of paradi-

se, fan palms, topiary bushes chain-sawed

into vaguely menacing amoebic forms.

Aretha Franklin’s lush rendition of “(Your

Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and

Higher” wafted from inside, and guests

balancing drinks and plates of sushi

spilled out onto the small front porch. The

guest list comprised a mixed bag — film-

makers, friends from AA, at least one ex-

boyfriend. One-half of the Maerettes was

there (Sue Campos had injured her leg).

Roshan was in the living room — a

sparely furnished space containing noth-

ing more personal than a framed Calder

poster — deep in conversation with a writ-

er about QAnon, the right-wing conspira-

cy theory whose adherents were claiming

that Jeffrey Epstein’s arrest confirmed the

existence of a child sex trafficking ring run

by deep-state liberals.

In the kitchen, a millennial (or was he a

youthful Gen Xer?) who had recently tak-

en a job at Goop, Gwyneth Paltrow’s life-

style brand, was describing the balmy cor-

porate culture of “kombucha breaks and

chakra readings.” Roshan poked his head

in. “Does she have a sense of humor?” he

asked. You could almost see his story an-

tennae vibrating overhead. The millennial

said that Paltrow could indeed be funny,

as evidenced by the self-deprecating face

cream video she had just made, the one

that had received over 22,000 views on

YouTube.

It so happened that 20 years earlier al-

most to the day, Roshan had boarded a

ferry to Liberty Island to attend a launch

party for Talk magazine thrown by Tina

Brown and Talk cofounder Harvey Wein-

stein. The glittery event — guests included

Henry Kissinger, Madonna and George

Plimpton, who put on a fireworks show —

was billed as a celebration of the “synergy”

between old media and new. Now Wein-

stein is awaiting trial on charges of preda-

tory sexual assault, the internet has deci-

mated print, and magazine parties occur

on apartment stoops instead of under the

Statue of Liberty. Given how much the

media landscape has changed, I asked

Roshan, what was his perspective on the

terrain ahead?

“It is what it is,” he said, moving to the

stair landing outside the kitchen to light a

cigarette. “People can just go out and have

a platform now with videos and podcasts.

There’s still good writing and good stories.

I love podcasts, by the way.”

He spoke of the importance of a “multi-

tiered” approach to magazine publishing,

of “packaging” the print edition of Los An-

geles with its website (including videos

and podcasts) and events and one-off is-

sues. He said the magazine would soon be

putting out a special Mandarin edition,

catering to L.A.’s large Chinese presence.

He stooped to stub out his cigarette

butt on the landing, supporting his bad

back with one hand. Above him, a sprin-

kling of stars — L.A.’s own pyrotechnics —

glimmered in the murky night.

ROSHAN, left, who sold his N.Y. apartment last year, relaxes at his Silver Lake triplex with friend Wayne Nathan.

‘I’m so happy to see him

land in a place where he

can really show what he

can do.’

—TINABROWN,

who worked with Roshan on Talk magazine

[Roshan,from F6]

T

he many lovely spaces that

surround me are con-

stantly trying to seduce me

into sitting down to read.

There’s that big chaise

longue in the living room, the one right

in front of the window nook, which

never stops reminding me what a

perfect spot it is for a lone reader. The

worn red sofa in my rustic writing

cabin is equally insistent. “Over here,”

it whispers, reminding me how pleas-

ant it would be to read a good book

while surrounded by my favorite ob-

jects: drawings by friends, antique

toys, huge shelves filled with books. My

bed, with its bucolic view of distant

mountains, is another cozy spot, and

it’s always suggesting I lie down for a

little read. And have I mentioned the

enormous bathtub on the edge of the

forest? Reading in the tub, I might

look up to find inquisitive deer peering

in at me, and on one memorable day I

was startled by an enormous moose

strolling into the woods.

I appreciate their efforts, but I

rarely succumb. These days I do most

of my reading on the move.

I grew up lonely, an only child in a

small New York apartment. From the

moment I learned to read, my life was

transformed. Books offered me a kind

of magic, allowing me to step out of my

own reality and inhabit someone else’s

for a while. I became a slave to fiction.

My passion for reading only increased

with age, and while I am often embar-

rassed by my desire to indulge in huge

feasts of fiction — shouldn’t I be read-

ing books that improve my mind? — as

far as addictions go it’s fairly benign.

I used to read in all the expected

places. Then audio books came along

and everything changed. Suddenly the

reading possibilities were expanded

beyond my wildest childhood dreams.

Now I read everywhere. I read while

I’m driving. I read while I’m walking. I

read on the subway and on those inter-

minable marches through the airport.

I read in the supermarket, while stock-

ing up on groceries, and in the kitchen

when concocting a stew. I read in the

middle of the night, curled up in the

dark with my husband beside me and

the cats purring at the foot of the bed.

And were I the sort of person who goes

to the gym, I’d certainly put in my

earbuds and read while working out.

So I eschew all those perfect little

spaces in my house. My secret reading

spot is a banged-up 11-year-old car

covered in the dust of the dirt road on

which I live. There are almost 150,000

miles on this vehicle, and every one of

them has unspooled in the company of

an audiobook.

Perhaps you consider this cheat-

ing? Listening, I know, is different than

reading, but I cannot think of a single

way that I’d rather spend time. Being

read to is a special treat: In the hands

of a talented reader a great book be-

comes even more magnificent.

I love listening so much that when

I’m in the middle of a really wonderful

novel I will find any excuse to climb

into my car and run off to do errands.

It may look like I’ve just grabbed my

keys for a trip to the cleaners, but the

truth is I can’t wait to head back into

Claire Lombardo’s world. “The Most

Fun We Ever Had” is a remarkable

first-time novel offering such an inti-

mate picture of people’s interior lives I

feel as if every one of these characters

is now a close friend. Lombardo has

the remarkable ability to delve into

people’s minds so deeply that the most

quotidian moments become utterly

fascinating. I will be very sad when this

book is over; I’m just not prepared to

say goodbye.

Happily, another good book is

waiting in the wings. Next up: Sally

Rooney’s “Normal People.” I’m pretty

sure it will also send me off on many

unnecessary errands.

Ruth Reichl’s most recent memoir is

the bestselling “Save Me the Plums.”

READING NOOK

Behind

the wheel

to feast

on a book

By Ruth Reichl

RUTH REICHL’Sgetaway place:

her car, listening to audiobooks.

Michael Singer