The year that Ray Ban took over Sunset Junction

Started off at my friend Monica's house in Echo Park where we indulged in her special Master Cleanse Cocktail (lemon juice, cayenne pepper and vodka) and I chatted to two L.A. Times writers ("come visit us on the Third Floor!" they said, upon hearing of Metromix's imminent move to the Times building).

 Then we started trudging our way down Sunset Blvd. with our friend Matt Slovick, aka the original eXtreme Elvis of San Francisco, known for his naked and occasionally scat-tinged stage portrayals of the King. Matt had with him a portable water mister, most useful in the oppressive heat.

We arrived at the festival and saw a huge line snaking from the entrance. Then we walked right to  the front, waving our press wristbands in the air and yelling "suckahs!" to all around. Not really. But we did walk right in, these being the benefits of being an esteemed member of the press.

2007 was the year that Ray Ban took over Sunset Junction. Literally every second or third human was sporting a pair, with frames in various shades of pink, red or Pollock. We saw a handful of skinny jeans in bright colors. And lots and lots of Indian-style leather sandals. There was the expected proliferation of neon fanny-packs although really, this look is getting kinda boring. And did anyone else see the trio of young "wives of Father Yod" girls, each wearing different but equally fabulous headbands a la 1960s Laurel Canyon? One of them is featured in our Headtrippin photo gallery, and was wearing the same glittery silver band...

Sunset Junction is small enough for you not to worry about losing your friends because like it or not, you'll probably run in to them in about 15 minutes. I bumped into teen scenestress Cory Kennedy, hung out with my fellow style writer gals Linda Immediato, Steffie Nelson and Lina Lecaro, who brought her cherubic daughter Charlotte. For Charlotte, it was her first Sunset Junction. For me, it was my fourth. My first was a blur, I remember rocking out to Eagles of Death Metal and the New York Dolls the year after, then last year was a tornado of death metal with Hank III, followed by The Cramps, and then this year...just as much fun.

Sunset Junction may be a nuisance to some, but I feckin' love it, every year.

Despite the $6 beers, it is the closest thing to Notting Hill Carnival (the biggest street fair in Europe) that this fair city has, and it deserves as much love as we can give it.

Anyhoo - back to the fashion. Top marks to the super-authentic plaid-shirt wearing Kurt Cobain crew. And to the guy with long hair and green tinted glasses who looked like a wizard. Did you see him? Who WAS he? We loved the pretty lesbians holding hands, but not the fake "Girls Gone Wild" ones in hotpants making out for the leery photographers. Yuk. There were sundresses aplenty, in pretty vintage designs and short, sqaure, side-parted haircuts in an array of alterna-shades from black to plum to orange.

It struck me that the so-called 90s revival (yaaaawn) which I am obliged to cover as a style writer but which grosses me out a little, is actually a good thing for the folks of Silverlake, many of whom have been rocking the grunged-out torn jeans and green hair look for years, regardless of the ebb and flow of fashion.

I caught the last part of the Seawolf set before watching Autolux,  those poor things seemed to suffer from some annoying sound issues throughout the set, beginning with major feedbackand then ending with a microphone malfunction for drummer Carla Azar, who was sporting her trademark dark bob 'n bangs combo. The crowd didn't seem to mind though.

I hung around and saved our close-to-the-stage spot for Blonde Redhead, my man heading off to search for lemonade, into which a flaskfull of vodka was promptly poured. Blonde Redhead was an exquisite noise machine, with tiny-voiced lead singer Kazuo looking bewitching as always in a black and white, alternately spotted and striped floaty silk mini dress.

Then we left and headed in search of hot dogs (they were found, deliciousness was had), and said 'hi' to Sean Carlson handing out fliers to his F*ck Yeah fest which happens next weekend. I forgot to ask him why the 'u' has been taken out of the "F*ck". I also saw scenester/musician Chris Holmes chowing down at Malo, which was predictably packed.

And then the long but sweet stumble back to Los Feliz. Actually, not so long at all. It took me about 20 minutes and was refreshing, and left me wondering...why don't we walk more in L.A.? Seriously?