Photo Op: The Robertson Dancer
Yes, this is indeed the Robertson Dancer you feared it might be when you saw the headline. No, I don’t know his name or story either. Yes, please do approach him and ask him why. Why. WHY!!!?*
If you’ve ever driven down Robertson through the heart of LA during the last few years, you have seen this man. His cart is parked on the east side of the street, a mere few yards from the acclaimed Michel Richard Patisserie. While you sit steaming in traffic, late as hell with coffee stains on your slacks, a scant few yards away he dances, struts, stretches, flexes and performs all manner of silly in pink-and-black spandex, every day, from dawn to dusk, mumbling sweet nothings to his reflection in a store window halfway between Third and Burton Way. You’ve seen him more times this year than your own mother, for the love of pete, so here it is: your very own losanjealous postcard suitable for printing, framing or sending via US postal, provided you add the proper postage. Greetings to the gang back home from Robertson and Third. Look at the fancy dancer. Go, fancy dancer, go!
*Approach at your own risk. One of my agents attempted to glean information and Robertson Dancer was apparently not having it.
Bubble vendor, Melrose Hill
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