Laundromats can be ugly and disheartening places and in Los Angeles it’s even worse because they’re usually located in strip malls. Spending time in one is a particularly lonely experience too, which, like seeing movies by myself, is strangely appealing to me. As with anything that allows for a significant period of reading time, like a beach vacation or going to the DMV without an appointment, choosing the right material is of vital importance. I found that I could completely transform the entire laundromat experience just by bringing along a book that plundered the least appealing parts of the city, the underbelly if you will, to reveal its noir beauty.
For instance, read Raymond Chandler’s The Long Goodbye or The Big Sleep under fluorescent track lighting with the clunking sound of someone’s Chuck Taylors spinning in a dryer. Somehow the laundromat will take on an edge, a tinge of hard-boiled Angeleno mystery that transcends your surroundings. I might not go so far as to think that the fifty-something year old man in the sweaty t-shirt two washers down could be a murderer or anything, but I certainly wouldn’t be surprised if a pair of cops sauntered in, coffee and donuts in hand, to take him in for questioning.
As for San Francisco, it has to be Dashiell Hammett and The Maltese Falcon sets just the right mood. While I’ve never been to a New York laundromat, I’m guessing that Georges Simenon’s Three Bedrooms in Manhattan might do the trick.
I like this bit. It's very true and evocative of various times I've had to spend in public clothes washing penance.
Cheers
-michael
Posted by: Michael | June 19, 2006 at 11:48 AM