A Hustler SundayPart of: LA
[Breakfast: A large eggnog latte from Peet's]
DK and I made a pit stop at Larry Flynt’s sex store, Hustler, in Hollywood. It’s not our favorite sex store—that title would go to The Pleasure Chest on Santa Monica Blvd, but they always have our favorite condoms. It’s a good store to go to if the idea of going to a sex store freaks you out, because everything there is a little too shiny and sanitized. I always see a couple of giggling hipsters trying on hooker shoes or checking out the whips as a joke. The staff seems pretty bland unlike The Pleasure Chest where I’ve gotten good advice from mostly gay men. At Hustler, there’s a nice sign when you are entering the sexy, sex side of the store (opposed to the café and newsstand) that warns ominously not to bring any drinks or food past that point.
After our purchase, DK and I drove a few blocks to check out a jewelry store. Pulling into the parking lot, we noticed that we were behind a black Bentley with vanity plates that read: HUSTLR 1. Hmm…only Mr. Larry Flynt could own that car!!! How bizarrely synchronous was that?
We didn’t catch a glimpse of anyone in the parking lot, so we entered the store to find Mrs. Flynt* in the flesh with her driver (Larry was waiting in the car) trying on a necklace. They’d obviously been to that jeweler many times before. Mrs. Flynt seemed down to earth and didn’t scream out wife-of-Larry-Flynt-king-of-sex. Well, except for the huge rock on her ring finger. I hope the Flynt’s are blissfully happy.
*Mr. Flynt’s fifth wife and former nurse, Elizabeth Berrios