Like Ohmigod the Valley Fer Sure!

A snapshot of two days in the life of the Valley

By Nik Trendowski
Staff Writer

Over 48 hours in today's San Fernando Valley, it's not too likely anyone might encounter a sterotypical Valley Girl.
They, along with the Valley dream, have largely moved to Westlake Village, Thousand Oaks and perhaps Simi Valley. Today, it's probably more common to hear "ม๎rale!" as a greeting on the Valley streets than "Like, ohmigod, hi!"
That's because the Valley, so long forgotten as a part of L.A. that it likes to think it could be a city, occupies the border between city and suburb. There's a lot of centers to the region of Los Angeles on the other side of the Hollywood Hills: The government offices in Van Nuys, the skateboard parkway that now is Ventura Boulevard in Sherman Oaks, Warner Center in Woodland Hills and Burbank, the separate city that sits like a drain plug in the southeast corner of the Valley. Overall, studies show if the Valley were to form its own city, it would be the country's eighth largest, not to mention the safest and most affluent metropolis in the United States.
"It's so far away from downtown that you get the feeling that it's supposed to be separate from the city, but when you're down there it feels like you're in a city," said Allison Vana, a senior majoring in international relations and print journalism who lives in Los Feliz and works in a mall in the West Valley.
"It's because of the physical separation, too--the hill," agreed Carolyn Saraspi, a 1996 alumna who worked at the Daily News, whose offices are also in the West Valley. "It feels so much farther than a suburb should be. There's also the 10-degree temperature difference. The businesses and stuff are probably the reason so many people are up there."
Actually, in addition to the malls that made it famous, the Valley offers just about every service, restaurant or store found in the rest of L.A., as well as some not to be found anywhere else. To a certain extent, the southeast portion of the Valley--Studio City and Sherman Oaks--have become, it's been said, more Hollywood than Hollywood itself. A recent report in the Los Angeles Times indicates that about half of all home buyers in Studio City are in show business. Studio City itself was named for the CBS Studios just north of Ventura Boulevard, the backbone of the Valley. A little farther east, MCA's Universal Studios gave the name Universal City to the county land at the top of the Cahuenga Pass, and Warner Brothers, Disney and NBC provide a growing employment base in Burbank. Even for those who live elsewhere, the Valley provides a rich employment base.
"The people there are different," Vana said. "I get the feeling that they think that they're separate from the city."
Vana pointed to some results of the mixture of income levels among patrons at the mall. It sits on the southern border of Canoga Park, a less-affluent neighborhood just north of Woodland Hills, where home prices rival those of choice suburbs.
"(The difference in incomes) creates social tension in the mall," she said.
That dichotomy is even reflected among the stores: Nordstrom faces Montgomery Ward, at the opposite end of the mall, and the Nordstrom employees sometimes whisper about the effect of coexisting with such gaucheness in retail.
On any given two days, the Valley experience can be at least as diverse as any on the other side of the hill. Secession threats or no, the Valley is a vital place that combines the best and worst elements of the urban milieu and overgrown suburbia.
Day one, 7 a.m. The Ventura Freeway is clogged with commuters from Ventura County going to work in Warner Center and Downtown. But a few blocks south, on Ventura Boulevard, the commuting traffic goes in the opposite direction. Hundreds of women from the inner city commute for two to three hours to reach the affluent homes in the south Valley where they work as maids, nannies and cooks.
Noon, Victory and Van Nuys boulevards, Van Nuys. Jurors on lunch break mingle with Jehovah's Witnesses on the sidewalk among what must be the largest collection of X-rated video stores in Los Angeles. On the corner, several people wait for the bus. One scruffy-looking man gets mad at a teenager sitting on his bench and starts throwing fruit pieces from one of the ubiquitous (and illegal) street vendors.
7 p.m., Rinaldi Street, Mission Hills. A bus driver meets his teenage son and daughter in their truck on the street and asks whether their mother came to see them that day.
10 p.m., Ventura Boulevard and Eureka Drive, Studio City. The line is at its longest outside Aftershock, the Valley's most popular club.
11 p.m., Ventura Boulevard, Encino. Cooks and busboys spill out of the neighborhood's haute restaurants to commute back to Van Nuys, the East Valley or Downtown.
Day two, 1 a.m., Reseda. Friends from work--a multicultural crowd--gather at an apartment off Reseda Boulevard. The host's estranged girlfriend comes as well, and things get a bit hectic. Within a few minutes, the Los Angeles police drop by to check up on a noise complaint. The first group to leave the apartment gets stopped for questioning; the rest slip out unnoticed with their 40 oz. malt liquor bottles.
9 a.m., Reseda Boulevard and Plummer Street, Northridge. Students stream from countless Valley locales to classes at Cal State Northridge, the Valley's educational nexus. Here, near the epicenter of the earthquake almost two years ago, a few buildings, some of them still missing walls, stand behind chain link fences. They serve as a reminder of the natural power beneath the Valley floor that forces its residents to live a little more on the edge than residents of any other part of L.A.
Noon, multiple locations in Studio City. The San Fernando Valley isn't just the new Hollywood. It's also the country's capital of porn films--gay and straight. On any given day in Studio City and beyond, dozens of new skin flicks are in production.
10 p.m., Ventura and Van Nuys boulevards, Sherman Oaks. A car blasts Persian music while skateboarders loll in front of Horseshoe Coffee House and Groove Riders ravewear shop. A man peddles incense from a red cart, and another peddles his zine from his backpack among the patrons at Starbucks. Across the street, Green Hell, formerly Hollywood's premiere punk store and now the Valley's, is closing. It's one of four record stores on the stretch, including L.A.'s only Tower Outlet.
11:30 p.m., Lankershim and Magnolia Boulevards, North Hollywood. Patrons exit the several live theaters in this north-side acting enclave, spilling into Eagles Coffee Pub to have a latte and browse one of the best magazine selections in the Valley. Outside, a local man in a plaid shirt and shorts announces his campaign for the presidency. A few blocks down the street, shaved-headed teenagers pile into a car to cruise Hollywood Boulevard. A girl waits at the bus stop to go to El Monte and make up with her boyfriend. And the Valley prepares for another day with no Valley Girls in sight.