I start by driving up the shore from Santa Monica to Malibu just because I like the drive. That area, along the shore, is my idea of California. It has the free impermanence of the place. The beach houses stand wall to wall on the sand, weather-beaten dwellings right next to opulent villas. The cliff on the other side is raw, crumbling dirt, and it periodically dumps its houses right down on the road. I get the feeling that the whole state may subside into the ocean some day.
I follow an old Volkswagen bus north to Malibu, where it U-turns and pauses at the water's edge. Four surfboards on top, four kids with long hair inside. I ask the nearest surfer on the beach, "Why do you do it?" Terry Sinclair, a college boy with long dark hair, answers: "Because I wrecked my leg motorcycle racing."
Back on the highway, I am distracted not by traffic, but by birds. In bathing suits these are not just any girls. California Girls. There is a difference. Maybe it's the orange juice. Or the incessant sunshine. Or the surfing and the skiing. But there is something transporting about a California Girl; the legs are longer, the eyes clearer, the skin more exuberant. Maybe an out-of-towner can become a California Girl if she comes here early—say at about age three. After that, it's too late. She can be beautiful. And healthy. And sexy. But she can never quite be that combination of maximum looks and minimum restraint, that tranquil body and restive psyche that is the California Girl! As difficult as it is to be a California Girl, it is harder still to stay one—even for the natives. Hence the amount of time she spends fending off wrinkles, pounds and ennui.
Cut to: Beverly Hills Health Club for Women
This is a salon for the whole body—and the whole day. The exercise room, carpeted in gold and orange, has 25 California ladies lying in it, most of them gray and hefty, in variegated pastel tights, slowly moving their limbs through the air in time with an instructress.
A young married woman, only 20 pounds away from being a California Girl, comes up. "I spend the whole day here. They have a lot of things to keep you busy—electrologist, beauty parlor, masseuse, steam room, baths, pool, coffee shop. You never have to leave. I've learned to use cocoa butter for my skin, take vitamin A for my hair, cuticle cream for my nails, and I've bought a new wig. It's a whole way of life. Except some of these older ladies here don't really lose any weight. . ."
Then why do they pay $200 a year to be members?
"It's a way to spend the day. When you're naked in the steam room, there's no facades. Some of them spend eight hours a day in here; this place is their whole life."
Cut to: Fullerton