I’M IMPORTANT, LET ME IN.

I’ve perfected my vocal fry and told my mother I’m moving here. No TikToker was safe from my 35mm wrath, but its not like they were in a chokehold anyways. A Tijuana brothel detained my camera for 16 hours, then the border barely wanted us back. However, I write this to you from a cafe in East Van, spending $7 on a latte that doesn’t fit my now starving artist aesthetic (or budget).

I never had a huge urge to go to LA. That might be hard to believe but it just seemed, dirty to me. You’re probably thinking, no shit Carly. However, I did the Vegas thing, the Miami thing, and it just seemed like it would trump them all. Don’t get me wrong on the Vegas casinos; The mix of the American portioned meals, cheap beer, smoke, and cocaine farts is almost indescribable even though I just gave it an honest shot.

If cities had a soul, LA’s would be black. Places like Miami and Vegas are upfront about their sins, like “come here to get fucked up!” Hollywood seems to covert them in golden ribbon lies. Sort of like, it wont hurt that bad.

Turns out I’m not the only one who thinks it’s appropriate to go to Tijuana with two people you just met for the night.

Well we didn’t just meet.

A submission into Paper Work NYC for a zine and a thread of emails led us to our first Friday in LA. We spent the evening after a shoot crushing Hot Cheetos with our asses in a garbage bag so we could imprint oiled up butts on paper covered in said now dust. Then the idea of Tijuana spurred from there, as ideas usually do as your helping sprinkle Cheeto dust on a strangers ass. Shout out to Michael Krim and Paper Work for the true artsy-fartsy LA dream I had in my head.

After getting Gringo taxed 30 USD on the border walking over, we were welcome into a limo headed straight to Hong Kong. Hong Kong is Tijuanas top strip club with 3 floors, shaving cream (do with that you will), and some of the best BBL’s I’ve ever seen. They were quick to detain my camera until we checked out at Hotel Cascadas due to the nature of business. Understood, I was the idiot who left the gold chains at home but bore a film camera proudly around her neck at a known brothel.

Disappointed I lost potential career peaking party photos, but everything happens for a reason, besides I didn’t want this to be my parents thirteenth reason. Tijuana was beautiful for the 2 hours in day light I was blessed with. Dare I say even cleaner than some parts I had so far witnessed back in LA.

I’ve come to realize I am an extremist. Disneyland then dinner won’t suffice. From Tijuana to rubbing shoulders with TikTokers somewhere in Beverly Hills was more the idea. So remember, what happens in Mexico might end up on your public story on Instagram, always talk to strangers, and you won’t go to jail if you have cash.

Carly

xoxo