I have a confession to make. Back when I was a teen, Orange County was not considered cool. And it certainly never had a jazzy little nickname, like the OC. People referred to it as The Orange Curtain, and, um, a few other things, but mostly they didn't refer to it at all.
Oh sure, Newport Beach was cool, as was Laguna Beach, and Huntington Beach and just about any other town that's name ended in "Beach." But I didn't live at the beach. I lived inland. And, sorry fellow Yorba Lindians, but inland was definitely not cool.
Back then all of the attention was focused on 90210 and Melrose Place. And so I spent countless hours (when I should have been in school) making that long, traffic clogged, freeway commute just so I could loiter on Melrose Avenue and then sneak into a Beverly Hills club where this group of uber glamorous British guys hung (Britian was undisputably cool), just hoping some of that hip LA vibe would survive the long trip home.
The second I graduated high school I hopped on a plane and headed for London. Then I came back for one year before doing it again, eventually ending up in Greece, on the island of Mykonos, where I spent several years. And after that came New York, a place I thought I'd never want to leave, but then, wouldn't you know it, I met my future husband who just happened to live in the OC. And before I realized what hit me, I was officially back.
It's nice to be part of this moment, even if this new found popularity has made finding an available parking space about as statistically improbable as winning the Power Ball. But as a houseguest of mine recently said as we headed up Niguel Road-"Jeez, even the gas stations are nicer here."
And the weather, don't forget the weather!
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