What people wear to the Hollywood Bowl in Los Angeles

If you want to go to the Hollywood Bowl, you have to really want go to the Hollywood Bowl. It's one of the most frustrating landmarks in a city that has made arduous travel an art form. I remember many times when I had both the opportunity and the interest to go to the Bowl and make it. I went so far as to skip an LCD Soundsystem concert at the Bowl in 2018 that I had already purchased tickets for. Instead, I slept. The only thing that could wake me from my peaceful slumber was the most grotesque sight imaginable: a rippling river of red lights before me. The traffic-clogged thoroughfares heading down the hill from the Hollywood Bowl. I woke up in a cold sweat, comforted by the realization that I was still home. There were no cars. I was safe.

Going to a show at the Bowl is not a night out. These are days of planning, gratitude and meal preparation. And this year, it's going to get even more complicated. The LA Phil, which operates the Bowl, opted to close parking lots to make room for more carpool and shuttle traffic. LA Phil interim executive director Daniel Song told the Times in March, “People don’t like going to the Bowl, but everyone loves the Bowl. So if there is a barrier [for] someone to be able to come to the Bowl, was going to try to solve this problem and was going to try to mitigate this as best we can. The theory behind removing 350 of the Bowls' 1,700 parking spaces is to have fewer cars entering and exiting the area on a concert night. I guess I don't see how it would help if people who would otherwise drive would still take Ubers, Lyfts, or taxis. They're still cars, last time I checked.

I like to compare going to the Hollywood Bowl to hiking or camping, with its myriad dangers and environmental concerns. When do we eat? What weather is it? Should we bring a blanket? Everyone has their Hollywood Bowl ritual, the tidy little diary that helps alleviate the chaos of Los Angeles' most astonishing existential crisis. Besides the obvious, this is what I struggle the most with what to wear. I want to dress up, because I dress for everything. I dress to clean my gutters, so I'm naturally going to want to dress to John Williams Evening. That's exactly how I am. But the Bowl often requires reasonable dress. A suit and stiff shoes mean it's best not to walk. It's summer in Los Angeles, so you should wear something that breathes. Linen, perhaps? Just stay away from shorts. This isn't Venice Beach or a family barbecue in Reseda, for God's sake.

You can tell people have a hard time with the dress code at the Bowl. It's an elevated experience that demands a sense of respect, but it's also an event that requires lugging a cooler full of cheese up a hill. You could show off, but should you? The Bowl is not a fashion show (unless it really is). A group t-shirt might just be enough to get you through. In 2015, I went to the Bowl to see Grace Jones, with the opening of Future Islands. Of course, I bought a Grace Jones T-shirt that night and I still like to wear it to the Bowl as some sort of ancient relic (2015 seems like centuries ago to me). And I almost always bring some sort of jacket. Please bring a light layer, because even when these are the deepest, darkest days of summer, there will be a breeze at night.

The Bowl is a place where I wouldn't be shocked to see grown men in flip-flops mingling with a family of four wearing matching kaftans. Like other cultural institutions in Los Angeles, no one would dare tell you what to wear. I feel a similar sense of sartorial drift at the Music Center. If I go to the opera or a musical at the Ahmanson, shouldn't I look pretty? Well yes, but also, my clothing rule is always to adapt to the occasion.

The Bowl is not a monolith. The way you should dress for Vampire Weekend is totally different from the way you would dress for Harry Connick Jr.'s 4th of July fireworks show. The wide range of programming and vibes lets you come truly as you are. But who are you ? Dress defines identity, or perhaps vice versa. But clothing and self-perception are intrinsically linked. Even if you put almost no effort into what you wear, that says a lot. Mainly, he says, I put almost no effort into what I wear. Music works the same way, depicting in broad strokes who you want the world to think you are. When I mentioned that I had seen Grace Jones, I'm sure you, dear reader, made some assumptions about me. Probably first and foremost I have to be incredibly cool. Plus, quite old. And I probably own a skirt. If I told you I saw Depeche Mode at the Bowl, you'd assume I have an all-black wardrobe and smoke weird European clove cigarettes (one of those things isn't true) .

The Bowl is, in many ways, the quintessential place in Los Angeles to declare who you are, a music mecca that requires a commitment to traveling Oregon Trail style and an outfit to match. The Bowl is a place where everyone in Los Angeles can come together. It is a holy cathedral of culture which admits everything (for a fee). I'll even allow you to wear shorts for Harry Connick Jr on the 4th of July. Unwillingly.

Like camping, as soon as you arrive at your destination, you remember why you made the effort in the first place. The Hollywood Bowl is one of the most amazing man-made wonders in the entire city. The grandiose exterior setting, the perfect acoustics, the spectacular lighting, the strangely illuminated cross in the background. Bowling season is a time to revel in the majesty of Los Angeles and commune with the spirits. Or just drink too much wine and have a headache the next day. As Daniel Song said, everyone loves the Bowl, so we make the effort. Most of the time.

When we try something, we tell the world that something matters to us. Nothing enlightens the inner spirit like effort. Making this attempt, in whatever form it takes, shows people what we prioritize, whether it's getting dressed, listening to music, or simply admiring a sunset after a long summer day. When we go to the Hollywood Bowl, we can take satisfaction in knowing that we got out of bed, that we got into a car or the subway, that we climbed a hill. We tried. It matters.