Life in California is full of vexing questions. Can you make guacamole from either kind of avocado? Who cleans the bathrooms in TikTok-creator houses? Why was Greta Gerwig not nominated for the Best Director Oscar?
Alta Journal has enlisted two experts to answer all of your questions: desert-fashion critic Stacey Grenrock Woods and unapologetic Morrissey fan Gustavo Arellano, both of whom bring decades of hard-won knowledge and laser-sharp insights into the Golden State.
Have a question of your own? Ask a Californian!
Dear Californians,
Have we entered a period of decline? Exodus exceeds those moving here, and the state government has attempted to wrest control of housing from the counties while we run low on water and resources and our infrastructure crumbles. What does this mean for the West?
—Worried in the West
Gustavo: Remember that speech in the second Lord of the Rings movie when Gandalf says before the Battle of Helm’s Deep, “Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the East”? That’s what a bunch of California quitters are saying nowadays, but whatever! The Golden State will forever be where the world looks to see what the future holds for everyone. Ron DeSantis and Greg Abbott may call what we’re going through “decline,” but I call it “opportunity” and counter with, When was the last time the world ever asked Florida or Texas to save it from anything?
Yeah, there’s less water in California because of continued desertification and your damn lawn. So? Down in my beloved Orange County, the Orange County Water District turns the (literal) shit we flush down the toilet into drinkable water—the largest system of its kind in the world. Yes, Governor Newsom is telling cities where to place housing, but he’s mostly targeting uppity places like Huntington Beach and Coronado that think affordable housing is for Stockton and Santa Ana. People leaving? Let them! Idaho and Utah deserve those quitters, who’ll suck up their resources in a delicious, overrated In-N-Out Double-Double of irony.
Mark my words: California’s best days are ahead of us. Those of us who remain will emerge stronger and better. Besides, adversity always refreshes the soul. And if you don’t believe me, ask Fresno—my bad, FresYES.
Stacey: Worried, you forgot that “the best lack all conviction while the worst are full of passionate intensity.”
What I’m gathering is that you, worrier that you are, have come round at last to the-center-not-holding portion of your Yeatsian California nightmare. It’s cool. It happens to all of us. From the time we are able to catastrophize, we Californians get told by every admonishing stranger and Steely Dan that our state will one day tumble into the sea. What they’re really saying, in their tellingly envious way, is that what we have is too good to last. But it does. It lasts and lasts.
Yes, exodus exceeds influx. The recent data, from 2022, shows a net loss of over 30,000 residents, who, I’m sure you can agree, weren’t adding all that much anyway. I don’t know why this upsets you. I intend to park in every single one of those newly freed-up spaces and maybe even do a little dance. Nor do I understand quite why you’re concerned about who controls housing legislation. Regardless of who makes the rules, it will always be expensive to live in the greatest state in the union, and if Gavin Newsom wants to let people build ADUs in their backyards, then he’d better have some good plans for how to turn them into man caves and she sheds when no one rents them. Again, this is not your problem. And what’s that you say? Water’s scarce? And so are resources? The infrastructure is crumbling? Around here, we call that a Wednesday.
If you’ll allow me one more “The Second Coming” allusion (and I hope you will; it’s the only poem I know by heart besides “The Road Not Taken,” which doesn’t apply here): there’s no point in your worrying that the center cannot hold because—and this is mildly mind-blowing—there is no center! Not in California, anyway, or at least none that I’ve ever found. So just keep reusing your bags, and don’t leave the tap running, but feel free to keep projecting your fears to others. We have to keep up appearances.
Dear Californians,
Why do so many California road bikers insist on wearing all black? In Europe, cyclists wear very colorful jerseys for safety. Don’t California’s cyclists know that their black attire renders them invisible when they’re pedaling in the shade of roadside trees? Is the “slimming effect” of wearing tight black bike shorts and a jersey worth the risk of being struck by a car and turned into hamburger meat?
—Spandex Is Not Body Armor
Gustavo: Are you hanging out with goths? Because all the pretend peloton pendejos I see wear gear brighter than a laser pointer. As someone who, post-COVID, mostly wears black-soled huaraches, black Dickies shorts, and black T-shirts donated to me by fans, I won’t critique anyone’s fashion choices. I totally get the concern about safety, though, so may I offer a happy medium? Cyclists who wear black should make themselves as visible as possible—not with some weak-salsa strips of neon on their backs but by chroming out their machines à la lowrider bikes. Two beloved California traditions, together at last!
Stacey: First, I have a question for you, Spandex: Are you attempting to drive in the shade of roadside trees? Because you can put that idea right out of your head. When you’re driving, you’d do well to stop looking at the trees and keep your eyes on your phone, where they belong.
Now to your question: I know far more than I should about cycling clothes. You’ve heard of Mob Wives and Footballers’ Wives? Well, I’m a Cyclist Wife. (We don’t have our own show because no one wants to watch people wait for a phone call that tells them their spouse made it down the mountain alive.) But the situation you describe—riders clad all in black—is unfamiliar to me. I’ve spent ages inside the Rapha store while my husband decides between the bright pink jerseys and the brighter pink jerseys. It’s true that the bibs, the lower part of the outfit, are often black, but I doubt it’s for a slimming effect. Cyclists are pretty thin as it is, and generally, they try to wear the brightest colors they can in the most-reflective fabrics that exist in order to be seen as clearly as possible by the drivers who hate them. So the next time you open your door into one, do take a moment to appreciate all that went into it.
Dear Californians,
I’m a native Californian who has driven through only, maybe, a third of this great state. I’d explore more if not for traffic and pollution. With California on the cutting edge of everything tech—what (are you hearing) will soon zip us through time and space in this fair state so I can see more of it, ruin less of it?
—George Jetson
Gustavo: It was supposed to be the California High-Speed Rail, but the system California voters approved in 2008 is stuck in limbo somewhere near Wasco. And there was news over the holidays that the feds awarded $3 billion to a company that wants to build its own super-fast choo choo from Vegas through Victorville, which means that you’ll be able lose a fortune and pick up some tumbleweeds all in one afternoon before the end of this decade. But I think you’re looking for a Star Trek–style transporter or Star Wars–esque hyperdrive. Isn’t the metaverse supposed to do that? Or shrooms? Go for it. Better yet, there’s always cycling on your lowrider Canyon Aeroad from San Ysidro to Yreka.
Stacey: I had to resign from all of my municipal and interstate transportation boards—my Lyft drivers were creating too much of a disturbance when they couldn’t find me to pick me up—so I’m not up on all the latest news about high-speed rails and so forth, George. I believe, perusing the minutes of the last meeting, that we left it at “Never going to happen.” I’m afraid your best options are still a car and your feet, or staying and looking at it all on Google Earth, which creates its own kind of traffic and pollution too—inside your soul.
Your environmental concerns are admirable, but don’t allow them to keep you from seeing this place before it all tumbles into the sea. A wise person once said to me, “Stacey, no matter how careful you are, someone will always get hurt. In fact, your very existence causes pain.” It’s true. Just ask the countless mice who die every year when fields are plowed to plant crops for veggie burgers. You simply cannot win ’em all, this wise person also told me every night when tucking me in, right before she would say the wisest thing of all: Even if California ever did build a state-of-the-art high-speed rail system, it probably wouldn’t go anywhere you wanted anyway.
Next question? advice@altaonline.com•
Gustavo Arellano is the author of Orange County: A Personal History and Taco USA: How Mexican Food Conquered America. In 2025, Arellano was named a Pulitzer Prize finalist for his work as a columnist for the Los Angeles Times. He was formerly editor of OC Weekly, an alternative newspaper in Orange County, California, and penned the award-winning ¡Ask a Mexican!, a nationally syndicated column in which he answered any and all questions about America’s spiciest and largest minority. Arellano is the recipient of awards ranging from the Association of Alternative Newsweeklies Best Columnist to the Los Angeles Press Club President’s Award to an Impact Award from the National Hispanic Media Coalition, and he was recognized by the California Latino Legislative Caucus with a 2008 Spirit Award for his “exceptional vision, creativity, and work ethic.” Arellano is a lifelong resident of Orange County and is the proud son of two Mexican immigrants, one of whom came to this country in the trunk of a Chevy.
Stacey Grenrock Woods is a regular contributor to Esquire and a former correspondent for The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. She writes and consults on various TV shows, and has a recurring role as Tricia Thoon on Fox’s Arrested Development. Her first book is I, California.
