I used to drive by this house on a fairly regular basis before I got married. Admittedly, the first 20 times or so that I saw it in all of its excessive glory, its garishness seared my retinas. Repulsed yet fascinated, I imagined that inside Liberace played piano while Siegfried and Roy lounged out back by the pool petting their white tigers. I started to look forward to seeing the house, like a drunk friend who never acts right but always entertains. The sheer tasteless audacity of it wormed its way into my heart as a testament to all things gutsy enough to thumb their noses at good taste and let it all hang out.
Thus when I packed my kids into the car to take them on a field trip to witness this piece of true unabashed LA tackiness and we found it stripped down and looking like a normal house, I was a little heart-broken. I’m sure the neighbors are relieved. The neighborhood is certainly more dignified. But sometimes dignified is a little boring.
And so on this Tuesday, I’d like to send a shout out to the House of Davids and all things that over shoot good taste. You might be tawdry, but you also make the world a more interesting place. Thank you.