Sometimes the best things in Los Angeles happen when you least expect them. I just got back from the Cat March for Gary Baseman and his delightfully deranged kingdom of felines. We were 99 people strong, and I was number … Continue reading →
Sometimes the best things in Los Angeles happen when you least expect them.
I just got back from the Cat March for Gary Baseman and his delightfully deranged kingdom of felines. We were 99 people strong, and I was number 99. That’s right—the tail at the end of the cat.
Everyone was dressed for the occasion. Cat ears. Cat faces. Whiskers. Some lounged around before the march like house cats napping in a patch of sunlight. Others prowled the sidewalks looking for attention. As we made our way through West Hollywood, people on the sidewalks couldn’t help themselves.
“Meow! Meow! Meow!” The crowd answered back.
People waved. Some threw their hands up and started pawing the air as we passed. Complete strangers joined the fun. For a brief moment, the usual walls between people disappeared and everyone became part of one giant pride of cats.
Gary Baseman presided over it all like the Emperor of Cats. Equal parts artist, ringmaster, and dreamer, he led a celebration that reminded everyone that art doesn’t always belong inside a gallery. Sometimes it belongs in the street, making people smile.
Behind our float marched the crew of Shepard Fairey. They carried reproductions of some of his most recognizable posters and images, turning the parade into a moving museum of contemporary art. It was a wonderful reminder that Los Angeles is filled with artists who continue to shape culture far beyond the city limits.
The march wound through the Museum Row district between Fairfax and La Cienega, one of the most important cultural corridors in Southern California. On a sunny afternoon, the sidewalks appeared packed with spectators. While I couldn’t possibly count everyone, it looked as though several hundred people were watching and participating throughout the route, creating a festive atmosphere that stretched from one end of the district to the other.
As I walked along, I couldn’t help but think about another parade that changed Los Angeles forever: the Pasadena Doo Dah Parade. Long before civic absurdity became fashionable, the Doo Dah Parade turned the traditional parade upside down.
That same spirit was alive at the Cat March.
The event also reminded me of my years as Queen of the Loyal Order of the Water Buffalo, one of Southern California’s most beloved civic organizations. The Water Buffaloes have long celebrated fellowship, charity, humor, and community service while never taking themselves too seriously. In a city that often seems obsessed with status and image, organizations like the Water Buffaloes remind us that joy is a civic responsibility.
What connected the Water Buffaloes, the Doo Dah Parade, and Gary Baseman’s Cat March was not simply entertainment. It was participation. These events ask people to become part of the story instead of merely watching from the sidelines.
After the parade, many of us made our way to Johnny’s, Gary’s pop-up space, which was absolutely packed. Artists, friends, collectors, and curious passersby squeezed together, still buzzing from the energy of the afternoon. It felt less like the end of an event and more like the beginning of a conversation.
That’s one of the things I love most about Los Angeles. One minute you’re marching through the streets dressed as a cat. The next minute you’re discussing art, music, history, and culture with people you’ve never met before.
Los Angeles has always been at its best when it embraces the ridiculous. The city that gave us happenings, punk rock, performance art, the Doo Dah Parade, and countless creative experiments understands something important: joy creates community. The most memorable cultural events are rarely the most expensive. They are the ones that invite people to participate.
The Punk School lesson this week?
Never underestimate the power of showing up.
Whether you’re a punk, a painter, a poet, a Water Buffalo, a parade queen, or just someone wearing cat ears on a sunny afternoon, community happens when people decide to gather together and create something larger than themselves.
For a few hours in West Hollywood, 99 cats reminded us that art is alive, laughter is contagious, and Los Angeles still knows how to dream.
Meow.
