All that glitters is not the Golden State, New York-based singer Lily Lane discovered after nearly five years immersed in Los Angeles’ sparkling ambiance. Like a gem dropped into a flute of champagne, the Massachusetts-born performer and former Wilhelmina Curve model never truly dissolved into her effervescent surroundings.
“I romanticize places and build relationships with them almost the way I do with people,” Lane shares. “A city can inspire me and challenge me and change me, and I think that’s why my new track, “So Long, California”, ended up sounding like a breakup song. When I’m in an environment that aligns with who I am, I thrive creatively and emotionally. When I’m not, I can lose myself. Cities aren’t just backdrops to me. They’re characters in my story.”
“So Long, California” paints the portrait of the coveted state in wistful, candid strokes. A melancholic sheen drapes Lane’s silvery voice as she recalls relentless sunshine and smiles that “don’t reach the eyes.” Respectful resignation fills her tone like someone walking away from a relationship they might have believed was “the One”, only to uncover irreconcilable differences gradually.
“Moving to Los Angeles was something I’d debated for a long time, and there were definitely beautiful moments. It looks like paradise in so many ways, and people are unnervingly beautiful. I understand why people call it ‘the dream,’” says Lane.
“After almost five years with LA as my home base, I realized that even though everything around me looked perfect, and I had bent over backward to fit in and look like I belonged, I felt disconnected from myself. That’s what I mean by “most smiles don’t reach the eyes.” Not that people in LA are fake, but that there is a lot of pressure to appear happy, successful, and thriving, even when you’re struggling.”
Lily Lane’s perceptiveness influenced how she navigated the city’s milieu. “I became extremely selective about where I invested my energy and who I spent time with. A lot of LA is about going out and making connections, being in the right place at the right time, and being “seen” even when you aren’t actively performing, and that just isn’t for me. In the end, I realized I missed the things money and sunshine can’t buy: feeling truly at home and fulfilled in my art without the need for validation from others.”
Lane’s observations may seem familiar to many transplants in California. For some, being enveloped in nonstop beauty and excitement feels like the pinnacle of existence; for others, it’s a gilded cage in which they are constantly on display.
For the body-positive Lily Lane, Los Angeles’ display culture could be especially stifling. “I’m six feet tall, and before the pandemic, I was in New York City and a Wilhelmina Curve model. I came from an environment where I was surrounded by lots of tall people and other women with bigger bodies. Moving to LA, I felt like I was the biggest person in every room, and I was hyper aware of it in a way I hadn’t been since I was in middle school, when none of the boys had hit puberty yet, and I was already six feet tall.
“Over time, I lost quite a bit of weight, and if I’m being honest, some of that came from trying to shrink myself into what I thought an “LA girl” was supposed to look like. There is such a strong emphasis on appearance and optimization there that I found myself thinking about it significantly more than I did when I was modeling, which is wild.
“I left a lot of that pressure in LA. I realized that I didn’t want to spend so much energy trying to make myself smaller, literally or figuratively. I wanted to get back to feeling comfortable in my own skin and defining beauty and success on my own terms.”
Indeed, a common belief in some Californian circles seems to be that individuals are perpetual projects. You can always tweak an inch off the waist here or a soft spot off the thighs there. Elements of this self-editing culture can be aspirational, but in excess, they risk personal erasure.
Other tensions for Lily Lane, as an East Coast native, arose from the West Coast’s outlook on productivity. “As an artist, I felt a really different relationship to creativity. In New York, people tend to ask, “What are you working on?” There’s a deep appreciation for the process and the work itself. In LA, I often felt like the conversation was more about results. How many followers do you have? How are the numbers? Who are you working with?
“Success can become the art form instead of the art itself. Obviously, that’s a huge generalization, and I met so many wonderful, talented people there, but I personally felt more creatively aligned with New York’s mentality. I missed being around people who were making things because they had something to say, not just because they had something to sell.”
“What are you working on?” might be a creative person’s favorite question next to “and when/where can I get a copy of it?” Craft and art are often inextricably linked. For a sensitive, soul-pop dreamer like Lane, results aren’t the point of creation; the creative act itself is.
Irreconcilable differences aside, including LA’s infamous 405 traffic marathons, Lily Lane remains fond of the Golden State and assures us that “California and I are on good terms.”
“Some of my favorite collaborators and closest friends are still there, and I actually have a show at the Viper Room on July 10th, so I’m excited to go back. I love visiting California, and honestly, I get so much joy and inspiration out of those shorter trips. I think distance has given me a healthier relationship with the state.
“When I lived there, I put so much pressure on myself to make it feel like home, and to make my life fit this ideal I had in my head. Now, I can appreciate California for what it is instead of what I wanted it to be. That’s why the song says, “It doesn’t have to be the end.” I really mean that.”
It’s not the end for Lily Lane, and for other creatives who may chafe against the California lifestyle, the state doesn’t have to be the be-all and end-all. “Success isn’t just about where your career grows. It’s also about where you grow. There were definitely moments when I worried I was making a mistake by leaving Los Angeles,” Lane confesses.
“People love to tell you that you have to be in a certain place to make it, especially in entertainment. But I think creativity suffers when you’re constantly forcing yourself to fit into a life that doesn’t actually feel like yours. Honestly, in a world where we can collaborate remotely and hop on a plane, I don’t think you have to choose between your career and your happiness as much as people used to.”
Lily Lane’s words ring true. If following your bliss means tracing your footsteps back to the places that feel like home, then may we all hasten back from where we came.
