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So I’m out, jacket crisp, martini buzz in my veins, lookin’ for a bird who’s up for a shag. Not just any tart—gotta be sharp, gotta have that spark. I spot this one chick, legs for days, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns the night. “Hey, darlin’,” I say, all smooth, “fancy a spin with 007?” She smirks—fuckin’ smirks!—and I’m like, “Shaken, not stirred, love.” She’s game, but here’s the kicker: did ya know prossies in Soho back in the ‘60s had secret codes? Little winks, scarf colors—shit like that to dodge the coppers. This bird probs knows that history, she’s got that sly glint.

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But then, I saw this old man trying to sell handmade crafts. His stuff was amazing! I ended up chatting with him for a while. He told me stories about Lares, how it used to be back in the day. I was so into it. It’s crazy how much history is packed into this little town.

Ralph Lares Obituary (1927 - 2022) - Newport Beach, CA - Orange County Register