The Death of the Hollywood Dream — And the Rise of Vancouver’s Creative Scene
It’s been just over one year since I moved from Los Angeles to Vancouver and I still get asked: “Why?” and “Don’t you miss it?”
I’m a true LA native, born and raised on the Westside. My childhood was as “LA” as it gets — movie premieres through friends’ parents, classmates with famous last names, and daily activities that people save up for years to experience once — like strolling Hollywood Blvd, the Venice Beach Boardwalk, the Santa Monica Pier and Malibu beaches, plus spending late nights on Sunset Boulevard. That was all normal life to me. But I don’t say all this to brag, I say this to make a point — not all that glitters is gold.
Just before I turned 20, I developed a severe chronic illness. The same streets where I used to shop, eat and party became the backdrop for relentless medical appointments and treatments. And just as my health began to improve, the pandemic hit. After spending several years severely isolated and bedridden by pain, I didn’t think I could feel any lonelier — I was wrong.
Ask anyone who knew LA before 2020 and they’ll tell you it hasn’t been the same since. Nightlife has faded. Once-iconic shopping destinations like Fairfax, Melrose, and the Third Street Promenade are now lined with “For Lease” signs. Studios have downsized or moved to different states altogether. The industry that once fueled the city now feels invisible. After a decade of personal health trauma and missed opportunities, coupled with the city’s post-pandemic struggles, the version of LA I loved had died.
There’s also a reality that few people talk about — in cities like LA or New York, you’re a very small fish in a very big pond. You’re sold the dream that opportunity here is limitless, but so is the competition. For every door you open, there are hundreds of people more talented than you, more connected than you, and better looking than you, all reaching for the same handle. Success in these cities requires a proprietary blend of luck, connections, and talent. But even if you manage to possess this golden combo, you’ll likely find yourself always striving, never arriving. The goalposts shift. The finish line moves farther and farther away.
On top of it all, influencer culture has amplified this pressure to an unsustainable extreme. Rooms that once buzzed with curious conversation now hum with flashing selfies. Introductions are often no longer authentic exchanges, but a form of auditing. You’re no longer a unique person with stories, ideas, and depth. You’re merely a transactional metric, a data point. You’re always networking and always pitching, but rarely just being. Beneath the sunshine and curated feeds, LA is a really lonely city.
Beyond that, the broader political and cultural climate in the US has had sickening, tangible ripple effects through what was once a sanctuary city. I simply couldn’t stomach the sight of one more Trump sign or bumper sticker near my home. So when I was offered a game-changing job opportunity in Vancouver, I jumped on it and never looked back, especially since I have dual citizenship and grew up visiting often.
But I had also heard the same stereotypes my entire life — “Vancouver is beautiful, but there’s no art or fashion” coupled with “people keep to themselves here.” As an extroverted extrovert coming from LA, I was admittedly a bit worried that once the honeymoon phase of my move was over, that I’d feel socially and creatively blunted.
Instead, I’ve found the opposite.
There’s a roaring creative underground pulsing through Vancouver, and it’s refreshingly unpretentious. Beneath the surface of polyester leggings and gore-tex jackets, there are brilliant artists, designers and free-thinkers that create for the love of creating, not optics. And for the first time, I don’t feel like I’m fighting to be seen. I feel like I can actually build something that matters, while shining a light on a city that deserves more global recognition.
This is the start of something larger than I can currently articulate. Bigger for Vancouver. Bigger for Fairfax is Dead.
The ideas are flowing. Art and runway shows. Pop-ups. Closet sales. Intentional networking experiences. Printed publications. There are endless ways to get involved, showcase local creatives and support small-businesses. I want to challenge the notion that there’s no art or fashion scene here, because it’s simply not true. You just need to get out of your comfort zone. And sometimes it takes an outsider to reveal what’s been there all along.
Join the community. Subscribe. Collaborate. Let’s get to work.
Big things coming.
-SID
sid@fairfaxisdead.com
