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Gold’s Gym Venice

This is the Mecca. Joe Gold opened it in Venice in 1965, Arnold trained here, and Pumping Iron was filmed here. A German fitness company now owns the place — it bought Gold’s out of bankruptcy in 2020 for $100 million. TripAdvisor lists the gym under “Spas & Wellness.” Do not believe this. No place has ever been less spa.

Who you’ll find there:

• A guy who’s been bulking since 1994. He is not done. He will never be done.

• Tourists taking photos of the squat rack.

• Someone’s dad in the merch shop buying a shirt he’ll never work out in.

Everyone knows: The machines haven’t been cleaned since 1999, but if you workout here your immune system is as strong as your brachialis.

BURN, Brentwood

BURN is the hot pink room on San Vicente where the workout happens under infrared heat and medical-grade red light. The method, from founder Maria Chase, mixes weighted work with low-impact isometric holds — tiny movements, held until you shake. The signature class is BURN45: forty-five minutes of HIIT with light weights, bands, sliders, and your own body weight, in twenty-to-forty-five-second sets. ISOBURN is the same idea without the jumping. The red light is supposed to help with recovery, skin, and hormones, all of it. You’re mostly here because everyone you know suddenly goes here.

Who you’ll find there:

• Someone who found it through a friend and won’t stop talking about the benefits of red light.

• A former Barry’s person, now strictly low-impact.

• Someone taking a selfie in the pink room before class.

Everyone knows: You don’t just show up. You plan around it, like everyone else.

Barry’s Bootcamp

Barry’s started in West Hollywood in 1998, and now it’s in 15 countries, but the original Red Room still feels like a nightclub that only plays treadmill. You will pay roughly the price of a nice lunch to be told you’re not running fast enough. And you’ll book again for tomorrow.

Who you’ll find there:

• An instructor shouting “ALL OUT” at 6am.

• A throng of type-A entrepreneurs, getting yelled at in red lighting.

• A first-timer who thought “Red Room” was a metaphor.

Everyone knows: You can't tell who's crying, which is exactly why everyone keeps coming back.

Megaformer

It is not Pilates. The machine looks like a reformer that went to private school: springs, cables, a sliding carriage, and nowhere to hide. The class is fifty minutes, the music is loud, and the entire workout happens in slow motion. You move an inch. You hold it. You shake. The instructor, very calmly, tells you to slow down.

By minute ten your legs are burning. By minute thirty you have made peace with the fact that you will feel this getting out of the car tomorrow.

Who you’ll find there:

• Someone who has done this four hundred times and is still shaking.

• A first-timer whispering, “Is it supposed to hurt like this?”

• Twenty-somethings drinking $9 lattes.

Everyone knows: It is just pilates, they say. Then they try it for themselves and send you flowers.

BoxUnion, Santa Monica

Places: 1755 Ocean Ave, Santa Monica

BoxUnion is the boxing studio on Ocean Avenue where the class is forty-five minutes, six punches, and a bag that doesn’t hit back. You arrive twenty minutes early to get your hands wrapped (rental gloves $2, wraps $5), learn the six punches, and then it’s boxing rounds mixed with sculpt circuits — the Signature class, plus Slasher Sculpt. The room runs loud, the coaches correct your form mid-round, and they’re in it with you, not shouting from a platform.

Who you’ll find there:

• Someone getting their stress out on the bag before work.

• A first-timer learning the six punches, twenty minutes early like they were told.

• Someone who came for the boxing and stayed for the coaches.

Everyone knows: It’s the only place where hitting things counts as self-care.

Hume, Venice

Hume is a 13,500-square-foot wellness club in Venice with a rooftop café, a sauna, cold tubs and a membership you have to apply for. It’s rapidly becoming the place everyone goes to be seen, not necessarily to work out.

To be fair, the café is where you’re supposed to hang. Phones are banned from the ground floor studio, and tripods are not allowed. So the influencers aren’t skipping the workout. They’re following the rules. We appreciate this.

Who you’ll find there:

• A founder taking a call about his seed round.

• Someone explaining their cortisol to someone else’s cortisol.

• Someone in a matching neutral set that has never touched a weight.

Everyone knows: You’re really there for the spa and the social hours.

Tracy Anderson Method, Brentwood

Yes. This is still a thing. The Tracy Anderson Method is twenty years old and suddenly everywhere again — Gen Z found it on TikTok, and the Brentwood studio is the room everyone is talking about. The method is dance cardio in a 95-degree room: small, repetitive movements with resistance bands, sequenced to target one muscle group at a time, with choreography that keeps changing. It’s muscular design, in Tracy’s language. Phones are banned for drop-ins; members, who reportedly pay around $900 a month, can still film. The studio just announced IDENTITY, a new online program built on a diagnostic that sorts you into one of seven physical types.

Who you’ll find there:

• A Gen Z regular who found it on TikTok and now never misses.

• A longtime member who has been doing this since the DVDs.

• A member filming her workout. Drop-ins can’t.

Everyone knows: Twenty years old, and TikTok just discovered it.

Sweat Yoga

The room is infrared-heated, dark and has no mirrors, which is a kindness, because nobody needs to see what’s happening to their face by minute twenty. You will sweat through your mat, your towel, your soul, and the person next to you’s mat. You’ll leave looking like you fell into the ocean fully clothed and then walked home.

The reward at the end is a cool lavender towel. You will hold it to your face like it’s the last cold thing on earth.

Who you’ll find there:

• Someone who owns eleven pairs of the same black leggings for exactly this reason.

• A first-timer lying in child’s pose for the full hour.

• A guy who did not bring a towel and is now everyone’s problem.

Everyone knows: You’ll leave looking like you fell in the ocean fully clothed.

The 9:00am Reformer Class

Places: Sweat Pilates, Speir, Mighty Pilates, Pilates Cave, Tribe Pilates, Pilates on Main, Pilates on Montana

It doesn’t matter which studio. It’s the one closest to school, and it starts exactly twelve minutes after the bell. You booked it the second the schedule dropped on Sunday night, and getting there is more cardio than you’ll do in the class.

The class is fifty minutes. The parking lot conversation afterward is forty-five, and it’s where the actual business happens: who’s applying where, which teacher everyone wants next year, whose husband is “traveling” again. Some of you aren’t even here for the reformer. You’re here for the group chat to turn into a real-life one.

Who you’ll find there:

• A mom in a matching set in a color called something like “oat” or “mushroom.”

• A mom with a Stanley cup, still wearing the sunglasses from carpool.

• One mom who actually takes it seriously and is visibly annoyed by the rest of you.

Everyone knows: The real business happens in the parking lot afterward.

Shefa Yoga, Venice

Shefa is the Venice studio on Main Street with three rooms — one heated, one not, one for workshops — and a class list that doesn’t pick a lane: Vinyasa, Rocket, Heated 26&2, Hot Mat Pilates, Sculpt & Flow, Yin with Reiki. The name means abundance in Hebrew and healing in Arabic, and the studio leans into it: woman-owned, community-first, tea station, ice baths, yoga-and-brunch. Their instructors also run the free Saturday sessions at the Santa Monica Pier. One class is literally called Shake Your Chakras, taught with a live DJ.

Who you’ll find there:

• doSelf proclaimed psychics fine tuning her skills.

• Very sweaty men doing ice baths after class.

• A vegan yogi silently judging the post class mimosa crew.

Everyone knows: The only place where “Shake Your Chakras” isn’t said ironically.

Muscle Beach, Venice

Gold’s Gym’s outdoor cousin. It’s been running since 1963, it calls itself the “Home of Bodybuilding,” and a day pass is $10. Ten dollars! The cheapest gym in LA is also the one where the most people will watch you. It closes when it rains, which is the most LA sentence in this entire guide.

Who you’ll find there:

• Lifters in the cage on the boardwalk.

• Four hundred tourists, cameras out.

• A man on roller skates playing a keytar behind you.

Everyone knows: Working out here means you’re either broke or a voyeur.

The Santa Monica Stairs

Two staircases, 189 and 170 steps, running from Adelaide Drive down into Santa Monica Canyon. They’re free. They’re also on one of the most expensive streets on the Westside.

Try to keep your lunges down. (Just kidding. Grunt.)

Who you’ll find there:

• Neighbors, watching.

• A shirtless guy on his fourth loop

• A mom wearing a baby like a weighted vest making everyone look bad.

Everyone knows: You get a little satisfaction knowing the neighbors have spent years trying to get rid of you.

CAMP, Santa Monica

CAMP is built like summer camp for adults. There’s a camp tent at check-in, different class types, yoga rooms, and a fully working tire swing by the bathrooms. The company says its mission is to create “happie, healthier adults.” (Spelled like that. On purpose, we assume, but…well.)

Who you’ll find there:

• A member asking the front desk where their favorite instructor went.

• The front desk, diffusing.

• A man filming himself doing pull ups with exercise bands.

Everyone knows: Don’t get too attached to a teacher. They might just get fired.

Equinox

This is the gym as a second office, except the office has a eucalyptus steam room and nobody is eating lunch at their desk. The towels are cold and smell like a spa. The locker room has the good products. The floor is clean enough that you could eat off it, and someone in here probably has, after a fast.

You do your workout, you shower, you leave looking like a person who has their life together. Whether you actually do is between you and your calendar.

Who you’ll find there:

• A guy taking a work call on the treadmill.

• A woman in a matching set who has already done Pilates today.

• A trainer with a clipboard who knows your name, your knee, and your travel schedule.

Everyone knows: You’re mostly there for the smoothie.

Orangetheory Fitness

There is no hiding here. Your name is on the board, your heart rate is up there, and the color tells everyone whether you are working or just visiting. Gray, green, orange, red. The goal is twelve splat points, which is twelve minutes in the orange and red zones combined, which is the scientific way of saying you actually got a work out that day.

You rotate through the rower, the treadmill, and the floor. The coach calls base, push, all out, and you pretend the all out was a choice.

Who you’ll find there:

• Someone staring at the screen instead of the coach.

• Someone who got exactly twelve splats and is screenshotting it in the parking lot.

• Someone who got thirty and is trying very hard not to mention it.

Everyone knows: It's the only gym where your report card arrives before you've showered.

The Class, Santa Monica

The Class is the Santa Monica studio on Main Street where the workout is also a release. It’s music-driven and somatic: repetitive calisthenics and plyometrics — shaking, sculpting, jacking, opening, unraveling — with breathwork and cathartic sound, built to move stuck energy. People scream. That’s not a side effect; it’s the method. The room is famous as New York’s most emotional workout, with a celebrity following (Aniston, Paltrow, Keys, Stone), and the LA studio runs the same way. Sessions last an hour, with a 45-minute Express in the afternoons.

Who you’ll find there:

• Someone screaming at the top of their lungs, in a good way.

• Someone who found it through a friend's "you have to try this" text and feeling very uncomfortable.

• Someone who cried in class and came back the next day.

Everyone knows: It’s actually just group therapy with cardio.

SoulCycle

The room is dark. There are no numbers on a screen and no leaderboard. There is a playlist, an instructor on a platform, and forty-five minutes of tap it back, push-ups on the bike, and a little arm section with weights so light you will be surprised you feel them tomorrow.

The instructor will tell you to let something go. You will, briefly, because you are too out of breath to hold on to it. Then you will go back outside and pick it right back up again, which is also fine. That is what next class is for.

Who you’ll find there:

• The front row, booked a week ago, choreography memorized.

• Someone crying a little during the arms song.

• Someone who can’t figure out how to unclip from the bike.

Everyone knows: The playlist does more work than the bike.

Satorii Yoga + Wellness

Places: Santa Monica (Berkeley Street), West LA

Note the spelling: Satorii, with two i’s. This is the serious studio. They do teacher training here. They do Rocket, a ninety-minute Ashtanga-derived practice, lightly heated. They do sound baths, with singing bowls and gongs, not heated at all, where the whole workout is lying still and letting the noise in your head quiet down.

No sculpt class with weights. No one shouting over EDM. Just a teacher who will correct your form, in a nice way, and then correct it again.

Who you’ll find there:

• A teacher-training student taking notes after class.

• Someone who can do a handstand and is very quiet about it.

• Someone asleep, in a good way, during the sound bath.

Everyone knows: You talk about Dharma Mittra like you met him personally and think rocket yoga is lifestyle.

Everyone Knows rating: 5/5 — For people who actually do yoga.

Venice Run Club

Venice Run Club is free, which in this guide is practically a scandal. Wednesday at 6:30pm, 4.5 miles from the parking lot on Dell Avenue. Saturday at 8:30am, six miles or ten-plus, same lot. Tuesday is track night in Culver City, sign-up required, capped at eighty runners because the track is only so big.

They have guided more than a thousand people to their first marathon.

Who you’ll find there:

• Someone training for a first marathon and telling everyone about it.

• Someone who came for the run and stayed for the people, which is the whole pitch.

• A chatty runner and a silent runner, side by side.

Everyone knows: Fourteen hundred runners a week. For free, which is practically a scandal.

Everyone Knows rating: 5/5 — A social life that happens to involve running.

“I Don’t Work Out”

No membership. No grip socks. No 6am alarm. You have a dog, a stroller, and a tote bag full of groceries. You walk the neighborhood, you carry the kid, you call it steps, and honestly, it is.

You are not anti-gym. You are just busy, and tired, and a little bit smug about the fact that you got your ten thousand steps without paying anyone to watch you do it.

Who you’ll find there:

• Yourself, outside, getting your steps without paying anyone.

• Someone taking the stairs because the elevator is slow.

Everyone knows: You’re reading this guide for the tea, not the gyms.

Welp. That’s where LA sweats. Some of us are here for the gains, some for the content, some for the parking lot gossip, and some of us just want a cold lavender towel and five minutes where nobody needs a snack.

Pick your people. Then pick your class.

Did I leave out your gym? Is your instructor still employed? Email us at everybodyknowsinla@gmail.com.

Oh, and don’t forget to follow us on Instagram!

Share this with the friend who’s “just going for the sauna.”

Next, Halloween is on a Saturday. Which means it lasts 3 days.

Oh, and it’s going to rain. Plan accordingly. Here’s your guide.

First, for the parents of trick or treaters

Here’s where you’re going to go, assuming you can find parking.

16th and Georgina, North of Montana

The crowd gets thicker every block you walk north up 16th until you hit the haunted house at the corner, where the wait can be as long as an hour. Enough people show up that a residential street feels like a small city took it over for the night. 15th goes hard too, if you want the same thing with elbow room. Do not plan on the street being closed to cars. Some years it is and some years it isn’t, and nobody tells you in advance. Go if: your kids are eight and up and want to be scared. Skip if: you have a stroller and a soul.

Gillette’s Regents Square, Santa Monica

Between 17th Street and 21st Place. Big decorated yards, houses close together, about a third of the walking.

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Montana Avenue

The shops between 6th and 17th hand out candy in the afternoon, which means the under-fives can be done and in the bath by the time it gets dark. This year’s Halloween Walk runs 2 to 5, per Montana Avenue’s own events page. That is not the 3-to-6 it ran before, so if you show up at three with a plan, you are already an hour late to the good candy. And then when the sun goes down, the whole street just turns north. Every block from Montana up to San Vicente is decorated, and you can walk the numbered streets one after another until somebody cries. Bonus: you get to trick-or-treat at the same stores you already have a charge account at.

A few blocks away is Absolutely Halloween! at the Santa Monica Playhouse, 1211 4th Street, Saturday at 2 p.m. Interactive family musical, twentieth anniversary, under an hour, ages 2 and up. $15 for children 12 and under, $17.50 for adults. Kids come in costume, with post-show photo ops. And it is indoors, which, given the forecast, is not a small thing. This is your rain backup with actual entertainment attached.

Brentwood Glen

West of the 405, south of Sunset, between Church Lane and Beloit. Flat, small, close-together houses, not much traffic. This is toddler Halloween. Go at five, be home by seven, feel smug about it.

Crescenda, Brentwood Heights

The block of Crescenda north of Sunset is where Brentwood stops being tasteful, and thank god. Start at the Country Mart if you need a coffee first. (You do.)

The Brentwood Country Mart’s Halloween Spectacular runs 11 a.m. to 2 p.m., with the costume contest at 11 at the Pumpkin Patch and trick-or-treating around the Mart after.

Mar Vista: Stanwood, and Boo on Purdue

Mar Vista’s answer, and the one the guides always miss. Stanwood is the big one, the stretch west of Centinela running along the Santa Monica Airport, right where Bundy turns into Centinela. Ask anyone who lives within two miles and they’ll tell you Stanwood is famous for Halloween, and then they’ll tell you where they park.

Then go east into Westdale for Purdue. Every year the neighbors on Purdue between Stanwood and Kingsland close the block to cars and throw what they call Boo on Purdue: trick-or-treating, a haunted house, a popcorn stand, cotton candy and zombie carolers, which I need you to take a second and picture. The Westdale homeowners association helped get the street closure, because of course it did. The notice going around has it Saturday from five to eight on the 3200 block, with live entertainment. I am trusting the notice on this one. Check it before you commit the stroller, because block-party hours move. These parents take Halloween as seriously as they take the school boundary.

And a few minutes south, the Holiday House on McLaughlin has been doing full animatronics and a light show for more than a decade. It runs September 27 through October 31, 6 to 10 p.m., at 3547 McLaughlin Ave. Free, donations appreciated.

Cheviot Hills

Motor Avenue. Every Halloween, Rancho Park and Beverlywood empty out and walk over to Cheviot, and there’s one house on Motor that draws a crowd every single year. Some of it’s hilly. Wear sneakers, not the boots.

Culver City

Two camps. The streets around Veterans Park and Culver High, and then across Ballona Creek around Lindberg Park, where the neighbors will tell you they own Halloween. Start on Elenda Street, right off the bike path, so the kids can scooter in. Carlson Park is good too. Stroller-friendly across the board.

Mr. Bones Pumpkin Patch in Culver City is open on Halloween day, 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., at 10100 Jefferson Blvd. Timed tickets run $10 to $25 depending on the day and time, and kids under 3 are free. Petting zoo, straw maze, face painting, the whole production. Book ahead.

Venice: the Silver Triangle and the Canals

The Silver Triangle goes hard. You know these houses, the ones that started as a twelve-hundred-square-foot bungalow and are now a glass box with a hot tub. Turns out the people who spend five years on an architectural collaboration also spend October on the front yard, and it shows. Then walk four blocks to the Canals and come in on Dell. Walk the bridges. The houses decorate the boats too. Parking is a nightmare.

About a mile northeast, Penmar Recreation Center in Venice does Wickedly Wonderful Halloween at 1341 Lake Street, 10 a.m. to 2 p.m., free, ages 0 to 12. Wizard of Oz-themed, games and prizes, treats and snacks, bounce houses, and costume contests by age: 11:00 for ages 0 to 3, 11:30 for 4 to 6, 12:15 for 7 to 8, and 12:45 for 9 to 12. Set a phone alarm for your kid’s slot. Nobody wants to explain to a four-year-old why the contest already happened.

The Beverly Hills flats

Sunset to Santa Monica Boulevard, Whittier to Doheny. The Witch’s House on Walden, at 516 Walden Drive, is a real house that looks like that all year, which tells you everything about Beverly Hills. The full-size bars and envelopes of cash are mostly a legend. Mostly.

The Palisades

The Alphabet Streets north of Sunset used to be the answer to this whole question. Flat, walkable, alphabetical, so the kids could count down to the car. This year a lot of those lots are still framing and slabs, so the Palisades is doing Halloween in the daytime.

The Rustic Canyon and Palisades rec centers are co-hosting a carnival from ten to two. Palisades Village does trick-or-treating at the shops from eleven to five, with crafts, face painting, and live entertainment in the Park. And the American Legion on La Cruz is running its first-ever haunted house from noon to four, for ages five to fifteen, with timed entries. Families are asked for a $10 donation per household when they reserve, and the money goes to rebuild the YMCA. Reserve a time slot before you go. Capacity is capped.

If you have a friend who’s back, go with her. Bring extra candy.

Second, for the grown ups

The Victorian

The biggest event, of course, is at the Victorian in Santa Monica. Its the last night as a party destination, so it’s throwing itself a funeral, and it’s maybe the most self-aware thing a nightclub has ever done. Saturday from eight to two in the morning, the whole house on Main turns into a haunted house, with DJs on every floor until the very end. Tickets are required and limited. Their tagline is “Til death do us party,” which is also what most of us said at our weddings at that exact venue. Go. Dance in the basement one more time. In mid-2028, it’s a lap pool.

The Santa Monica bar crawls

There are competing Halloween bar crawls in Santa Monica on Saturday night, which feels like a lot of competition for the same bars. Do not buy two. They all start in the same two places and end at the same after-party.

One crawl runs 4 to 10 p.m. across five bars, $25 in advance and $40 at the door, with check-in at Cabo Cantina, a mid-party at Barney’s Beanery, and the after-party at Jameson’s. Another runs 6 p.m. to 2 a.m., with registration at Barney’s Beanery or Jameson’s from 6 to 10, 21 and up, and drink specials as low as $4.99 drafts, two-for-one mixed drinks, and $5 shots. A third, Trick or Drink, runs 4 p.m. to 2 a.m. from Holey Moley on the Promenade, 21 and up. Pick one, check the link, and do not drive. This is for the dad who still has it in him. He does not.

Crawloween, Downtown Culver City

Culver City is calling its bar crawl “trick-or-treating for adults,” which is the most Culver City sentence ever written. Saturday, starting at four, 21 and up, and costumes are required, so no, you can’t just wear the cat ears from 2019. Yes you can. The crawl itself runs about a mile around Downtown Culver City, with a wristband, specialty drinks including non-alcoholic options, and an optional second leg after the wrap-up. RSVP for the wristband.

Charis and The Groove, Hermosa Beach

Disco and funk, daytime party, at The Lighthouse Cafe, 30 Pier Ave., 4 to 7 p.m., 21 and up, $10. This is the bridge. Dance for three hours while it is still light out, eat something real, and then decide whether you are a second-party person or a couch person. Both answers are correct. One of them is more honest.

Tequila and Mezcal, then Misfits Paradise, Marina del Rey

Start at four at Baja Cantina, 311 Washington Blvd., for the Tequila and Mezcal Pop-Up Fest, and stay in the same building for Misfits Paradise Halloween, 9 p.m. to 2 a.m., 21 and up, costumes required, $36 to $70 in listings, presented by The Venice Social Club. That is a full evening in one address, which is the only kind of bar-hopping a parent with a sitter clock should attempt.

HaLouLouween, LouLou Santa Monica

Halloween goes rooftop at LouLou, dinner into late-night DJs and dancing, costumes encouraged. I did not verify a time or a price for this one, so reserve and check the listing before you commit to the rooftop in a costume that cannot sit down. Reservations are highly recommended, which is the restaurant’s polite way of saying do not just show up.

HaLouLouween at LouLou Santa Monica: reserve and check the listing.

Halloween at Perry’s Beach Club, Saturday. Back at Perry’s, 930 Pacific Coast Hwy., Santa Monica Beach, 3 to 10 p.m. House and dance music, cabanas and daybeds. Friday was the warm-up. Saturday is the long version, with sand in your costume and no regrets until Sunday.

Spookapalooza, Venice Beach

At Nalu Vida, 1 Washington Blvd., Venice, 9 p.m. to 1 a.m., no cover, 21 and up, live band Sully, Rico and Friends, and a costume contest. No cover is the most Venice sentence in this whole newsletter, right after “the houses decorate the boats too.” Go. Tip the band.

Nights of the Jack, Calabasas

If you want to bring the kids and also drink, the jack-o’-lantern trail at King Gillette Ranch has a bar for the adults. It’s called the Spookeasy, for 21 and up, with themed cocktails, craft beer, and wine. The trail runs select nights September 25 through November 1, 5:30 to 10 p.m., with a new carnival area this year. Tickets are timed and must be bought in advance, starting at $29.35 including fees depending on the date, and parking passes are sold in advance too. You’re welcome.

Nights of the Jack, King Gillette Ranch, through November 1. Tickets, by date and entry time.

Sidebar: WeHo shuts down Saturday

If you were thinking about driving east for any reason, don’t. West Hollywood’s Halloween Carnaval runs six to eleven Saturday night, free, on Santa Monica Boulevard between Doheny and La Cienega. The boulevard starts closing at ten in the morning and has to be totally clear of cars between La Cienega and Doheny by noon. Last year the sheriff’s estimate was 100,000 to 150,000 people. Only clear plastic bags are allowed. No alcohol on the street. Kids and pets are strongly discouraged, which is the city’s polite way of saying leave them home. Stay on our side of the 405. Eat your candy.

Go get rained on, eat the good candy first, and have a great time. The DMs are open for story recs, corrections, and the house I should have included but didn’t.

And if you want the short version, with maps built for screenshots: @everyoneknowsinla on Instagram. Happy Halloween!

Got a tip? A story? Something we might like? Email us at everyoneknowsinla@gmail.com

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This is not a real estate guide. Zillow exists for that, and you’re already on it at midnight. This is the stuff you actually need to know. Curate accordingly.

Malibu (90265)

You don’t live in LA. You live in Malibu, and the sign on PCH says so: “21 miles of scenic beauty.” It used to say 27. The city changed it in 2017, so technically you lost six miles and nobody held a vigil. Your town square is the Malibu Country Mart, your grocery store is the Whole Foods where surfers and billionaires wait in the same checkout line, and your entire calendar is organized around whether PCH is open, closed, down to one lane, or “open to residents only.” You’ve had a residents’ pass on your dashboard more often than you’ve had a reservation at Nobu. Your neighbors in the Palisades are rebuilding block by block while your own building department moves at the speed of a sea lion on a hot rock. You love it here. You will never, ever leave. You’d just like a permit sometime before Pepperdine graduates another class.

Spot yourself: Malibu Country Mart, 11am on a Tuesday, in a linen set and a trucker hat, pretending not to notice the guy from the show you binged.

Your tell: You call it “the ‘Bu” and you’re not being ironic.

Topanga (90290)

You live in what the chamber of commerce calls a “high energy vortex,” and you didn’t laugh when you read that. Your neighbors are a session musician, a sound healer, an astrologer, and a guy who’s lived in a yurt since 1987 and owns more land than anyone in Brentwood. The local chamber’s list of canyon essentials includes a rattlesnake wrangler, and you have him saved in your phone. Your idea of a fancy dinner is the Inn of the Seventh Ray, where the food is described as energized by the sun, and you’ve cried there at least once (a wedding, a breakup, or the bread). Your road down to the beach was closed or down to one lane for more than a year and you handled it better than anyone in Santa Monica handles a lane closure on Montana. You say you’re going to sell and move to Ojai. You’ve been saying it for eleven years.

Spot yourself: The Topanga Days parade on Memorial Day weekend, barefoot, with a kid on your shoulders and a tambourine you didn’t bring.

Your tell: You refer to Santa Monica as “town.”\

Pacific Palisades (90272)

You’re from the Palisades, and you say it the same way you always have, maybe a little louder now. Right now you’re probably renting in Santa Monica or Brentwood (rents in 90402 jumped almost 15% the spring after the fire, and some of that was you). You check the Pali Rebuild Map the way other people check the stock market. You have a contractor on speed dial, a binder of permit paperwork, and a strong opinion about whether to rebuild at 110% of your old square footage. The shopping center reopened with a ribbon-cutting and a brand-new Elyse Walker flagship before most of the houses had walls, and you have complicated feelings about that. You also went on opening day and bought the necklace that says “Palisades” on it. You’re coming back. Everyone you know is coming back. The group chat has a countdown.

Spot yourself: Your lot on a Saturday morning, coffee in hand, showing an out-of-town friend where the kitchen is going to go.

Your tell: “We’re rebuilding.” (Said like a promise, never a complaint.)

The Riviera (90272)

You live in the part of the Palisades that didn’t burn down, and you will never, ever say it that way. You say “we were lucky.” Then you change the subject to the golf. Your neighborhood is about 700 homes on big, quiet lots, split by Sunset into Upper and Lower Riviera, and you know exactly which one you’re in. The Reagans used to live on Amalfi, which you bring up the way other people bring up a celebrity sighting. Your street has more construction trucks than residents right now, because half the Palisades is rebuilding around you, and you have stopped complaining about the noise out loud. You send your contractor to help your friends. You host the moms whose kitchens are still a slab. You’re a little guilty, a lot grateful, and you have somehow become everyone’s favorite person to have a glass of wine with.

Spot yourself: Driving down Amalfi with a lasagna on the passenger seat for a friend who’s still in a rental.

Your tell: “We were lucky.” (Every time. And you mean it.)

Brentwood (90049)

Your town square is a red barn from 1948. The Brentwood Country Mart has a post office, a fire pit, a fried chicken counter, and a barbershop where Ronald Reagan used to get his hair cut, and you have run into three moms from school, an ex, and a man you’re 80% sure was in a Marvel movie there, all before 10am. You jog the coral-tree median on San Vicente, which is technically a protected Los Angeles Historic-Cultural Monument, so every morning you are doing lunges on a landmark. Your street is lined with hedges so tall you’ve never seen your neighbor’s front door, which everyone agrees is the point. And since the fire, half your Palisades friends are renting on your block, so the carpool got bigger, the dinner parties got better, and the rent went up for everybody.

Spot yourself: Sunset and Barrington at 2:45pm, in pickup traffic, on a phone call you’ll be on for forty minutes.

Your tell: You say you live in Brentwood. You actually live in Brentwood Park, Brentwood Glen, or Mandeville Canyon, and you’ll specify if pressed.

North of Montana (90402)

You don’t live in Santa Monica. You live North of Montana, and you wait a beat after you say it so people can react. Your friends have known you for three years and have never seen the inside of your house. They’ve only seen the four contractor trucks parked outside it. (Somebody is always redoing something. It’s never finished. It’s not supposed to be finished.) You know which side of 14th Street everyone lives on, because that’s Franklin vs. Roosevelt, and you have thoughts about both. Your street has its own private security patrol and you still post in the block chat when a car idles too long. And Halloween? You’re on the 16th and Georgina circuit, which means your front yard has a budget, a theme, and an animatronic something that a set decorator definitely touched.

Spot yourself: Montana Ave, Saturday, 9:15am. Holding a coffee you aren’t drinking, next to a stroller you aren’t pushing.

Your tell: You say “the neighborhood” and mean eleven blocks.

North of Wilshire (90403)

You’re three blocks from Montana and you tell people within ninety seconds of meeting them. You have all the walkability and half the hedges. You live in a Craftsman or a condo with a courtyard and a lemon tree, and you’ve stopped pretending it’s temporary. You walk everywhere and silently judge anyone who drives to Montana. Your Trader Joe’s is on the ground floor of a luxury condo building, which you find very European. You have a Zillow alert set for 90402. You will deny this.

Spot yourself: Walking to Montana with a canvas tote, in the exact outfit the NoMo mom is wearing, but from Quince.

Your tell: “We’re basically North of Montana.”

Ocean Park (90405)

You live in the part of Santa Monica that’s basically Venice with better parking enforcement. Your house is a 1920s bungalow with a front porch, a skylight and a price tag that would make the original owner faint, because fifty years ago this was “Dog Town,” the cheapest corner of Santa Monica, where people lived in the storefronts on Main Street and grew hydroponic tomatoes in the windows. Artists moved in for the rent. Richard Diebenkorn painted 145 canvases here and named the whole series after your neighborhood. The artists are gone now, and one of those paintings is worth more than your house, your neighbor’s house and the coffee shop on the corner. You walk to Main Street for everything, the Sunday farmers market is your church, and your neighborhood runs a social club with a summer picnic series, which you attend and pretend is ironic.

Spot yourself: The Main Street farmers market, Sunday at 9am, with a bag of peaches and a dog in a bandana, deciding whether to keep walking into Venice.

Your tell: You say you live “by Main Street” so nobody confuses you with the people who live by the Promenade.

Silver Triangle (90291)

You love Venice. From exactly four blocks away. Your house started life as a 1,200-square-foot postwar bungalow and is now a “five-year architectural collaboration” with a flat roof, a lot of glass, and a hot tub you call a water feature. You walk to Abbot Kinney for coffee, to the canals for golden hour, and to the boardwalk never. You have friends in the condos around the man-made lake (yes, there’s a lake. In Venice. Behind a gate.) but that’s a whole different personality type, and you’ll get to them another time.

Spot yourself: The canals at 6:45pm. Linen everything. A dog with a better haircut than your husband’s.

Your tell: You call it “the Triangle” like everyone should already know.

Venice Beach (90291)

You live on a walk street, which means you can’t drive to your own front door and you consider this a personality trait. Groceries arrive by wagon. The surfboard lives by the gate. You’ve either been here since 1994 or you bought in 2021 and dress like it’s 1994. Your neighbors are a painter who’s been in the same rent-controlled apartment for forty years, a founder, and a man with a cold plunge whose job no one has ever been able to identify. You hate what Abbot Kinney turned into. You’re there four times a week.

Spot yourself: Pulling a Radio Flyer full of Erewhon bags down a walk street, wetsuit half on.

Your tell: You say “old Venice” and get a little misty.

Sawtelle (90025)

You live in an apartment one block off Sawtelle, and your kitchen is decorative. Dinner is wherever the line is shortest, which is never Tsujita. When the Tsujita line is too long, you cross the street to Tsujita Annex, where the line is also too long. You know which boba spot has the good brown sugar, which karaoke box takes a walk-in at 11pm, and which parking structure validates. Half your building went to UCLA and the other half works in tech in Santa Monica, and nobody has ever met the landlord. You’re one of the only people on the Westside who can walk to ramen, coffee, a toy store and a grocery store without moving your car, and you are smug about it. You’ll move to Mar Vista eventually. You’ll still drive back here for dinner three nights a week.

Spot yourself: In line at Tsujita at 7pm on a Wednesday, already planning what you’ll buy at Giant Robot afterward.

Your tell: You give directions by restaurant, never by street.

Westdale (90066)

You can draw the Mar Vista Elementary boundary map from memory. You tell people you bought the house “for the yard.” It was for the school. You read every Nextdoor post on your street, and you have notes. Your neighbors list their top interests as dogs, gardening, and home improvement, which is why your street sounds like a leaf blower at 9am every Saturday. The block party is in June and you’re on the committee. No. You are the committee.

Spot yourself: Mar Vista Rec Center, already signed up for everything. You signed your friends up too.

Your tell: “We’re in the boundaries.” (Unprompted. To the barista.)

Mar Vista, Below the Hill (90066)

You live in the flats west of Centinela, where Mar Vista runs into Venice on one side and Santa Monica on the other. Your house is either a 1950s bungalow with a new black-framed addition, or it’s one of the 52 Gregory Ain houses on Beethoven, Moore and Meier, in which case you say “post-and-beam” a lot and lost two bidding wars before you finally got it. Your kid’s public school has a chicken coop and a native-plant “wildlands,” and the other parents are filmmakers and chefs. Sunday is the farmers market at Grand View and Venice, when the street closes to cars and becomes the village you pretend to have.

Spot yourself: Grand View and Venice, Sunday, 10am. A flat of blue eggs in one hand, a kid on a balance bike in the other.

Your tell: You tell people from out of town you live in Venice, and people from LA you live in Mar Vista.

Culver City (90230, 90232)

You moved here for the schools, and you say “our district” like it’s a member of the family. Your husband works at Sony, Apple, Amazon, or “a production company you haven’t heard of.” You tell everyone Culver is a small town inside LA. Then you complain that the small town now has a wine bar where you need a reservation on a Tuesday. You’re thrilled and furious about how much it’s changed, often in the same sentence. And yes. Even though you’ve lived here six years you still end up on the wrong Culver Boulevard at least once a week.

Spot yourself: Downtown Culver on a weeknight, still wearing your work lanyard.

Your tell: “It’s twenty minutes to everything.” (Except anywhere inside Culver City.)

Del Rey (90066)

“Not Marina del Rey. Not Playa del Rey. Del Rey.“ You have said this sentence roughly four thousand times. Even realtors get it wrong. You’re boxed in by Culver City, Playa Vista, the Marina and Venice, which means everyone assumes you live somewhere else. You got a yard without a forty-offer bidding war, your favorite restaurants are a taco spot and a diner, and you aren’t apologizing for either. Nobody has ever asked about your school boundary, and you like it that way.

Spot yourself: Paco’s Tacos on a Tuesday night. No reservation. Best night of the week.

Your tell: “It’s between Culver and the Marina.” (Hand gesture included.)

Westchester (90045)

Are we counting Westchester? We’re counting Westchester. You’d honestly prefer we didn’t, because the secret is getting out. Kentwood is hometown America ten minutes from LAX: real lawns, cul-de-sacs, kids on bikes, a Little League schedule on the fridge. The planes fly over your house and you don’t hear them anymore. Your guests do. Every time. And you have your own “North of,” too. It’s North of 77th, and you say it exactly the way your friend says North of Montana, just in a Patagonia vest.

Spot yourself: Truxton’s on a Thursday, at a table for eleven.

Your tell: You’re the friend who drives everyone to LAX. You charge in wine.

Welp. That’s the Westside, block by block. Every one of you thinks your zip code is the best one, and every one of you is a little bit right. The only thing we all agree on is that the 405 is a crime against humanity.

Which one are you? Be honest. Then send this to the friend who’s definitely a Westdale.

Did I nail your zip code and now you’re mad about it? Email us at everybodyknowsinla@gmail.com.

Everyone wanted in. Because of course they did. Because if you didn’t grow up here, or at the very least live the majority of your adolescence here, motherhood in LA is incredibly fucking lonely. And here was this mom offering what you haven’t had since your sorority days: a community of other people in the same stage as life as you are right now.

Of course I joined. Everyone did.

And then my phone blew up. And not just during normal business hours. Because these are moms. And moms don’t sleep. This group chat went off twenty-four hours a day.

So obviously I muted it. I muted it on “Always,” which is the longest commitment anyone in Los Angeles has ever made to anything that isn’t a mortgage or a Pilates package.

And then I started opening it more than any other app on my phone. In the pickup line. At 2am, feeding, one eye open, scrolling a neighborhood I don’t live in, three days behind on a lost-lovey situation at a park I have never been to, deeply, personally invested.

Which made me think: maybe this was a good idea. It’s like a neighborhood. It’s the only one most of us actually live in.

Because when was the last time your actual street did any of this for you? I’ve lived in my neighborhood for years and I could pick maybe four neighbors out of a lineup. The woman two doors down and I have been waving at each other through car windows for half a decade. We have never had a conversation. Everything I know about her is that her recycling is immaculate and her marriage seems fine from the driveway. My kids’ best friends live twenty-five minutes away, which in LA traffic makes Culver City a long-distance relationship. Nobody’s grandmother lives two blocks over. Nobody sits on a porch.

But then somebody posts a link. It’s always the same kind of somebody: a mom who made a thing, and the thing is actually good, and she’d like to sell it to the few hundred women she’s been up with at 2am. I’ve gone to click one of those links myself. It was gone before my thumb got there. I blinked. Somebody typed “Where’d that link go?”

One of the admins chime in. Because of course by this time there were admins, which I called watchers, and those admins deleted that self promotion faster than you can say delayed vaccines. And then, like you do as you stroll your neighborhood sidewalks with a stroller, you began to see the cracks. Because who are these admins with kids allegedly the same age as mine (but I say allegedly, because these admins are ALWAYS on their phone. To the point where I’m not judging when I ask where is that baby that is the same age as mine?).

The reminder came shortly after: no self promotion.

And listen. I get it. Of course I get it. There are hundreds of women in there. There’s a lost lovey every six hours, a biting tribunal twice a week, somebody’s emergency plumber situation at 1am. Making sure it doesn’t become a living ad board is a worthy cause. But like…also the least of our worries.

But here’s one of the many things I can’t un-think once I thought it: I know a pyramid scheme when I see one. And this is the beginning.

Whoever starts the group is at the top. Obviously. She made it, she holds the list, and if the money ever shows up, it shows up to her. And underneath her there’s a whole layer of women working for free. Not exactly free free, because what they aren’t paid in money they’re paid in authority, and let me tell you, they are spending it. Nobody patrols a baby group chat like airport security unless there’s a hierarchy and they’re climbing it. She doesn’t even have to delete anything herself anymore. The downline handles it. And they take their job very, very seriously.

The sorority at least charged you dues to your face and told you what they were for. This one runs on volunteer labor and community spirit until the compensation plan drops. As a lurker in this chat, I’m very curious to see where the chips will fall.

And look, this is NOT a knock on the group chat. I'm impressed by the founder. I admire the vision. I applaud the courage. I commend the community. But…these are things I think about.

But the second thing I can’t unthink now that I’ve thunk it is this: for all of these watchers patrolling and weeding out the entrepreneurial mother trying to make a living in LA, how are we vetting the people allowed in the chat at all?

Because these moms are sharing personal stories. I know more about their kids than I do some of my own family. They tell this chat their drama. They tell this chat where they’re going to be on a Tuesday afternoon. They send this chat photos of their kids.

But this is not an actual village. It’s a chat room. And if the 90’s taught me anything, it’s that it’s a lot easier to hide your identity behind a screen than in real life. And I don’t know about you, but that freaks me out.

Here’s how lopsided it is. A product link survives in that chat for about nine seconds. A total stranger can live in it forever, as long as she (or he) never tries to sell anything.

We vet everything in this town. The preschool got a spreadsheet. The pediatrician got three referrals and a background vibe check. The babysitter got interviewed like she was applying to the CIA. And then a link got dropped in a Facebook group, and a few hundred of us handed it our real lives — our kids’ faces, our Tuesday afternoons, our 2am worst moments — no questions asked, because the loneliness was louder than the stranger danger ever stood a chance of being.

And I’m not standing outside it pointing. I’m in there. Reading. I know where a dozen babies are going to be on Saturday morning because their mothers announced it like a press release: park, time, stroller. I couldn’t pick those mothers out of a lineup. I could pick out their diaper bags.

Probably — almost certainly — everyone in there is exactly who she says she is: an exhausted woman with a baby and a question about a plumber. That’s what makes it so LA. We extend total trust to a profile photo the size of a postage stamp that we would never extend to a person standing in front of us. In the 90’s they warned us about chat rooms like it was a tornado drill. Then we grew up, had babies, got lonely, and rebuilt the chat room ourselves, put our kids in it, muted it, and called it a village.

And I still haven’t left. Of course I haven’t. Neither has anyone. At 3am the baby won’t sleep, the watchers are awake, the village is open, and it is the only place in this city that is. I just think about the door now. Who’s holding it open. Whether anyone ever once checked who walked through it.

So for moms in LA, the village is a group chat now. It’s a bit unhinged, it’s permanently muted, and it feels like the best neighborhood you can live in. Just, maybe lock the doors.

Got a tip? A story? Something we might like? Email us at everyoneknowsinla@gmail.com

Part 1: The Cheat Sheet

Print it. Tape it to your fridge. Burn it with Palo Santo.

Part 2: The Deets

Tuition. Dates. Deadlines.

Archer School for Girls (6–12)

All-girls school built on the premise that girls learn and lead best in a space designed around them — research-driven pedagogy, strong social-issue programming. Best for an engaged girl who wants to find her voice; standout English, History, languages, arts. Not for families wanting a coed scene.

Address: 11725 Sunset Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90049
Application Deadline: Dec 10, 2026 (interview guarantee Nov 12)
Key dates: Discover Archer Oct 18 & Nov 1 (flagship open house — applicant mini-classes, parent TED-style talks); Campus Previews Sept 16, Oct 7, 20; Neighborhood Coffees Sept 18–Nov 5; Day Visits after applying.
Testing: Not required, not accepted — take-home writing + math worksheet instead
Tuition cost: $59,600 total (official)

Brentwood School — Upper (6–12)

Warm, values-based big-tent school — scholars, athletes, artists, activists all claim a home, on a genuine K–12 runway. Best for kids who want belonging plus breadth. Not for families allergic to wealth-signaling. Note: 9th grade takes only ~15–20 new students, and admissions screens for first-choice signal.

Address: 100 S Barrington Pl, Los Angeles, CA 90049 (East Campus)
Application Deadline: Jan 8, 2027
Key dates: Open Houses Sat Nov 7 (middle & upper); all registration via admissions portal.
Testing: Not required — ISEE welcomed if submitted
Tuition cost: $58,207, grades 6–12 (official)

Campbell Hall (7–12)

Episcopal ‘spiritually integrated inquiry’ — academic excellence plus ‘decent, loving, and responsible human beings.’ Both progressive and traditional: innovative scheduling, uniforms, weekly chapel. Best for a well-rounded, kind kid who wants rigor without cutthroat. Not for pure pressure-cooker or pure unschool families.

Address: 4533 Laurel Canyon Blvd, Studio City, CA 91607
Application Deadline: Dec 16, 2026 (interview guarantee Nov 16)
Key dates: Open House (7–12) Nov 7; Parent to Parent Panels, performances, Fireside Chats in fall; family interviews Sept–Jan.
Testing: REQUIRED (ISEE/SSAT/HSPT/CTP) — new this cycle
Tuition cost: $57,080, grades 7–12 (official)

Chaminade College Prep (6–12)

Catholic Marianist college-prep — a traditional seven-year runway built on reasoning over rote, family spirit, moral formation. Best for kids who want structure, school spirit, and a big community (28 APs); the rare Westside private that doesn’t feel like a boutique. Not for progressive seekers; Catholic identity is woven through, not decorative.

Address: MS: 10210 Oakdale Ave, Chatsworth, CA 91311; HS: 7500 Chaminade Ave, West Hills, CA 91304
Application Deadline: Jan 15, 2027
Key dates: MS Open House Sun Nov 8 (9:30am–12pm); HS Open House Sun Nov 8 (1–3:30pm); MS Virtual Preview Night Dec 9; Eagle for a Day shadow program; prospective families invited to a varsity football game.
Testing: No entrance exam
Tuition cost: $26,995 (+ $385 tech fee; official)

Crossroads School — Upper (6–12)

Progressive ‘education in balance’ — rigorous academics with the arts treated as equally serious. Best for curious, arty, free-spirited kids who want to explore widely. Not for kids who need tight structure and guardrails — the classic knock is a permissive party culture.

Address: 1714 21st St, Santa Monica, CA 90404 (21st Street Campus)
Application Deadline: Dec 16, 2026
Key dates: Tours, open houses, parent chats via admissions portal (no public dates); small-group collaborative interviews.
Testing: REQUIRED for 9th grade (ISEE/SSAT); optional for 10–12
Tuition cost: $58,541, grades 6–12 (official)

de Toledo High School (9–12)

Pluralistic Jewish community school with a dual curriculum — forming ‘A+ human beings,’ kindness as curriculum. Best for Jewish families across the observance spectrum who want rigorous-but-kind academics and values-forward STEM. Not for ultra-high-pressure seekers or secular environments.

Address: 22622 Vanowen St, West Hills, CA 91307
Application Deadline: Jan 11, 2027 (priority)
Key dates: Open House Sun Nov 8, 2pm (tour the Medical Science & Engineering/Robotics academies); parent tours select Tue mornings; student visits select Fridays.
Testing: Not published
Tuition cost: $50,700 base (+ $2,000 new-family fee, $1,500 security, grade fees $2,075–$4,645; official)

Geffen Academy at UCLA (6–12)

UCLA-affiliated, research-backed adolescence — 9am–4pm days, project-based deep thinking, a dedicated Wellness class. Best for curious, self-directed kids who’d use a university campus as a resource. Not for big-school sports spectacle or highly traditional classical curriculum.

Address: 11000 Kinross Ave, Los Angeles, CA 90095
Application Deadline: Dec 18, 2026, 5pm
Key dates: Program Spotlight Oct 28; Open House Nov 14; Geffen Game Day Dec 1 (basketball at Collins Court); Evening with the Arts Dec 8; interviews include the campus tour (tours only inside interviews).
Testing: Optional — encouraged, no penalty either way
Tuition cost: $42,675 all-in (official)

Harvard-Westlake (7–12)

The most academically intense college-prep in LA. Best for self-driven, competitive kids lit up by hard work and smart peers. Not for kids who need a gentle pace or lots of hand-holding — the pressure-cooker reputation is earned.

Address: MS (7–9): 700 N Faring Rd, Los Angeles, CA 90077; US (10–12): 3700 Coldwater Canyon Ave, Studio City, CA 91604
Application Deadline: Jan 15, 2027, 11:59pm PT
Key dates: No traditional open house — prospective families attend athletic events Oct 18–28 and ‘HW and the Arts’ pre-show conversations (Oct 14–Feb 27); interview-guarantee deadline Nov 13.
Testing: Optional
Tuition cost: $54,900 (per NY Post/Wikipedia — not published by the school)

Louisville High School (9–12)

Girl-centered Catholic where confidence-building isn’t brochure language — calm, non-stressful culture, the value play in the girls’ tier. Best for girls who’d flourish with individualized attention in a warm, low-drama environment. Not for high-octane competitive scenes or co-ed seekers.

Address: 22300 Mulholland Dr, Woodland Hills, CA 91364
Application Deadline: Jan 15, 2027 (priority)
Key dates: 8th Grade Visit Day Nov 6; shadow days Nov–Apr; Open House Sun Dec 6 (11:30am–2pm). Note: Jan 19–21 exams are course placement, not entrance exams.
Testing: Not required — Jan exams optional, Honors placement only
Tuition cost: $26,700 sticker; real all-in ~$29,225 with fees (official fee schedule)

Loyola High School (9–12, boys)

Jesuit college-prep for boys — the “brotherhood” school, Niche’s #1 Catholic high school in the LA area. Rigorous academics, powerhouse athletics, and a genuine service culture. Best for boys who thrive on structure and tradition. Not for families allergic to homework volume.

Address: 1901 Venice Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90006
Application Deadline: Jan 15, 2027 (firm deadline for Step 2 materials; applications open Oct 21, 2026)
Key dates: Open house Sun Nov 8, 1–4pm; Fall Shadow Day Oct 12; Step 3 materials due Feb 7, 2027
Tuition cost: $32,822 (freshman, 2026–27)

Marlborough School (7–12, girls)

The girls’ school LA power families whisper about — preparing young women for leadership since 1889, with a 7:1 student-teacher ratio and a robotics/debate/entrepreneurship engine. Best for ambitious girls who want to be pushed. Not for kids who need a gentle on-ramp; the rigor is real.

Address: 250 S Rossmore Ave, Los Angeles, CA 90020
Application Deadline: Jan 8, 2027
Key dates: Open house Oct 17; info session Dec 9
Tuition cost: $57,850 (2026–27)

Marymount High School (9–12)

Independent Catholic girls’ school that runs like a small liberal arts college — 9:1 ratio, heavy math/science/humanities depth. Best for girls who want genuine rigor in a serene, known-by-name community. Not for big-school energy or co-ed social life.

Address: 10643 Sunset Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90077
Application Deadline: Jan 15, 2027
Key dates: Open House Sun Nov 8 (12–3:30pm); small-group tours; Shadow Days; interviews Oct–Feb (Saturday options Jan 9/23/30 — book early).
Testing: Flexible: ISEE/HSPT or the school’s own 25-min writing assessment
Tuition cost: 9th–11th $45,750; 12th $46,750 — transportation & lunch included (official)

Milken Community School (7–12)

Pluralistic Jewish college-prep — ‘sharp minds, generous hearts, kind souls’ — built around signature institutes (architecture/design, science & tech). Best for kids who want a values-rooted community with a wide elective menu. Not for secular or low-social-intensity families.

Address: 15800 Zeldins Way, Los Angeles, CA 90049
Application Deadline: Dec 11, 2026 (new families)
Key dates: Parent Coffee & Conversation Oct 21 (upper) & Dec 3; Student & Parent Open House Sun Nov 8 (9:30am–12:30pm).
Testing: Flexible — most recent standardized results (ERB/CTP4/ISEE/CAASPP/MAP)
Tuition cost: $57,450 (+ $2,500 one-time new-student fee; official)

New Roads School (6–12)

Progressive without the fluff — no APs, no rankings, but an Honors track and 100+ electives; diversity is the founding mission. Best for intellectually curious, self-directed kids who want to design their own path. Not for traditional markers (APs, rankings, competitive athletics).

Address: 3131 Olympic Blvd, Santa Monica, CA 90404
Application Deadline: Dec 14, 2026
Key dates: MS/Upper Open House Sun Nov 15, 2pm; student panel Oct 27; SPARK (learning support) night Oct 19; virtual info sessions Thursdays. Events explicitly not required and won’t affect decisions.
Testing: Not required — school does not review test scores
Tuition cost: $55,014, grades 6–12 (official)

Notre Dame High School, Sherman Oaks (9–12)

Co-ed Catholic high school in the Valley — welcoming, family-feeling, strong on teachers who actually know your kid. A sleeper pick for families priced out of the $50K+ tier. Best for kids who want a supportive community over a pressure cooker.

Address: 13645 Riverside Dr, Sherman Oaks, CA 91423
Application Deadline: Not published (no deadline or rolling statement anywhere on the official site — call before you assume anything)
Key dates: Not published — call the admissions office
Tuition cost: $26,280 (2026–27)

Sierra Canyon (7–12)

‘Excellence’ in every direction at once — 24 APs, 76-team athletics, real arts, 1,200 students. Best for the high-achieving kid who wants to go big. Not for kids who wilt under spotlight or pressure, or families uncomfortable with wealth culture.

Address: 20801 Rinaldi St, Chatsworth, CA 91311
Application Deadline: Dec 15, 2026
Key dates: Campus Preview Sat Nov 14; private parent tours + interviews Mon–Thu from Sept; buses run from Brentwood, Bel Air, Culver City, Woodland Hills, Encino & more.
Testing: REQUIRED for grades 6–11 — flexible: school-administered tests (ERB/CAASPP/MAP) satisfy it; ISEE/SSAT specifically optional
Tuition cost: $48,600, grades 7–12 (official)

Viewpoint School (TK–12)

Classic big-campus independent — 27 APs, championship swimming, robotics, ~1,200 students. Best for the motivated all-rounder who wants traditional college-prep with lots of doors. Not for kids needing a tiny, intimate setting. Note: merging with Berkeley Hall (announced Oct 2026).

Address: 23620 Mulholland Hwy, Calabasas, CA 91302
Application Deadline: Dec 15, 2026 (priority)
Key dates: Small-group tours (inquiry first — no campus access without appointment); Admission Preview Days (dates TBD); applicant interview + family meeting.
Testing: Optional (ISEE or SSAT)
Tuition cost: $56,973, grades 6–12 (official)

Wildwood School — Upper (6–12)

True progressive — small, project-based, student-led research, the “self-starters and independent learners” factory. Best for curious kids who learn by doing. Not for families who want a traditional structure; the rigor question follows this school everywhere.

Address: 11811 W Olympic Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90064
Application Deadline: Dec 15, 2026, 11:59pm PT (supplemental materials due Jan 8, 2027)
Key dates: Open house Sept 30, 6–8pm OR Nov 14, 9–11am (pick one); Student Visit Days Nov 11 or Jan 14; decisions Mar 12, 2027
Tuition cost: $56,055 (middle & upper, 2026–27)

Windward School (7–12)

Dynamic college-prep — rigor inside warmth, whole-student approach. Best for bright, motivated kids who want challenge in a nurturing, inclusive community. Not for kids who need a gentle social pond — the recurring theme is cliquey dynamics.

Address: 11350 Palms Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90066
Application Deadline: Dec 15, 2026 (interview guarantee Nov 12)
Key dates: Tours & events via inquiry/admissions portal (no public dates published).
Testing: REQUIRED (ISEE — complete by Jan 19, 2027)
Tuition cost: $58,101 base (official)

Part 3: The Tea

What parents actually say when the admissions officer leaves the room.

Archer School for Girls

Mom tip: The testing outlier — ISEE not required and not even accepted. Every applicant does 30-min take-home writing + math after the interview instead. Also: teacher recs waived for BHUSD and SMMUSD public-school families (per school site).

Pro: Warm all-girls community where girls build confidence speaking up — admired head of school, “fantastic instruction in English, History, Foreign Language, and Art” (Niche alum reviews, Movoto).

Con: One detailed parent review charges inconsistent math/science — turnover, curriculum gaps, “fostering confidence in math by lowering the bar” (Movoto, 2020) — corroboration thin.

Brentwood School — Upper

Mom tip: 9th grade takes only ~15–20 kids, and the office screens for first-choice signal — “if they know you are also applying to H-W and Crossroads and sense that they are your ‘back up’ choice, I doubt they’ll be that interested” (Beyond the Brochure LA). Counterpoint (DC Urban Mom): “a flashy school where driving up in your Toyota makes you feel inferior.”

Pro: Belonging is the differentiator — “BWS truly sees and values each child as an individual”; values-based culture “like a second home” (recent Niche).

Con: Flashy wealth culture with DEI perceived as performative — “driving up in your Toyota makes you feel inferior. Money, donations and connections go far here” (Movoto, Glassdoor).

Campbell Hall

Mom tip: Nov 16 is the real deadline — Dec 16 doesn’t guarantee an interview. Also new this cycle: standardized tests are now required (ISEE, SSAT, HSPT, or CTP), a shift from last year (per school site).

Pro: Values-first without preppiness — real aid diversity (1 in 4 on aid), “kindness is a major priority along w academics,” vibrant arts (Niche, PrivateSchoolReview).

Con: Aging/outdated campus facilities vs. peer privates, with improvements reportedly in progress (Niche parent reviews).

Chaminade College Prep

Mom tip: No entrance exam required for 2027–28 — one less hurdle than most peers. Parent reviews: the House System genuinely creates belonging; middle school gets raves, high school more mixed (Niche). ~30% of families get tuition assistance.

Pro: A “true” college prep — reasoning over memorize-and-regurgitate; the house system builds friendships fast; “everyone knows your name” family feel (Niche).

Con: Complaints cluster on the high school, not the middle school — middle school “exceptional,” but high school dinged for uneven teacher quality (math singled out) and “Daddy Ball” basketball favoritism (Niche).

Crossroads School — Upper

Mom tip: The interview is a small-group collaborative format — authenticity over polish. Optional early deadline Nov 6 for sibling/alumni/employee families — and new families who want more interview slots. And like the lower school: no rejection letters, so a waitlist letter is effectively a soft no (per school FAQ + Beyond the Brochure LA).

Pro: Creative, laidback but challenging — “high performance with a creative, laidback attitude”; invested teachers, strong community, huge club menu (homes.com).

Con: Permissive party/drug culture: “Crossroads has a massive, MASSIVE drug problem and flakey academics” (DC Urban Mom).

de Toledo High School

Mom tip: The school “expects both parents to contribute financially” — even non-working parents — and late TA applications only get reviewed in later rounds. File Clarity by Jan 15 even if you’re still deciding (per school FAQ).

Pro: Teachers “a breed apart” — culture of building “A+ human beings, not merely robots who perform well on the SAT’s”; small classes, close-knit pluralistic Jewish community (Niche).

Con: Some parent’s wish for more student accountability.

Geffen Academy at UCLA

Mom tip: The Oct 16 guarantee is the whole game — tours happen only inside interviews, so missing Friday means losing the one structured way to see campus. Fee an issue? Email assistance@geffenacademy.ucla.edu for a discount instead of skipping (per school site).

Pro: Project-based, deep-thinking curriculum with an intentional wellness program (a dedicated Wellness class parents call “amazing”), 9 a.m. start, and the UCLA campus (Movoto).

Con: Thin parent-voice sourcing — but employee reviews repeatedly flag disorganized leadership and high turnover (Indeed); a 2023 Daily Bruin investigation documented unaddressed makerspace safety violations.

Harvard-Westlake

Mom tip: Main entries are 7th (~215 seats) and 9th (~90); 8th is effectively closed. Interview + timed writing “carry the decision” — only submit ISEE scores if genuinely strong (per Cardinal Education + Beyond the Brochure LA). Note: last year’s deadline was Jan 16 — this cycle moved a day earlier.

Pro: Rigor “comparable to the DC big 3” with unusually transparent college counseling (published matriculation handbook) and a financial aid program a current parent calls “amazing” (DC Urban Mom, Niche).

Con: Pressure-cooker reputation is earned — “ungodly amount of homework” (DC Urban Mom); a 2019 student-newspaper poll found over a third of respondents had thought about suicide (via Hollywood Reporter).

Louisville High School

Mom tip: The 8th Grade Visit Day is the make-or-break event — “her daughter knew she loved this school on 8th Grade visit day” (parent review). At ~$27K with automatic scholarship consideration by Jan 15, it’s the value play in the girls’-school tier. Note: tuition-assistance priority deadline is Dec 16 — a month before the application priority date.

Pro: Empowering all-girls environment — daughters’ confidence “completely increased”; especially strong English department; calm, non-stressful culture (Niche).

Con: Honestly hard to find — ~280 Niche reviews skew overwhelmingly positive; no recurring complaint surfaced.

Loyola High School

Mom tip: The application is a marathon — Step 2 alone wants a parent statement, activity form, student essay, three student videos, and rec letter requests. Start the day applications open (Oct 21).

Pro: The brotherhood is real — “a special bond that lasts a lifetime,” with rigorous academics and powerhouse athletics (Niche, Homes.com).

Con: The homework load is the recurring complaint — one parent’s son worked late into the night daily through 9th and 10th grade (Homes.com).

Marlborough School

Mom tip: Jan 8 is one of the earliest deadlines on this list — don’t let the holidays eat your timeline.

Pro: Tight-knit and empowering — “one of the best schools in the country,” rigorous academics, teachers who know each girl as an individual (Homes.com).

Con: “Ridiculously rigorous” cuts both ways — a freshman notes the culture can feel restrictive with little peer-to-peer support (Homes.com).

Marymount High School

Mom tip: ISEE/HSPT not required — your daughter can do a low-pressure 25-min Zoom writing assessment instead. And apply early: you can’t schedule the interview until you do, and Saturday slots go fast (per school site).

Pro: “Rigorous academics but not at the expense of a student’s happiness & sanity” — challenging without overwhelming, caring teachers, serene campus (Niche).

Con: Workload is the recurring knock — “not light, especially with APs”; a parent wishes for “a bit more fun and a bit less pressure” (Niche).

Milken Community School

Mom tip: Testing is flexible — they’ll take ERB, CTP4, ISEE, CAASPP, or MAP from this year or last. Use whichever your kid already has; don’t buy a new test-prep cycle (per school site).

Pro: Wide menu of signature electives — STEM, architecture, robotics, finance/entrepreneurship — atop a warm, values-rooted Jewish community; kids “make the kind of friends he’ll have his whole life” (Niche, homes.com).

Con: Recurring complaint that admin looks the other way on toxic student culture — “an open secret in the LA Jewish community” with “a deep racial divide and bullies pick on the nice kids with little to no repercussions” (Niche).

New Roads School

Mom tip: Aid decisions are independent of admissions and cover the activity fee too — ~40% get aid averaging ~$37,000, so the real cost gap is much bigger than the sticker (per school site).

Pro: The rare private school that “doesn’t feel elitist, snooty or uptight” — authentically walks its talk on socioeconomic diversity; teachers “know the kids and care” (Niche).

Con: Recurring complaints that bullying goes unaddressed — “My high schooler was bullied terribly and the school did nothing” (two homes.com reviews); a former teacher’s 2024 discrimination/retaliation lawsuit was reported by the Santa Monica Daily Press.

Notre Dame High School, Sherman Oaks

Mom tip: No published deadline means you have to call — don’t assume rolling, and don’t assume you have time.

Pro: Genuinely welcoming — non-Catholic families say they felt fully embraced, and teachers “go above and beyond” for struggling kids (Niche).

Con: Stress management is the theme — students say tests pile up across multiple classes on the same days (Niche).

Sierra Canyon

Mom tip: The Westside reality check — it’s a haul, but buses run through Brentwood, Bel Air, Culver City, Woodland Hills, Encino, Tarzana, Sherman Oaks (per school FAQ). Culturally the celebrity-athletics school; reviews polarized between “extremely well-run” and “rich kid school” — tour and decide which campus you’re seeing.

Pro: “Superior academic education while still focusing on the whole child” — rigorous academics, top-tier facilities and extracurriculars (homes.com).

Con: Recurring celebrity/wealth entitlement culture — “the administration seems to really cater to the rich celebrity parents”; “nepotism and favoritism are the pillars of this school” (Movoto, Glassdoor).

Viewpoint School

Mom tip: The big story: merging with Berkeley Hall (announced Oct 5, 2026) — Berkeley Hall 8th graders get a guaranteed Viewpoint place with no second application, which could tighten 9th-grade seats for outsiders. Separately: the school is currently facing a parent lawsuit alleging it ignored 2024 reports against a teacher later arrested on child-molestation charges (NY Post, Sept 27, 2026; allegations contested — the school says it went to police immediately). Ask about safeguarding policy on tour.

Pro: “Professional and gracious” culture — parents say hello in the halls, many non-entertainment-professional families, kids land real involvement instead of chasing “cool” (Beyond the Brochure LA).

Con: Recurring theme of a cliquish, wealth-driven social scene where “high donating families” steer culture, with student cruelty going unchecked (Movoto parent reviews).

Wildwood School — Upper

Mom tip: Early-cycle applications “tend to get read more carefully” than deadline-day ones (former admissions director via Beyond the Brochure LA) — and the middle-school FAQ asks “Do you track attendance at admission events?”, so show up.

Pro: True progressive substance — small project-based education producing “self-starters and independent learners” (Homes.com, Movoto).

Con: The rigor question never dies — “all fluff and zero substance” for “the very average liberal arts crowd” (Homes.com).

Windward School

Mom tip: Nov 12 is the date that matters — submit by then to lock in a 7th-grade interview (per school site). Parent-review caveat: warm and nurturing, but “if you don’t shine you are left behind” — match the kid to the rigor, not the reputation (Niche).

Pro: Warm-but-rigorous — “the most wonderful school and environment for kids 7th grade onwards”; new students integrated from day one (Niche).

Con: Stubbornly recurring cliquey/mean-girl social dynamics — recent Niche student reviews call the student body “incredibly cliquey” (echoed by older parent reviews).

Welp. Now that you’re all thoroughly overwhelmed, that’s all I got for you. Fifteen schools, fifteen deadlines, and a testing landscape that changes faster than the 405 at rush hour. Trust your instincts. And if all else fails, apply to all of them.

Did I miss something? Got a tip? A juicy secret? Something you want explored? Email us at everybodyknowsinla@gmail.com.

[NOTE: Dates and policies change; confirm everything directly with the schools before you plan your life around it. And don’t just rely on what you hear. Talk to real parents of real kids who attend the schools for a better understanding of them.]

You might also like…

The parent statements. The “we just want to get to know your family” interviews that are absolutely interviews. The open-house coffees that are at the same time as literally any work meeting but you still have to be there. And too many schools with too many events that are totally not mandatory but also incredibly mandatory if you want your kid to have a shot.

So I did the deeply unwell thing and put it all in one place: every deadline, every open house, every tuition figure I could verify against an actual school website — plus the mom tips, the pros and cons, and the stuff I’d normally only tell you over coffee. One page. Bookmark it, send it to the group chat, and I’ll see you in the portal-refresh trenches.

Part 1: The Cheat Sheet

You can just download this image and tape it to your fridge.

Part 2: The Deets

The dates, the deadlines, and the weeks you’ll need extra coffee and a few excuses to get out of work.

Berkeley Hall (Nursery–8)

The oldest co-ed independent school in LA (1911), whole-child philosophy — “fearless scholars and conscientious citizens.” Best for a kind, curious kid who wants to be known by name in a close-knit community. Not for Harvard-Westlake-feeder planners, or anyone who can’t face the Sepulveda/405 commute. Heads-up: merging with Viewpoint (announced Oct 2026) — 8th graders get a guaranteed Viewpoint path.

Address: 16000 Mulholland Drive, Los Angeles, CA 90049
Application Deadline: Dec 15, 2026
Key dates: Coffee & Tour Thursdays Oct 1 & 22, Nov 12, Dec 10 (9–11am); virtual visits available. No ISEE required or accepted.
Tuition cost: Nursery–EK $36,500; K–5 $44,500; 6–8 $49,500.

Brentwood School (K–12)

Secular K–12 running on stated core values — trust, respect, responsibility, honesty, caring, diversity, community. The lower school “starts them out easy and ratchets it up slowly.” Best for a bright, social kid who’ll enjoy a big, well-resourced K–12 community. Not for families allergic to wealth-as-culture.

Address: 12001 W Sunset Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90049 (Lower School, West Campus)
Application Deadline: Nov 6, 2026 (K); Jan 8, 2027 (grades 1–5)
Key dates: K Open Houses Oct 28 & Nov 3 (registration required); the interview includes a tour.
Tuition cost: K–5 $49,685 (+ $2,500 one-time new-student fee).

Buckley School (K–12)

Founded 1933, still running the “Four-Fold Plan” — academics, arts, athletics, and moral education in equal measure. Best for a kid who thrives with structure and character expectations. Not for free spirits — every kid plays a sport, does the school play each year, and does public speaking. Not optional.

Address: 3900 Stansbury Ave, Sherman Oaks, CA 91423
Application Deadline: Nov 9, 2026 priority (guaranteed interview); Dec 8, 2026 regular (K–5)
Key dates: Admission Open House Sat Oct 17 (Lower School 8:30–11am, adult-only); DEI & Community Voices Brunch 12–1pm; K playdate Jan 22, 2027.
Tuition cost: K–5 $49,939 (+ $2,000 one-time new-student fee).

Campbell Hall (K–12)

Independent Episcopal with structured academics and a real chapel tradition — the mission is “decent, loving, and responsible human beings.” Best for a values-driven kid who wants clear structure plus strong performing arts. Not for secular families who’d chafe at chapel, or anyone who needs a shiny campus.

Address: 4533 Laurel Canyon Blvd, Studio City, CA 91607
Application Deadline: Dec 16, 2026 (guaranteed-interview deadline Nov 16)
Key dates: Open Houses Oct 16 & Nov 7 (9am–12pm); Outreach Gift Fair around Thanksgiving — elementary students run charity gift tables. Note: standardized tests now REQUIRED this cycle (new).
Tuition cost: K–5 $48,700; grade 6 $52,890.

Carlthorp School (K–6)

“Traditionally academic in a warm and secure setting” — the whole school runs on a ten-point Code of Conduct read aloud every Monday. Best for a kid who likes clear expectations and old-fashioned structure. Not for progressive or project-based seekers — the anti-Wildwood.

Address: 438 San Vicente Blvd, Santa Monica, CA 90402
Application Deadline: Nov 1, 2026 (K); Jan 8, 2027 (grades 1–6)
Key dates: Tours + parent interview by appointment — the post-tour meeting IS the interview (bring both custodial parents). No mid-year admissions.
Tuition cost: $43,190 (+ $1,000 one-time new-student fee; includes early/late care).

The Center for Early Education (Toddler–6)

Founded 1939 on the idea that social-emotional development matters as much as academics — a full traditional elementary lineup delivered warmly. Best for shy or sensitive kids, and families who want real diversity without giving up academic seriousness. Not for pressure-cooker seekers.

Address: 563 N Alfred St, West Hollywood, CA 90048
Application Deadline: Nov 16, 2026
Key dates: Open House + Campus Tour Oct–Dec (scheduled only AFTER you apply); parent interviews and K visits Oct–Jan; one virtual info session.
Tuition cost: K–6 $42,945 (+ $2,000 one-time new-student fee).

Crossroads School (K–12)

Progressive, developmental — arts, diversity, and the full human potential. Best for creative, independent kids; teachers praised for social-emotional investment. Not for families expecting pure progressive — parent reviews say the elementary has drifted test/homework-heavy, with structures dictated by the middle and high schools

Address: 1715 Olympic Blvd, Santa Monica, CA 90404 (elementary/Norton Campus)
Application Deadline: Dec 16, 2026 (sibling/employee/alumni Nov 6)
Key dates: Tours Sept 22–Dec 15; Open House Sat Nov 7 (9:30am–12:30pm); DEI Family Alliance Nights (Asian Nov 5, Latinx Nov 12, Black Nov 17, LGBTQ+ Dec 16); “How We Learn” spotlight Jan 13.
Tuition cost: K–5 $49,262 (+ $3,400 enrollment fee).

Curtis School (DK–6)

Traditional and rigorous — “mini Harvard-Westlake,” and a big H-W feeder. Best for kids who like clear expectations, competition, and a high bar. Not for gentle-progressive families; the parent culture runs country-club.

Address: 15871 Mulholland Drive, Los Angeles, CA 90049
Application Deadline: Nov 1, 2026, 5pm (DK & K); Nov 13 (grades 1–6)
Key dates: Open houses Sept 16 & Oct 17 (DK/K), Nov 7 (all grades); Family Fun Day in November — applicant families only, kids welcome (register after applying); tours Sept–Jan only AFTER applying.
Tuition cost: $42,921 (+ $2,500 one-time new-student fee).

John Thomas Dye School (K–6)

The traditionalist’s sure thing since 1929 — the 5C’s character code, “excellent organization and consistently challenging work.” Best for kids who bloom with clear structure and homework. Not for progressive seekers; the knock is old-school, low-diversity.

Address: 11414 Chalon Rd, Los Angeles, CA 90049 (Bel Air)
Application Deadline: No closing date — first-come from Sept 29, 2026 (capped at 70 boys + 70 girls; often fills within the same week)
Key dates: Group tours May & Sept (after inquiry); “Dinner with 12 Strangers” parent tradition (Sept 26); Grade 3 Landmarks Show; Lunch on the Lawn; JTD Fair.
Tuition cost: $46,096 (+ $2,500 one-time new-student fee).

Laurence School (K–6)

Developmental “Total Child” philosophy — social and emotional growth treated as prerequisites for learning. Best for young kids who bloom with warmth, personal attention, and confidence-building. Not for pressure-cooker families.

Address: 13639 Victory Blvd, Valley Glen, CA 91401
Application Deadline: Dec 21, 2026, 5pm (new families)
Key dates: Parent visitations Sept 15–Dec 2; K play-dates Dec 5, Jan 9, Feb 6. Ask admissions about the November Open House/Farmers Market/Book Fair/Global Faire tradition.
Tuition cost: $42,950 (+ $2,500 one-time new-student fee).

Mirman School (K–8)

The only LA school mission-built for highly gifted kids — 138+ IQ required before you can even apply. Best for profoundly gifted kids who were checking out elsewhere. Not for anyone who wouldn’t clear the gate, or low-pressure families. Competition among students and parents noted.

Address: 16180 Mulholland Drive, Los Angeles, CA 90049
Application Deadline: Dec 11, 2026 — IQ test results due Dec 4 FIRST
Key dates: Admission Open House Sun Oct 25 (2–4pm); school tours via portal; Saturday K Playdate; parent interview by Jan 29, 2027.
Tuition cost: $43,900 (per aggregators — not published by the school).

New Roads School (K–12)

Progressive with real teeth — inclusion-founded, ~40% of families on aid, kids “interesting, smart, talented, but not entitled.” Best for curious, independent thinkers in a diverse, values-driven community. Not for traditional-structure families.

Address: 3131 Olympic Blvd, Santa Monica, CA 90404 (Herb Alpert Educational Village)
Application Deadline: Dec 14, 2026
Key dates: Elementary open house Sun Nov 15, 9am; K tours Sept 29, Oct 15, Dec 1; virtual info sessions Oct 22, Nov 5, Dec 3.
Tuition cost: ~$52,645 (per aggregators — not published by the school).

The Oaks School (TK–6)

Explicitly progressive and constructivist — “childhood is too important to rush.” Tiny (~109 students). Best for curious, self-directed kids whose parents want school to feel joyful, not performative. Not for grades-and-worksheets families; it ends at 6th, so middle-school admissions arrive early.

Address: 6817 Franklin Ave, Los Angeles, CA 90028
Application Deadline: Not published — call 323-850-3755
Key dates: 15–20 min Zoom with admissions, personalized tours, open houses — all via inquiry form (no published dates); weekly Community Walk (8:30–9:30am); annual all-school campout.
Tuition cost: K–6 $37,400; TK $35,000 (+ $2,500 one-time new-student fee).

PS1 Pluralistic School (K–6)

Progressive pluralism — “how you are smart, not how smart you are.” Best for sensitive kids who need to feel seen to do their best work. Not for kids needing strong academic scaffolding (parent reviews flag weak learning-difference support). Change of leadership has dampened moral among teachers and current families.

Address: 1225 Broadway, Santa Monica, CA 90404
Application Deadline: Dec 11, 2026
Key dates: Tours Tue/Thu mornings (Oct 13 & 22, Nov 5 & 19, Dec 3 & 8) — BOTH parents must tour before the interview, even in separate households.
Tuition cost: $43,100 (+ fees).

Seven Arrows Elementary (PreK–6)

Small-by-design (180 students, one class per grade) — “Integrated Experiential Learning” blending traditional academics with progressive practice. Best for families wanting a tiny, warm, everyone-knows-your-kid community. Not for big-facilities or big-sports kids. The Spanish program is a standout.

Address: 3420 Ocean Park Blvd, Santa Monica, CA 90405 (new campus — moved fall 2026)
Application Deadline: Dec 10, 2026
Key dates: Parent & Student Panel Nov 19; Curriculum & Coffee Dec 3 (”optional, highly recommended”); campus tours MANDATORY, Sept–Dec (Tue/Wed 9:30–11am).
Tuition cost: ~$46,820 (per aggregators — not published by the school).

Turning Point School (Preschool–8)

Brain-research-framed “dynamic learning,” globally oriented, intentionally all-inclusive tuition. Best for kids who do well with warmth + structure, and parents who value communication. Not for families allergic to administrative churn (the recurring parent-review knock).

Address: 8780 National Blvd, Culver City, CA 90232
Application Deadline: Jan 8, 2027 (siblings of current families Dec 4, 2026)
Key dates: Open House Nov 14 (kids attend — hands-on activities); morning info sessions in fall (via inquiry); Family Conversation — their word for the interview, 45 min, all custodial parents required.
Tuition cost: K–4 $45,308 (+ $2,000 one-time placement fee).

UCLA Lab School (EC–grade 6)

UCLA’s laboratory school — a research site where scholars study how kids learn, not really a “private school.” Non-graded, inquiry-based, multi-age. Best for curious, self-directed kids. Not for kids who need grades and benchmarks to feel safe — and you can’t game it: blind lottery, no interviews.

Address: 330 Charles E Young Dr N, Los Angeles, CA 90095 (UCLA campus)
Application Deadline: Lottery — no hard deadline (applications opened Sept 21, 2026)
Key dates: Prospective Parent Visits Oct 15 & 22, Nov 18, Dec 9 & 17 — only after inquiry, no private tours, no visits outside these dates.
Tuition cost: $37,903 (same across all levels).

Village School (PK–6)

The Palisades’ warm neighborhood school — developmental by design, deliberately ramping from play-based early years to academics. Best for kids who need warmth, confidence-building, and a gentle on-ramp. Not for visible-rigor families (the recurring knock: “behind academically”).

Address: 780 Swarthmore Ave, Pacific Palisades, CA 90272
Application Deadline: Dec 1, 2026 (siblings Oct 23)
Key dates: Open House Oct 14 & Nov 5 (9:30–11am); Curriculum Coffee & Conversation Oct 29 & Nov 17; prospective families can attend the all-school Monday Morning Meeting (schedulable from January, via portal).
Tuition cost: $42,750 (+ $2,000 one-time new-student fee).

Westland School (K–6)

The OG progressive — founded 1949 on Dewey’s learn-by-doing philosophy. Multi-age groups, woodworking, gardening, field trips — and it’s genuinely a co-op: parent participation expected. Best for hands-on learners whose families want to be inside the school. Not for drop-off-convenience parents, or anyone wanting grades and benchmarks. 39% of families on Flexible Tuition.

Address: 16200 Mulholland Dr, Los Angeles, CA 90049
Application Deadline: Jan 19, 2027 (priority)
Key dates: Campus tours Sept 29, Oct 14, Nov 5, Dec 10; Community Sings (whole-school sings — a Civil Rights sing coincides with MLK Jr. week); annual spring Fair; garden harvest-and-cook days.
Tuition cost: ~$39,675 (2025–26; not published for 2026–27).

Westside Neighborhood School (Preschool–8)

Hands-on, project-based, growth-mindset — on a brand-new $90M campus with a FabLab, robotics suite, and yes, a golf simulator. Real diversity, test-free admissions. Best for maker-y, curious kids who learn by doing. Not for traditional-benchmark parents (flags: faculty turnover, new-campus transition year).

Address: 5340 Alla Rd, Los Angeles, CA 90066 (new permanent campus, opened Sept 2026)
Application Deadline: Not published (third-party: Dec 4 priority / Jan 8 general)
Key dates: Fall into Autumn Festival Sat Nov 7 (9:30–11am, open to the public); Mini Maker Faire Sat Dec 5 (10am–12pm — open to all 1st–6th graders from any school); Skate Into Winter Sat Dec 12 (9:30–11am, public); Middle School Preview Dec 14.
Tuition cost: K–4 $45,440 (+ $2,500 one-time new-family fee).

Wildwood School (K–12)

True progressive — project-based, student-led research, narrative assessments (”Habits of Mind and Heart”). Best for self-directed kids who love going deep on projects. Not for kids who need structure, grades, and clear benchmarks.

Address: 12201 Washington Pl, Los Angeles, CA 90066 (elementary campus)
Application Deadline: Dec 15, 2026
Key dates: Beyond the Textbook: An Evening of Discovery; K & 1st Grade Visit Day; 2nd–5th Grade Visit Day; Meet the Students (virtual); Meet Wildwood BIPOC Parents/Guardians (virtual); Kaleidoscope — the elementary community celebration of cultures. All via portal after inquiry. Tip: event attendance may be tracked — register early.
Tuition cost: Not published by the school.

The Willows Community School (DK–8)

“Balanced progressive” — experiential, design-thinking, maker curriculum with real academic teeth; kids loop with the same class for two years. Best for engaged, curious kids whose parents want progressive philosophy WITH substance. Not for families put off by insider parent culture. New makerspace opens spring 2027.

Address: 8509 Higuera St, Culver City, CA 90232
Application Deadline: Dec 18, 2026
Key dates: Tours Sept–Dec; Taste of The Willows Oct 16 (5:30–7:30pm); Book Fair Nov 16 (11am–3pm); Coffee with Head of School Oct 28 & Dec 9; Family Education Night Jan 20; K group assessments Feb 2, 2027.
Tuition cost: K–5 $42,865 (+ $1,250 one-time new-student fee).

Part 3: The Tea

Because let’s be real. That’s why you’re here.

Berkeley Hall

Mom tip: The biggest one, it’s merging with Viewpoint (announced Oct 5, 2026): 8th graders get a guaranteed Viewpoint path starting 2027–28. Largest entry points: Nursery, K, 4th, 6th.

Pro: The Westside’s “best kept secret” — close-knit, nurturing community on a 66-acre Mulholland campus (Niche 4.97/5 across 97 reviews).

Con: The Mulholland commute is a real lifestyle tax — Beyond the Brochure LA bloggers repeatedly call the Sepulveda/405 drive “virtually impossible.” Budget an extra podcast per day.

Brentwood School

Mom tip: If K doesn’t work out, reapply and say plainly how much you want it — “They will listen” (Beyond the Brochure LA). Note the K deadline (Nov 6) is five days before Curtis/Carlthorp — don’t assume one January date covers the whole school.

Pro: Nurturing runway that ramps gently — praised “fantastic, very down to earth” lower-school head; K “starts them out easy... and ratchets it up slowly” (DC Urban Mom, Movoto).

Con: Wealth display as its own culture — “a flashy school where driving up in your Toyota makes you feel inferior”; “money, donations and connections go far” (Movoto, DC Urban Mom). Consider the tour a preview of the parking lot. And yes, you should be in diamonds and designer even at the Saturday morning playdates.

Buckley School

Mom tip: Before you apply, know Buckley’s three non-negotiables for every kid: play a sport, be in the school play each year, do public speaking — one parent calls it “great... builds character and forms a cohesive student body,” but it’s not optional, so a kid who hates being on stage won’t love it (Homes.com parent review).

Pro: Exceptional arts for a school that started as a boys’ school — “Broadway-caliber musicals,” a new Center for the Arts, plus teachers parents describe as passionate and genuinely caring, with small classes that make it personal (Niche parent/student reviews).

Con: The money-culture shadow — an alum calls the culture “absolutely horrible... an administration looking out for the interests of parents that give lots of money to the school,” and a parent says flatly the tuition “does not match their sports and academics and college prep” (Homes.com reviews).

Campbell Hall

Mom tip: Ask about the bus routes on your tour — a parent says CH has “the most extensive bus system of any of the private schools in LA,” which is the real commute hack if you’re not in Studio City (Niche parent review).

Pro: Rigorous without the pressure cooker — students say the work is challenging but not overwhelming, and a parent notes the school “really values diversity, & socioeconomic diversity,” with “1/4 kids... on partial/full financial aid” and kindness taught as a priority alongside academics (Niche reviews).

Con: The campus itself is aging — facilities get “mixed feedback,” with parents flagging “outdated” areas and “limited modern amenities compared to other private schools,” even as new arts buildings go up (Niche review summary).

Carlthorp School

Mom tip: If you have friends there, tap them for help on admissions. Relies heavily on recommendations. Parents say typically Carlthorpe won’t take more than 2 kids per school, including legacies and siblings.

Pro: Warm, nurturing traditional program anchored by its famous Code of Conduct (second graders read it aloud every Monday); down-to-earth parent body (Niche, Movoto parent reviews).

Con: The most reoccurring grumble is the small yard (”The yard could be bigger,” staggered lunches to share one field). Wealth culture can sometimes cause divides (like parties on private jets).

The Center for Early Education

Mom tip: If you apply, name your true first-choice middle/high school and stick to it — the Center is famous for going to bat for families at secondary placement, and it once caught two families telling Harvard-Westlake and Brentwood different first-choice stories, after which “the Center told us about it so we called up Brentwood’s admission office and switched kids” (Harvard-Westlake admission director, quoted in Beyond the Brochure LA). Play it straight with the feeder.

Pro: First-generation immigrant parents call it a “second home” where the emphasis is “nurturing curiosity and critical thinking” — “academic excellence and emotional connection” in one place, and a 16-year parent says kids graduate confident and well-prepared for middle school (Niche).

Con: The Annual Fund pressure is real and visible — one parent reports the school demands 100% parent participation and “then goes ahead and publicizes the amount each family gives,” (which checks out, considering they lost a couple mil last year), adding that the school “actually encourages parents to write positive reviews on these websites” to earn “brownie points” (Movoto).

Crossroads School

Mom tip: 150–200 kindergarten applications for ~50 spots; sibling preference exists but isn’t a guarantee. And: no rejection letters — a waitlist letter may effectively be a soft no (per school FAQ + Beyond the Brochure LA).

Pro: The Westside pick for genuinely arty, free-spirited kids; teachers praised as “thoughtful and invested” in social-emotional growth (DC Urban Mom, Homes.com).

Con: Recurring complaint that the elementary is an afterthought — “not a progressive school” anymore, too test/homework-heavy in early grades, structures “dictated by the middle/high schools” (Movoto parent reviews). Also, parents might be a bit inaccessible, because they’re shooting a movie in another country.

Curtis School

Mom tip: Regarded as a big Harvard-Westlake feeder (DC Urban Mom) — worth knowing if you’re mapping the 7th-grade outplacement path from day one.

Pro: Rigorous, no-nonsense traditional program parents call a “mini Harvard-Westlake” — steady H-W feeder, serious scholars, standout sports (parent voices, Hollywood Reporter).

Con: Parent culture runs country-club-heavy and perfectionist — Beyond the Brochure LA overheard the “she has to be perfect” standard among Curtis moms.

John Thomas Dye School

Mom tip: Kindergarten applications are genuinely first-come — the school’s own page says it caps K applications at 70 boys and 70 girls and “often reach[es] that number within the same week, and at times in the first few days.” Submit the day applications open. Up to 40% of kindergarten may be non-affiliated families (per school FAQ).

Pro: The traditionalist’s sure thing — “excellent organization and consistently challenging work”; widely cited as a big Harvard-Westlake feeder (Movoto, DC Urban Mom).

Con: Old-school, low-diversity gatekeeping — “only complaint is that there is no diversity” (Movoto); Beyond the Brochure LA’s blogger felt evaluated as a divorced family at a school whose comfort “leans toward the traditional and intact.” Worksheet-heavy curriculum.

Laurence School

Mom tip: It’s tighter than the name recognition suggests — “600 applications for about 45 spots” in one parent’s year, so treat it like the competitive admissions gauntlet it is and have a backup (Movoto parent review, Jan 2018).

Pro: It “really walks the walk” on the total-child promise — small reading and math groups so kids never feel the class is moving too fast or too slow, and parents say they felt “well prepared and supported” through the famously scary middle-school admissions process (Movoto parent review, Mar 2024).

Con: The donor-class caveat — one parent writes it’s a “great school if you have money,” alleging tuition raised “to the max” and kids kept in school who “should be expelled because their parents make large donations,” with “poor middle school counseling” to boot (Movoto parent review, May 2018).

Mirman School

Mom tip: The IQ test is the whole game — book an approved psychologist early in the fall, because no 138+ score means no application link. K and 1st are the real entry points; past 4th grade, openings are attrition-only. The school recently added five new Lower School classrooms for K–4 (per its capital campaign).

Pro: A true peer group for profoundly gifted kids — the only LA school mission-built for them; parents say bored, checked-out kids come alive here (Niche A+ academics, Beyond the Brochure LA).

Con: The 138-IQ gate before you can even apply is brutal, and the intensity is by design, but not every gifted kid thrives in a pressure cooker (parent voices). Tends to attract a certain type of parent, not necessarily certain type of kid.

New Roads School

Mom tip: One deadline list covers all grades — elementary shares the upper-school Dec 14 date, so don’t go hunting for a separate one (per school site).

Pro: Genuine economic diversity — “almost half of its income in the form of scholarships”; kids “really interesting, smart, and talented, but not entitled” (Atlas of the Future, Niche).

Con: The social-justice mission doesn’t always survive the schoolyard — bullying the school “did nothing” about (”I still feel the mental scars”) (Homes.com); Niche shows only 55% agree teachers “adequately lead and control the classroom.”

The Oaks School

Mom tip: If your child has learning differences, ask about the Roots Program on the tour — one parent says the school is “uniquely supportive of different learning styles,” with an on-site learning specialist for 1:1 and small-group intervention and genuine accommodation of private shadows/aides (Niche).

Pro: A “tiny, progressive school in a little quiet oasis of Hollywood” that teaches “the whole child, from strong academics to compassion for others” — parents describe a warm, kind, small-town community where “all of the students know each other” (homes.com; Niche).

Con: No public parent complaints surfaced — reviews are uniformly glowing, which itself is worth a caveat (no school is complaint-free online). The structural watch-out parents do name: it ends at 6th, so the middle-school admissions gauntlet arrives early; one family notes both their kids “moved on to Campbell Hall afterwards” (homes.com).

PS1 Pluralistic School

Mom tip: Both parents must tour (even in separate households) before the interview — and no rejection letters, only acceptances/waitlists (per school site + Beyond the Brochure LA).

Pro: The pluralistic, child-centered philosophy shows up daily — teachers “genuinely nurturing the whole child;” tight-knit community

Con: Recurring theme that the school isn’t equipped for kids with learning differences — “lack of academic support... mind boggling” (parent reviews). Random age combinations that sometimes change year to year. Some parents say bullying complaints weren't handled well and punishment didn’t fit the crime.

Seven Arrows Elementary

Mom tip: One class per grade (~24 kids); the school says 95% matriculate into their top-choice middle school — that’s the pitch (per school site).

Pro: Beloved and tiny (4:1 ratio, A+ Niche grade, 4.9 parent rating) — “amazing community,” world-culture curriculum, arts-rich traditional academics (Niche).

Con: Location near SM airport might not be ideal for air quality, and potentially could be a construction site when they start to build the new great park.

Turning Point School

Mom tip: Apply for tuition assistance the same year you apply — “funding is not guaranteed for families who do not apply initially.” Awards run 10–80% of tuition (per school site). Mid-year rolling admissions also offered.

Pro: Warmth and communication — new kids eased in so well “it was like they had been there for months” (Niche); diversity rated among the best of comparable schools.

Con: Teacher turnover and admin-culture drift — a parent review describes a “huge change in the school culture and with the administration” with teachers leaving often (Homes.com).

UCLA Lab School

Mom tip: Admissions is officially a blind lottery based on ethnicity and economic diversity — but “with an asterisk”: families who check the $500,000/$750,000 income boxes “can expect to receive a call from a board member asking if they will donate generously ($50K +/yr) to the school” before letters go out, and UCLA faculty get priority (Beyond the Brochure LA). Expect the call if you’re in that bracket.

Pro: “Very few [schools] help children learn to love learning” — parents praise inquiry-based teaching where “students learn to think, not just memorize,” the redwood-and-creek campus, and a genuinely diverse community; one family moved from Hawaii just for the school (homes.com; Movoto).

Con: The math instruction is the chronic complaint — one parent asked five 5th graders “What’s 7x8? One of them got it right, and had to count,” and multiple parents say “most families use tutors to supplement the math and literacy instruction” (Movoto). Parents also describe an administration that has grown “unresponsive and cold,” with teachers on strike and families “afraid to speak up” (Movoto; Daily Bruin).

Village School

Mom tip: The sibling deadline (Oct 23) is easy to miss — but for everyone else, the school says there’s no advantage to submitting early, so tour first, apply sure (per school site). Flexible-tuition (Clarity) applications due Dec 31.

Pro: Warm neighborhood school balancing social-emotional growth with academics — kids “excited to go to school every day,” praised Innovation Studio and real community feel (homes.com, PrivateSchoolReview).

Con: Recurring knock that it lags academically — “behind academically and does not prepare its students for middle school,” with “excessive recess and days off” (parent reviews).

Westland School

Mom tip: Parent-owned co-op — expect Hot Lunch duty and committee work. 39% of families on Flexible Tuition; the school says tuition-concerned families should apply (per school site).

Pro: “Impressive thinkers, not academic parrots” — tuition spent on curriculum over ostentatious facilities (Movoto).

Con: Honestly hard to find — no substantive parent-voice criticism surfaced anywhere.

Westside Neighborhood School

Mom tip: Test-free admissions — no ISEE/SSAT, interviews and recs carry the weight (per Cardinal Education). Tuition assistance due Feb 1, separate from admissions.

Pro: The diversity is real, not brochure copy — more than half of students and faculty identify as people of color; multiracial and queer families say kids feel genuinely safe and seen (Niche, homes.com).

Con: One detailed 2024 parent review flags “extremely high faculty turnover” and kids “academically less prepared for competitive high schools” (Movoto) — plus the new $90M campus is still a transition.

Wildwood School

Mom tip: Early-cycle applications “tend to get read more carefully” than deadline-day ones (former admissions director via Beyond the Brochure LA). Note: no standardized testing for K–5 — but the middle and upper school pages do list a testing step, so don’t assume the policy carries up.

Pro: True progressive substance with cutting-edge science — small project-based education, student-led research model, producing “self-starters and independent learners” (Homes.com, Movoto).

Con: The rigor question never dies — “all fluff and zero substance” for “the very average liberal arts crowd” (Homes.com); another parent notes critical reviews get buried by gushing 5-stars.

The Willows Community School

Mom tip: Preschool eval forms due Jan 8 — warn your kid’s teachers before winter break. Tours can’t be booked until the inquiry form is in, so submit early (per Fun With Kids in LA).

Pro: Stealth-academic progressive — “more academic than I thought it would be”: two teachers per class (3 plus a float for kinder), integrated curriculum, looping with the same class for 2 years (Beyond the Brochure LA).

Con: Hard-to-crack insider parent culture — feeder-preschool cliques, entertainment-industry families (Beyond the Brochure LA, Homes.com).

Welp. Now that you’re all thoroughly overwhelmed, that’s all I got for you. Now go tour everything, and when some admissions director asks about your five-year-old's "passion project," try not to laugh in her face. The right school is the one where your kid beelines for the block corner or the tree web or the sandpit and your shoulders drop because you can tell they’re comfortable there. Trust your instincts. And if all else fails, apply to all of them and buckle up for March 12.

Did I miss something? Got a tip? A juicy secret? Something you want explored? Email us at everybodyknowsinla@gmail.com.

[NOTE: Dates and policies change; confirm everything directly with the schools before you plan your life around it. And don’t just rely on what you hear. Talk to real parents of real kids who attend the schools for a better understanding of them.]

But then I read the lawsuit: Two weeks ago, parents filed suit against Viewpoint School in Calabasas — the big one off Mulholland with the celebrity kids. The suit alleges that back in December 2024, two lower-school girls told their parents that their teacher, Travis Shojinaga, was taking photos up their skirts at lunch. Phone under the table. The girls said it wasn’t a one-time thing.

According to the suit, when a parent brought it to the head of lower school, she said she was surprised — quote — “he bats for the other team.” The school allegedly called it a possible “misunderstanding” and never checked the man’s phone.

Fourteen months later, in February, Shojinaga was arrested. The DA charged him with one felony count of possession of child abuse material and four misdemeanor counts of child molestation.

I want to be careful here, because this matters: these are allegations in a lawsuit, not findings. The school’s head, Mark McKee, said administrators went to the police as soon as accusations were made and fired Shojinaga. Both things are on the record. You get to hold both in your head at once. That’s the job now.

Here’s why I’m writing about it instead of the coffee rankings. A week after that lawsuit was filed, Viewpoint announced it’s merging with Berkeley Hall. Starting next year, Berkeley Hall eighth graders get a guaranteed path to Viewpoint — no second application. If you’re touring Berkeley Hall this fall with a five-year-old, you’re also, whether anyone says it out loud, choosing Viewpoint.

Willa is seven. Fourth grade is two years from now and I have done that math eleven times today.

I’m not going to tell you not to apply to Viewpoint. I don’t know what happened — none of us do, that’s what courts are for. But I am going to tell you that “what’s your phone policy for staff” is now the first question I ask on every tour, at every school, and it should be yours too. So here’s my list, stolen from actual safeguarding experts and sharpened by spite:

1. When a student reports a teacher, who investigates — and is it ever just the school investigating itself?

2. What’s the staff phone policy around kids? (If they look confused by the question, that’s your answer.)

3. Is there a written safety policy parents can read before enrolling? Can I have a copy?

4. Who’s the designated safeguarding lead, and do the kids know their name?

5. How do you document reports that turn out to be nothing? “Misunderstanding” shouldn’t be a filing category.

6. Background checks — what kind are required for staff, and how often are they redone?

Ask them brightly. Smile while you do it. Watch who gets uncomfortable, because the uncomfortable ones are telling you something too.

The full reporting is at the New York Post (September 27) if you want the court-document version — I’ll link it below. I kept the details out of this post on purpose. The girls were nine and ten, and they don’t need to be anyone’s cautionary-tale content.

Admissions season is supposed to be about choosing a school. It’s also, it turns out, about choosing the people you trust with your kids when you’re not in the room. Ask the questions.

Sources: NY Post, Sept 27, 2026 (lawsuit reporting); LA County DA’s office (criminal complaint, Feb 2026); Viewpoint School statement via Head of School Mark McKee. Cover-up allegations are per the civil lawsuit and are contested.

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Meanwhile, over at McKinley, the public school parents did it the official way. Dozens of them wrote the City Council asking for barriers at one crossing on Santa Monica Boulevard, in letters so nearly identical you know somebody made a template and passed it around (we’ve all done it). A Kia dealership on the same block pushed back because it wanted to keep its left turn. There were public comments. There were planning commissioners. And in May the council finally voted, unanimously, to put in temporary barriers before this school year. (I’d love to tell you whether they’re in yet, but I’d have to drive Santa Monica Boulevard at pickup to find out, and I’m not doing that.) That’s months, a dealership, and a city council. Margarita got there the next morning.

If you know Margarita, this is not surprising at all. Real estate is sort of her specialty, and claiming buildings is a specialty. She did it for ten years before she ever opened a school, and as far as I can tell she never really stopped. (How DID she end up with the historic Aldersgate building as the Seven Arrows lower school campus? The STEAM lab was an 1892 house that got cut in half and hauled to the Palisades by trucks and mule teams. Wtf?)

Back to present day. Look at the moves. This is their second since the fire (okay, third if you count the Boys and Girls Club in 2025). The first one was also by the airport, right on Clover Park, in what was literally just an office building. And if you know Margarita, you know she loves her outdoor space (she was like BFFs with Jane Goodall... 7A had front-row seats to her speaking engagement in LA last year. Except... well... when they arrived, they found out she died. But that's another story I won't be writing about). So the office building was never going to stay just an office building. All of a sudden Seven Arrows had half the parking lot, gated off with those rental fences and turfed over. And the joke goes that a few weeks later, the yard got bigger. And bigger.

Now they’ve landed for good, still on the edge of the Santa Monica Airport. So if you can stomach breathing in the jet fuel from being literally on the airport runway, and the fifty-plus thousand a year, and the fact that they will ask you for more money (a lot, they’re sort of famous for it), you get something most of these schools stopped offering a long time ago.

You get a say. And you get it fast.

Seven Arrows finished last year thirty-four thousand dollars ahead. Which is pretty impressive for a school that lost its building, but pennies compared to some of the schools you toured that ended seven and eight million ahead. But with those schools, I would bet you real money nobody from any of them was standing in a crosswalk this week, especially their heads of school. They have the money. They have somebody with “community” in their title. So what’s their excuse? They don’t have one. They have an email.

So yes, they’re going to ask you again in November. Probably twice. And the same woman who will absolutely find you at pickup about the annual fund is the reason there’s now a crossing guard stop sign on Centinela. You don’t get one without the other.

Will Margarita give the street back? Probably not. Ask the parking lot.

Want to figure out what school you should apply to?

Want to know if the school you’d pay to teach your kid math can actually math themselves?

Want to figure out how much you’ll ACTUALLY spend on private school?

Want to spiral about bullying?

There’s so many considerations: progressive or traditional? Uniforms or free dress? Teachers on first name basis or a strict code of conduct?

So, I made a quiz. It’s the kind where you answer questions and follow the arrows, kind of like those fun ones that used to be in Elle magazine where you’d find out what your best skincare routine is. Except at the end of this one, it tells you where you should spend the next six years and three hundred thousand dollars (per kid, pre annual fund).

Start at the top. Don’t cheat. (You’re going to cheat.)

So…what’d you get?

Remember, apply early, take a sabbatical so you can make all the not mandatory but also sort of mandatory admissions events, and good luck!

Disclaimer because my bestie is a lawyer: This post is a joke. It’s based only on my own observations from school tours and conversations with parents (many of them). None of it is fact, a ranking, or a review of any school, and every school on here is somebody’s great fit.

Also: I welcome feedback! Email us at losangelesparentsguide@gmail.com

In most cases, this fund opens up in October. Which, in their eyes, has given parents enough time to forget the fact that the rest of LA went back to school two-to-four weeks before we did. Our kids are thriving. They’re not using iPads. And now it’s time to pay (again).

The fund usually includes a magazine. And I have to wonder how much each magazine costs to publish and print and how that relates to the pie chart about how the school uses their tuition. There’s usually a tier, with names. Names that range from “friend of school” (minimum spend, $1000, means your kid can attend next year) to “leadership circle” (minimum spend, one extra tuition, translation: can text the head of school personal requests and your kid miraculously gets in to any enrichment class they want).

Then Jen calls you. Jen’s one of the fund committee reps. Her daughter is also in your daughter’s class. So you have to look her in the eye at one of the many on campus happenings throughout the year. In other words: you have to answer.

And if you don’t, don’t you worry. Because she’ll call again. You’ll answer eventually. She’ll have a spiel, you’ll listen. And then she’ll remind you to please donate as soon as possible. Because when you do, she can check you off her list.

Everyone must be checked off the list. Because the school strives for 100% participation. Even if you’re on financial aid. Even if you’re not, but really should be. Even though the head of school is making three times what you make and the school wonders why it’s in the red every year.

But none of that matters. Because “participation matters at any level.”

The problem: they know how much you make.

And it’s not even a guess. Because you put your employer on the application. So did your husband. If you applied for aid, they have two years of returns plus a form that asked what you spend on a car and whether either set of grandparents helps out. And if you didn’t apply for aid? They wrote that down too. That told them enough.

And they have our addresses.

That’s the part I keep coming back to. Not the email. The address. Which in this city is the single most complete financial disclosure a person can make. North of Montana or south of it. 90402 is not 90404 and everyone in that building knows exactly what the difference costs. They know if it’s been the family house since 1987 or if you bought at the top in 2022. They know who rents.

Drop off is a disclosure too, by the way. Who drives themselves. Whose nanny does it. Whose assistant does it. Which kid gets out of an Escalade and which in an accord.

So when the school says participation matters at “any level,” that isn’t an out. It’s a challenge. Because trust me. Somebody already decided what your level is, and that payment link is just checking whether you agree with them.

Now here’s the thing: some of these schools are actually broke. I checked. It’s public, and you can literally google it. (Or, don’t, because I put here for you). One raised almost a fifth of its entire revenue in donations last year and still finished in the red, which is impressive in its own way.

I went and read the tax filings for every school on the Westside, because they’re public and it took me an afternoon. A few of them really are underwater. One raised almost a fifth of its entire revenue in donations last year and still finished in the red. Another took in over three million and lost five.

And then there are others that covered everything they spent before a single donation came in. One finished nearly two million ahead. They sent the letter too. Same tiers. Same magazine. Same Jen.

You’d think that would be printed somewhere. It isn’t. The letter reads exactly the same either way, and the only way to know which school you’re actually sitting in is to go pull a tax form, which nobody does.

So will I give? Of course I’ll give. I always give.

And then Jen will check me off her list. And it won’t be awkward next time I see her.

You might also like…

Math is one of those subjects. So, I checked theirs.

Here’s what I didn’t know until about a week ago: every private school is a nonprofit, every nonprofit files a tax return, and every one of those returns is public. It lists what came in, what went out, and what was left over at the end of the year. It even lists what the heads of schools make. It’s free. You can literally google it. (Or don’t, because I put it here for you.)

So I pulled all of them. Ranked below by how much money each school had left at the end of its fiscal year, richest to most broke. For each one: what came in, how much of that came from people donating, and whether they finished up or down. Fiscal year ending June 2025 for everybody except Carlthorp, whose year ends in August.

And look. I am not a math person. I want to be upfront about that. But some of these numbers were, to put it likely, surprising.

Richest

1. Wildwood Took in $51.4M. About $10M of that was donations. Finished $8.33M ahead. Sixteen percent of everything that came in the door was still sitting there in June.

2. Curtis Took in $31.0M. About $6.3M of that was donations. Finished $8.13M ahead. A twenty-six percent margin, which is a number most actual businesses would be thrilled about.

3. John Thomas Dye Took in $26.9M. $8.2M of that was donations. Finished $7.56M ahead. Thirty percent of their revenue was people giving them money. Twenty-eight percent margin, highest on the list. I’ll let you do that one.

4. Crossroads Took in $78.0M. About $9.7M of that was donations. Finished $5.89M ahead. Biggest school here. Also holding $170M in net assets, which is a sentence I had to read twice.

5. Buckley Took in $54.2M. About $4.3M of that was donations. Finished $4.70M ahead. Their net assets have roughly doubled in the last decade. Somebody there is extremely good at this.

6. Willows Took in $25.3M. $1.76M of that was donations. Finished $3.11M ahead. Take out every dollar of donations and they still would have finished ahead. What a concept that tuition could actually cover the costs to run a school.

7. LILA Took in $36.2M. About $4.4M of that was donations. Finished $937,000 ahead. A reasonable, sane number. Moving on.

8. Echo Horizon Took in $10.2M. About $1.67M of that was donations. Finished $912,000 ahead. Nine percent, which for a school this size is genuinely tidy.

9. Berkeley Hall Took in $12.5M. $1.1M of that was donations. Finished $703,000 ahead.

10. Park Century Took in $9.28M. $1.51M of that was donations. Finished $422,000 ahead.

11. Mirman Took in $23.6M. $2.08M of that was donations. Finished $181,000 ahead. If they didn’t, I might recommend they hire a more gifted head of finance.

12. Westland Took in $5.25M. About $845,000 of that was donations. Finished $137,000 ahead. Smallest school on the list and it ran clean.

The Palisades section

13. Westside Waldorf Took in $1.71M. Almost none of it was donations — ninety-four percent was tuition. Finished $114,000 ahead. Their campus burned down in January they still ended the year in the black.

14. Seven Arrows Took in $12.4M. $1.32M of that was donations. Finished $34,000 ahead. Also burned down. Also finished ahead. Their revenue actually went up from the year before, which I have not stopped thinking about.

Broke AF

15. Carlthorp Took in $16.6M. $3.17M of that was donations. Finished $244,000 down. Here’s the thing though. That’s almost a fifth of their entire revenue in gifts and they still ended up short. So when Carlthorp says it needs the money, Carlthorp needs the money.

16. New Roads Took in $32.1M. About $2.02M of that was donations. Finished $767,000 down. They had three different people serving as head of school in a single year, which feels related. Also, they should figure that out.

17. PS1 Pluralistic Took in $10.1M. $709,000 of that was donations. Finished $846,000 down. Eight percent under.

18. Brentwood Took in $75.0M. $5.94M of that was donations. Finished $2.06M down. That’s only about three percent and they’ve got an endowment behind them, so nobody panic. But they did take in almost six million in gifts and still finish down two.

19. Turning Point Took in $14.7M. About $617,000 of that was donations. Finished $2.47M down. Seventeen percent under. That one’s real.

20. Center for Early Education Took in $28.3M. $3.32M of that was donations. Finished $4.98M down. Biggest loss here by a wide margin. And that’s after the $3.32M, which means they were roughly eight million short before anybody gave them anything. Talk about really needing those celebrity checks. They better hope Hollywood doesn’t actually move to Nashville.

Okay so what does this mean?

Less than it looks like. And also exactly as much as it looks like.

A surplus isn’t a school being greedy. Half of those big numbers at the top are capital campaigns — people give money for a building, it lands as revenue in one year, it gets spent over the next three. And a deficit isn’t a school in trouble. Schools run planned deficits on purpose, drawing down reserves, absorbing a construction year. Brentwood being down two million on seventy-five could be a rounding error with an endowment behind it.

Also, check my work. Because my elementary school didn’t teach Singapore math, you know?

All figures from IRS Form 990 filings via ProPublica’s Nonprofit Explorer. Donation figures are the contributions and grants line, which includes annual fund, capital campaign, galas and grants, not just the letter. Campbell Hall, Brawerman, Wise School and Calvary Christian aren’t here because the IRS classifies them as religious organizations and they don’t have to file at all. Which is its own thing.

The last one at least turns out to have an insanely straightforward answer. I forgot (you probably did, too), that private schools are nonprofits. Which means you can literally just google this.

So…I did. For all of them. (Fine. I didn't. Let’s be real. AI is a tool for this exact thing).

And now, you don’t have to. Because I put it all in one place. (You’re welcome).

How to look up your own school

1. Go to projects.propublica.org/nonprofits

2. Type the school’s name.

3. Open the most recent filing.

4. Scroll to the officer and key employee table.

You’ll see the head of school, the CFO, and usually the director of admissions and the director of advancement. Advancement means fundraising. You’ll also see total revenue and total expenses, which tells you whether the school is worth paying 50k a year to teach your kid basic math.

The list

1. Landis Green, Wildwood $787,023. School revenue $51.4M, finished the year $8.33M ahead.

2. Alona Hilary Scott, Buckley $672,824, or $974,709 counting benefits. School revenue $54.2M, finished $4.70M ahead.

3. Michael Riera, Brentwood $661,836. School revenue $75.0M, finished $2.06M down.

4. Lisa Rosenstein, The Willows $624,628, or $690,513 counting benefits. School revenue $25.3M, finished $3.11M ahead.

5. Mariama Richards, Crossroads $597,847. School revenue $78.0M, finished $5.89M ahead.

6. Damian Jones, Center for Early Education $579,140, or $610,528 counting benefits. School revenue $28.3M, finished $4.98M down.

7. Daniel Vorenberg, Mirman (former head) $528,311. School revenue $23.6M, finished $181K ahead.

8. Laura Konigsberg, Turning Point $496,593. School revenue $14.7M, finished $2.47M down.

9. Nola Rae Cronan, Carlthorp $480,990. School revenue $16.6M, finished $244K down.

10. Susannah Wolf, PS1 Pluralistic $472,140. School revenue $10.1M, finished $846K down.

11. Meera Ratnesar, Curtis $411,256, or $533,805 counting benefits. School revenue $31.0M, finished $8.13M ahead.

12. Rose Helm, John Thomas Dye $410,808, or $628,550 counting benefits. School revenue $26.9M, finished $7.56M ahead.

13. Margaret Procter, Echo Horizon $373,662, or $401,168 counting benefits. School revenue $10.2M, finished $912K ahead.

14. Melinda Tsapatsaris, Westland $373,600, or $414,123 counting benefits. School revenue $5.25M, finished $137K ahead.

15. Margarita Pagliai, Seven Arrows $361,928, or $391,928 counting benefits. School revenue $12.4M, finished $34K ahead.

16. Michael Maniska, LILA (former head) $326,467. School revenue $36.2M, finished $937K ahead.

17. Sarah Colmaire, Berkeley Hall $317,726. School revenue $12.5M, finished $703K ahead.

18. Marina Kheel, Mirman (head since July 2024) $225,389.

19. Dan Vorenberg, New Roads (head since July 2024) $223,846. School revenue $32.1M, finished $767K down.

20. Westside Waldorf No compensation reported for leadership. School revenue $1.71M, finished $114K ahead.

When you think about it, it’s actually incredibly impressive that Seven Arrows finished the year ahead at all. Their campus burned down in January. So did Village School’s, which is now financing a $40 million rebuild from a temporary campus in Santa Monica. So did Westside Waldorf’s, and they spent ten months teaching in park pavilions and canvas tents that flooded every time it rained, and still closed the year in the black. Seven Arrows brought in more money the year it lost its building than the year before it.

Meanwhile the schools that are down. Come on. Nobody burned anything of yours. You get like 50k a kid. Figure it out.

Also, I’m horrified. And I sort of hope you are, too.

Here’s the story: her son receives financial aid at a school where full tuition costs more than all four years of my college. She chose that school for all the right reasons: her preschool had strongly recommended it, because her son thrives in a more hands on environment, and they said they worried a large class size and high student to teacher ratio might cause him to slip under the cracks. Her husband and her worked hard to make it happen, and qualified for a small amount of financial aid. Think: paying three years of college each year instead of all four.

And last year, this now eleven year old, who we will call Luke for this story, encountered his first bully. Now this isn’t the kind of boy bully of my day, where after school fights would break out and teachers would call parents. No, kids these days fight, for lack of better words, like little witches (I’m still uncertain if Substack penalizes from the occasional curse word, clearly).

Perhaps he assumed, based on something I’m not familiar with — like not having a new shoe for every day of the week, or a lack of name brand t-shirts — or maybe someone told him (though schools allegedly keep financial aid recipients top secret), but this bully found out Luke received financial aid.

He came home upset because apparently, when this bully saw he received a higher test score than him, told Luke it didn’t matter.

“Oh well. You’ll probably work for me one day anyway,” he said.

I’m told Luke shook it off. He chalked it up to mean kids are going to be mean (there’s that SEL curriculum at work folks). But my friend, his mother, was horrified.

I asked what she did. And she told me she didn’t know what to do. So she looked in the directory to call the boy’s mother. She had no intention of being rude, but she thought given both kids are still so young, there was still hope in perhaps turning an enemy into a friend. Or at the very least, getting his mom on the same page that raising assholes in 2026 is a bad look.

Did she get a hold of the mom? Of course she didn’t. The number listed was the mom’s assistant. When asked if she could speak to the mom directly, the assistant kindly told her that she would relay the message.

We aren’t sure if she did. But we do know a week later my friend followed up and got a full mailbox.

No one called her back.

You can pay fifty thousand dollars a year for your kid to sit next to a family whose whole household runs on people whose job is making sure you never have to talk to them directly. We wondered (commiserated) together if her son felt the same way.

My kids are younger. I’ve told myself we have time before any of this reaches them. But we don’t. Not really. I’ve watched a four year old brag about his Golden Goose sneakers, and a five year old girl told another that her backpack looked “cheap.” The reality is: the kids have been noticing this way longer than we want to admit. They know who in carpool has a Tesla and who doesn’t. They know who has more than one house.

It’s not mean. These small kids aren’t talking about it to be rude. It’s research.

So sure. Financial aid is supposed to be private, but it’s not really. But that’s not the problem. It’s not the problem in the same way that that kid’s line wasn’t clever. It’s just not something an 11-year-old kid would say. The problem is this behavior is learned. It’s a legacy in the same way their Harvard Westlake acceptances are. And was it said flippantly by a mom who’s had one glass of wine too many, as a joke? That part doesn’t matter. You’re handing a kid ammunition before he's old enough to realize the damage it can cause.

“I just want him to know it’s not true.” That’s what my friend told me. But also because it’s a terrifying thought. Because her son is smart and kind and already learning how to smile through things that don’t warrant a smile. The boy who said it might actually acquire a business one day. Her son will work for what he has. That’s not because her son is less deserving. That’s just the reality.

She emailed the school. They got a “restorative conversation” scheduled two weeks later, attended by her and not the other mom. The school says her kid is thriving. And said they’d touch base with the other family.

Will they? Probably not. But they’ll tell the assistant.

There is a word that will illicit an eye roll and a groan from just about every parent. For the academics — like JTD, Carlthorpe, Brawerman — there is Blackbaud. For the schools that don’t give homework, there is Veracross. And you know what? For the parents, they both make us question our life choices.

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These are the “parent portals.” Designed to keep everything from your kid’s school schedule to the never ending email reminders about fundraisers and sports in one place. And it does that job. But the problem: you can’t find any of it.

They are, in short, the worst.

And every parent goes through it. Because the first assignment of being a parent in August is filling out an insane number of forms. But in order to that, they must first face these portals. The first step is always to reset your password. Because after applying to eight schools prior that all used one of these two systems but required a different login method and password for each, you don’t remember which is which. Once you log in, the real fun begins.

What fun, you who still has a preschooler might ask? The fun of finding absolutely anything important on this portal. Fun because now, you have to find the aforementioned forms, and they are not in a nice little place labeled Forms or Files. No. Files is where the class schedule is kept, obviously. And attendance. Because where else would attendance go? But the forms you have to find and fill out before the first day of school so your kid can actually attend and get their $270 dollar per day worth of education? Not in forms.

Finally someone who’s been through this before tells you the forms are in the summer packets, which is not under Parent Resources. It is in its own limbo land with a hidden URL. So once you find that, you have forms. The permission slips? Different place. But you can cross the bridge the day before the trip.

By the way, this portal is also where you schedule conferences. And that’s just super if you choose to do yours over Zoom, because when the time rolls around for your conference you realize you weren’t emailed a zoom link. Did you expect to be? So silly. Of course it’s in the portal! But where? That requires a call to school. And they’ll tell you very clearly, “oh, it’s the printer button of course,” and you are the dumb one for not realizing a printer button would open a Zoom link.

And good luck finding your kid’s report card.

Look. We are not asking for a miracle. We are asking to find the forms. Your kid is at school, and you might know what class they’re in right now (if you can find that), but you still cannot sign the permission slip.

Someone vibe code a solution. Thank you.

But it’s time to talk about them. Because after years of brushing up against the Westside Mormon mom clique, working out beside them at Equinox on the rare weekend I’m up before eight, small talk at the park, and one genuinely deep conversations about whether to have more kids, I finally have to ask the question I’ve been sitting on for a while now: what the actual fuck.

Here’s the thing: most of the Westside is out here trying to buy a village. We do it with tuition, with our muted group chats, with birthday parties where we invite the entire freaking class and the neighborhood and the person you met once at the park. That’s our version of community: expensive, effortful, and booked six weeks out.

But the Mormons… they just have one. Built in. Whether it’s from BYU or someone they know from BYU. In either case, it’s pretty enviable.

Oh, and you can’t join. Don’t even try.

The confusing part is that they are nice. It would be easier if they were openly mean, so we’d know to avoid them and move on with our lives. But they’ll compliment your baby (and talk about why you should have more), chat about weekend plans, and remember your conversations.

And then… they won’t even think about following you back on Instagram.

Is it a cold shoulder? A little, yeah. It’s also a full calendar: Tuesday youth group, Wednesday something else, Saturday the ward. In between, the sisterhood does the thing the rest of us keep hiring people to do: help, lend a hand, drop by, pick up the kids. It’s not a metaphor in a caption. It’s a real functioning system.

But if you ask for a car seat for your kid in a pinch…tough luck. They might be warm in the lobby, but don’t ask them for a favor. You aren’t part of their world.

The consolation, I guess, is that you wouldn’t fit in anyway. Because it’s a very specific kind of perfect: the houses decorated like a sophisticated nana, the (blonde) hair, the birthday that is a wellness class in a Santa Monica living room with the yoga mats already laid out because they have to match for the photo later. And yeah, we all do the Botox. This is the Westside, and nobody is going to pretend we don’t, but they do it as a group sport. Absolute curation. You don’t want that life.

But also, you do sort of, right?

So here’s where I land. I don’t want the theology (or the underwear). I don’t want the matching mats or the sophisticated-nana living room or the pathological ability to get your entire workout and face put on before 7am (though I might want their doctor). I want the part we keep trying to buy and somehow never own: the other moms who stop by on a whim, the “I’ll pick up your kids and you can grab them from mine,” the assumption that you’ll definitely see another adult today.

And that’s something to envy, for sure. Hands down. But also: they’re a little mean. So we can all stop pretending it’s only logistics or a scheduling problem, because it isn’t. Villages only work because they have an edge. And they guard that edge like the temple door.

So no, you can’t sit with them. But honestly, you wouldn’t last if you could.

September still looks like summer: sweltering heat, half of the kids still out of school, a lot of PTO used due to the insanity of school expectations. So, might as well squeeze some fun.

SANTA MONICA

Tongva Twilight: Sounds and Cinema — Saturday, Sept 5 (Yacht Rock) and Saturday, Sept 12 (Summer of Soul), 7–9:30 PM

Free. Last Santa Monica outdoor-movie summer, Tongva Park lawn, 1615 Ocean Ave. City events calendar is 7–9:30 PM; a couple of city mirrors say 7–10. Sept 5 is The Windbreakers plus HBO’s Yacht Rock: A DOCKumentary (director intro). Sept 12 is Myra Washington plus Summer of Soul, a music documentary, not a cartoon. Picnic, layers, complimentary popcorn on movie nights. The series does not run past Sept 12.

Libros Con Amigos — bilingual storytime — Saturday, Sept 5, 11 AM–noon

Free. Pico Branch Library, 2201 Pico Blvd. Walking to 3 years, first come. Followed by Family Conversation Time. Labor Day weekend morning if foam or wetlands is too much foam and dirt.

Annenberg Community Beach House pool — daily through Labor Day, Monday, Sept 7; then weekends only through Sunday, Sept 27

Through Labor Day: weekdays 12–6 PM, weekends and Labor Day Monday 10 AM–6 PM. After Labor Day: Saturday–Sunday 11 AM–5 PM on Sept 12–13, 19–20, and 26–27. Last pool day of the season is Sunday, Sept 27, not Labor Day. Day-of, first-come at Guest Services. Official page still does not list 2026 dollar amounts, so confirm at the window. 415 Pacific Coast Hwy. Capacity waitlist is real on the holiday Monday. Bring towels. Parking $4/hour or $15/day.

Americana in the Park — Sunday, Sept 13, 1:30–6:30 PM

Free (food trucks for purchase). Gandara Park, 1819 Stewart St. The strongest free all-ages concert of the month, and Bob Baker Marionettes are on the bill, which is the kid hook. Blankets, chairs, a stroller that can handle grass. This is also Rosh Hashanah Day 2. Some Jewish families will be at table, not at the park.

Coastal Cleanup Day — Saturday, Sept 19, 9 AM

Free. Heal the Bay’s 37th annual. The official event page lists 9 AM–1 PM; the campaign check-in window is still 9–noon, and sites wrap at different times, so register and follow your site captain. Sign a waiver; 12-and-under with an adult. Bring a bucket, gloves, a reusable bottle. Westside sites include Santa Monica Pier Northside, Venice, Will Rogers, Topanga Beach, Dockweiler. Heal the Bay Aquarium is closed Sept 19–20 and 26–27.

Dance with Baila Baila! — Saturday, Sept 19, 11 AM–noon

Free. Main Library, 601 Santa Monica Blvd. Bilingual music-and-movement. Same morning as cleanup. Pick one.

Hispanic Heritage Month: Mexican Ballet Folklorico — Saturday, Sept 19, 12–2 PM

Free. Pico Branch Library, 2201 Pico Blvd.

BRENTWOOD

Skirball — Nature New Year Cards — Sunday, Sept 6, 12 PM and 2 PM

Included with admission. Bloom Garden, 2701 N. Sepulveda Blvd. High Holiday family craft before the holiday: apples and honey on site. One adult per four children. Skirball is closed Mondays (so closed Labor Day) and closed Saturday, Sept 12 for Rosh Hashanah. Bank of America Museums on Us is free for cardholders Sept 5–6. Call 310-440-4535.

Beneath the Harvest Moon — Thursday, Sept 24, 7 PM

Skirball. Evening live music, art, Sukkot traditions. $20 / $15 / $10 members. More all-ages cultural than a toddler program, so confirm the age fit. Sukkah decorations Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays only, Sept 3–Oct 4, in Founders Courtyard. KCRW Family Day is Sunday, Oct 4. Save it.

VENICE

Family Foam Party at Club Joyful — Saturday, Sept 5. Cafe/play 9 AM–1 PM; foam 10–11 AM

$15/person; babies 12 months and under free. 2121 Lincoln Blvd. First Saturdays May–October. Bring a swimsuit, two towels, goggles, a change of clothes. Foam is one hour. Closed Mondays, so no Labor Day foam.

Stories and Crafts at the Venice Farmers Market — Friday, Sept 11, 9:30–10:30 AM

Free. Second Friday monthly, 500 Venice Blvd at Ocean. 9:30 stories/songs, 10:00 sensory craft. Rosh Hashanah begins at sundown that day. Daytime is still fine for most families.

Abbot Kinney Festival — Sunday, Sept 27, 10 AM–6 PM

Free admission. The boulevard’s once-a-year takeover: three stages (Spirit of Venice, Annex, Kids Quad), food trucks, vendors, beer gardens. Official site says over 100,000 people, which is not a stroller-nap day. Kids Quad is the family zone. 2026 ride prices were not posted. Festival parking is valet only, $25, at Santa Clara & Electric, Milwood & Electric, and Venice & Irving Tabor. Free bike valet at Abbot Kinney & Venice and Abbot Kinney & Main. Walk, bike, or bus if you can. Same day as Autry Block Party, RUNWAY’s Hispanic Heritage Celebration, and Palisades Cars and Coffee. Pick one.

CULVER CITY

Bike-In Movie Night: E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial — Friday, Sept 25. Bike valet 6:30–7:30 PM; movie 7:30 PM

Free; 2-hour parking validation at the Ivy Station table. Ivy Station lawn, 8840 National Blvd. Last outdoor movie of the Ivy Station summer series. Blanket or low chair. Eventbrite is live.

Sunshine Makers Market x Helms Design District — Saturday, Sept 19, 11 AM–4 PM

Free to browse. 3280 Helms Ave. Shopping, not a kids fest. Same day as Coastal Cleanup.

Julian Dixon Library — Home Tweet Home — Saturday, Sept 19, 11 AM–12:30 PM

Free; register. Ages 6–12. Build and paint birdhouses. 4975 Overland Ave.

Julian Dixon Library — Hojalata: Mexican tin art — Wednesday, Sept 16, 3–4 PM

Free. Grades 6–12. Hispanic Heritage Month craft.

PACIFIC PALISADES

Palisades Village reopened Aug 15. Complimentary parking through Sept 30. Grocery is still limited. Be a good guest. This is not back to normal.

Kids Club with Apple TV — Wednesdays, 10 AM and 11 AM (Sept 2, 9, 16, 23, 30)

Free. The Park at Palisades Village. Storytelling, music, puppets. September’s performer roster was not posted. Go early. The Park is small.

Weekend live music near the Bay Theater

Free. Friday and Saturday 6–9 PM; Sunday 4–7 PM. Free parking through Sept 30.

Cars and Coffee — Sunday, Sept 27, 8–10 AM

Free. Fourth Sunday, Swarthmore Ave. Car-loving kids will be happy. Not a playground. Abbot Kinney opens at 10 the same morning, so do not try both.

Palisades Branch Library (temporary) — Baby and Toddler Storytime — Wednesday, Sept 2, 10:30 AM only

Free. Ages up to 36 months. Temporary branch parking lot, 861 Alma Real Dr. Green Bungalow. First Wednesday of the month only. Saturday, Sept 26, 10 AM is the middle-grade book club (Beyond the Bright Sea, grades 4–7), not baby storytime.

PLAYA VISTA

Kid’s Club at RUNWAY with Wild Child — Tuesday, Sept 8, 10–11:30 AM

Second Tuesday monthly, 12775 Millennium Dr. Active play, music, games, bubbles. Price not listed. Confirm when you register.

Hispanic Heritage Celebration — Saturday, Sept 26, 10 AM–2 PM

Free. RUNWAY / The Turf. Live entertainment, local makers. Same day as Autry Block Party and Abbot Kinney.

Playa Vista Farmers Market — Saturdays, 9 AM–2 PM; Homeschool Bunch STEAM Saturday, Sept 5

12775 W. Millennium Dr. KidZone is weekly. The first-Saturday STEAM thing is Homeschool Bunch, which is Sept 5.

PLAYA DEL REY / MARINA

Open Wetlands at Ballona Salt Marsh — Saturday, Sept 5 and Sunday, Sept 13, 9 AM–noon

Free. Back after August. Dirt lot behind 303 Culver Blvd. All ages. No strollers, no pets. Closed-toe shoes. Toddlers in carriers work. Toddlers who need a stroller do not.

Friends of Ballona Salt Marsh and Dunes Tour — Sunday, Sept 6, 10 AM–noon

Suggested donation $5. Ages 7+. Same lot. Registration and waiver required. Gates lock.

Coastal Cleanup Day at Dockweiler — Saturday, Sept 19, 9 AM–noon

Free; register. Check-in: Dockweiler Youth Center, 12505 Vista del Mar. Printed parking pass required. Digital will not work. 12-and-under with an adult.

Marina Movie Nights at Burton Chace Park — Saturdays, 8 PM, through Sept 26

Free. RSVP recommended. 13650 Mindanao Way. Low chairs/blankets only. Dockweiler’s Friday beach movies ended Aug 28, so do not show up in September looking for those.

• Saturday, Sept 5: Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (PG-13) — skip under about 10

• Saturday, Sept 12: Michael (2026) (PG-13) — skip little kids

• Saturday, Sept 19: Addams Family Values (PG-13) — tweens+

• Saturday, Sept 26: Hocus Pocus (PG) — the family closer

Marina del Rey WaterBus — last full summer run through Labor Day, Monday, Sept 7, 11 AM–9 PM

$1 one way. No reservations. Regular summer service ends Labor Day. After that, WaterBus is Dance MDR Friday nights only, 5–11 PM.

WEST LA / MAR VISTA

Coastal Cleanup — Kuruvungna Springs — Saturday, Sept 19

Free; register. 1431 S. Barrington Ave. Inland site if the beach lots are slammed.

Mar Vista Farmers Market last-Sunday stack — Sunday, Sept 27, 9 AM–2 PM

Grand View and Venice. Craft workshop every Sunday; last Sunday also gets face painting and the kids cooking class. That’s a full morning, and it collides with Abbot Kinney. Choose your chaos.

WORTH THE DRIVE

Two or three, not a second newsletter. Cool Fam Fest and the LA Kids Book Festival were Aug 23. Dino Fest was Aug 30. Already happened.

Autry Museum — Family Fun Day: Who Framed Roger Rabbit — Saturday, Sept 5, 10 AM–3 PM (film at noon)

Museum admission $20 adults, $15 students/seniors, $9 kids 3–12, 2 and under free. Registration required. Crafts and plaza games 10 AM–2 PM, film at noon. 4700 Western Heritage Way, Griffith Park. Free parking. Labor Day weekend indoor option if the beach is slammed.

LA Zoo — Zootoberfest — Saturday–Sunday, Sept 19–20, 10 AM–5 PM

Included with general admission: $27 adults 13–61, $24 seniors 62+, $22 kids 2–12, infants free. Confirm at the ticket window. Live bands, lawn games, keeper talks, root beer floats. 5333 Zoo Drive. Same weekend as Coastal Cleanup. Last entry 3:45 PM.

Autry Block Party — Love Letters to L.A. — Saturday, Sept 26, 10 AM–5 PM

$4.75 adults, $3.50 seniors/students, 12 and under free. Carnival, Ferris wheel, bounce houses, horses, live music. The biggest family day of the month if you are willing to drive to Griffith Park. Conflicts with Abbot Kinney and RUNWAY’s Hispanic Heritage Celebration.

Did We Miss Anything?

We’re always looking. A one-off, a school night, a thing that is not the museum you already know. Hit reply or email losangelesparentsguide@gmail.com. We read everything.

Well, it’s August 26, and tomorrow, your whole child is still at home when the rest of LA is back at school.

Today is Wednesday, August 26. LAUSD went back on the 12th. Culver City on the 19th. Santa Monica–Malibu on the 20th. Those kids have already lost a water bottle, had a lice scare, and likely came into contact with at least three mild viruses. But not those LA private school kids. They’re still at home, keeping tiny camps alive and driving parents insane during a heatwave that’s preventing anyone from going to the park.

Okay, not all private schools. Wildwood’s middle and upper school went back last Wednesday. Elementary Thursday, with Santa Monica USD. Harvard-Westlake opened a few days ago. JTD and Crossroads, yesterday. Congratulations. But don’t get too excited. Enrichment classes — the things you pay a few hundred dollars for each quarter at private school but are pennies at public that keep kids off the street while their parents work — don’t start for a few more weeks. Good luck explaining to your boss why 3:00pm calls are off the table for the next three weeks.

That’s if the school is back at all. Apparently, no one told PS1 about summer being over. Or the Willows. Or Seven Arrows. Those schools start next week. On whatever random weekday suits them, and frankly, it feels like they picked that day out of a hat. Seven Arrows on Monday. PS1 and Brentwood on Tuesday, a date that feels like a dare. The Willows on Wednesday. Then they close for Labor Day, having been in session for three days. Three days of the whole child, then a long weekend.

And then there’s WNS. And Calvary Christian, still in the Palisades. Those two are on a whole other version of WTF. Perhaps they’re trying to hold out for the solstice because they don’t start until after Labor Day. Calvary on Tuesday, September 8. Noon dismissal. A full month after LAUSD.

And then in June they end for summer at basically the same time.

Harvard-Westlake’s last day is June 2. LAUSD is June 4. Santa Monica hangs on until June 9. Calvary and Brentwood go to June 10 or 11. Calvary started four weeks later than the public schools and will give you six extra days in June. That is not making it up. That is not more academics. That is a coupon.

Maybe the days, when they happen, are longer. Fine. Wildwood elementary goes until 3:15, 3:30. Some of these schools get a two-week spring break and a Wednesday that starts at 9:30 so the faculty can meet about the whole child. That is a nicer year. It is not why the building is dark on August 26.

Here is the mean little paragraph: Harvard-Westlake is $54,900 this year. Crossroads is $49,262 for elementary and $58,541 for 6–12. JTD is $46,096. Calvary, the bargain, is $25,425 for TK–5 and $30,200 for middle school. Call it 170 days, which is generous. That is $320 a day at Harvard-Westlake. $340 at Crossroads upper school. $270 at JTD. A hundred and fifty at Calvary, and they still don’t start until after Labor Day.

Don’t worry. We all know why you chose it. We are not confused. Nobody picks Crossroads for the start date. Nobody sits in a JTD information session and thinks, I would like my child to have a later Wednesday in September. You chose the class size. The writing program. The ceramics studio. The way the kindergarten teacher talks about your kid like a person.

It is also true that kid is still at home. Or at a tiny camp that should have closed two weeks ago. The ceramics studio is locked. The small class is not in session. The academics will start when they start. Until then you are paying private-school money for a school that has not opened, and camp money for the hours in between, and calling it a calendar.

That’s the plot recently: Two Westsiders at the farmers market. One of them goes home and packs the backpacks. One of them preps the zinc oxide and tries to figure out how to block their work calendar without making it too obvious they aren’t working.

“I can’t believe you’re already back!” One says to the other. “I can’t believe you’re still off!” The other replies. Both of you are telling the truth. But one of you is paying for the student-teacher ratio. The whole child. The art.

The whole child who is, tomorrow morning, still going to be at home.

This month you’ve got Fiesta La Ballona turning 75 (petting zoo, pony rides, $1 ride tickets, the works), free kids’ concerts in the Getty garden that feel way fancier than they have any right to for $0, robots doing Shakespeare in Culver City, a brand-new car-free art festival taking over Ocean Avenue, and a library that literally pops up on the sand. Almost everything on this list is free, which feels right for the month when you’re also buying three backpacks. We organized it all by neighborhood so you can find the stuff that’s actually near you, flagged what’s worth the drive, and told you the honest stuff too — like what’s not happening in the Palisades this year, and which events took August off. Consider your last month of summer handled.

SANTA MONICA

Baby Time at the Main Library — Wednesdays, Aug 5, 12, 19 & 26, 11:30 AM–12 PM

Lapsit storytime with books, bounces, and that specific brand of chaos only a room full of pre-walkers can produce. First come, first served, so don’t dawdle.

SMPL at the Beach — Friday, Aug 7, 10 AM–3 PM A pop-up library ON THE SAND — the only one in Southern California.

No library card needed to check out a beach read, plus nautical crafts, games, a Seaside Storytime, and a live set from Sweet Potato Music. Books + beach = the ultimate parenting cheat code.

Art on Ocean — Saturday, Aug 8, 11 AM–6 PM Ocean

Avenue goes completely car-free for Santa Monica’s brand-new arts festival: 100+ artists, live music, and a legit Kids’ Area with sensory play, face painting, bracelet making, and free Paint Lab workshops (plus a toddler-sized Little Artists Studio for your tiniest Picasso). Then stick around — there’s a free Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle screening in Palisades Park at dusk, 6–9 PM.

Sunset Picnic at the Beach House — Thursday, Aug 13, 5–8 PM

Pack a dinner, claim a courtyard table, and let the golden hour do the heavy lifting. Hit the new Sand & Sea Room first for crafts and games — the kids will be occupied before you’ve even unwrapped the sandwiches.

Santa Monica Summer Market Days — Friday, Aug 14, from 10 AM

A daytime market in Palisades Park with ocean views included at no extra charge.

A Talk Through Pier History — Thursday, Aug 27, 7–8 PM

A free hour of wild true stories about the Pier — great for older kids who’ve outgrown storytime but not storytelling.

Ongoing all month:

• Beach House pool + splash pad — The historic heated pool is open daily through Labor Day (Mon–Thu 12–6, Fri–Sun 10–6; pool passes sold on site), and the splash pad and playground are always free. Marion Davies really did leave us the best hand-me-down in LA.

• Pier History Walking Tours — Sat & Sun at 10 AM, plus Monday sunset tours at 6 PM. FREE.

• Wellness & Waves — Saturdays 8–10 AM at the Pier: group run, then oceanfront yoga or pilates. FREE. Bring your teen; earn your pancakes.

• Cayton Children’s Museum — 21,000 square feet of climb-it, pretend-it, paint-it glory for ages 0–8 (yes, there’s a real helicopter). Weekend STEAM programs are free with admission; reserve ahead — walk-ins wait at peak times. (Santa Monica Place, Level 3)

• Santa Monica Playhouse Family Theatre — Weekend matinee musicals for “kids 2 to 102,” with birthday parties hosted by costumed fairy tale characters available at every show. Historically $15 kids / $17.50 adults, free under 2. Call (310) 394-9779 to confirm the current show and dates. Their last summer theatre camp week also runs Aug 3–7 (9 AM–3 PM, $545).

• Main Street Farmers Market — Sundays. The one with the music, the pony-adjacent energy, and the best people-watching per square foot on the Westside.

BRENTWOOD

Getty Garden Concerts for Kids — Saturdays & Sundays, Aug 1–16, all shows at 4 PM

The Getty’s Central Garden turns into the chicest kiddie concert venue in America, and it’s FREE. Aug 1–2: Grammy winner Dan + Claudia Zanes with Tyree Austin (folk-jazz-gospel with beatboxing — trust us). Aug 8–9: Flor Bromley’s joyful bilingual bangers. Aug 15–16: folk queen Elizabeth Mitchell celebrating 20 years of her landmark family album. Bring a blanket and a picnic; leave the lawn chairs, glass, and wine at home (sorry).

Ongoing all month:

• Brentwood Farmers Market — Sundays on San Vicente, now supersized: after the fire, the Palisades market merged in, stretching from Gretna Green to Bundy. Come for the peaches, stay for the community reunion vibes.

• Brentwood Country Mart — Littles Storytime at 11 AM (check their calendar for the day), plus the toy shop and courtyard that were basically engineered for stroller life.

VENICE

Abbot Kinney First Fridays — Friday, Aug 7, 5–10 PM

The boulevard’s monthly block-party glow-up: food trucks as far as the eye can see, live music, and shops open late. The 5–7 PM window is prime family time — go early, eat everything, exit before it turns into date night.

Sunset Sessions at The Penmar — Fridays, Aug 7, 14, 21 & 28, 5:30–9 PM

Live music on the edge of the Penmar Golf Course, aka Venice’s favorite “concert where the kids can sprawl on a blanket” situation. Aug 7 kicks off with a celebration of FX’s The Shards featuring Camber; bring blankets or U-shaped frame chairs (the only chairs allowed) and set up around the putting green. Kids welcome and supervised — golfers are still out there swinging.

Last Thursday Venice Summer Concert — Thursday, Aug 27, evening

A free concert right on the boardwalk at Dudley Ave, and yes — kids, dogs, blankets, and low chairs are all officially encouraged. August’s headliner drops on the series’ socials closer to the date.

Ongoing all month:

• The Penmar’s weekly lineup — Beyond Fridays, The Penmar runs movie nights on Wednesdays and jumbotron sports all week — a solid low-lift dinner-and-a-show for families in the Rose Ave orbit.

• Club Joyful — Venice’s family social club (café + play space + community, ages 0–5 sweet spot) runs a steady rotation of ticketed events: Breakfast, Bubbles + Bounce mornings, Family Game Nights, a monthly all-ages Foam & Dance Party, and Mermaid Playdates with actual mermaid meet-and-greets. August dates book via their app.

CULVER CITY

Two Gentlebots of Verona — Every Saturday & Sunday, Aug 1–23, 11 AM

The Actors’ Gang’s beloved free family Shakespeare is back, and this year the Bard gets robots: two best friends both fall for Silvia Dot Matrix (yes, a robot), hilarity and forgiveness ensue. One hour, big laughs, actual Shakespeare underneath. Register early online, arrive 15 minutes ahead, bring low chairs or a blanket.

Summer Sunset Music Series — Thursdays, Aug 6, 13 & 20, 7–9 PM

Free concerts in Town Plaza at the Culver Steps while the kids dance themselves into an early bedtime. Aug 6: Soul3Sixty + Lester Lands & Sonny Green with The Midnight Blues Revue. Aug 13: Adelaide Pilar. Aug 20: Tatiana Tate & Her All-Star Band closes out the season. Low-back chairs and small blankets welcome; park under the complex or at the Cardiff/Ince structures.

KCRW Summer Nights at the Wende Museum — Friday, Aug 14

A free evening of music, museum access, and general Culver City cool. Skews slightly older-kid, but all ages welcome.

Fiesta La Ballona — 75th Anniversary — Fri Aug 28 (4:30–10 PM), Sat Aug 29 (12–10 PM), Sun Aug 30 (12–8 PM)

The Westside’s biggest party turns 75, and it shows up in style: carnival rides, a petting zoo, pony rides, K-9 demos, two stages, ~130 vendor booths, a pancake breakfast, a magic show, and roughly 25,000 of your closest neighbors. Three days; pace yourselves.

Ongoing all month:

• Culver City Farmers Market — Tuesdays 2–7 PM on Main Street. The perfect “we survived the day” dinner plan.

TOPANGA

Family Fundays at Theatricum Botanicum — Sundays, Aug 2 & 9 ONLY, 10:30 AM

A half-hour of interactive storytelling, music, and friendship under the oaks for kids 7 and under — pure canyon magic. Fair warning: the season ends Aug 9, so these are your last two shots.

Treasure Island — Sun 8/2 at 3:30 PM; Mon 8/10, Sun 8/16, Thu 8/20 & Sat 8/29 at 7:30 PM

Pirates! Sword fights! An outdoor woodland stage! Theatricum’s family-friendliest mainstage show delivers swashbuckling for the kids and surprisingly thoughtful storytelling for you. Come early and picnic in the gardens — the journey is part of the magic.

Ongoing all month:

• The full rep — By August all five Theatricum plays (including A Midsummer Night’s Dream) are in rotation, so theater-loving families can binge the whole season in a single week.

• Topanga Farmers Market — Fridays. Canyon produce, canyon people, canyon vibes.

PACIFIC PALISADES

Palisades Village Grand Reopening — Saturday, Aug 15

The comeback moment the whole community has been waiting nineteen months for: Caruso’s village at Sunset and Swarthmore reopens with a full day of curated events, immersive experiences, and community programming — and roughly a third of the storefronts are brand new. Returning favorites include Loomey’s Toys, K Bakery, and Erewhon, and the center plans to resume its year-round family programming from here on out. Bring tissues; this one’s going to be emotional.

PLAYA VISTA

PV House Presents: Dirty Honey — Saturday, Aug 1, 6:30–8 PM

A free outdoor rock show at RUNWAY to kick off the month. Loud enough to feel cool, early enough for bedtime.

Sunday Wellness Social — Sunday, Aug 2, 10 AM–12 PM

Morning movement on the green with The Studio (MDR) — stretch while the kids roam the turf.

Country Music Nights — Fridays, Aug 7, 14, 21 & 28, from 6 PM

RUNWAY’s Friday lawn series swaps jazz for country all month: blankets, boots optional, dinner from the surrounding restaurants, extremely toddler-tolerant.

Kid’s Club at RUNWAY — Tuesday, Aug 11, 10–11:30 AM

The monthly second-Tuesday morning of songs, stories, bubbles, and wiggles, with rotating partners like Wild Child Gym, Zooga Yoga, and Books & Cookies. Free, but RSVP on Eventbrite.

Taste of RUNWAY — Thursday, Aug 27, 5:30–8 PM

Sample your way through the whole neighborhood’s restaurants in one go.

Ongoing all month:

• Concerts & Movies in the Park — Playa Vista’s resident association runs Sunday concerts (5–6:30 PM, food trucks from 4 PM) at Central Park Bandshell and Concert Park. August acts post at playavista.com.

PLAYA DEL REY

Dockweiler Beach fire pits — Every night, all month

The last great free bonfire beach in LA. S’mores, sunset, sandy pajamas — the whole August dream. Pits are first-come, so stake your claim early on weekends.

Heads up: LA Audubon’s free Open Wetlands events at the Ballona Wetlands take August off — they’re back in September. And for more free outdoor movies and concerts within driving distance, LA County Parks is running 108 of each through Aug 29 (soundsoflacounty.com).

WEST LA

West LA Regional Branch Library — Weekly, all month Toddler storytime Wednesdays at 10 AM (18 months–3 years), Family Storytime & Songs Thursdays at 4:15 PM, and Read With a STAR volunteer Saturdays 2–4 PM — three visits earn kids a free book to keep. Air conditioning included.

WORTH THE DRIVE

Water Lantern Festival — Fri Jul 31, Sat Aug 1 & Sun Aug 2, gates 5:30 PM

Thousands of glowing lanterns released across the water at sunset (launch 8:30–9:30 PM), plus food trucks, music, and a scavenger hunt beforehand. Genuinely magical — bring tissues and a camera.

Marina del Rey Summer Concert Series — Saturdays, Aug 1, 8 & 15, 7 PM

Free waterfront concerts at Burton Chace Park — and Aug 1 is THE kid night: a full symphony orchestra, chorus, and celebrity cellist Tina Guo playing video game scores from Zelda-adjacent epics like God of War, Fallout, and World of Warcraft. Aug 8: Monsieur Periné; Aug 15: D Smoke & Carl Thomas. RSVP recommended, first-come seating, low-back chairs only, food trucks on site.

Hollywood Bowl Film Concerts — Jurassic Park Sat Aug 8, How to Train Your Dragon Sun Aug 9, Top Gun: MaverickSat Aug 15

Full movies on the big screen with a live orchestra playing every note. The dragon one is the family sweet spot.

Perseid Meteor Shower — Peaks Aug 12–13, late night

Nature’s free fireworks. Topanga and Dockweiler are your closest dark-ish skies — pack blankets, hot cocoa, and low expectations for anyone under 6 staying awake.

Nisei Week + Natsumatsuri Family Festival — Aug 15–23 (festival); family fest Sat Aug 15, 11 AM–3 PM

Little Tokyo’s grand celebration of Japanese American culture, with a parade and plaza festival — and the Natsumatsuri Family Festival at Terasaki Budokan is the kid centerpiece: origami, fan crafts, a Paul Frank stamp rally, Bon Odori dancing, and taiko drumming.

Marina Movie Nights — Sat Aug 22: The SpongeBob Movie: Search for SquarePants; Sat Aug 29: Sonic the Hedgehog 3

Free movies under the stars at Burton Chace Park. Bring a real blanket — that marina breeze does not play.

They are, for lack of a more clinical term, soft AF. Not soft like they’ve given up. Soft like they’ve relaxed. They make extended eye contact. They mean it when they ask how you’re doing. They cry tears of joy when they see Gaviota strawberries are only twenty bucks for three containers. These aren’t women overwhelmed by the chaos of living in a place like LA. No. These are women connected.

This is not the Westside of three years ago, when the dominant emotional register was a specific kind of controlled panic dressed up as thriving. When “we’re just going with the flow” was said with the expression of a person who had not slept since the first Trump administration. When every conversation about your child eventually became a competition no one admitted was happening.

Something changed. And if you follow the evidence, it leads, fairly directly, to the farmer’s market.

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How It Actually Works

Here is what happens, and what no one explains to you when you move to the Westside: there is a tiered system. At the base is the functional stuff — the capsules, the tinctures, the $22 lattes at the wellness café on Montana where everything on the menu is described as “nervous system support.” This layer is legal, visible, openly discussed at the playground. This is not the layer we are talking about.

The layer we are talking about operates on referral. You get in through someone who is already in, who vouches for you, who decides — based on criteria that are never stated explicitly — that you’re ready. People describe these experiences as journeys, which is a word that can mean many things and in this context means many things. How people find their way to a journey is considered a private matter. There’s a therapist in Brentwood who has opinions. There are retreats in Topanga. There is, you know, the farmer’s market.

The journeys themselves happen on weekends when the kids are at their dad’s. Carefully arranged setting. Eye mask. A playlist assembled with the gravity someone might bring to a state funeral. At least one throw blanket from the boutique in Venice that doesn’t list prices. A guide who is either trained or a trusted friend or a trusted friend who has done enough of these that the distinction has become somewhat academic.

By Sunday evening, someone in the group chat sends a message that says, simply: I love you all so much. Everyone knows. No one says anything. Heart emoji. Heart emoji. Heart emoji. The thread moves on to scheduling carpool.

The Before Times

To understand why this is happening, it helps to remember what Westside mom culture looked like five years ago. The dominant activity was optimization. Optimizing the child: sleep schedules, enrichment, the preschool pipeline, the narrative you were building for the admissions consultant who cost $400 an hour and who assured you the process was about fit and not also about money, which everyone understood to be a thing you say. Optimizing yourself: Pilates, infrared sauna, the cold plunge, the elimination diet, the functional medicine doctor who didn’t take insurance but had a four-month waitlist, which was itself a form of social proof on the Westside.

The performance of having it together, maintained at considerable cost, while not having it together at all.

“I was tracking everything,” one Brentwood mother told us, with the specific tone of someone describing a previous relationship they’re mostly over. “My sleep. My HRV. My son’s sleep. His bowel movements, honestly. I had a spreadsheet.” She paused. “I don’t have the spreadsheet anymore.”

What she has instead, she says, is a different relationship to control. Which is something people say. But she also seems, genuinely, less difficult to be around at pickup. So there’s that.

What It Looks Like From the Outside

The clearest sign that something has changed is the quality of the conversations. There used to be a specific kind of Westside small talk that was essentially a status exchange conducted in the grammar of wellness. We’ve been doing a lot of beach time. He’s really thriving at his new school. We just got back from a digital detox in Costa Rica, it was incredibly restorative. The information content was low. The subtext was dense. You came away knowing less about the person than when you started.

That register still exists. But alongside it, increasingly, there are actual conversations. About hard things. The specific texture of finding parenthood both beautiful and relentless. Marriages that are fine and also kind of aren’t. The gap between the life you built on paper and what you actually feel inside it. Things that people were not saying at drop-off three years ago. And I, for one, really appreciate that.

The Children Are, For the Record, Fine

The kids seem okay. Better than okay, in some cases. There is a six-year-old in Pacific Palisades — his name is actually Cosmo — who has absorbed enough of the ambient therapeutic vocabulary that he now actively coaches adults through emotional moments. His mother was crying at the market recently, not from distress but from the kind of generalized awe that has become common in this community, and Cosmo patted her hand and said, with complete sincerity: “Let it move through you, Mama.”

He is six. He has, to his parents’ knowledge, never been to therapy. He has simply been around a lot of people doing the work, and some of it has stuck. Whether this is wonderful or mildly concerning is a question we leave to the reader’s own nervous system.

Is This, On Balance, Good?

The honest answer is probably yes.

The mothers of the Westside were not doing great. That’s the part that gets lost in all of it — the oat milk and the ceremonial cacao and the playlist assembled like a state funeral. Underneath the performance, there were a lot of women managing a genuinely difficult situation: high-pressure parenting culture, expensive real estate, ambitious careers, a wellness industry that monetized their anxiety and called it self-care. That combination was making real people miserable in ways they were not permitted to say out loud.

If whatever is happening in this community — the retreats, the circles, the journeys, the farmer’s market runs that take two hours longer than they used to — is giving people access to themselves they didn’t have before, it’s hard to argue with the outcome. The research on various wellness modalities is increasingly legible. The stigma around emotional openness is decreasing. The conversations now happening in this community, even in code, are conversations that weren’t happening before.

The caveats are predictable. Access tracks money and social capital, as everything on the Westside does. The integration work varies wildly, and “my friend held space for me” is not a clinical standard. And there is always the possibility that a culture which turned self-improvement into a competitive sport will simply do the same thing here, and whatever is in those paper bags will become another item on the wellness checklist, stripped of meaning, available at Erewhon next spring in a $48 tincture that does nothing.

But that hasn’t happened yet. Right now, the moms seem — if not healed exactly, then at least a little less at war with themselves. They are having conversations they weren’t having before. They are crying at the farmer’s market for reasons that, on reflection, are not that strange. Some of those reasons are available at the farmer’s market.

We will leave it there.

This is not a piece about morality. There are hundreds of other writers covering that angle. So no. This is a piece about the specific and largely unacknowledged experience of living inside a social world where the Epstein files are not an abstraction — they are a drop-off dad, a familiar wave from a Range Rover, a name you now know differently than you did six months ago. A name that maybe appears in the logs not once, which could mean almost anything, but multiple times, which could mean something narrower, or could be nothing. In some cases, a name attached to a civil judgment. A settlement. Public record that doesn’t leave much interpretive room.

But in LA, they aren’t just names. In fact, in LA, some of these folks might have kids on your kid’s soccer team. You might talk to them every Tuesday at swim lessons. You know the people I’m talking about. And so does everyone in the group chat. And we are all, collectively, still figuring out what we’re going to do about that birthday party.

Spoiler: we’re going.

WHAT FILES, EXACTLY?

The Epstein documents are a collection of flight logs, deposition transcripts, and civil litigation filings that have been releasing in tranches. They name names. Some of those names are globally famous. Some are locally famous. Some are familiar in a different, more specific way — the kind of familiar that means you have made eye contact with this person over a shared plate of crudités at a school fundraiser and thought nothing of it, because why would you have.

Being named in the documents does not mean someone did something wrong. This is true and it is important and it is also, in the social ecosystem of the Westside, not the variable that is making people uncomfortable.

What is making people uncomfortable is the flight logs. Specifically: not appearing once, which could mean almost anything, but appearing many times, on a specific plane, to a specific destination, which means something narrower. And then there are the people who didn’t just appear in documents — they lost. Civil suits. Settlements. Judgments that are a matter of public record and that don’t leave much interpretive room.

These people are also at drop-off.

WHAT ACCOUNTABILITY LOOKS LIKE IN PRACTICE

On Instagram it looks like this: dark background, white text, something about justice and survivors. A repost. A link to a petition. Posted to Stories, naturally, where it will disappear in 24 hours, which is either responsible platform hygiene or a metaphor so on-the-nose that a first-year MFA student would be told to cut it.

In the group chat it looks like this: okay but Nobu Malibu and honestly Caden has been talking about it for two weeks.

These are not mutually exclusive positions. This is Los Angeles. We contain multitudes. We also contain a remarkable and largely unexamined capacity to hold moral clarity in one hand and a save-the-date in the other and experience no particular friction between them, at least not friction we’re prepared to act on.

Here is the thing about accountability that rarely gets said plainly: it is much easier when it doesn’t require you to do anything socially inconvenient. Posting costs nothing. It requires no conversation, no confrontation, no explanation to your child about why they’re suddenly not going to their best friend’s birthday. It is clean. It is digital. It evaporates.

Declining the invitation because the father of the birthday child appeared in documents you yourself reposted — that is a different transaction. That requires a reason. And we saw something in the files is not a reason anyone in this zip code is currently prepared to give out loud, because it opens a door that nobody wants to walk through at school pickup.

So instead you get the architecture of strategic ambiguity. You are probably going to be out of town. You have something that weekend. The kids are disappointed, but what can you do.

THE DROP-OFF

There is an experience that doesn’t have a name yet. You are in the school pickup line. You are in your car. And then you see him — a person whose name you knew before, but know differently now. You’ve seen it in the logs. Not once, which could be explained. Multiple times, which is harder to explain away. And you watch him collect his kid’s backpack and wave at another dad and laugh at something, and you are supposed to feel nothing, and mostly you do, because what is the alternative.

You tell yourself: being named isn’t being convicted. You tell yourself: I don’t actually know what any of this means. You tell yourself it would be wrong to assume. All of this is correct.

And then you think about the party. The venue is genuinely incredible. Your kid has been talking about it for two weeks. You have already bought the gift.

The fear isn’t irrational. That’s the part nobody says out loud. Not the fear that something happened somewhere far away — that’s abstract enough to post about. The fear that it was closer. That the infrastructure of your child’s social life was built, in part, by people whose relationship to a federal investigation is not fully resolved, and that the $20 million house at the top of the hill is exactly as knowable to you as it has always been, which is to say: not at all.

You are probably being paranoid.

Probably.

THE REALITY NOBODY TALKS ABOUT

There is no protocol for this. No guide. Nobody sends a note home. The people in your circle are making the same calculation you are, arriving at roughly the same place, and not discussing it — because discussing it would require deciding something, and deciding something would require doing something, and doing something would cost you more than a repost ever will.

So the stories go up. The RSVPs go out. The party will be epic.

This is Los Angeles. We’re all just living in it.

The files are public. The names are searchable. The party starts at four.