loft - she calls it Cloudland - and that she was being evicted as a result. 12, four days after the flat debuted on social media, when popular L.A.-based designer Amina Mucciolo of Studio Mucci put up an Instagram post claiming the concept for the Lisa Frank Flat was stolen from her colorful downtown L.A. Then I checked Instagram to see how the first few guests were enjoying themselves. I was all set to write an essay waxing nostalgic about my night among the unicorns and multi-colored wildlife. After all, this was for the glory of journalism. I paid for the room - $199 plus $133.65 taxes and fees (ouch!) - and since LAist couldn't reimburse me, I reached out to to see if they'd cover the cost. The two-week pop-up sold out in about an hour. Like a rainbow-spotted leopard, I pounced and at 5:20 a.m. The company finally messaged me to say the error had been fixed and a few single nights were still left. But when the magic hour arrived, I found myself staring at my screen and endlessly hitting refresh.īarsala posted that the site was glitching and taking only two-night reservations but I still couldn't book one of those. Like a kid waiting for Santa, I pulled an all-nighter. I scoured social media and saw that Barsala, the short-term rental company also involved with the flat, had posted in an Instagram story that bookings would be available sometime after 3 a.m. 11 but, despite pleas from fans, none of the promoters gave an exact time. The reservations were set to open on Friday, Oct. Lest you think the coveted bookings for the Lisa Frank Flat went only to press and influencers, I secured a reservation on my own - and the process was far from magical.
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