Due to their brief lifespan and often obnoxious nature, I don't normally cover pop-up shops or limited-time exhibits here. However, the promise of delectable, creamy treats and social media braggadocio proved far to tempting to ignore and I found myself following the masses to LA's newest hotspot to to take a photo while bathing in a disease-ridden pile of plastic sprinkles. Welcome to the aptly named Museum of Ice Cream!
An Instagrammers paradise (and diabetic nightmare) this homage to frozen pudding has been selling out fast, gaining celebrity followings and supplying giddy attendees with sub par ice cream over the last few months. And with ano closing date in sight she might be with us far past her expiration date.
So where does the journey to campy frozen bliss initially begin, you ask? Like all "cool stuff when you were a kid, but now it's even cooler as an adult" pop-up events in the greater Los Angeles region, patrons will find themselves nestled within an alleyway, waiting in a line that wraps around an abandoned factory in downtown's trendy arts district. How novel; what ambiance...
It's here where bearded hipsters and eager influencers align a dingy wall while salivating-- well, they're more akin to staring at their phones and doing a location check-in than actually drooling on their clothes-- at the thought of entering, and knowing damn well that the "been there" boast alone will make the experience worthwhile. Ravenous, wide-eyed and waiting for something extraordinary to happen, the whole spectacle outside is like a deleted scene from 'Charlie and Chocolate Facotry'.
After a group bonding experience that includes yelling out your favorite ice cream flavor, in sync (3x!) and waiting for the masses in front of you to disappear into the shadows, you're told the immortal line, and don't soon forget it: "Take as many photos as you want, and pleaseeeeeee post on social!" Wait a minute? Are we here to love of ice cream or social media? Who cares, let's enter.
Things start off a little confusing, as you're guided through some rules/heavy exposition by Seth Rogen--yes, THE Seth Rogen. Apparently he loves ice cream; who knew-- after answering a call from the "ice cream hotline" on a fake rotary phone. Very charming indeed, but the whole exercise ends up making me feel like I should be watching 'Pineapple Express' instead of spending an evening increasing my blood sugar.
Once you're all pumped up and ready to move, it's onward to room one, whose theme is a surreal blend of Hollywood and, well, ice cream!
Ahhh, and what would Hollywood be without a walk of fame? Also, PUNS! Delicious, delectable and totally ridiculous ice cream-related puns! Puns which completely monopolize the floor of room one. It's as if they took the sadness and desperation from the real Hollywood, CA and applied a superhappyfun filter to turn the (in reality) cracked and worn stars into a colorful good time. It also smells a lot nicer than the streets of Hollywood, that I promise.
While I'm partial to the pun room-- Dwayne "The Rocky Road" Johnson, anyone?-- it wasn't until room numero dos where the museum really starts to live up to its reputation as LA's current king of the gram. Here, lies the banana room which, as it sounds, is filled with radiant, plastic bananas of various colors.
And amongst the plantains is also where you'll find popular photo opp number one: the now infamous banana swing. Fix the hair, whip your damn phone out, and click away.
After that madness, things take a mellow turn and you'll find yourself surrounded by mint plants. With a greenhouse aesthetic and low-key demeanor, this section is quite subdued compared to the others-- but I guess the flurry of folks feverishly uploading their banana swing photos deserve a quick break before coming back to reality. I liked this room; it feels nice.
And lots of colorful neon and giant plastic gummy bears follow our minty fresh garden trip. Big win photo opps in this room.
Then we take a stroll through "gallery row" an exclusive place, no different then LACMA, where the most pristine and priceless pieces of ice cream artwork await.
Warhol, eat your heart out
And after that overdose of sophisticated culture, we've finally made it to the most instagrammable moment of them all, the moment we've all been waiting for, the reason God put the Ice Cream Museum on this Earth-- the opportunity to bathe in millions of fake, multi-colored sprinkles. And yes, the experience is as surreal and strange as it sounds.
It's amongst a wall of porcelain tiles where you have a group of grown-ups fully clothed and overjoyed, diving, swimming in sprinkles and taking as many photos as 2 minutes (you're timed here) will allow. We're all kids again, but armed with iphones and elevated narcissism.
Also, there's this dude, who I'll brand the hipster janitor, casually cleaning up sprinkle remnants as each museumgoer laughs their balls off. It's truly like something out of a David Lynch Movie.
And finish the day off with a goodbye photo perched upon a giant fake ice cream sandwich. I'd call this the metaphorical "cherry on top" of a successful journey through the frozen tundra of ice cream on display.
The $30 ticket might be a little steep, but you can't put a price tag on photos and bragging rights in this day and age.
