An Old Style Christmas Eve

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and as everyone in LA ran around for last-minute shopping and groceries, the roast beast safely marinating in the oven, the stereotypical Californian sunset obscured by uncharacteristic, unexpected rain clouds, I drove east on Beverly towards Old Style Guitar Shop, where I worked from 2021-2023, slanging rubber bridges and records and the occasional 5′-wide tambourine (yes, we sold one of those).

The winter holidays are a historically reflective time and always make me nostalgically sappy, as I find myself gravitating towards the past. I decided to go check up on my former place of work to see what Christmas Eve at the shop was like. It’s safe to say this year has come with a whole lot of emotional upheaval and moving around, so I was feeling in need of a familiar environment.

I was greeted, as always, by my dear friend Thomas Berg, who has been working at the shop for a few years now (I trained him). As sad as I was to leave my favorite job when I moved to NYC for graduate school, I felt comforted by the fact that I was leaving selling duties in excellent hands. The shop is a time capsule, not just of my time there as an employee, but of my teenage years spent hanging around and attending shows and bugging owner Reuben Cox about whatever esoteric gear I was interested in.

Standing in the main room of the shop, I was reminded of the time I came to the shop to see Mike Viola and Larry Goldings play the night before my junior prom, and how, the next night, zipped tightly into a ridiculous dress, I thought, Man, a show at Old Style beats this stupid American tradition.

I sat and played a ’65 Mustang for a bit, which had just about the greatest neck of any Mustang I’ve ever played. Reuben had done an excellent setup and I was reminded of how much I love the feel and versatility of Mustangs. What’s special about this one, in particular, is that the chipped and cracking white paint reveals the original blue underneath. Thomas tells me the guy who brought it in was moving to Hawaii the very next day and wanted it to go to a good home. I’ve always been fascinated by the histories embedded within the instruments in the shop. What I miss most about my days at the shop are the customers’ stories. And it was never just about guitars. There’s something about the homely vibe of Old Style that really gets people to open up about anything and everything. Before I know it, I’m spilling my guts to Thomas as I noodle around on the Mustang and I think to myself: Am I now just one of those yapping customers?

Thomas is playing the Staple Singers over the sound system, which feels perfectly festive. The 12-year-old laptop we used just to stream music has sung its final song and now the shop is back to only being able to play CDs, which feels a lot more authentic to the store’s ethos. Old Style is completely analog: No electronic point-of-sale, only a manual cash register with loud clacking buttons.

A few people pass through looking for last-minute gifts, accompanied by infants and dogs (my favorite is the companion of a Scottish man named Winston). It’s comforting to know some things never change, that the shop I love is intact while LA constantly revises itself, tearing down history in service of bland, emotionless architecture. So if you find yourself passing through LA anytime soon, go check out the latest stock at the shop, and go buy that Mustang (before I do).