Sometimes, Weed Events Are Just Okay

High Functioning is a monthly column exploring the weird, wide world of weed events. From dab legends to porn stars and tattoo artists to ceramicists, we talk to them all to find out what the future holds for the new party scene.

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This is my first summer spent in the San Fernando Valley. After spending the last seven in swampy Washington, D.C., I've become accustomed to the East Coast’s wet blanket of heat covering my skin in a layer of sweat, whiteheads, and mosquito bites every time I step out of the door. Now, I’ve braved California’s June Gloom to make way for the dry desert heat, where succulents thrive and no one’s Botox-ed foreheads glisten.

A Week's Recap

Does the cannabis industry really need more representation from white male celebrities? The country’s most popular consumption lounge, theWOODS, has the answer: apparently, yes. The Tulum-inspired oasis is owned by iconic stoner and prolific anti-vaxxer Woody Harrelson. My first event of the week was presented here by the Dope Women Network,a grassroots organization looking to connect women in the cannabis industry.

The dispensary in the front, filled with ombre-labeled eighths and lavender-infused joints, soon gives way to the outdoor area: the self-proclaimed Ganja Giggle Garden. The GGG is home to a non-alcoholic bar and a variety of cabanas available to rent for no less than $100/hr. Today, the spot will host guest speakers Kristi Palmer, co-founder of the household edibles named Kiva Confections, and Imelda Walavalkar, co-founder of Pure Beauty—home of the cutest mini-joints on the block—to discuss their experience in the ever-struggling industry.

In the GGG, beautiful tapestries of tropical greenery hangover-chic stone fixtures while massive wrought-iron bird cages covered in plastic tarps house a variety of parrots—a concept that may sound nice to some (I mean, not to me, but maybe to some), but quickly turns creepy when intermittent squawks and screeches start to harsh your buzz. The industry titans shared that even they remained unoptimistic about the future of the industry, with a sky-high tax rate and overly-strict regulations strangling brands even as well-established as their own.

This event encourages women in the industry to socialize and network, which I’ve seen happen before my very eyes: friendships, businesses, and collectives have formed thanks to their introduction at the event. This one, though, was a bit different. At least double the size of the one I had attended the month prior and now nearly evenly filled with men. Though this growth was impressive, it detracted from the organization’s original mission. I had to beeline for the gift bag at the end to avoid the continual advances of a man who brought his cat with him (who wasn’t a big fan of the squawking, either).

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One thing I’ve learned about these events is that there are not very many places to have them. Thursday night, I’m back at The Artist Tree for some of their late-night programmings; this time, though, the sun-drenched clubhouse had transformed into a strip club for an alien-inspired pole-dancing pop-up—a phrase they took quite literally, pulling out a collapsible pole that wavered in the air with even a slight breeze.

The queer-centric troupe took turns taking to the pole, “shaking their rumpuses,” as the host insisted they do. Many handed lit joints to the performers like dollar bills, testing their balance even further as they gripped the pole with only their thighs. Each artist cycled through vaguely astrological tunes like Beyonce’s “Alien Superstar”, Ariana Grande’s “N.A.S.A.”, and Katy Perry’s “E.T.” in PVC skirts and high lucite heels, with one even donning a full rubber mask of the latter.

Though obviously campy, the evening was truly quite sexy as ashtrays filled and a shirtless assistant named Buffalo scampered on the ground to gather stray bills. The night capped off with a challenge from Kenzie, a pigtailed performer in a shimmering lilac bikini: “Who can smoke a joint faster than me?”