I went to the Getty Villa the other week with my dad's girlfriend Mia and her friends. The Getty Villa is a tremendous estate on the Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu. It was built by J.P. Getty, an oil tycoon who made a lifelong attempt at collecting art that he kept in his home and, for a time, charged admission to the public to see. The majority of his collection are ill-chosen artifacts, which are obviously authentic and in turn historical while clearly not made by the greats of their time period but still incredibly expensive. Still, people came to his house to check it out, and even though he kept the visitors to a roped path, it eventually began to creep him out. He built the Getty Villa to act as a museum for his boring things. It is an exact replica of some wealthy Italian's summer home that was covered in lava about 70 years after Jesus died. J.P. Getty stayed in the UK for the entirety of the construction time and died without ever having seen it.
To remain authentic, historians made sure that the replica statues that line his wade pool were painted on their faces and eyes, which is always a poor decision.
At the gift shop I bought this foam wreath that I'm extremely excited to wear.
I just have to wait til Halloween is completely over so people don't take it the wrong way.