By 
Influenced by the 100 Instagram reels that flooded my algorithm last week, I met up with a friend at 10:30 at Laurel Supply. To our disappointment, they at 12 pm as it’s still in its soft-opening phase. We grabbed coffee right across the street.
Once we parted ways, as I made my way to my car, I couldn’t help but take a peak inside. It was only 14 minutes away from 12, so I patiently waited. Five minutes later, a crowd had gathered behind me. A woman named Robyn said she used to live right up the street. Also drawn by social media, she came to check it out. “It’s so stupid, but here we are,” she said.
The building was originally constructed for the Ritts Co. in 1948 as a furniture store. After sitting vacant for years, restaurateurs Dean McKillen and Phil Howard acquired the space in 2024. The duo is also behind high-end restaurants like Laurel Hardware, Ysabel, and Laurel Grill in Culver City.
Laurel Supply, despite setting social media ablaze, has a private Instagram account with zero followers — letting influencers and media outlets do the free promo work.
The timber-style space with high-beam ceilings resembled Nobu Malibu with a dash of Big Sur’s luxury retreat: the Esalen Institute. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows framed by cedar, and triangular rooflines as sharp as shark fins.
Leaning into the spa/zen minimalist aesthetic, a towering olive oil tree sits across the hot bar area. The spa-like experience continues in the restrooms: minimalist stone sinks with brass fixtures and wooden doors revealing automated toilets.
As soon as the doors opened, I made a beeline to the juice bar, but most people were lining up at the hot bar. A manager dressed in formal black attire, who looked more like a shopping assistant at a luxury store on Rodeo Drive, took my order. Unlike Erewhon, they won’t call out your name to disrupt your zen-like shopping experience, but rather text you when you order is ready. “That way, you’ll have time to shop comfortably”, he said. I gave him my phone number.
At Laurel Supply smoothies range from $14 to $16. I ordered the $16 Heavenly So smoothie, which has drawn multiple comparisons with the infamous $22 Hailey Bieber Strawberry Glaze Skin Smoothie that broke sales records when it was released in 2022.
I returned to the juice bar, where I saw the smoothie sitting at the counter, but I didn’t get a text. “Is this your phone number?” a barista said. “No. There’s a typo in it”, I replied. “I’m so sorry, we’ll definitely have to talk about that.”
The juice bar had ample seating, with comfortable bar stools without feeling like you’re shoulder-to-shoulder with a stranger.
The Heavenly smoothie was dramatically less sweet — including the strawberry glaze at the bottom — avoiding the overload of coconut cream, syrups, and powders that has become the norm with Erewhon collaborations. Nothing groundbreaking or as stellar as the juices from my beloved Beverly Hills Juice Club.
A frat-looking guy who looked like a TikToker was filming the space and asked me about the smoothie. “Is it better than Erewhon?” he asked. To my surprise, he was just filming for his mom. “I got this massive slice of pizza for relatively cheap,” he said.
After I finished the smoothie, I made my way across the grocery store. It felt strangely dystopian, to say the least: people holding their dogs at every turn, girls in athleisure filming the space for social media, perfect-looking fruit in the display fridge with a sign at the entrance that read “ORGANIC”, and framed Instagram posts from nonexistent accounts hanging above the apothecary section. AI influencers?
The sprawling kitchen is straight out of a luxury resort: cutting-edge equipment and pristine stainless steel pots gleamed under the framed skylight panels. The pizza section, where they mill their own flour, features a restaurant-grade dome oven.
The kitchen also included a gelato counter and an upcoming pasta bar. At the sushi bar, perfectly stacked boards of nigiri surprisingly ran just $3 apiece. Vegetable rolls? A whopping $2.
In the prepared-food section, a tiny bento box of organic salmon and rice was $26.88. In the butcher section, organic and grass-fed meats sit behind the glass display case. “It’s my first time working at an organic grocery store,” said the butcher. Some of the prices were shockingly affordable, like the $7 prepackaged ground beef. Two pieces of steak, however, can run you up to $100. When I asked if people were actually spending that much money, he replied, “Oh yeah, people don’t even hesitate or ask about the price. They just buy them.”
Advertised on social media as a cheaper Erewhon, Laurel Supply’s prices are still absurdly high. Nonetheless, the experience of people-watching is part of the spectacle. I recognized Lifetime and Hallmark actor Jason-Shane Scott looking around the store. A group of French and Asian tourists were gawking at the space in sheer awe and curiosity.
As much as Laurel Hardware Supply wants to market itself as a more accessible grocery store, it’s still an influencer playground — part of the performative wellness culture that’s so pervasive in LA.
Could Laurel Hardware Supply also be LA’s latest dating hotspot? This year, reports have surfaced of Angelenos being fed up with dating apps and flocking to Erewhon in hopes of meeting their soulmate. Functional grocery shopping takes a step back here. It’s a place to see and be seen.
After all, in LA, the truly wealthy exude “quiet luxury”. They have assistants who drive down the hill to Gelson’s, Bristol Farms, Ralphs, or Whole Foods Market. If they’re in the mood for sushi, they’re not lining up at a luxury grocery store to eat sushi that has been sitting behind a glass display case for hours. They head to Sushi Park, Nobu Malibu, or Matsuhisa, where the omakase starts at $400. And if they want to socialize or be seen, they go to San Vicente Bungalows, Soho House or Sunset Tower.
Laurel Supply’s parking situation is the same as Erewhon: valet parking and tight spaces. Luckily, I found a spot right across from it, where a bottleneck of cars had formed, blocking local traffic. As I drove away, I could see the valet frantically running around holding tickets.
Whether you want to indulge in a $16 smoothie, film content, dissect influencer culture, or be entertained by people-watching, Laurel Supply is already becoming an LA attraction for Angelenos and tourists alike.
As of May, hours are still 12pm to 10 pm, but regular hours will eventually be 7 am to 10 pm, seven days a week.
Address: 8445 Santa Monica Blvd, West Hollywood, CA 90069
