Mosey’s shop is the spot for bling. (Estevan Oriol)
Get your kicks at Undefeated. (Estevan Oriol)
If you desire a West Coast souvenir worthy of Eminem, Justin Timberlake, CC Sabathia and Amar’e Stoudemire, you might find yourself cruising through downtown LA. You’ll be in search of a fenced-in compound occupied by the elusive all-star tattoo artist known as Mister Cartoon. He’s inked the above celebrities and many others.
Regular folk endure a nine-month wait for a date with Cartoon (appointments can be made via tattoos@mistercartoon.com), but we received a line pass upon requesting a tour of his favorite spots in the area. Downstairs, he maintains a garage full of exquisitely detailed lowriders — a hobby that led him to release a line of car-care products under the brand name Sanctiond — and upstairs is his atelier where he just inked a guy’s face with clownish details. When we ask to take the tour in one of Cartoon’s rag-top lowriders, he gets a load of our unmolested arms and says, “These cars are for gangsters only. You need tattoos to go in there.”
Instead, we find ourselves in the back seat of a perfectly reconditioned 1956 Chevrolet Bel Air. After warning us that he needs to be back in a few hours for a tattoo job — his car customizer requires a sleeve of vintage automobiles — Cartoon cranks up a soundtrack of ’70s soul music and our tour commences.
First stop is a spray-painted mural (246 S. Garey St., between Second and Third streets). It’s Mister Cartoon’s enormous, glorious tribute to Los Angeles, centerpieced by the Dodgers’ logo and nodding to Day of the Dead, LA’s famed freeways, Cartoon’s iconic angry-clown graphics and, of course, a couple of sexy, scantily clad girls. “This is about me going out there and showing what I can do with spray paint while the sun beats down,” Cartoon says of the project that took him two weeks to complete and was totally freestyled. “This was about graffiti and crushing and letting people know that I still have it.”
As Cartoon pulls up in front of Gobi Mongolian Barbecue (2827 West Sunset Blvd., 213-989-0711, gobimongolianbbq.com) in nearby Silver Lake, a middle-aged Doris Day ringer takes in his sublime wheels, stops in her tracks and all but squeals, “That car is the s – – t!” Nonplussed, Cartoon gives her a nod and heads into the stir-fry joint where we load up our plates with meat and veggies and hand them to the counter guy who cooks the ingredients in a giant wok. “Living in the shop, it’s a challenge to find bomb food,” says Cartoon, eating heartily. “Me and my crew, we come here to talk about projects and ideas for tattoos.” But the restaurant also has sentimental value. When Cartoon was a kid, his parents took him to a similar place in Torrance, near where he grew up. “I used to order from the child’s menu until one day the owner looked at me and said, ‘He’s got a mustache. He ain’t no child!’ ”
An unrepentant sneakerhead who’s designed shoes for Nike and Vans, Mister Cartoon has also done a billboard for Undefeated, his sneaker shop of choice. (We head to the Silver Lake outpost — 3827 West Sunset Blvd., 323-668-1315, undftd.com — but there are also stores in La Brea and Santa Monica.) His allegiance isn’t hurt by the fact that the owner, James Bond, has several tattoos, including portraits of his children, courtesy of Cartoon. “James has similar taste to me in terms of maintaining a real Japanese, minimalist feel,” Cartoon points out. “Plus, Undefeated gets all the limited-edition shoes first. When they got the Jordan 13s, kids waited in line overnight.” Was Cartoon among them? “Hell no. I just had to make a phone call.”
On “date night,” when Mister Cartoon wants to get busy with Mrs. Cartoon, he often opts to kick it at the Standard, Downtown LA (550 Flower St., 213-892-8080, standardhotels.com). “People who work there have sleeves of tattoos,” marvels Cartoon. “Go to the Four Seasons and they’re completely stiffed out. My wife and I like to meet at the rooftop bar here and pretend that we don’t know each other. Maybe we sit in one of the cool, little pods together. Then if I play my cards right . . .” His voice trails off, but his smile tells all.
As prominent as Mister Cartoon’s tattoos is the oversized, diamond-encrusted Rolex that rides above his wrist. “I stole it from Mosey,” he tells us, naming the guy from whom he buys his bling. Maybe sensing our surprise, he clarifies, “He gave me a good deal on it.” En route to Mosey’s shop, actually the front counter inside a brightly lit, Manhattan Diamond District-style jewelry exchange (637 South Hill St.), Cartoon notices our considerably more discreet Rolex and deems it too small and disappointingly bereft of glitz. “Isn’t that the size that chicks like to wear?” he asks, clearly feeling comfortable enough to break our chops. Inside, Mosey brings Cartoon a tray loaded with shimmering timepieces. Trying on a diamond-cluttered wristband, Cartoon says, “It’s a shallow world out there. I need Mosey to provide me with the tools. People don’t see you wearing this stuff, they won’t give you any money at all.”