In "Tropicana," the artist recalls his nights spent in the bars of Hollywood, where he met and befriended a dazzling array of characters, even if their sparkle did come from sequins and rhinestones. A young dancer has just finished her shift for the evening, and as she enjoys a last drink before leaving, the men at the bar gaze upon her as if she were an unapproachable goddess. She is exhausted, perhaps even a bit jaded by her world, but she tries not to expose her weariness. To the men she is perfection.