Dear reader, if you happen to be Oscar-nominated this weekend, there is no better arena in which to practise your speech than a suite bathroom at the Waldorf Astoria Beverly Hills. The lighting? Magnificent. The marble floor? Luxurious. The sprawling mirror? Elizabeth Taylor-worthy. Call your agent pronto and make them make way for you inside this modern bastion of luxury, where Wilshire and Santa Monica Boulevard meet.
A diva deserves tranquility. Which can be found here, nestled inside the rooftop jacuzzi or floating in the pool by its side. For there are are four competing vistas worthy of Lynch’s thrilling eye: one straight into the centre of the city; another out onto the Santa Monica oceanfront; one over the plush green lawns of the Beverly Hills Country Club; and one onto West Hollywood and the Boulevard beyond. Plus, all the other stars are here.
There is no better arena in which to practise your Oscars speech than a suite bathroom at the Waldorf Astoria Beverly Hills
JAN SCHUENKE/Waldorf Astoria Hotels and Resorts
You might have just zipped back from Gucci on Rodeo Drive, played a round of golf at the Beverly Hills Country Club with a Hilton, or stopped for lunch at paparazzi-flanked Kardashian favourite, Il Pastaio – but this colossal building, forces you to shake it all off. Not the glamour, that is; only a sense of the frenetic pace of this City. High up on the rooftop, a gentle gust offsets the Los Angelino sun. Here, iced coffee is best served when you are bundled up in white robes and slippers, a towel wrapped around your head like a soft serve.
A few floors down, my Deluxe King Room (the entry level offering, from $1,122) comes with a terrace and view onto Santa Monica Boulevard, with Beverly Hills straight ahead. All cream and white, it gives off a modern sort of glamour.
The towering hotel is a modern bastion of luxury, where Wilshire and Santa Monica Boulevard meet
Courtesy of Waldorf Astoria Hotels and Resorts
Prising oneself away from the bed is a tough job best rewarded by eggs royale, hurried up by room service and set out just inside the sliding glass doors. The terrace proves the ideal spot to begin the first read of the script for your latest starring role. And the jet bath? A treat that adds to the spa-like feel of this urban hotel – fitting for this capital of vanity. Every element, from the soft carpets to the automatic blinds, feels considered and ultra luxurious.
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On the other side of the summit of this building, The Rooftop by JG (that’s Jean-Georges Vongerichten) awaits, with an additional panorama over West Hollywood. There, mint and emerald soft furnishings stretch the length and beyond of a bar tiled to match. If you aren’t drinking a ginger margarita or working your way through a bottle of Laurent-Perrier here before dinner, something has gone terribly wrong. Sunset, whatever the hour it is, is the hour you must have a seat at one of these tables, although if you happen to pass by at lunch, the signature lobster burger is a rich, rich winner. Though perhaps not ahead of Oscar night.
The Rooftop by JG has mint and emerald soft furnishings that stretch the length and beyond of a bar tiled to match
Courtesy of Waldorf Astoria Hotels and Resorts
Yo-yo all the way back downstairs to the ground floor, where Jean-Georges Vongerichten’s fine dining restaurant awaits for dinner. The eight-course tasting menu changes with the season, and the Taste of Fall edition, which I experienced, treads that fine line between crowd-pleasing dishes and experimental zing. Toasted Egg Yolk with petrossian Ossetra caviar is served with Billecart-Salmon Brut and followed by tuna tartare, then parmesan ravioli. Steamed black bass comes with delicata squash, spinach and a bright yuzu-sesame dressing. After roasted wagyu beef tenderloin, the grand finale is molten chocolate cake with vanilla bean ice cream. The cream-and-gold restaurant feels modern and warm, and an Asian sensibility elevates classic dishes.
Two hours in the La Prairie institution leaves me our writer so gloopy that getting back to her room is touch and go
JAN SCHUENKE/Waldorf Astoria Hotels and Resorts
The fourth-floor spa is the highlight of this Beverly bastion. Two hours in the La Prairie institution leaves me so gloopy that getting back to my room to melt into the chaise is touch and go. The signature massage ($205 for 60 minutes) is world class: lying on a gently heated bed, my therapist focuses on small, targeted movements to release tension in specific areas of my back and stretches that make me feel long-limbed and distinctly not like I’d just spent 11 hours in a plane. I leave the signature facial ($250 for 60 minutes) that follows rejuvenated. A light peel results in a glow and manages not to irritate my tricky skin.
The bedroom terrace proves the ideal spot to begin the first read of the script for your latest starring role
Courtesy of Waldorf Astoria Hotels and Resorts
The Waldorf Astoria opened in 2017, meaning it’s still shiny and new. But if there is something lacking, it is perhaps the history. Its most famous counterparts, the Beverly Hills Hotel, the Beverly Wilshire (the Pretty Woman hotel), the Chateau Marmont and the Sunset Tower Hotel opened in 1912, 1928, 1929 and 1931 respectively. The Waldorf Astoria cannot compete with the kind of fan fiction touted by the rest, like how Elizabeth Taylor spent six of her eight honeymoons at the Beverly Hills Hotel or how John Belushi died in Bungalow 3 of the Chateau Marmont following a speedball injection, but it will weave its way into the fabric of history in time.
After all, it draws stars. Oprah Winfrey and Mariah Carey have been spotted there. I am told a lot of top athletes check in when they are in town and love the gym. And one day, on my way back from the pool, I spot a guard and at least six suitcases outside the neighbouring room. All that’s a day in the life in Beverly Hills. A 12-minute stroll from the hotel doors, you’ll find Rodeo Drive, where the locals are all age-defyingly fresh-faced, tottering around in stilettos no matter the time of day. But don’t walk: the hotel’s chauffeur-driven Rolls Royce and Maybach are far more appropriate.
