11/17/16

4725mag travels: Hollywood Hills Hotel, Los Angeles

Join me for a cup of coffee and a story...

I used to hate Los Angeles.

The first time I visited LA, 10 or so years ago, I played in a band that opened up for a couple of much bigger bands at the House of Blues on Sunset Strip. We rolled in, hungover from our show the night before without much time to acclimate before having to soundcheck and quickly play.

The House of Blues has since shut down but I remember vividly it was at that show that I saw my first pair of IRL fake boobs; large, painful, curious looking and jarring to my early twenty-something self. Joel McHale was also at the show. That I was far less jarred by, and he even bought merch.


On the way home from the show, starving and tipsy (again) I needed to eat. I walked down Sunset until I hit a liquor store where I bought some snacks for the room I was sharing with my bandmates, our merch seller (I'm avoiding calling her a "merch girl" purposefully) and a friend of a friend who came to the show.

The merch slinger and said friend of a friend proceeded to loudly hook up with each other on the floor of our small, and over crowded, hotel room.

My outsider perception of people from LA being somewhat self absorbed, from the plastic surgery to the "I don't care if you hear me loudly hooking up with some girl I just met. On YOUR hotel room floor" had been notably fulfilled. It was safe to say I was eager to leave LA. To just get a good night of rest if nothing else.


Fast forward a decade or so and now, I love LA. 

As a M-F, 9-5 working woman, I have a newfound appreciation for the quick dose of escapism LA provides in just a short, cheap flight from OAK to LAX. A weekend of eternal summertime is just an hour away. I also love how insane and detached from reality LA is; simultaneously the birthplace and graveyard of dreaming big. And lastly, but not leastly, because of this absolutely falling apart in the next earthquake yet perfect little hotel nestled right in the Hollywood Hills.

Their pool is overlooked by Yamashiro restaurant - which has an insane history, FYI - with a view of Hollywood and a 600 year old pagoda (again, crazy history). I could spend my life at this secluded, under used pool.


The rooms are more studio apartment-esque. They are incredibly basic and could even be described as dreary, but they are always clean. I like to envision not having to work, yet somehow having the money to live, then buying and remodeling one of these apartments. 

My boyfriend and I would have to get rid of 98% of our stuff to live there, and we'd live this minimal life with tons of plants and I'd fill my days writing and taking photos... but yeah that ain't the case. So we just stay there once or twice a year. 

The balconies there are absolutely my favorite place on earth to have morning coffee. Overlooking DTLA, and looking up into Hollywood Hills feeling the sun on my bones.  


The lighting at this place is perfect. If I'm in LA I'm using these balconies as the back drop for my every IG. I'm obsessed with the sharp angles, shadows and the lines created by the sun hitting this building juxtaposed with the rolling landscape in which this home away from home is nestled. 

So, the point of this story? Yeah, there isn't really one. Just that I guess I'm getting a little older, less prone to snap judgement and I now have a big spot in my heart for LA. 


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