Avalon Beverly Hills

The night breeze flew in through the window as my Uber driver made a sharp U-turn, waking me up: I was home… or rather, I had arrived at my home away from home. I took countless Uber rides over my two-day stay, and every single one ended with that U-turn as they missed the entrance to the Avalon Beverly Hills: its pleasingly hidden location made me smile every time. 

Three storeys tall and tucked away on a non-descript Beverly Hills corner, the Avalon looks more like your typical SoCal deco apartment complex than a supremely stylish hotel. Once inside, though, I was warmly greeted and ushered through glass doors, then came face to face with the hotel’s inner courtyard and sun-soaked pool. At first glance, it could easily be mistaken for South Beach, with its pastel-hued cabanas and cool color-blocked walls. But once you’ve sampled the serene mood, there’s was no denying it: this is laid-back LA at its best.

It’s an inclusive spot, though – all style, sans snobbery. The Avalon’s a small and friendly space, where you feel as if you’re among neighbours, not fellow hotel guests. (I was a Nineties teen, so it appealed to my Melrose Place memories – it’s not that the design resembles Billy and Alison’s Mediterranean abode, but rather that there’s a real communal feeling here.) 

My room was up on the main building’s second floor, and a surprisingly generous size for a boutique hotel. We revelled at the extra study alcove with desk and chairs… then quickly converted the office nook into our dedicated shoe closet. (The room’s muted colors go beautifully with Prada.)

It was easy to spot designer Kelly Wearstler’s work everywhere: a fabulous turquoise occasional chair here, a retro-style dresser there… The iridescent wallpaper design might not normally have been my cup of tea, but tied in with the overall mid-century-gone-mod feel, it worked. We let the decor dictate our getting-ready playlist for the night: Lianne La Havas, Esperanza Spalding and Tony Bennett serenaded us from our room’s iPod dock.

Every morning, we walked past the hotel’s gym. If we’d been motivated enough to actually workout, we would have appreciated the well-appointed room: lots of natural light, the full gamut of state-of-the-art machines and even a mat space to do yoga. But instead, we continued on to breakfast alfresco at the Avalon’s restaurant Viviane. Who could grab-and-go when there are pastries to be savoured by that glorious hourglass-shaped pool? It’s fun to think of the Old Hollywood crowd who must have dined here back in their golden age, brokering movie deals over leisurely breakfast meetings (a certain Ms Monroe was said to be a resident, back in the day).

The pool kept us coming back. We’d spend our mornings shopping on Venice’s Abbot Kinney Boulevard or checking out LACMA’s Robert Mapplethorpe exhibit until we felt the call of the oversized sunloungers: they’re the perfect afternoon napping ground. 

The Avalon’s absolute pièce de résistance, however, is the aperitivo hour. Scoring one of the poolside cabanas, we opt for rosé – inspired by Mapplethorpe’s pink-and-purple-flower series – and an assortment of well chosen cheeses. Viviane, helmed by award-winning chef Michael Hung, is fast becoming the Beverly Hills hotspot. Beautiful people in couples and groups begin to roll in around 7pm each night and, with the string of lights cascading across the pool coming to life, the mood turns into a thoroughly sophisticated pool party.

On our last night chez Avalon, coming home after dining at LA’s current impossible-to-book restaurant Bestia, we sneaked back for one last nightcap at Viviane’s bar. It’s quieter at that hour, but we didn’t mind. Isn’t that the whole point of the Avalon Beverly Hills? You never feel as if you’re coming home to a loud lobby lounge, but your very own living-room bar – if your living room had been beautifully re-imagined by Kelly Wearstler, of course. Home never looked so good.