Chateau Marmont

The giddy anticipation begins as we leave LAX, set for Sunset Boulevard. Having flown in from Las Vegas, we needed a place that was less Hollywood cliché and more European retreat. Perched on the hills above the hustle and bustle, this folly bourgeois has all the rambling corridors, vaulted colonnades and palm-fringed pools we could hope for – thrown in with a decent measure of mod cons and mid-century design to temper its original 1930s Arts and Craftsiness. Its idiosyncratic pseudo-Norman architecture shines out across LA from high in the hills like a Disney castle gone bad; its turrets and towers a siren call to playboys and their perfectly coiffed muses. You know the script – Led Zep roaring through the lobby on their Harleys; Jean Harlow bunking up with Clark Gable; Johnny Depp and Kate Moss romping in every room – it is time for us to write, direct and star in our own off-screen version.

James Dean, Greta Garbo, Helmut Newton, Jim Morrison, John Belushi, Chateau Marmont... It's rare when a hotel's name itself sits so comfortably in a roll call of Hollywood greats and rock ’n’ roll legends. That's what this hotel has become – great and legendary – since it first opened in 1929.

The entrance is so discreet we feel we’re being led into a private house. In fact, the first person we meet is the valet guy, since the path to the front door passes the garage. He’s keen to carry our cases up to reception and doesn’t even hang around for a tip – perhaps he was trained in Europe?

Reception is low-key, relaxed and no one makes much of a fuss. Given the hotel’s clientele, it’s unlikely much would faze the folks working here. The staff is even more stylish than the guests – none are in a typical uniform. The only giveaway someone might be on the payroll? A mannered French pronunciation of ‘chateau’ that sounds like ‘shut-o’.

Our room not quite ready, we’re offered a drink in the lounge. A no-camera policy enhances the off-duty mood, and people are all actually talking to each other. Conversations seem more social than business, although we earwig a ‘shopping’ and ‘script’ dropped in the same sentence. This lobby is one of the inner-circle hangouts by night, alongside the terrace and restaurant, all within view of each other. As next door’s Bar Marmont is open to all, we take advantage of our exclusive chance to dine here, and make a reservation in the hotel’s restaurant later.

Keys are handed to me with the fantastic news I’ve been upgraded to a top-floor suite with a terrace. Merci, Marmont. Suites are individually furnished, and beyond the array of vintage furniture and parquet flooring are two headline acts – a bedroom and a kitchen. In attention-grabbing cameo roles come,old-fashioned keys and ‘do not disturb’ signs. The kitchen has a huge American-size fridgee and it’s filled with virtually everything for all tastes. A 1950s-style diner is definitely the place to invite friends for drinks to and it proves a fun place to start and finish a hedonistic evening with friends, with dinner in the middle.

Supper is, as expected, delicious and lively. Call me unadventurous, but I plump for the spaghetti bolognese. It’s rare for this to be a standout dish, but it more than lives up to the restaurant’s reputation. Accompanied by a good French red from an excellent list, I could see this becoming a habit. We secretly hope we get to meet the executive chef, Carolyn Spence, who’s behind the Chateau Marmont's dining options. Not just to thank her in person for such a great meal but also because secretly I I’ve heard folk marvel at her arms tattooed with foliage as lush looking as out in the garden.

And so to the pillow talk: the bed itself proves to be the most comfortable ever, sorting out my jetlag in eight relaxing hours. My carpeted boudoir couldn’t have been cosier, helped along by a scented candle that the chambermaid lit as part of the turndown service. If Chateau Marmont is an American take on a French castle, it’s certainly got the styling, decor and vintage furnishings correct.

In the morning, we sneak a tour of the infamous bungalows. Each is terribly private and begs more than a night’s stay. Designed as second homes/private party places/city retreats/illicit affair rendezvous* (*delete as applicable) – as per the inscription of producer Harry Cohn’s quote, ‘If you must get in trouble, do it at the Chateau Marmont’. Shrouded in amazing gardens, the bungalows allow for very VIP-fit entrances and exits.

Jasmine blossoms and eucalyptus leaves lend an exotic aroma, and our stroll conjures memories of a romantic island holiday in the Maldives. Given that the pool is heated all year, it’s a little patch of year-round tropicality. It’s hard to imagine that only a wall and some very well landscaped trees and plants stand between this sanctuary and traffic-packed Sunset Boulevard.

While louche Sunset Boulevard may not be the sexiest address in town for everyone, the Château makes it a true destination – you can even spot buses of tourists pulling up to photograph that signature neon sign. Deserving of its iconic status, this hip but homely hideaway is an antidote to the over designed tendencies seen in Tinseltown. Here it is easy to relax and drop a gear, knowing that you’ll be treated with the same attitude whether rich, famous, or neither.

Now I have a confession to make. I know I’ve been saying ‘we’. It is kind of the royal ‘we’. Truth is, I’ve been here on my own – but I didn’t want to bust the Mr & Mrs Smith vibe, as this is a place made for times as a twosome. Next visit – and there will definitely be a next visit – upgrade or not, I’m bringing my wife. Not only will she love this hideaway, she also says ‘chateau’ in that alluring way that only French women can.