A Proper Visit to Santa Monica and Beyond

Unless you get your jollies from sitting in traffic, it pays to stay in the part of L.A. that you plan on exploring. For our last two visits, my husband, Adam, and I chose downtown, which has a certain piquant charm, but we were ready for somewhere else—and Adam had his sights set on the Santa Monica Proper, which opened in 2019 at the corner of Wilshire Boulevard and 7th Street.

The hotel is big (271 rooms) and rather beautiful: kudos to Howard Laks Architects for wrapping sinuous new construction around the landmark 1928 Santa Monica Professional Building (also part of the hotel). The floor plan looks like a weird bone.

The mix of sexy shapes, raw concrete, tropical vegetation, and, most of all, the indoor-outdoor flow reminded me of Rio de Janeiro or Mexico City. Elevators open to fresh air; hallways snake in and out of the building.

Kelly Wearstler handled the design. The lobby felt like a gallery specializing in aggressively artsy furniture, and we never saw anyone sitting there, which might be the point. Were the columns wrapped in black to deter people from bumping into them?

In any event, there are large decks on the second floor and roof.

Our room was much more comfortable, and far from the high-glam style for which Wearstler first became known. Light fixtures were a focal point.

This one reminded me of a bedpan, or maybe something else.

It’s time for the “compliment sandwich” filling. 1) The elevators are so dark that you had better wave your key in front of the sensor before the doors shut, or you’ll never find it. 2) $70 a night for valet parking is steep. 3) The bill includes a $35 daily “destination amenity fee,” which sounds like a mandatory tax but is actually a resort fee, and a “3% wellness fee” that, if you ask, you’ll learn goes to the staff. I value honesty and transparency in all my relationships, including with hotels.

Back to the compliments! The rooftop restaurant is dreamy, even if we were among the oldest people there on a Sunday afternoon, and the food was excellent. (I took these photos early in the morning.) And although I tend to hate sitting still while traveling, we enjoyed a couple of hours by the rooftop pool. A staffer keeps a waitlist for lounge chairs; I was certain that people who tip him would jump ahead of us, but we didn’t have to wait long at all.

We would happily stay at the hotel again, particularly if Shutters on the Beach keeps costing twice as much. The only thing is that, for me, a little Santa Monica goes a long way. Some of that is my own fault, since we managed to patronize two establishments—Caffe Luxxe and Rori’s—that we go to often enough at home. And we did find terrific viennoiserie at the new Petitgrain Boulangerie.

Another Santa Monica highlight was an apartment building called Cuba Libre, complete with portraits of Che Guevara and Fidel Castro on the facade.

Generally, big cities offer a chance to visit the future, at least vis-à-vis Santa Barbara—like in San Francisco, when we hired driverless Waymo cabs. Waymo still has a waitlist for L.A., so the closest we got to technological excitement was the Coco delivery robots tootling around.

Not technological, but still sort of thrilling: diagonal crossings, where all the stoplights turn red and pedestrians can go wherever they want—and which I don’t think I’ve seen outside Japan. The crosswalk markings could use some clarifying, and the donut skidmarks don’t help.

We did explore beyond Santa Monica. Adam had always wanted to visit the La Brea Tar Pits, which look and smell like a Superfund site. We thought the museum ($18 admission for adults) was unnecessary, and if we went back—unlikely!—we’d just explore the grounds, where you can learn how the area is an astounding trove of fossils. Also, brace yourself for the truth: it’s not even tar.

Do you ever daydream about how idyllic L.A. must have been a hundred years ago?

I was hellbent on seeing the Ed Ruscha retrospective at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art before it closes October 6. The show is a winner.

Besides Ruscha, there’s a huge Richard Serra, which is always fun, although the back side is cordoned off; Instagram bait by Michael Heizer outside the museum; and, for the kids, a Chris Burden installation of toy cars zooming around a city. I don’t know what that woman’s job is, exactly, but she didn’t appear to enjoy it.

Some guy outside was raving about the David Geffen–funded LACMA building currently under construction, but I’ll wait till it’s done to weigh in. More my style: the methane warning inside a gallery, a reminder (as with the so-called tar pits) that the land around there is volatile.

Greystone Mansion & Gardens in Beverly Hills is possibly the world’s most deluxe city park, and on a Monday morning, it was empty—we had a blast to exploring the grounds. The house has a fascinating back story, and it’s been used for many film and TV shoots, but it’s only open the first weekend of the month.

Look at those chimneys!

If there was one main reason we were in L.A., it was to go to a jazz club. Sam First is right outside LAX, oddly enough, and you’ll want to arrive early to score a decent seat. The location may be temporary: not long after we went, the club sent out an email saying it’s turning into a non-profit with “plans to build a sustainable home for jazz in L.A.”

The show was over at 9 p.m., so we had made a 9:30 reservation at Soko Sushi in the Fairmont Miramar hotel. That felt exciting: we don’t eat that late anymore, anywhere, ever. Unfortunately, the staff was giving off done-for-the-night vibes, and the hotel has seen better days. Our other dinner, at Pasjoli, was also a little disappointing. The food was excellent, but if I’m paying $60+ for an entrée, I’d like a tablecloth and a server who doesn’t spray the next table over with cleaner.

On the way home to Santa Barbara, we stopped at The Wine House, which has a very L.A. location next to a freeway on-ramp, along with a roof-deck parking lot. Adam didn’t find the selection he was hoping for, but I got a kick out of the free chilling service.

And I was tasked with finding a place to have lunch nearby. Looking at Google Maps, I discovered that a stretch of Sawtelle Boulevard is called Sawtelle Japantown, and it’s lined with casual Asian restaurants. Figuring that udon is something we can’t get much of in Santa Barbara, I chose Marugame Udon, a chain where food is served cafeteria-style. When was the last time you slid a tray along a counter?

Since we had 30 minutes left on the parking meter, we walked over to Nijiya Market. Oh, how we wished we had a cooler with ice—or even a free chilling service—so we could’ve bought more. I usually only take photos of interesting potato chips, but I couldn’t resist buying the umeboshi-flavored ones. They did not make it all the way home.

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Previous travel coverage:
••• A Quickie in San Francisco
••• Dipping a Toe Into Southern Corsica
••• The Exquisite Luxury of Taking Paris for Granted
••• Santa Rosa Island in One Day
••• Soaking Up History at Castle Hot Springs
••• Driving Through the Heart of Hokkaido
••• Tokyo Is a World Unto Itself
••• Paso Robles, Pinnacles National Park, and Beyond
••• A Review of the Inn at Mattei’s Tavern
••• Another Quickie in L.A.
••• Sitting Pretty at the One & Only Mandarina
••• The Mysteries of Istanbul
••• Palm Springs: Midweek at the Oasis
↓↓↓ Exploring the Sea Caves of Santa Cruz Island
••• A Summer Swing Through the Northeast
••• Why Is Everyone Going to Portugal?
••• Patagonia Made Easy
••• A Quickie in L.A.
••• From Penthouse to Pavement in Mexico City
••• Do Greek Islands Live Up to the Fantasy?
••• Splendid Isolation at Utah’s Lodge at Blue Sky
••• Three Reasons to Visit Paso Robles Now
••• The Rebirth of the Cuyama Buckhorn

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