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The Los Angeles of yore was a strange, ritzy affair, welcoming the rough tumblers alongside the class acts. West coasters knew the value of paradise out among the palm trees and a city always under construction, and if you had picked any brain of a mid-century Angeleno, he or she would’ve told you anything was possible in the future if you could protect what’s yours in the present.
These days, philosophy doesn’t always make its way into the luxury game. Too often, respect and relaxation aren’t backed enough by earnestness and empathy. One stunning L.A. gem, however, is as chic as it is classic, because no joint in town knows how to recreate the City of Angels’ old-school charm like Mr. C Beverly Hills.
