This is the first installment of Vintage Vacations, because if we’re getting away, it will be vintagely.
Why stay in your own town? Maybe you don’t have much time off. Maybe your significant other doesn’t. Or maybe there’s just some looming errand or responsibility that makes a full-blown trip technically impossible. Still, you’re overdue for a getaway and need a reset. So you decide to stay in town.
That was my situation. I’m a fourth-generation Angelino. But I didn’t have the time or will to drive for hours, pack a full suitcase, and have no time left for proper R&R. My biggest pain point with traveling is that I never manage to just be still. To just lounge by a pool with a book. I have a drive to move. To explore. To see everything while I’m there.
So if the mission was relaxation I thought: why not a hotel right here in Los Angeles? After all, I’ve already seen it all. I just needed to find somewhere I could park the car and post up. For a couple of days. Ideally with solid chaise lounge chairs. Ideally with bar service. Also with slightly faded glamour. Or you know, patina.
And I can’t just pick the most luxurious stay. I’m not wired for convenience. I always choose adventure. And Hollywood will forever be an adventure.
There are plenty of places to stay in L.A., but the Hollywood Roosevelt felt just right. Not an obvious choice, especially if you’re a local and already know what a circus Hollywood Boulevard is pretty much every day. But I love old things. And there’s a lot of history there. So there I went and the Mrs. came along with me.
The Roosevelt is full of lore. The first Academy Awards were held there in 1929. Marilyn Monroe lived there for a bit. The place has been polished and re-polished worse than the average fluted bezel on a vintage Rolex Datejust 1601. But it hasn’t lost its soul.
You could stay in the tower, sure. But the bungalows are low, private, and close to the water. If you’re planning to spend real time poolside, it’s where you want to stay. The painted swirls on the pool’s floor were put there by David Hockney. They’re faded now, which feels right.
We checked in around 4 p.m. and I went straight to the pool, ordered a dry Ketel One martini with a lemon twist. Stirred, not shaken. Colder that way. Cracked some light reading. Took a few lazy laps. Finished the drink.
If you’re a vintage watch person, make sure someone’s nearby to watch it for you while you swim. I don’t dunk vintage, even if it’s pressure-tested. And you shouldn’t either. Money you can replace, a great watch, no so easy. Anyway it’s a great excuse to bring your significant other.
Another nice thing about staying local is you can still hit your favorite establishments. First we took a Waymo to Next Door on La Brea, then made it back before to Musso & Frank’s to close them out with rounds of martinis and G&Ts.
Musso is a time capsule. They’ve been doing it the same way since 1919, before Hollywood became Hollywood. The tradition is palpable like few places in Los Angeles. Faulkner, Fitzgerald, and Chandler shined their sleeves on the bar. Later on Chaplin, Garbo, and Dean would slide into the deep red booths. It’s all still there. The staff changes but the waiters remain in their uniforms of red and green tuxedos, same as always. When one retires, another rises in his (and now her) place. Outside, it’s completely chaos all the time. Inside, time holds still.
Before heading up to the room, we took one last look at the pool. Empty. Still. Well lit, blue and quiet. We drank it in, metaphorically. It pool closes at seven o’clock in the evening. A welcome moment of peace before hitting the room after traversing the wilds of Hollywoodland.
The next morning, it was back to the water. But first, free coffee in the front for those up early enough. At the pool there are always plenty of chairs to stretch out in. I grabbed a beer. Read. Swam. Watched the day roll in.
As the day began to roll out, we wandered. The Egyptian Theatre is nearby, and it’s a classic. Not just in the historical sense, but in spirit. Old Hollywood through and through. Something good was playing. Kubrick. Very vintage.
Some time during the movie, the sunburn began to really hit. It was vicious and felt like a kind of narcotic. I had made a large mistake in calculation, in terms of lack of sunblock and time in the shade. We walked by Goth night at some bar I half-remember from my college days. She wasn’t interested in visiting. We said the name of every “star” on the sidewalk while trying to look tough on the streets. I slipped the Rolex into an empty pocket. The night crawlers out were dispositionally dystopian. A little surreal. A lot Lynchian.
Stopping at a 7-Eleven on the way back for respite from the late-night chaos of the boulevard, as well as aloe vera and hotel snacks, we found a scene even more helter-skelter and wild. In my skin-toasted condition I began to feel I would become one with the people of the Boulevard, if I stayed even a day longer. This was the fear and the loathing. I had to get back to the room.
Or at least back to the Roosevelt, to the Spare Room bar, where I nursed my red flesh wounds with another martini as we played Jenga and watched people bowl.
The next morning: I took the book to the pool and sat in the shade with a farewell drink.
What else do you need in a two night getaway? The polar extremes of chaos on Hollywood Boulevard juxtaposed with the leisure of a perfect pool. The Roosevelt may be old, but it’s still got it. A vacation doesn’t require a passport or packed itinerary. Sometimes you just need a change of tempo. New scenery. Even if that’s just a few miles from the scenery of home. The Hollywood Roosevelt offered all the patina, some of the peace, and just enough pulse to feel away without being far adrift. For the vintage-minded, it’s not about chasing novelty; it’s about reconnecting with the vital spirit of the world. And in that sense, old Hollywood still delivers.
Spencer Gauthier, is the founder of GAUTHIER Watches and editor of GAUTHIER’S Vintage Watches & Culture Magazine.
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