Some hotels are scenes, while others are leaves. When you walk throughout the long footbridge that covers the Bel-Air’s Swan Lake (yes, there are real swans sliding around) as the larks chirp amongst the palms and bougainvillea, there’s a sense of the whole sprawling megalopolis melting into the Santa Monica foothills. The Bel-Air has long been a sanctuary, a pastel-hued, Mediterranean-influenced sanctuary for the similarity Grace Kelly and Marilyn Monroe. Old Hollywood qualifications and tinkling fountains aside, the Bel-Air is no fusty treasure. A 2012 revamp by New york city– based designer Alexandra Champalimaud provided the place a extremely deliberate however in some way apt mid-century brightness. Rooms– all creams, peaches, and ochres in the hotel’s Spanish Colonial design– now come with heated bathroom floors and personal balconies with hot tubs and fire pits. Wolfgang Puck, who has been connected with the hotel for more than 30 years, continues to progress the menu. An alcove overlooking the lake is the ideal setting for a 34-ounce prime porterhouse and a glass of bone-dry Champagne Henriot. My favorite area is the Bar and Lounge, where the blown-up black-and-whites of the likes of Tina Turner and Cher by rock-and-roll professional photographer Norman Seeff constantly advise me that even if I remain in the quietly glamorous area of Bel-Air, I’m still very much in L.A. From $1,045.