Four Seasons, Beverly Hills

It’s dark. The bright sunlight is sneaking in the windows behind the bar. It hits off the wine glasses parked in the window and sparkles. Glitter and glamour are in the DNA of this place.

 

It’s soft and tranquil. The couches are comfy. I feel glamourous just being here for a moment. Observing. Once again, I wonder who notices the girl in the corner — sitting quietly, drinking her bubbles. Feeling fabulous.

 

Sunflowers in red vases top the marble mantle. Fake. Which seems odd, but I guess fake is welcome here. The mantle itself adds a grandeur that can’t be fabricated.

Jon Stewart pops in and out. He must be staying here. Pairs and singles dart the space…deep in conversation about some sort of business. The music business mostly, I guess. A guy in a Yankees hat clearly feels his opinions about what’s next and what’s best in music are deep and valid. He sits with a rocker-looking dude whom I should probably know. But I don’t. Maybe that’s just his thing.

 

I love it. The vibe is infectious.

 

But this is just the precursor. A whole night remains.

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