Lifestyle
What is it like to live in an L.A. hotel? Here’s a glimpse
This story is part of Image’s April issue, “Reverie” — an invitation to lean into the spaces of dreams and fantasy. Enjoy the journey.
On the afternoon of Sunday, Feb. 25, I drive to West Hollywood to spend a night at a hotel. I want to imagine what it would be like to live in one. There is too much noise in my head, and I am trying to clear it. I keep picturing a clean, fresh hotel room, a kind of blank slate — a chance to start anew, step into another life. I decide to keep a time log and write a diary entry for the 19 hours I am about to spend living out this experiment.
3:10 p.m.
I arrive at the hotel. It is called Hotel 850 SVB, a name that I have a hard time remembering and sometimes call SVB 850 when I tell friends. One of them observes that it sounds like a vaccine. SVB stands for San Vincente Boulevard. The hotel is a white wooden house covered in green vines. In the early 1900s, it housed railroad workers who were building a railroad between Hollywood and Santa Monica boulevards. In 2018, hotelier Jeff Klein, the same owner of the Sunset Tower Hotel and the private club San Vicente Bungalows, opened Hotel 850 SVB, a hotel he has described as having “a soul, like a beautiful home.”
A bellman named Winston checks me in. He welcomes me to “Hotel 850.” I have booked the Carriage Room, inspired by the carriage houses designed to fit single horse-drawn carriages. It’s the room that books up fastest, perhaps because it is the cheapest, but it is also the most charming, with its walls all painted blue and bookshelves framing the bed.
When I walk into my 200-square-foot room, I take off my shoes and put on the white hotel slippers. The things I encounter in the room give me ideas and expand the possibilities of what I can do: do yoga before bed on the blue mat, iron my shirts (which I never do), drink a bottled 1934 Cosmo for $18, read books with names like “The Millionaires.” Maybe it’s all that blue or the circular window, but when I lie on the bed, I feel like I’m on a ship.
4 p.m.
I realize it sounds silly to say I’m living in a hotel for less than 24 hours. Most people who’ve claimed to live in hotels have done so for at least a few months or often years. In this town, those people are often actors who come to stay for transient periods of time for film productions or simply like the luxuries of a hotel. Marilyn Monroe lived on and off at the Beverly Hills Hotel ; a TikTok video says the hotel still sprays her suite, 1A, with Chanel No. 5 to summon her scent. Elizabeth Taylor lived for a year at the Hotel Bel-Air. Robert De Niro, Keanu Reeves and Lindsay Lohan all lived at Chateau Marmont. Lohan was staying at the Chateau while playing the role of Taylor in “Liz & Dick” when she was apparently forced out by hotel management after 57 days for not paying her bill of $46,350.04. I prefer a story I find in the Daily Mail that says Katharine Hepburn checked into Chateau Marmont with a luggage of men’s clothes, “wearing an eye patch.”
4:45 p.m.
I walk out to the hotel lounge area, which is on the same floor as my room, in my slippers. The lounge is more like a living room, with mismatched couches, Louis Armstrong playing in the background, and a glass jar with pretzels for the taking. Any time a guest exits their room and comes to the lounge to grab a water or sit on the patio, I say hello. I receive a few smiles from these strangers but never hear their voices in exchange. I think I see an actor I recognize. I Google: older white actor who wears round glasses. Pictures of John Lennon populate.
A housekeeper wearing a baby-pink dress says hello and asks me how I am. She elegantly lays out the complimentary happy hour drinks on the dining room table that’s already adorned with a vase of purple orchids. After she is finished, I take an authentic Bavarian beer from the metal bucket filled with ice. I flip through Variety magazine. Four sips in, I’m given the illusion of suddenly being on vacation. I am relaxed, charmed by the chair to my right covered in a print of violet flowers.
The hotel guests here are not like those I read about who lived at famed hotels. They are not like the ones at the Chelsea Hotel in New York who were bohemian, wrote songs and plays, did drugs in the bathrooms and started fires. “They just let anybody in over there, that hotel is dangerous,” Andy Warhol wrote in his diary about the Chelsea Hotel in October 1978, “it seems like somebody’s killed there once a week.”
A hotel is a house where you can misbehave (or at least give in to what you wouldn’t do) and indulge in the out of the ordinary. Ideally this doesn’t involve killing someone. The classic example is the “Eloise” books, where a 6-year-old girl lives at the Plaza Hotel and drinks Champagne and gin, wears furs, eats meringue glacée and watches TV with a parasol “in case there’s some sort of glare.” (Eloise might have been based on Liza Minnelli, who lived in hotels with her mother, Judy Garland.) Maybe it’s because I’m 33, or because Hotel 850 is made to look like an eccentric aunt’s house, but rather than dreaming of debauchery, I’m looking at the red striped armchair and imagining what it would look like in my living room. I’m imagining the day I have walls tall and big enough to hold a vintage poster like the one in the room. I’m in a hotel, playing house.
5:25 p.m.
The truth is I did live in a hotel once. When my family moved from Brazil to Miami when I was 14 years old, we lived at the Sonesta Hotel for three months. I made new friends in high school by inviting them over for slumber parties that involved ordering movies on demand and room service. Aside from that, there was nothing too remarkable about the experience, and after a while, we got tired of the bland furniture.
I think I would get less tired of the furniture here. The designer, Rita Konig, deliberately resisted “beige and boring” hotel aesthetics. In my room — because it is now my room — there is a table lamp with a giraffe for a base. It is a lamp that Konig replicated from her own home.
6 p.m.
In the days leading up to my stay at Hotel 850, I read “The Hotel” by Sophie Calle, a book documenting the week the artist spent working as a chambermaid at a hotel in Venice, Italy. Each time she cleans a room, she fusses through the guests’ belongings and photographs them: a stethoscope and rosary on the bedside table, a torn-up postcard, a lobster claw under the bed sheets, a pair of black heels in the trash, white underwear hanging to dry and diaries detailing “excellent lasagna,” hot baths, small bridges and good soup. She lets the objects speak for themselves but admits when she is “bored” by her findings.
I go back to my room to get ready to leave for dinner. I imagine what Calle would see and fixate on: that I brought three pens in different colors (green, pink and blue), that I color-coordinate them in my agenda (“dry cleaning” is in blue, “pick up pie” is in green, “6:30 p.m. massage” is in pink), and that I use hand cream that’s a blend of mandarin, lime, geranium and rosemary. She would note that I wear contacts, comb my hair in the shower and take thyroid medication. I want her to be interested in me but I don’t think she would be.
8 p.m.
I end up, unintentionally, at another hotel for dinner, where the bartender explains to me that the red, green and white dollops on the flatbread represent the Lebanese flag. Later, I eat Meyer lemon ice cream and share the sidewalk with one of those delivery robots for restaurants; it outpaces me. It is Sunday in WeHo, which is to say, it might as well be Saturday, and a bar is playing a techno remix of “Respect.”
When I come back to my room, I write this diary entry as if I am a tourist, registering my evening in L.A. When you’re traveling and staying at a hotel, every detail becomes important and worth recording. Life is finally observed and savored.
8:30 p.m.
I shower — admittedly it’s the moment I am looking forward to the most, when I get to test out the little shampoos and conditioners and liquid soaps. The shower products are all lemon-scented, and the body lotion is a strong rose that takes me several strokes to blend into my skin. There is a poet named Adília Lopes who likes to use hotel bath products at home because it gives her the sensation of being in a hotel without leaving her home. The containers at Hotel 850 are too big for taking; they are not souvenirs.
Winston, the bellman, had mentioned in passing that I would be most welcome to make myself some tea at night in the shared kitchen. Since I somehow feel that this is an experience not to be missed, I go to the all-yellow kitchen to make myself rooibos tea. I am shy about being caught in my pajamas, so I wear my coat.
Maybe the moment I am looking forward to the most is actually getting in bed, slipping my bare feet under the freshly ironed sheets. I do this while I drink my rooibos tea and watch a boring episode of “Friends.” If I could steal one thing from a hotel, I think it would be the sheets.
8:30 a.m.
At breakfast, there are three Frenchmen. One of them is upset because he woke up at 6 a.m. While I eat my yogurt, I fantasize that if they ask me where I’m visiting from, I will lie. I decide I will tell them I am visiting from New York, that it is my first time in Los Angeles. But they never ask me. I begin to wonder what would happen if I stayed longer, what persona I would gradually adapt, what alternate life I would build.
But I have to check out and head to work. Before leaving my room, I do one last scan. I never did the yoga or ironed my clothes or drank the Cosmo.
“Safe travels,” the bellman says on my way out. I drive home.
Lifestyle
L.A.’s latest viral party spot is … Seafood City. Yes, you read that right
Under the glow of fluorescent lights at Seafood City market in North Hills, packages of pre-made adobo, salted shrimp fry and and dried anchovies glisten in meat coolers.
A DJ, dressed in a traditional barong, blasts a dance remix of Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” as a crowd gathers to take a shot of fish sauce together.
“That was disgusting!” a man shouts into the mic, flashing a grimacing expression.
At Seafood City, DJs 1OAK, left, EVER ED-E and AYMO spin in barongs, the Philippines’ national formal shirt.
The smells of lechon and lumpia float through the air. Smiling children munch on halo-halo (a Philippine dessert made with ube ice cream, leche flan and shaved ice). Flags of the Philippines wave in the air as a man in UCLA Health scrubs hops into the center of an energetic dance circle. Employees shoot store coupons out of a money gun and toss bags of Leslie’s Clover Chips into the crowd. Fathers hold their children on their shoulders as a group of college students perform a Tinikling routine, a traditional Philippine dance in which performers step and hop over and between bamboo poles.
“This is so Filipino,” a woman says, in awe of the scene.
Sabria Joaquin, 26, of Los Angeles, left, and Kayla Covington, 19, of Rancho Cucamonga hit the dance floor at “Late Night Madness” in North Hills.
“I came here for groceries,” explains an elderly man, adding that he decided to stay for the party.
Seafood City, the largest Philippine grocery store chain in North America, typically closes at 9 p.m. But on certain Friday and Saturday nights, its produce or seafood aisle turns into a lively dance floor for “Late Night Madness.” On social media, where the gathering has exploded, it looks like a multigenerational nightclub that could use dimmer lighting. But for attendees who frequent the store, it’s more than that. It’s a space for them to celebrate their Filipino heritage through food, music and dance in a familiar setting.
“This is something that you would never expect to happen — it’s a grocery store,” says Renson Blanco, one of five DJs spinning that night. He grew up going to the store with his family. “My mom would [put] us all in the minivan and come here, and she’d let us run free,” he adds. “It’s comfortable here. It’s safe here.”
1. Rhianne Alimboyoguen, 23, of Los Angeles follows an employee through the produce section. 2. Allison Dove, 29, left, and Andrea Edoria, 33, both of Pasadena, enjoy Philippine street food. 3. Katie Nacino, 20, left, Daniel Adrayan, 21, and Sean Espiritu, 21, of the Filipino American Student Assn. at Cal State Northridge, practice tinikling, a traditional Philippine folk dance, in an aisle.
The first Seafood City location opened in 1989 in National City, a suburb of San Diego, which has a nearly 20% Asian population including a rich Filipino community. For its founders, the Go family, the mission was simple: to provide a market where Filipinos and people within the diaspora could comfortably speak their native language and buy familiar products. It’s since become a community anchor. Of the nearly 40 locations in Northern America, at least half of them are based in California, which has the highest population of Asian Americans in the United States.
-
Share via
The first “Late Night Madness” event happened in September in Daly City, Seafood City’s newest location. The company wanted to launch a street food program at the store’s food hall in a fun and creative way.
The DJ played a selection of hip-hop, pop, soul and classic Pinoy records like VST & Company’s “Awitin Mo, Isasayaw Ko.” Hundreds of people showed up, and videos of people of all ages turning up in the popular supermarket spread like wildfire. So the company decided to continue hosting the event in October during Filipino American History Month and for the rest of the year. It’s since expanded to more locations around the country and in L.A., including Eagle Rock.
By 10 p.m. at the Seafood City in North Hills, at least 500 people are dancing in the produce section, next to rows of saba bananas, fresh taro leaves and bok choy. The lively crowd forms dance circles throughout the night, taking turns jumping in the center to show off their moves to songs like Earth, Wind & Fire’s “Let’s Groove,” “Nokia” by Drake and Justin Bieber’s “I Just Need Somebody to Love.” At one point, TikToker and artist Adamn Killa hops on the mic and says “If you a Filipino baddie, this is for you,” before doing his viral dance.
Among the Philippine street food offerings were pandesal sliders, lumpia-style nachos, lobster balls and various skewers.
A group of employees dance behind the counter as they serve hungry patrons who fill their trays with various Filipino street food including pandesal sliders (soft Philippine bread filled with adobo, lechon or longganisa) and Lumpia Overload (think nachos, but a bed of lumpia instead of tortilla chips), lobster balls and barbecue chicken skewers. (No alcohol is served.) Meanwhile, a few lone shoppers sprinkle into the store to get their weekly groceries as music blasts through the speakers.
First-generation Filipino American Andrea Edoria of Pasadena says “Late Night Madness” reminded her of the family parties she attended as a child in L.A. and in Manila, where her parents are from.
“Growing up as a child of immigrants, I was kind of self conscious about displaying too much of my culture,” she says between bites of spiral fried potato. She went to the Eagle Rock event with her mother last month as well. “So it kind of fed my inner child to see so many people celebrating this shared culture and experience that we each grew up [with].”
A multi-generational crowd is drawn to the dance floor. At center is Jade Cavan, 44, of Chatsworth.
Members of the Filipino American Student Assn. at Cal State Northridge perform a tinikling performance.
She adds, “I think it’s so important especially now at a time where our country is so divisive and culture is kind of being weaponized, I think it’s a beautiful reminder that we can come together and find something that unites us.”
About 10 minutes before midnight, the grocery store is still bustling with activity. A dance battle breaks out and people begin hyping up the young women. The DJ transitions into slower tracks like Beyoncé’s “Love on Top” and Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You.” The remaining folks sing along loudly as they walk toward the exit, smiles imprinted on their faces. Staff rush to clean up, then huddle together for group photos to memorialize the evening.
After the final song is played, employees rush to clean up the supermarket.
Patrick Bernardo, 34, of Van Nuys looks at the counter, where a man had been chopping lechon, before stepping outside.
“There’s barely anything left on that pig,” he says, pointing to it as proof that the night was a success.
Lifestyle
10 books to help you understand America as its 250th birthday approaches
With the nation’s big 2-5-0 coming up next year, NPR staff and critics recommended a lot of U.S.-focused titles for Books We Love, our annual year-end reading guide. Below you’ll find 10 favorites — perfect for the history buff on your gift list, or anyone looking to learn more about how the U.S got to where it is today. Read on, or check out our full 2025 list here.
American Grammar: Race, Education, and the Building of a Nation, by Jarvis R. Givens
In this deeply researched book, Harvard University professor of education and African American studies Jarvis R. Givens locates 1819 as a “crossroads” in the history of education in the United States. That year, Congress passed the Civilization Fund Act, providing funding for assimilative boarding schools for Native American children, and the governor of Virginia signed an anti-literacy law that made it a crime to teach enslaved people to read and write in schools. Amid the Trump administration’s effort to dismantle the Department of Education, Givens’ clear-eyed assessment of American education offers an opportunity to reflect on the long-standing relationships among race, power and schooling in the U.S. — Kristen Martin, book critic and author of The Sun Won’t Come Out Tomorrow: The Dark History of American Orphanhood
The Fate of the Day: The War for America, Fort Ticonderoga to Charleston, 1777-1780, by Rick Atkinson
I’ve been eagerly waiting years for this book! This is the second volume of Rick Atkinson’s trilogy on the American Revolution. Atkinson makes good use of letters and diaries. You feel like you’re in the middle of a battle, with all the sights, sounds and tragedy. Harrowing tales of hand-to-hand fighting, scalping and desperate evacuations. Fine detail: the waxed mustaches of the Hessian forces, the number of rum barrels distributed to weary and ill-clad troops, the dull thud of cannonballs smacking into ships. The stench of makeshift hospitals, with piles of limbs stacked outside. He carefully lays out how the battles began, and the successes, mistakes and missed opportunities – on both sides. — Tom Bowman, Pentagon reporter
History Matters, by David McCullough, Dorie McCullough Lawson (contributor), and Michael Hill (contributor)
If history can be a comfort read, this is it. David McCullough’s daughter Dorie McCullough Lawson and his longtime researcher, Michael Hill, assembled this posthumous collection over two years. Some of the historian’s old manuscripts and files were kept in a New England barn, so the occasional acorn and nest turned up along with the historian’s glorious observations about Americans and their history. The essay subjects are diverse – painter Thomas Eakins, Harriet Beecher Stowe in Paris, “A Book on Every Bed” (it will melt your heart). One theme emerges that you might find reassuring in its own way: There was no “simpler time.” — Shannon Rhoades, supervising senior editor, Weekend Edition
Last Seen: The Enduring Search by Formerly Enslaved People to Find Their Lost Families, by Judith Giesberg
In 2017, historian Judith Giesberg and her team of graduate student researchers launched a website called the “Last Seen” project. It now contains over 5,000 ads placed in newspapers by formerly enslaved people hoping to find family members separated by slavery. The ads span the 1830s to the 1920s and serve as portals “into the lived experience of slavery.” In Last Seen, her book drawn from that monumental website, Giesberg closely reads 10 of those ads placed in search of lost children, mothers, wives, siblings and comrades who served in the United States Colored Troops during the Civil War. — Maureen Corrigan, book critic, Fresh Air
Medicine River: A Story of Survival and the Legacy of Indian Boarding Schools, by Mary Annette Pember
Mary Annette Pember, a citizen of the Red Cliff Band of Wisconsin Ojibwe and a national correspondent at ICT News, grew up in the 1950s and 1960s as her mother’s “secret confessor,” listening to fairy-tale-like stories of the horrors she endured at an assimilative boarding school. In Medicine River, Pember traces the repercussions of her mother’s maltreatment, situating her family’s story within the United States’ systemic use of education to eradicate Native cultures. Through an approach that is “part journalistic research, part spiritual pilgrimage,” Pember provides a cuttingly personal account of the history of federally funded Indian boarding schools and a moving look at how Indigenous traditions and rituals can light the path for healing. — Kristen Martin, book critic and author of The Sun Won’t Come Out Tomorrow: The Dark History of American Orphanhood
Mother Emanuel: Two Centuries of Race, Resistance, and Forgiveness in One Charleston Church, by Kevin Sack
There was great symbolism when a white supremacist targeted Charleston’s Mother Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church, killing nine Black worshippers as a means to ignite a race war. As we learn in this deeply researched history, the congregation has been involved in the struggle for racial justice ever since it was founded in an “act of bold subversion” by enslaved and free African Americans in the 1800s. I am struck by the stories of clergy and members who fought against seemingly insurmountable odds at nearly every turn of history, truly living out their faith and believing in a better America. — Debbie Elliott, correspondent, National Desk
There Is No Place for Us: Working and Homeless in America, by Brian Goldstone
In this paradigm-shifting, immersive book, journalist and anthropologist Brian Goldstone follows five families in Atlanta who, despite working full time, struggle to stay housed amid gentrification, a lack of tenants’ rights and low wages. These families, all Black, fall into a “shadow realm” – they are not considered officially homeless by the federal government, but lack a fixed living place as they double up with friends and family, sleep in their cars, or pay exorbitant rates at extended-stay hotels. Woven throughout their stories is a trenchant exploration of how America’s disinvestment in public housing and relentless pursuit of free-market growth have fueled housing insecurity for poor working families. — Kristen Martin, book critic and author of The Sun Won’t Come Out Tomorrow: The Dark History of American Orphanhood
The War of Art: A History of Artists’ Protest In America, by Lauren O’Neill-Butler
This book is about the creative – if often short-lived and not always successful – ways in which artists have fought for social change in the U.S. since the 1960s. Personal favorite: a chapter on how the scrappy video collective, Top Value Television (TVTV), changed the public’s view of political conventions. With artist-led protests once again becoming a thing – from the thousands of actors and filmmakers who recently pledged to boycott the Israeli movie industry in response to the humanitarian crisis in Gaza, to the presence of a 12-foot statue depicting President Trump and the late sex offender Jeffrey Epstein frolicking on the National Mall, this book about the past provides a powerful frame for thinking about artist-led actions today. — Chloe Veltman, correspondent, Culture Desk
We the People: A History of the U.S. Constitution, by Jill Lepore
As the U.S. approaches the 250th anniversary of its founding, it feels like an appropriate time to reflect on where we’re at as a country and how we got here. We the People, by Jill Lepore, a history and law professor at Harvard University, helps satisfy that impulse. It tells the story of the U.S. Constitution, which is among the world’s oldest constitutions. Lepore focuses on battles over amendments, which were fought not just by politicians but by ordinary Americans. The founders designed the Constitution to be amended, but it has become much more difficult to do so over the years. As the Constitution becomes harder to amend, Lepore writes, the risk of political violence becomes greater. — Milton Guevara, producer, Morning Edition and Up First
Who Is Government?: The Untold Story of Public Service, by Michael Lewis (editor)
Thousands of unsung heroes in the government are making life better for Americans. But because of bureaucracies being made up of bureaucrats, we rarely hear those stories. This book showcases them. Like a coal-mining safety official who helped the U.S. reach zero mine-collapse deaths. Or the man who has led the National Cemetery Administration to the top of the American Customer Satisfaction Index. As the federal government is in its biggest shake-up in a generation, it’s worth learning about where the bright spots are. — Darian Woods, host, The Indicator from Planet Money
This is just a fraction of the 380+ titles we included in Books We Love this year. Click here to check out this year’s titles, or browse nearly 4,000 books from the last 13 years.
Lifestyle
Brown University Students Say School Isn’t To Blame For Shooting
Brown University
School Not To Blame For Shooting
… Masters Students Say
Published
A group of second-year master’s students at Brown University says the school should not be blamed for the on-campus shooting that killed two and injured several others.
The students, who live on and near campus and work on the east side of Providence, RI — near Brown — tell TMZ … they don’t agree with one narrative being spun that the Ivy League school is somehow to blame for the mass shooting.
AP
Instead, the students say gun control and lack of access to mental health services are the real issues here … and they say there’s nothing Brown can do to control those things.
What’s more, the students say there are overarching problems that need to be dealt with at the federal level … and they feel they weren’t the only school or group of students that’s feeling the brunt of gun violence and mass shootings.
Fox News
The students say there needs to be tough conversations about gun control policies … and they want to see investments made into making mental health facilities more accessible.
Law enforcement says former Brown student Claudio Manuel Neves Valente was the gunman … and the students we talked to say Brown shouldn’t be held at fault for a former student who harbored hate in his heart for those alongside him.
Fox News
The students say the response from university administration and officials is making them feel safe and heard … and they’re more proud than ever to be part of the Brown University community.
-
Iowa1 week agoAddy Brown motivated to step up in Audi Crooks’ absence vs. UNI
-
Iowa1 week agoHow much snow did Iowa get? See Iowa’s latest snowfall totals
-
Maine7 days agoElementary-aged student killed in school bus crash in southern Maine
-
Maryland1 week agoFrigid temperatures to start the week in Maryland
-
New Mexico6 days agoFamily clarifies why they believe missing New Mexico man is dead
-
South Dakota1 week agoNature: Snow in South Dakota
-
Detroit, MI1 week ago‘Love being a pedo’: Metro Detroit doctor, attorney, therapist accused in web of child porn chats
-
Health1 week ago‘Aggressive’ new flu variant sweeps globe as doctors warn of severe symptoms