San Diego, CA 32.75512189948388, -117.14066300272053
Hey there! Wara here, your friendly uncharted correspondent. It shouldn’t be very hard to believe. Since the 2020’s, California is king of the click bait, home to the greatest number of influencers and content creators in the US. Double in fact of the next closest hub of New York. The warm weather and concentration of celebrities makes Los Angeles, Long Beach, and San Francisco all hot beds for beautiful people who have taken to holstering selfie sticks and energizing halo lights. They are filming tik toc, you tube, and Instagram videos for your admiration, follow, or double tap. And San Diego is no exception from this social media magnetism. To observe a model at work is as common place an occurrence as spotting unpicked-up dogshit.
But what about you? You travel. Plus, you have charisma and of course hot takes. An adequate sense of humor. Are you one of the gorgeousess’? Do you find yourself in San Diego? Had your fill of surfing, fish tacos, and the dog beach and are now looking for an adequate backdrop to match your radiating aura of prestige? Well, if so, you are in luck, for there is a destination bar at a luxury hotel called the Lafayette. And I can tell you a little about it. If you go, you may fully anticipate your fancy to be tickled pink, but be not surprised if you are straight titillated rouge before the night is over. Upon entering, you are bathed in the dim ambiance of crystal diffused light and floral velvet cushions. You would have to go no further than this front lobby to find a suitable roost, though there are plenty of other attractions to venture too. So, shun distraction. Go further on! Deeper, past the coffee bar and the side hallways and stairwells competing for your attention.
Transverse forward towards the main space, breathe and engage your senses with the perfumes and colognes of handsome society, on the shared breeze of passersby. What shoes have you donned this evening? No matter, use them to make your entrance into the expansive atrium. The main bar is grand, centered in a huge room, opening up like a vast train station. Bronze Atlas squats in the center, shouldering above him an illuminated globe and surrounded below by shimmering glassware and light distributing liquor bottles. The curved bar-top is an island that patron’s approach from all sides, small lines forming within and among the satellite bench seats and tables. It is not just the patrons of the hotel who are present. This is an entertainment hub known by the locals and sought after by the visiting. A weekend night boasts a full house, and you’ll find the crowd with a voice to match. There is a multitude of smartly uniformed staff, all calmly preoccupied with fulfilling a task. Past this room, there is an outdoor courtyard, with tables and an elevated view of the pool. You know you are dressed smart enough if the influencers photographer continues shooting with you in the background.
Upon my visit to the back courtyard, I observe a face stamped with impatience emerge from behind a lowered professional looking camera. Am I among celebrity? Fancy people are mingling by the ornate wrought iron railing just a few steps away. It is a great vantage point from where he is to them, with the darkened pool below and the hotel rooms with black and white striped canopies gently fluttering in the breeze. But, he is locking eyes with me…presumably waiting for me to pass through the shot. My camera (included conveniently within my phone) snaps a few hurried shots of my own before I oblige, thinking a drink will surely elevate this atmosphere. His picturesque, laughing subjects don’t ever look around to log the intrusion.
Up close, the center bar is a beautiful clutter that the bartenders deftly navigate, of gold rimmed containers holding olives, fruits, and flower buds. The narrow, bowed circumference is laden with crystal glassware and fresh citrus waiting to be squeezed. I think the girl in front of me has a sour disposition, even though she did just get her order in. Like so many line dwellers, her neutral face must be controlled by the inside-out character of disgust as she waits.
After some time, bathed in the surrounding noises of imbibe, her drink arrives and is immediately (and lovingly) placed near the printout of her tab for an extensive photo shoot. It is a fetching sight to be fair; purple, with a flower garnish and elegant ice cubes. She abruptly transitions control of her face to joy when I tell her so, snapping another shot from a different angle while telling me it is an off menu order she just loves. The base is mescal. I’d probably love it too. Surprisingly, she offers me a taste, and equally surprisingly, I decline it, and wish her well as I take her position in line to look out for the next passing barkeep. That was unusual and generous I think, looking up. The ceiling is made of glass windows. The pigeons above must observe the many lines sprocket out from the bar like arms of a giant octopus. And these drinks would be like gleaming treasures to be gathered for his garden. Like such a kraken might greedily carry armfuls of trinkets from an abandoned lost and found, the served return to their parties carrying multiple drinks. The crowd and the wait warrants sending one person up for the table. I am the sacrifice. And I am one thirsty tentacle.
Traversing the black and white checkered floors, I spot my table, my intended destination. Like warp tunnels to different worlds, I can spy corridors leading to other hidden locations, down stairways or through double doors. What is the Mississippi room? What is the Lou Lou’s? the Quixote? Our round table is near the front entrance in front of a fully staffed coffee bar. “Anybody hungry?” I want to know as I set down the drinks. There is a diner under neon lights adjacent the main room. The oohs and ahhs at the fancy drinks are the only answer I receive. The suggestion was more rhetorical anyway, finding this open table was a challenge I’m not eager to repeat. Truly, the drink is all we desire, and they do deliver.
My uncle questions whether we are dressed ok or not with a high pitch that is stifled with a sip of his old fashioned in such a manner that it is clear he does not care what the answer is. “We’re dressed lovely” my charming partner assures as she lifts her Brandy Crusta to cheers the table, her eyes sparkling in the 2200k amber glow. My Japanese lager is going down easy, and travels with me. I offer a sip to a large statue of a bronze crane on my way to the washroom. It’s a striking piece of art and with a sudden gust of inspiration, decide to act Roman. I repress my ego and pull out my phone for a cherished photo op of my own. The task complete, I am given over to cheerful reverie as I navigate onward. If a common room could talk, what sort of different times has it seen? This place could accommodate a novel night cap environment for a full week if you were lodging here. And the daytime pool bar would be a nice way to spend an afternoon. No, a great way to spend the afternoon.
“Remember that time we went to Hotel Indigo with Tadds, Barney, and Blaine?” L laughs looking at me expectantly as I slide back into my seat. “Oh in LA proper, that’s right” I respond. I remember because it was just when they had first opened their mid-rooftop pool. I say mid-rooftop because the hotels high rise towers keep climbing around this pool courtyard nested in downtown Los Angeles. “It was the influencer happy hour” I recall, punctuating with a chuckle. The property had invited perhaps 2 dozen influencers to come use the pool to help promote the location. Each had received a welcome bag like one would at a conference. From my observations, some were likely couples, others small groups of friends. “It felt like the set of love island, or some other big brother type show” I explain. “So they were sipping from an open bar, deliberately moving around, in and out of the water, often taking selfies or having their plus one snapping away.” L continues. “The thing was, they couldn’t close the pool as a private event to paying guests, so here we were among them, setting up our towels on our chairs, doing the normal thing with aging parents and kids in tow.”
“The funny part was the absolute disregard by Tadds and Blaine for any photo shooting happening, who went shrieking down to the pool side and cannonballed in. And contrast that with the serious, bored looks models try and maintain when the camera is shuttering”
“I think they were going out of their way to be mildly obnoxious. Barney was in there too, splashing Blaine and being happy on vacation. It was most excellent.”
Shelly, my uncle’s wife, has been inspired to photograph her beverage, a Milk Punch. Sometimes you have to document these things, she says with a gleaming smile. Her social media is filled with happy experiences, loved ones, and delicious foods. The inside out philosopher in my brain wonders what the optimal balance is between the extreme of staying 100% in the moment and the influencer’s extreme of using every outing as content to document, edit, and promote. Shelly seems to have a good mean going, but could she resist the offer of monetizing her feed with ads?, lol. I actually scoff at the simple evolution of it all, lost in the thought when my uncle elbows me and asks “you good dude? They slip some absinthe in your lager?”
I assure him that it is not the green fairy. Happy this crew does not take themselves too seriously, I lean over to take a shared selfie with him.
What to wear: Book a room, bring an overnight bag. Have plenty of options
What to drink: Try a specialty cocktail for sure.
When to go: Trick Question. There is no bad time to visit Southern California!
Uncharted Dives 