You open your eyes and observe your clothes (Rick Owens or thereabouts) all over the floor. Oops! Vague memories of conversations about the medicinal properties of cucumbers with Devendra Banhart—or was it Father John Misty?—on a waterbed cabana by the heated rooftop pool last night. Maybe you’ll remember later. Maybe you won’t. Doesn’t matter. As your soul sister Tara Reid once wondered, “Why is partying and having a good time bad?”
Discover Los Angeles
On Friday night, rub shoulders with rollerskaters Indy Jamma Jones, Kim Manning and Estro Jen as they transform the lobby into a roller disco set to a mixtape by dublab’s Daniel T blasting from an original Lasonic boombox.
Last night, the Figueroa came to you in a dream again, in its new form. You were transported to one of the new signature suites—the evocatively named Parador, Casablanca, Figueroa, Cabaña, El Rey, La Reyna and Mirador—homages to the hotel’s Spanish Colonial wood beams, arches, and columns.