You were, and continue to be, part of the cultural upsweep that ushered American society into the Instagram age. Design-oriented, mid-century-inspired, fun-loving, festival-going, vinyl-collecting, vintage-obsessed—you’re a denizen of the Creative Class, the loose term assigned to anyone of any age who lives life in pursuit of their deepest passions, damn the consequences. Opened in 2014, the Ace Hotel Downtown Los Angeles speaks to your artistic spirit.
You wake up in your gloriously minimalist, functional-but-friendly room and check your emails. There are dozens - a common situation for people like you who pursue careers in art, fashion, film, music, food or the cannabis industry (sometimes all of them at once).
As the Hippies, the Beats, and Hemingway’s Lost Generation can attest, those bold enough to venture outside mainstream comfort zones tend to be scorned in their lifetime, only to be celebrated in hindsight. You discuss such notions over breakfast at Best Girl, the Ace’s ground floor restaurant, covered in illustrations by art darlings Simon and Nikolai Haas and always buzzing, no matter what time of day or night.
You and your peers define what’s at the cutting edge of culture, although you shy away from the term “hipster.” This reductive and somewhat lazy pejorative is thrown around by those who have no interest in, say, the music of Nick Cave or the films of David Lynch—both of whom you saw at The Theatre at Ace Hotel. Adjacent to the hotel, the gorgeous Spanish Gothic venue opened as the United Artists Theatre in 1927.
You love that you can walk to Acne, your favorites for Swedish avant-garde style. Later you stop for a bite at Grand Central Market, whose kiosks boast cuisines from all over the world.
The Fashion District beckons—you browse the rather impressive knock-offs in Santee Alley before viewing the permanent collection at the FIDM Museum, which showcases iconic designs and Oscar-winning Hollywood costumes.
All this walking and ‘gramming has worked up an appetite—you’re tempted by the sense-altering burgers at Umami, but opt for a full roast with all the trimmings at Clifton’s Republic, the renovated Depression-era dining wonderland on Broadway. Complete with a redwood tree rising up in its atrium, it’s the largest, wildest public cafeteria in the world, where Ray Bradbury—your fave—spent many a day hashing out storylines.
On a literary bent, you remember to stop into an old Bukowski old haunt, Wendell (formerly Craby Joe’s) for an after-dinner cocktail. If you don’t have tickets for a show at the Ace theatre, or nearby architectural jewels, The Orpheum and Belasco theatres, you hit the synth-driven dance floors at Honeycut or The Lash.
You take the 1920s elevators to Upstairs, the Ace's rooftop bar, just in time for last call and hop in the glowing hot tub. Next to you, some like-minded souls from different corners of the world strike up a conversation—you decide to meet up early tomorrow morning to visit the L.A. Flower Market. You may devour life fast and hungry, but sometimes you like to stop and smell the roses.
Ace Hotel Downtown Los Angeles
929 S Broadway
Los Angeles, CA 90015