My recent stay at the landmark Beverly Hills Hotel provides an exclusive glimpse behind the doors of the famed bungalows. Generally, these luxurious suites are sold out and toting a camera around the grounds is tantamount to committing a petty crime. Guards patrol, although they may appear as guests. I feel like a spy here, although without my hotel colleagues leading and lurking with me, I am honestly oblivious to the stars and deal makers tucked away in the posh bungalows or nibbling at the Polo Lounge!

The bungalows, concealed in the dense garden utopia, have several impenetrable layers of gated terraces before you reach the entrance.

Strolling amid the sumptuous gardens, truly a botanical paradise, a massive door cracks open and a handsome, exotic gentleman with a deep olive-complexion peers out and quickly slams the door, barely a peek at the young woman in the shadows. The kitchen terrace door is ajar; several chefs are feverishly sauteing, tangy aromas waft over the bougainvillaea clad walls. A mere glimpse of a clandestine afternoon, use your imagination.

Years of narrative legends are stored in the vaults, most will tell you a side street is the main entrance – no bungalow visitor of importance ever strolls the iconic red carpet hotel entrance.

At the Polo Lounge, one can be certain of apprehensive glances if you photograph lunch – diners appear discernibly skittish. Respectful of their anxiety, I usually avoid using my camera during lunch. VIP’s are accommodated at private tables secreted in the deep nooks of the garden grotto, casually dining in the ubiquitous Beverly Hills sunshine. Had I not asked, who is here? I wouldn’t have recognized one of the TV BH Housewives or the heavyset, pockmarked gentleman wearing the look at me orange straw chapeau – apparently, he is a regular thug character in filmdom.

Despite the hullabaloo over the recent refurbishing, the Polo Lounge, looks exactly the same as ever, the timeless piano player tinkles the ivories, the LWL are always at the center round table, bearing smartly wrapped gift bags, in a perpetual celebration of life. The lobby bar hosts small tables with phones, it’s timeless, as are many of the diners.

I love the slice of life, the intrigue of the unknown, dining service is old-school classy, lunch and dinner menus are scrumptious. Breakfast frittata is the dealmaker standard order. There is a certain casual elegance, a je ne sais quoi, never knowing whom you might see hiding behind the palm fronds. Excellent cuisine in a distinctive setting, get thee to the Polo Lounge. Nothing like it to the north.