L'Ermitage: L.A.'s Hotel Of Hedonism There are great business hotels--and then there are the high-tech, high-Zen perks of the Left Coast's latest.
By Sue Zesiger

(FORTUNE Magazine) – Perhaps it was getting gently wrapped in an 88-inch towel as I emerged from the rooftop pool. Or maybe it was finding personalized business cards and letterhead in my desk upon arrival. Or discovering I could have a full-blown treadmill delivered to my room (we all need privacy sometimes). Somewhere in between such rounds of hedonistic handholding, I knew I had found business travel nirvana at L'Ermitage Beverly Hills.

Reopened a few months ago after an extensive, $60 million renovation by Lahotel Corp., L'Ermitage (formerly the place where the likes of Michael Jackson and Elizabeth Taylor would hide to recover from plastic surgery) offers a peculiarly calming blend of ultra-high-tech touches with an Eastern, Zen-like aesthetic--and a little L.A. scene thrown in for good measure. With the exception of 13 breathtaking suites, each of the 111 rooms ($385 to $415 a night) is the same sycamore-paneled, 675-square-foot, silk-laden den--no hierarchy of room types to puzzle out, no bad corners to get stuck in.

I'll warn you now: If you are averse to pampering, do not read on. The list of business-travel-sensitive touches alone in each room is overwhelming: a fax-copier-printer, complete with computer cable; two regular phone lines, one private line, a fax line, and one dedicated data port; and a cell phone that rings when someone calls your room--it works as far away as San Diego and Palm Springs. Plus, you can reach your private valet (every guest has one) simply by dialing zero.

There are, of course, also impressive nonbusiness perks in each room: a 40-inch TV with satellite hookup and WebTV; a stereo with a DVD player and Bose speakers concealed in the ceiling; two types of bathrobes--thick terry and waffled cotton; a mirrored bar lined with crystal martini, wine, and cognac glasses; a well-stocked minibar (all nonalcoholic drinks are complimentary); and a Japanese bento box of chocolates that are way too pretty to eat. An extremely sophisticated electronic system monitors everything from the room's temperature to whether a light has blown a bulb; maintenance will replace it when you next leave your room. And a computer in your door reads who enters and exits and when--the hotel's staff all have time-sensitive keys, which means only people on duty are allowed access. (If you're really paranoid, you can swipe the little sensor outside the door to see whether anyone has intruded on your space while you were out.)

The frighteningly thought-through service starts long before you ever reach your room, however. On arrival you are immediately assigned a personal valet. Your luggage is whisked upstairs via the service elevator (no unsightly piles of Samsonite in the cool lobby, please). Employees never use the same routes guests do; they are kept quietly behind the walls in a warren of service corridors. Check-in is on a 24-hour basis, so don't worry about late flights or time-zone traumas. Ditto checkout.

Adjacent to the beige lobby are a stuffed-couch-filled living room and library, and a bar. No blender drinks are mixed for guests there, however--all that racket might disturb the hushed elegance. A second behind-the-scenes bar handles those.

My favorite highlight: A private elevator can take you directly from the garage to the hotel's Executive Center--in truth, a smoking room with 190 private humidors, an array of fine cigars (you get the idea), and enough leather club chairs and high-end sound components to throw a memorable party. Because of California's smoking laws, no staff is technically allowed to serve you in there, but trust me when I tell you that my request for a snifter of 150-year-old Grand Marnier was magically--and swiftly--fulfilled.

Back in the hushed nest of tranquillity that is your room, relax--no maid will automatically knock. You dictate when and how all services are provided. There are no room-service-specific menus or charges either--you can eat from the full (and impressive) dining room menu anywhere you like. I tested that theory by requesting dinner for four on the rooftop; with heat lamps blasting and the L.A. skyline laid out before us, the food was eclipsed only by the setting.

L'Ermitage Beverly Hills, 9291 Burton Way; 800-800-2113 or 310-278-3344; www.lermitagehotel.com.