Historic Hospitality
The Langham Huntington, Pasadena
Opulence’s encroaching obsolescence is perhaps the most nefarious side effect of the digital generation. Mobile check-ins, faceless room service deliveries, and iPad concierges are modern privileges, undoubtedly— a convenience when traveling expediently. But, when the purpose of your sojourn is a laze, an indulgence, when you want to press pause without having to push a button— you want a Langham hotel. More specifically, I suggest you pull into the grand porte cochere at the Langham Huntington, Pasadena.
First, some history for you (as it’s one of my favorite elements of the Langham Huntington. Whereas many resorts today attempt to erase a prior narrative, Langham trumpets their own). The property originally debuted in 1907 as Hotel Wentworth, mentioned in the hotel’s handy (and fascinating!) onsite museum. In 1914, the site was purchased by Henry E. Huntington, hence the amendment of its longest and most prolific tenant’s name tailing the Langham brand. The salmon-colored Spanish revival teases a storied past, harboring tales of Los Angeles’ most illustrious age. At the bellhop’s first greeting, it seems as though that age had no end.
Rich woods and heavy silks enclothe much of the common area, deliciously transportive without feeling dated. If it weren’t for my baggy, Gilded-Age-gasp-worthy jeans, one may be fooled that the time-space continuum had indeed torn when crossing the marbled threshold. We are still in the hotel’s heyday. While there have been sweeping, century-long attempts to mimic such sophistication across California, you can never replicate the originator.
Cottages dot the Horseshoe Garden flanking the resort’s centerpiece building, a relic of the longterm guests that once escaped the East Coast snow for Pasadena’s inland incubation. Today, they stand restored, a respite from the glinting, sky-scraping pace of Downtown, perennially viewed from the hotel’s expansive posterior. Each dwelling, most able to house at least six guests, bears a notorious pedigree. The aptly named Ford Cottage often played second home to President Gerald Ford on his Californian ventures. Ample living space and private, hedge-guarded patios render the accommodations ideal for VVIPs, past and present.
A fabled trail connects the 23-acre grounds— housing tennis courts, a state-of-the-art spa, and family-centric Royce pool— leading guests across a babbling brook, crossed via crimson bridge. The puddle jumper, though, is vastly overshadowed by the hotel’s signature Picture Bridge, an original fixture of the property (and what I consider its most magical element). The 244-foot redwood structure, erected in the early 20th century, features 41 landscape paintings by Frank M. Moore, a visual storytelling of California’s rich history. Embedded under the A-frame eaves is a chronicling of the states’ natural marvels, immortalized in oil paint. From the vantage of the antiqued walkway, we spy the lively goings-on of the lush estate, as suspended in time as the murals that mark our path.
Though Pasadena has a great deal to offer beyond the rose-clad confines of the Langham, I have yet to find much reason to leave the property, save for a self-guided architecture tour of the surrounding neighborhood. The tree-canopied streets conjure temperate mornings, reserved for aimless, on-foot surveillance of the nearby estates. The stretch of South Pasadena to San Marino in which the Langham is nestled boasts every identifiable design influence the world over— a fact for which the area is famed, possessing both an ideal climate and diverse site for filming. The hotel itself has tabulated due screen time, from scenes in Father of the Bride and The Parent Trap, to the most recent and ultimately doomed betrothal of Nate and Cassie in Euphoria’s final season. The property is a character in and of itself, wordlessly embodying poised, old-world grace in every scene it inhabits.
The foothill afternoons quickly take a turn for the balmy, primed for a swim. Initially built as a playground for the wealthy to pass their winters, the Langham boasts an Olympic-sized pool (the first in California), fit for laps lounging. The Lanai Pool alone has seen its fair share of glamour, serving as the backdrop for runways and beauty pageants. On this particular afternoon, it acts as the tapestry of my serenity, swapping spotlights for a sublimely salted skinny margarita from the neighboring Hideaway restaurant. To my delight (and that of locals and guests alike), the newly-revamped poolside dining experience offers authentic Mexican fare, paired with meticulously-sourced Valle de Guadalupe wines. The Ensenada-local grapes further enhance the flavor of native dishes, conjuring never-before-imagined combinations, like a duck tamale and a Vinos Plata Tempranillo blend.
The aforementioned, I am lucky enough to experience that same evening, as the Langham Huntington hosts their inaugural Winemaker Dinner, celebrating the hospitality of vintners and culinary arts alike. The hotel partnered with Valle winemaker Vinos Plata, helmed by Erick Plata, who joins the table to guide us through this epicurean excursion. Plata, translating to silver in Spanish, is a keystone of the line’s ethos— precious delicacy, rooted in heritage. The brand’s small batch red wines accompany a five-course tasting menu of Baja classics, including chef’s iteration of a prized family mole recipe, carrying on the Langham custom of fine dining on an international scale. Think: snapper and sauvignon blanc, punctuated by a finale of flan and a zippy carajillo, just the caffeine courage I needed to carry on.
Our night continues at The Tap Room, an homage to the post-Prohibition watering hole of the same name, with libations reminiscent of this era (though, I recognize it as the stand-in for a hotel bar featured in Hacks, where Deborah Vance and Ava attend the American Television Affiliates Golf Tournament— another feather in the property’s cinematic cap). Bartenders sling spirit-forward sidecars while trumpets roar, inviting passersby to join the post-supper party. The din of merrymakers and mirthful melodies coalesces into a lullaby, my trance only broken by the arriving bacchanal of bar bites— onion rings obligatory. We crunch and sip while the jazz thrums on, body and soul sated by a day of utter extravagance.
Retreating to our suite, dusty pink light beams through the French doors, swung open to welcome a balcony draft. It’s as if the aura of the hotel’s century-and-then-some bastioning Los Angeles is baked into its stucco. Woodsmoke’s ambrosia is carried in on billowing drapes, wafting from the Royce Steakhouse below, still sizzling. Named for longtime proprietor Stephen W. Royce, the restaurant mimics the Langham’s former Green and Gold dining room in its grand service experience. Much like the hotel’s afternoon tea service (inspired by the Langham London predecessor, which began in 1865), Royce is built in the image of tradition, reinvented. Yet, its siren call must accept a rain check, as I’ve dined decadently enough for one evening. Supple sheets cradle a heavy head, dizzied by visions of sumptuous linens and never-empty wine glasses.
We rise with the sun, as the terrace welcomes flooding light from dawn to sundown. The Langham Club, a private perk for select guests, hosts a banquet of a breakfast, replete with mimosas and a made-to-order coffee bar. The Club is open all day, offering three meals plus cocktail and tea service, in addition to bespoke concierge services. Occupying the top floor of the hotel, The Langham Club flaunts some of the property’s best views, from San Marino to the sea. Were it not for an 11 a.m. check-out, I would loiter through dusk. Armed with all I could carry (fresh fruit, a cappuccino, chicken apple sausage, and more pastries than I’d care to count), I reluctantly descend the elevator, trudging to valet. The spell fades as suitcases are swung into the trunk, a fob replaced in my possession. Suddenly, my baggy jeans are perfectly appropriate again. The bellhops bid their adieus, nearly with pity, knowing full well the reentry into reality will be rocky after such an enchanting stay. As the rosy beacon shrinks in my rearview, I know the reverie will wait for my return, welcoming me into the glowing embrace of yesteryear once more.
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What We Packed
The beauty of a staycation is a traveling light. Our must-pack for the Langham Huntington? Simply a scent as extravagant as the property itself. There is a singular name in perfumery that fits the bill of classic luxury: Clive Christian, the scent house I swear by in all my travels. Founded in 1872, Clive Christian predates the Huntington, understanding eons-old indulgence just as well. With a robust formulation and notes supple enough to carry from morning to night, the Clive Christian Matsukita is a mainstay in my bag. Smoke melds seamlessly with verdant mate tea, demure yet commanding. Carrying on? Fear not! The label is now offering a traveller set, featuring signature scents 1872, X, and No. 1. This array of their best-sellers suits any occasion, and is ideal for layering. No matter how sparse my suitcase, Clive Christian is always included.
Explore the world of Clive Christian Here
Written by Delaney Willet
