It’s your first date with this particular lady, and you’d rather err on the side of enchanting than chintzy.

Well, we’ve got the perfect spot for you. Yes, it may be on Hollywood Blvd., but that’s part of your contradiction, your mystery. We’re not talking feasts, here, we’re talking exotic finger food. You won’t find any spicy tuna — or sushi for that matter — only sashimi. It’s tres minimalist chic. Welcome to East Hollywood.

Start out with an obscenely delicious salad made with warm spinach, arugula, shiitake mushrooms, duck confit and Bali pepper tossed in sherry vinaigrette — all topped with crispy pancetta and roasted young candy beets. Oh sweet, savory salad…

Imagine oysters on the half-shell with Vietnamese mignonette, yuzu gelée & pickled onion. Oh, salacious sours…

Slurp scallops on the half with lemon grass sambal, wasabi créme fraîche, shiso dust & micro cilantro. Oh, succulent seafood…

Effortlessly show your refined and discriminating palate while showing you can pick a place with style. It’s a snap.

She’ll be on your arm as you meander towards the theater.

Just remember to check with the lucky lady before you hang up your pre-date phone call: “You’re not allergic to seafood, are you?”

Want more info? Read the full review at e*Star LA.

Photos by Andrew Herrold.

Esther (@estarla) is a celebrated Los Angeles food blogger and our go-to gal in all matters of where to take a date when you want to hit the town.

If this date is hotter than the first, you’ll seal the deal. You’re racking your brain. You know she comes from Michigan. She has a brother. She loves dogs. She works as a paralegal. She hates sports. She’s not a fan of Mexican. She does yoga on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Oh, and she’s obsessed with David Lynch–but it’s cute, not creepy.

Where to take her?

OK, dude, put Yelp down. Any guy can take her out to dinner in a fancy place. That’s sufficiently commonplace in this city to be completely without merit. You have to think out of the box. You have to give her something new.

Remember that scene in Mulholland Dr. where Rita is wandering Hollywood? How about that? Pretty gritty–and that’s why we like it. And you don’t even have to Netflix the movie to figure it out, either. That’s what Filmaps is for! Search for any movie of your choice and get a list of locations, complete with images!

You’ll not only come off as Hollywood savvy, she’ll also dig that you’re actually paying attention. Even if you had to scope out her Facebook profile to refresh your memory about that movie she went on and on about all the tapas long on date one.

He began undressing me quickly, furiously, before we had even closed the hotel room door behind us. Naked save for my stilettos, he pulled back and looked at me in the dim light. “You’re spectacular,” he said, then paused and flicked on the light. He paused for a moment to look at me. There was something in the manner that he looked that was more than simply desire or appreciation. He was studying me. It made me self-conscious, but aroused me instantaneously, like I was one of he creatures that he studied under a microscope. “Do you know how I want you?” he asked me. Then he led me to the tall glass window.

The view of the Standard from High Line, New York
848 Washington at 13th Street, New York, NY 10014
212.645.4646

The New York Times called it an architectural tour de force–and with good reason. Todd Schliemann’s design of glass slabs that float over the old freight railroad in the middle of New York’s MePa (that’s Meatpacking District to you Angelinos) certainly is. Of course, when I say float, I do mean float–the 20-story hotel is held 30 feet above the track bed of the railroad by concrete pillars, in what has been called a perpetual lap-dance.

We could expect nothing less from one of André Balazs’s boutique hotels (Chateau Marmont, anyone?). But if you think alluding to strip club classics when discussing architecture is as hot as it gets, think again. There is a reason why the hottest place to be isn’t necessarily at a Standard Suite (which will run you close to $800 a night)–and this reason has to do with the hotel’s floor-to-ceiling glass windows and what its guests like to do with the curtains wide open.

The New York Post summarized it best:

Thrill-seekers flock to the Meatpacking District’s newly christened High Line urban paradise to catch a glimpse of the free skin show playing out in the massive windows at The Standard hotel, which straddles the park.

“It’s a little peep show — but instead of being on 42nd Street, it’s down here at the High Line,” said Andre Landeros Michel, 34, a Chelsea designer who regularly ventures over to view randy Standard guests having sex in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows in full view of the park.

A Parks Department worker said that plenty of people come to the park, built on the old elevated train tracks, specifically to watch the erotic exhibitionism.

The Standard, who has encouraged the debauchery (running ads saying things like “We’ll put up with your banging if you put up with ours,” and “It’s all about sex, all the time”), has been reprimanded by City Council members and promised to be more sensitive. But the show goes on–as it should. Whether you show up to watch or give a show, sightseeing in the Big Apple will never be the same.

Check In: 3:00PM
Check Out: 12:00PM

Photo by nayrb7.

“Where’s the restaurant?” he asks quietly, walking past a small group of people at the lobby. “We’re not here to eat,” I respond, walking briskly past the small area and to the steps. He follows, several feet behind me. I assess the space at the top and move toward a chaise in a darker corner. There are two other people in the lounge, and no one looks up. That’s one of the unspoken rules of this place: you don’t look, and if you do, by chance, happen to see anything, you never say a word. After all, what were you doing here on a late Monday night?

The BondSt Lounge, Thompson Beverly Hills
9360 Wilshire Boulevard, Beverly Hills, CA 90212
310.601.2255

An affair can be lived entirely in the confines of a room and an inbox. And it should, if we’re smart. But we’re not always smart. We crave the edge. That’s what the affair is about. The trick is to strike a balance and what better reminder of the constant risk assessment that this requires than a place named Bond?

The New York favorite is here in Beverly Hills, just past the lobby of this boutique hotel. But ignore the restaurant (you’re not really here for food, are you?). Take the stairs at the lobby. At the top you’ll be faced with the warm darkness of the second floor bar. Decorated by Dodd Mitchell (of Boa Lounge and Falcon fame), the place presents the sort of modern biomorphic background that invites the most delightful debauchery. And if you remember the height of the wild Roos days (which, unsurprisingly, is also a Thompson property), you know that the staff is nothing if not discrete.

Avoid Tuesday nights at all costs. The best day for uninterrupted pleasure is Monday–but call in advance to make sure there are no scheduled private events. For extra privacy, walk through the upstairs bar and past the French doors to the private library alcove. Here you can let the sexy art books set the mood for you as you enjoy a drink–off her clavicle.

Your mistress need never know this fantastic spot is located at what was once a Best Western. Though that, surely, will add just the right dash of smutty dirtiness to the whole thing.

Last Call: 1:30 AM
Accepts credit cards: Yes.
Attire: Dressy.
Waiter Service: Attentive, discrete.
Outdoor seating: No, but there is a rooftop bar in the hotel (ABH, for Above Beverly Hills, is a hotel guest-only retreat — usually).
Smoking: No; go downstairs, outside.
Alcohol: full bar, bottle service ($275 – $800).
Price Range: $7 for beer, $11 – $20 for mixed drinks.
Parking: Valet.

Photo by AV Flox.