You don’t have to be a Hollywood superstar for west coast America’s most salubrious city to roll out the red carpet, Chris McCall discovers It was as the Maserati GranTurismo sped away from the Polo Lounge along the palm tree lined road to Malibu that I knew I was in love with Beverly Hills. Chris, my driver, expertly steered the Italian-made convertible through the mid-afternoon traffic of downtown LA. Soon the bright blue of the Pacific Ocean appeared on the horizon and the beach houses grew to the size of mansions. The Beverly Hills Hotel This was going to be a memorable day, I told myself. It was barely 24 hours since I had arrived on America's west coast and already I had...
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