The Classic Palm Springs resort has oodles of style, and just a few shortcomings
by Len Richmond
Compared to the British, Americans are not very good at nostalgia. The Riviera in Palm Springs is a glitzy over-the-top exception. The cool, hip, swinging 1950s viber of Frank Sinatra, Angie Dickenson, and Sammy Davis Jr. is on display everywhere – from the plastic-fantastic décor in the lobby to the larger than life print of Marilyn Monroe that hung, appropriately enough, above my bed.
The Riviera is one of the best examples of the Disney-fication of American resort hotels. To be truly successful, they feel they have to have a theme that takes you into the future or the past.
This kind of throwback hotel may be more common in Palm Springs, Las Vegas, and Miami, but they are becoming more popular across the country, as hotels uber-compete for your travel dollars.
The Riviera was surprisingly busy, considering the 114 degree temperature on the day we arrived. The pool was the hottest spot to be. There were countless buff, bronzed males and the Twiggy-skinny girls drinking Martinis and slapping on the lotion. So much lotion, apparently, that the pool had an oil slick. No kidding. It was the first thing I noticed. I asked one of the staff what was the glimmering film was that splattered around the sides on the pool – making the tiles greasy. “That’s suntan lotion, sir,” he said, “We get a lot of it in the pool towards the end of the day.”
We thoroughly enjoyed our stay at this palmy and springy resort, but it has to be said that, just like the magic of Hollywood itself, things are not always as glamorous as they first appear. Not to be picky, but the elevators desperately needed new carpets. The old ones were noticeable musty – as if thousands of wet bodies from the pool had dripped on them for years, keeping the carpet moist and smelly.
The stairs were likewise old and a bit stinky. I know I’m nit-picking here, but the Riviera looks like it was designed by a glitzy, fabulous gay man who simply forgot to do the boring stairs and elevator. And yes, the hallways too were a tad dingy.
The Riviera is trying to be another W-style hotel but not quite making it. Close though – and certainly cheaper.
The rooms were stylish, the restaurant excellent, and the staff simply wonderful, but ah, the spa! After our excellent massages, we retired the waterfall room. A movie-like recreation of a Moroccan bathhouse – with a warm pool that had four small waterfalls. You position your back and shoulders underneath them to get a hard-pounding massage that was almost as good as anything we paid for.
All bitching aside, there is something special about the Riviera – the magical Arabian Nights spa, the fine traditional restaurant (Circa 59), the impossibly pretty girls and sun-burnt muscle men peddling their wares around the resort’s flower shaped pool. Not to mention the sexy vibe (I hear that on Saturday nights their bar and pool is the place in Palm Springs to be).
Management please take note: small flaws are easy to fix. You have something truly special here. Now that you’ve spent so much effort and money creating a cooler-than-cool fifties vibe, it’s a shame you forgot to do some simple housekeeping.
The Riviera Resort • 1600 North Indian Canyon Drive, Palm Springs, CA. 92262 • 1-866-588-8311
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