Living Large in the OC

THE TOUR BOOKS SAY Orange County has 42 miles of coastline and beaches. And that it’s composed of 31 (largely affluent) cities and encompasses 782 square miles. This Southern California county counts more than 5,000 restaurants and 25 major shopping centers. Orange County includes Anaheim, which lays claim to Edison International Field (home of Major League Baseball’s Angels), Arrowhead Pond (home to the NHL’s Mighty Ducks) and Disneyland (home to Mickey and Minnie).

Orange County is also immortalized on television. Watch The OC and vicariously experience the sexy, secret lives of good-looking, wealthy teens and adults living in immense homes in an idyllic, seaside community. If that’s your thing.

That’s not exactly my thing. But it’s a pleasurable thing to visit now and then. My trip to Orange County includes three hotels that could easily fit on the set of The OC. Within 5 miles of each other (two are a mere mile apart) are three powerfully upscale hotels and resorts. Each is world-class. The St. Regis Monarch Beach Resort and the Ritz-Carlton Laguna Niguel are in Dana Point. The Montage Resort & Spa is in Laguna Beach.

Lights, camera, action.

IT’S A GOOD WALK from the holiday sand sculpture in the lobby to my end-of-the-east-wing suite on the third floor of the St. Regis. But wow——look at the view from the balcony. There’s a golf course and a highway between the property and the Ocean. But the panorama is worth the hallway hike.

Of the St. Regis’ 400 rooms, 72 are suites. Though the hotel’s exterior décor is Tuscan-inspired, my double-balconied suite has a more contemporary feel: dark wood, low-slung bed, flat-screen televisions. Tres OC. I feel like I should be plotting to covet somebody or something. Or be overacting a fit of teen angst.

The St. Regis has several dining options, but the most fun is the Monarch Bay Club. It’s off-property——a tram winds diners-to-be through the golf course on a seven-minute trip to the beach. At night, the shore is powerfully illuminated——and seems to glow. A combination seafood dish here called al diavolo is a shining star.

The St. Regis is really defined——visually, at least——by its pool area: three pools and two Jacuzzis. Tall columns and a towering fountain create a feeling of immenseness. Poolside cabañas come with flat-screen televisions, fax machines and high-speed Internet access.

If you find the need for a momentary escape from all things fabulous, slip into the small botanical garden behind the pool. It’s well-groomed and inner-peace inspiring. Mind, however, the WATCH FOR FLYING OBJECTS sign. The garden is just off the golf course. (Can’t you see an OC couple making out in the garden just as a golf ball bonks the guy on the head?)

DOWN THE STREET from the St. Regis is the Ritz-Carlton Laguna Niguel. The Ritz opened in 1984, but a recent, $40 million renovation made a major change to the lobby and entrance.

There used to be a dark, wood-paneled library at the end of the long “grand entrance.” It’s been replaced by Restaurant 162. (Why 162? It’s exactly that many feet down to sea level from the cliff top where the hotel sits.) The area is now much more open and bright——and feels more dynamic. The change takes significantly better advantage of the mesmerizing ocean view.

The same sense of panorama is in place in the Ritz’s new, two-story gym. I pedal on a stationary bike looking out through a floor-to-ceiling window. Beholding the sea——and dozens of surfers——I lose track of time and place, pedaling a couple of miles farther than intended. (Hmm, a possible comic plot point for The OC.)

The gym was in order after I feasted on the weekend brunch buffet. We’re talking mounds of ahi, sushi and lobster salad. Seaside setting, plus vast seafood selection, puts The Club Grill & Bar’s buffet——adjacent to 162——way up on a pedestal.

Service is a trademark at Ritz-Carlton; the chain twice won the Malcolm Baldrige National Service Award. One of my several brushes with great service involves an attendant cleaning a guestroom. I ask the location of an ice machine. She leaves the room and walks me to the machine. It’s not working. She excuses herself and bolts to a stairway door. She’s back in a minute with a full bucket——having galloped down a floor to assist me.

IT’S A RELATIVELY LONG (eight minutes) drive from the Ritz to Montage in Laguna Beach. Note that when you inhabit the world of The OC, you must constantly search for minor inconveniences in order to complain.

That’s a tough task at Montage. The resort——built into the side of a coastal bluff——ought to give Malcolm Baldrige a call. I am walked to my room for personal check-in. And walking the grounds, every time I pass hotel workers, each halts in deference—some come close to bowing. This practice hits a climax when a guy who’s cutting the grass turns off the lawn mower when I get near. When I get a sufficient number of paces away, he goes back to work.

Montage is a Craftsman-style inn. Because it’s built into the bluff, the lobby level is the top floor (only mildly confusing, but hey, this is OC). Once again, panorama comes into play. The lobby unfolds to an open-space lounge. The perfect place to sip your martini is on the lounge’s big deck. Directly below the deck is the mosaic pool. And the pool is barely 50 yards from that big blue ocean.

No knock on the Ritz——or the St. Regis——but Montage has the most upscale workout room. The Ritz has that superior view; St. Regis’ spa is technologically sound. But Montage has nearly as cool a view, and off-the-charts machines. Each bike, treadmill and elliptical trainer has a personal television that can be switched back and forth from network shows to machine monitors (heart rate, distance, et cetera). And each machine is accessorized with a bottle of Fiji water and a highthread-count towel. OC? Oh, si.

Chef James Boyce oversees the “culinary arts” at Studio, the resort’s signature eatery, with impressive wine vaults flanking the bar. I dine at Loft——outdoors on a deck with an ocean view. I have a turkey dinner Emeril Lagasse would be been proud of.

(Cut to a close shot of me, trying to find something——anything—— to find fault with. Fade as I smile and sigh resignedly.)

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