­Our plane landed nearly an hour early, but I was groggy.  My husband, Kai, and I were on the last flight to LAX out of JFK, and I had dozed off after my second glass of wine, just after the credits began rolling for the in-flight movie, 'My Life in Ruins'. By the time our Prius left the rental car lot, and we’d navigated our way to Beverly Hills using the GPS on my iPhone, it was half-past midnight.  

This is why I thought I was dreaming when we drove slowly up Rodeo Drive, one of the most famous designer shopping districts in the world.  Each carefully lit luxury brand logo --  Prada! Gucci! Valentino! Armani! Versace! Dior! Cartier! Tiffany! - glimmered with stately reserve, as if getting beauty rest until the doors unleashed and the cash registers rebooted the next morning.   A hotel?  On this street?  Really?

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