I’m very non-discriminatory in my obsessive interest in suburban edgelands. An ultra-wealthy enclave is just as worthy of close examination as a light industrial estate or the banks of a canal. In fact, experiencing the ordinary banal familiar everyday of luxurious living when nothing is happening in the lives of the fabulously wealthy is possibly more fascinating than anything else. Perhaps because it’s less rarely encountered.
Which is a long-winded introduction to the residential neighbourhood of Beverly Hills: the sort of morning running territory that makes you wish you were in training for a marathon with no three-line whip deadline for family breakfast.
The guidebooks say no one walks in LA generally. This I can confirm in relation to Beverly Hills north…
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